My, how time flies.

I knew it had been far too long since I'd updated my adoring public on my uber-exciting life, but the fact that it's been a month is news even to me. My apologies to all, and especially to Ruth, who apparently has lost some of her will to live since she hasn't heard all the interesting bits of my life lately. Never mind that she was there for most of them.

Anyway! I'm sure there is someone out there who is dying to hear all the details about my acceptance to the University of Texas... oh, you haven't heard? You are reading the uncharted rantings of an almost-university student at this very moment.

So, I applied in December, had all my paperwork in (including the transcript from my reluctant previous college) by January, and then had a couple of months of sitting around being anxious before the application deadline on March 31st. And then the anxiety level kicked up several notches, since the UT website promised that "outstanding" applicants would be notified early on, and the general public could expect to hear back by mid-May. Since I was with me all through high school, and I graduated from a community college, I didn't expect to be in the "outstanding" category.

In the meantime, I got a courtesy email from the financial aid office at UT letting me know that they had received all my paperwork and would begin processing my application once I was accepted. Good to know, thanks.

I checked the website about six times a day the first weekend in April, then decided that was a bit over the top, so restricted myself to checking every Friday, which I did the following week, followed by a little anxiety-relieving dance around my living room when I saw that I was still being reviewed.

On the following Tuesday, I innocently checked my email in the morning & found a message from the financial office that they were about to begin processing my file. The speed at which I put two & two together will probably stand for the rest of my life as the fastest time I ever managed to do maths. I'm not exaggerating when I say that my entire body went numb and I sat there for a minute starting at my screen after I closed the email.

Then I decided that I couldn't wait until the evening to find out-- I had to know then. So, I raced to the back of the office (this was still all unknown to most of my coworkers) to check my status. And it was probably the longest three minutes of my life while I located my login credentials, navigated away from the page by mistake, located my credentials again, and then finally found my status check page, where I saw the magical words: "Congratulations! You have been accepted into your first-choice major..."

And that's all I saw, because that's when I began shrieking, jumping up & down, and hugging everyone within reach. And smiling so hugely my face almost cracked.

It was Friday before I got my letter in the mail, and finally got to take the picture I'd been planning since last summer:

So, we're moving to Austin. Wish me luck!

Red Light, Green Light

So, I went to South Plains three evenings in a row last week.

Church on Wednesday, Ladies' Retreat rehearsal on Thursday, Ladies' Retreat on Friday. This works out really well for me since I happen to like the ladies at South Plains; extra time with my sisters is good! Makes me happy!

You know what doesn't make me happy? Red lights. Wanna guess how many nights in a row I got stopped-- by mere seconds-- by the same red light? If you guessed "three", go get yourself a cookie.

I'll wait.

Are you back yet?

...

Are you making that cookie?

Ah! So, Wednesday night: sigh. Thursday night: Aargh. Friday night: You have got to be kidding me! Not again!

I mentioned in yesterday's post that I practised our songs in the car on the way to South Plains, which is moderately hard to do while driving, because it's unsafe to look down at sheet music while driving 60 mph. Or 40 mph. Or, for that matter, 20 mph. So, after shouting at the red light in frustration, I picked up my music and sang through the song twice before I laid the music down in time for the light to turn green.

And so, what else could I do but say to God: "Thank you for the red light. I'm sorry I complained."

Retreat!

We don't have a womens' "retreat" as such at South Plains any longer; we went a Friday evening-only format a few years ago & have stuck with it since! But we still call it a retreat, because that was its name already and there's no point in messing with it now.

Anyway! A few months ago a prayer group, Sharlan & I had a conversation about the spring retreat:

Sharlan (S): Hey, do you want to sing alto in my group at the spring retreat?

I: Huh?

S: I need an alto for the retreat.

I: And you want me?

S: Yes.

I: There are lots of altos in this church.

S: Yes.

I: And most of them sing better than me.

S: No, not really. (Sharlan is a gifted liar. Or, more accurately, she chooses to see the best in others.)

I: You're sure you want me?

S: Yes.

I: Well, yeah, I'd love to. What are we singing?

S: I haven't written it yet.

Now if that isn't a promising beginning, I don't know what is. Sharlan wrote three songs for the retreat, all very lovely, all very fun, and all of which struck fear in my heart, especially when she asked me two weeks ago to change from alto to tenor. I have never knowingly sung tenor in my life, so I was a bit out of my depth. But I carried on, doing my best, safe in the knowledge that there were louder singers than I in our little chorale.

Then we had a rehearsal with microphones on Thursday night. I only like microphones if I'm at a Christmas tea. Ruth the Proficient Sound Girl said she didn't hear me at all, which made me pretty happy, but since I had agreed to do this for Sharlan I couldn't justify faking it.

So, I went home and practised. And then I got up on Friday and practised. I put the songs on my iPod and took the sheet music with me to work and sang the tenor part to three songs all day long. (I'm sure my coworkers appreciated the concert.) I came home from work and practised. I drove to South Plains still practising. And then our whole group got together and practised before the whole shebang started, and only then did I feel like I was actually going to make a contribution to the group.

I don't know if my voice was audible; I don't know if I hit the right notes; I don't know how the group sounded because I was doing some serious concentration. I do know that Sharlan was grinning from ear to ear as she conducted, that what I could hear of her solo sounded fabulous, and that the compliments were free-flowing afterwards. I do know that Sharlan is a gifted musician who uses her talents to bless others. I do know the entire evening was absolutely wonderful.

And, I now know that I can sing tenor. Brilliant.

Words: Safe Passage, Part 2

So, about The Worst Bible Bowl Trip in History:

*First, we had to rent vans, because the church vans were in use.

*At the last minute, I was pulled in as a sponsor because one of the other women wasn't able to go.

*Then, Rebecca had to endure my panic attack at being one of the listed drivers on the rental van, when I had NO intention of getting behind the wheel of that van AT ALL. (That one was quickly resolved.)

*After that, we had about a 10-minute window to leave on time to get to our destination and pulled out of the parking lot of South Plains with approximately .005 nanoseconds to spare.

*We ran into a zero-visibility (not kidding) dust storm halfway between Lubbock & Abilene and had to slow down considerably, which used up every one of our .005 nanoseconds.

*And the final blow: We arrived in Abilene to discover that the only available hotel rooms were, erm, rather low-rent. (Unfortunately, all pics from this trip were lost when our old computer crashed.) So, we slept in smoke-scented hotel rooms in a questionable neighbourhood. (And my bedtime prayer freaked out the girls in my room, because I prayed for our safety. Oops!)

After such an eventful Friday, one of our girls lost her glasses Saturday morning. And the hotel had no breakfast on offer, so we packed into a McDonald's. When we arrived at the church for competition, Rebecca ordered me to come to the coaches' meeting while the rest of the adults did crowd control with our kids. (Okay, this was a low point only for me.)

Boring meeting... boring meeting... boring meeting... and then the gentleman leading the prayer wound up by asking that God would grant us all "safe passage" home. Now to my half-crazed brain, one uses the word "passage" only when sailing.

So after the "Amen", I turned to Rebecca and asked, "Are we going home by ship?"

She laughed for five minutes, then said, "Thank you, I needed that."

So, Safe Passage. Great phrase. Memories of weekend plans gone awry. Good friends to share them with.

Words: Safe Passage, Part 1

Thought I forgot about this little diversion, didn't you?

Safe Passage

In my mind, there are two reasons to use the word "passage": 1) You are on a ship. or 2) You have a sneaky way of getting out of your house.

Okay, this phrase has never changed my life. Probably never will, until I take that Atlantic crossing to England that I've been promising myself for years and that will have to wait until retirement. But I heard it at the ladies' retreat on Friday, when the closing prayer specifically mentioned "safe passage" home. And this little phrase conjured up a memory...

... Of what some would say was the Worst Bible Bowl Trip in History.

In the course of which, the little phrase "safe passage" lifted the spirits of two otherwise-frazzled women, one of whom, naturally, was me.

Come back later for the rest of the story, and in the meantime, I hope the South Plains Bible Bowlers are having the Best Bible Bowl Trip in History this weekend.

Easter

Any holiday that falls in the spring is bound to be a good one for me. And therefore, I love Easter.

I celebrated Lent as usual this year. I started celebrating Lent when I was 12 & haven't missed a year since (19 years I've been doing this now! 19!!), but for the years that I was still in my parents' house, it was very hush-hush. You see, my parents are not Catholic, they don't belong to a high church, and therefore they are not into hearing about stuff that seems "Catholic" to them. It freaked them out that I had so many Catholic friends, truth be told. So, I kept Lent a secret from my family when I was a teenager. And then from pretty much everyone (except Keely, since we spent too much time together for her to not notice) when I was an aim student.

But never mind me; let's talk about everyone else. In the past few years, I've heard (or seen, for those that I communicate with only via internet) many friends and acquaintances talking about Lent. Apparently, everyone is doing it all of a sudden. Or, we've just all decided to come out of hiding at once.

So, it was cool to know that there were others doing this at the same time as me. It was amusing to see so many people post their Lenten fasts on Facebook; to me, that does miss one of the finer points of fasting by quite a large margin.

As for me, I struggled. And I think that's how it should be; after all, what's the point of an "easy" sacrifice? I don't think I'm setting the bar too high for myself; I do think that my self-control and self-discipline are not what they once were. And it would seem that devoting something to God is not enough of a motivator.

Good thing we have Jesus.

Breaking the silence.

So, in the two weeks since I last posted...

We moved to another apartment, because we are crazy people.

The number of people who we care about who had an urgent, pressing need has been crazy. (I hate to think that God allowed all this to happen to convince me to spend more time praying, but if that's what happened, then I'm here to say it worked.)

The deadline for application to my university of choice came and went (finally!) and I am now completely tied up in knots about my application, which is "currently being reviewed by the admissions committee". I am thankful that my adrenal glands have a limited capacity, because I have already done "slight buzz of nervousness", "hands-are-shaking nervousness" (that was the day I applied; got that one out of the way in a hurry!), and "slight but nagging nervousness", and I am currently into "have finished all other kinds of nervous and now have the empty inside, mind-numbing, must-do-something-else-besides-think-about-this anxiety" that is usually the last stage of nervous for me. Unfortunately, this stage can stick around for weeks, and probably will, unless the admission committee decides that I'm an amazingly-good candidate and sends me a letter first thing Monday morning. If only.

My thoughts on Lent, Easter and winter weather sticking around past its sell-by date coming soon.

How to have Financial Peace

I just have one thing to say about the Healthcare bill: I don't want to hear it.

Now that I got that off my chest... in the wake of today's arguing & other nonsense, I was thinking about Chad & I choosing to live simply, within our means, etc. (Yeah, I don't know how I got from one train of thought to another.) I'm so glad that we've made that choice, and so grateful for the jobs we have that have allowed us to pursue this lifestyle.

At South Plains, we've had Financial Peace University offered for several years in a row. Chad & I have never taken it, just because we don't need it at this point (see previous paragraph). And yet, I can't tell you how many times I've had some variation on this conversation:

Friend (F): Hey, are you & Chad going to take Financial Peace University?

I: No.

F: Why not?

I: We don't need it.

F: But you'll learn how to live within your budget.

I: We already live within our budget.

F: But you'll learn how to save to buy another car.

I: We have a car.

F: Buy you could get another one!

I: We don't need another one.

F: Or you could save up to buy a house.

I: We're already saving to buy a house.

F: Oh! Well, maybe you can go ahead & get a house & work it into your budget now instead of waiting.

I: So, you're saying we should do Financial Peace University so we can learn how to spend our money on stuff we don't need or can't afford?

F: No! It will teach you not to do that.

I: We're already not doing that.

And so on. It makes me laugh. I don't know why other people are so keen on us doing Financial Peace University, unless it's the universal this-is-great-you-should-try-it thing that I usually reserve for books. Which is fair enough, if only they were less determined to find a way that we're not doing it right.

I'm so thankful as well that God kept us from the desire for stuff. If I were constantly longing for a faster car or a big house or flashy jewelry or designer clothes... wow, I'd be so miserable. I wish I knew how to help people who do have that kind of longing. I guess I could recommend Financial Peace University.

Words: 1 Corinthians 6:7

I need to add a disclaimer: I realise that my reflections on these words/sayings/verses are going to be wildly yanked out of their original context. I am not worried about that, because they don't float around in my head in context. What you read here are the musings of a random-access memory doing what it can with a phrase or two.

"Why not rather be wronged?" 1 Corinthians 6:7

I use this verse. I use it as an excuse to not care. I use it as a reason to not be offended. I use it as justification for not defending myself or demanding my rights when the situation may warrant it. I use it... pretty much how I want to use it.

Unfortunately for me, this verse does have a way of cropping up...

When I'm tired.

When I'm cranky.

When someone in traffic cuts me off.

When a coworker complains for no apparent reason.

When I'm frustrated.

And so on.

I'm glad (mostly) that this verse hangs out in my head. I'm grateful that it crops up when I'd least like it to, because it means that whole "write my words on your heart" thing really is working out like it's supposed to.

I'm thankful that I think of it when I see someone else making a fool of herself with her complaints and "I-was-wronged"-ness, so that I can be warned and not do likewise. (I am thinking of a fellow patron at a restaurant recently, but she was by no means the first I've been embarrassed for.)

I want to do this better. I want to do this well. I want to remember that the universe does not revolve around me, and that when we're all sharing the same planet, sometimes I'll be the one who is wronged.

St Pat's

Last year for St. Patrick's Day, I made sure to load up the iPod with the Irish & Celtic Music St. Patrick's Day special, and it was a good one. Include in it was a very amusing song entitled, "Saint Patrick Never Drank." Look it up, listen & enjoy!

So, I celebrated St. Patty's Day by sleeping in until 6:30 AM. It's a wild & crazy life I lead. I dug out my special green ribbon with the shamrocks on it to wear in my hair & was all set for a day of... work. 'Cause that's what I did all day.

And in the evening, Chad & I dropped by Sunset to hear Chad's friend Eli speak. (I guess after knowing him my entire married life I can call him my friend, too... I just don't feel like I know him quite well enough for that yet, since I'm a bit British in my approach to "friend" and "acquaintance". Perhaps a subject for another time.) And as ever, he was very encouraging to hear.

Chad, by the way, had all four wisdom teeth out on Tuesday & so he was a bit drugged for the whole thing Wednesday night, but he was no less encouraged and is already patiently waiting for the lesson to appear online in mp3 format so he can hear it again. And actually, I am too.

We finished off our wild night with a trip to United-- no day is complete without going to get groceries, I always say!-- to get some more soft foods for my unfortunate husband. I hope he gets better soon, or Lubbock may run out of pudding.

Blah!

I'm having a very Eeyore-ish week.

I have no idea where it came from; presumably, there was a cause, as yet unknown to me. At present, I don't really want to do anything, including blogging, although I am pressing on in hopes that blogging will turn out to be cheaper than therapy.

I had a fantastic, crazy-good run yesterday, which I was in no mood to replicate this evening.

My favourite holiday (the first day of spring) is tomorrow, but it's supposed to snow. Bah! Humbug!

(I don't care that the first of spring is not technically a "holiday".)

This should make for a very entertaining weekend...

A funny thing happened on the way to the stop sign

Anyone who is around me for more than five minutes knows of my firm belief that life-- or at least my life-- is a string of awkward moments.

I was out running on Thursday evening, a hard & fast run, and I was having to push myself to keep going. Meanwhile, lots of things on me were hurting-- it comes with the territory. And then an amazing thing happened.

A particular moment in my life, one I've always remembered with a great deal of embarrassment and maybe a smidge of "yeah, that was kind of cool", suddenly leaped into my head seemingly out of nowhere. (Seriously, I've no idea where the thought came from.) And just then, I realised that this memory was not only not embarrassing, but it actually was really, really cool and I'm pretty happy to have it stored in my memory banks.

And then I realised something else-- I was running faster. I had a smile on my face. All the hurting & breathing hard had been forgotten for that brief minute that I was back reliving the memory of one little moment.

Such is the power of a happy memory.

I'm not going to share the moment itself on here; cool though I now know it was, it was still a bit awkward & I have to tell it in person to really do it justice. So if you must know, ask me when next you see me.

Yes, I really do love you THAT much.

I think I'm turning my blog into a South Plains love-fest. Meh. It's my blog, right? I know half of my followers are SP people, so I may as well express my appreciation.

Last night Chad & I went to a special event at another church in town, so it didn't really feel like a Wednesday night. I've caught myself thinking "I'm going to South Plains tonight" many times today, only to have to remind myself that it's Thursday & I have to wait until Sunday to see our church family.

:(

At the risk of sounding trite (or giving any of my readers a cavity), the Lord has blessed us with the people at South Plains. I never saw it coming, that's certain! The first few months at SP I was convinced that it was not the place for me. I'm so happy that I was wrong.

Words: Ecclesiastes 7:10, part 2

"Do not say, 'Why is it that the former days were better than these?' For it is not from wisdom that you ask about this." -- Ecclesiastes 7:10

So, after that jolt to my system that ended my obsession with Little House on the Prairie, this verse came up in my head from time to time throughout my growing-up years. I was particularly reminded of it when my father would tell us how much he wished to be a kid again, or how much more fun we were when we were small. (Note to teens: Don't bother quoting the Bible to your parents. You're not going to win that argument.)

But I would catch myself at it, too, particularly in high school when I wished for my newly-graduated friends back again in the drama club. And of course it hit me again when I was an aim student; the aim program is, after all, one long series of good-byes, and I often wished I could rewind a few months and have all that fun again.

In my adult life, though, is where this verse has taken on a more serious tone. Of course I want to go back to a time I enjoyed; of course I want to undo some unpleasant changes that have happened in my life, of course I want my deceased loved ones back again. But to wish to turn back the clock... No, Solomon was right. Such a wish is unwise.

First of all, it's unwise just because I was less wise then! Pretty simple concept, I should think. How else could I learn & grow if not from living through the rough stuff? How could I possibly enjoy the good times for what they are, if I didn't know what the opposite was like?

Second, I know for sure that I'm looking at the past with rose-tinted glasses. More focused reminiscing brings back the awkwardness, the unhappiness, and the other icky parts of living that I've had at every stage. In fact, too much time spent recalling the past in this way leads me to want to hide under something just because the flood of embarrassment washes over me.

And most importantly (to me), wishing for the past to return denies God's ability to do something fantastic with my future. When I lived in Scotland, I felt like I had real friends for the first time in my life. Guess what? I have that now at South Plains, but it took me a looooong time to see it because I was so focused on what I had left behind. While what has happened before, and the people I knew before, may be wonderful, that doesn't mean that God doesn't have something just as great happening in my present, or that the future will be any less fantastic for having had a brilliant past.

The road ahead is hidden, and God only gives us one step at a time. But I'll never see it if I can't take my eyes off the brightly illuminated road behind me.

Moving right along

Chad & I are moving again.

I never intended to move this much. Honestly, we never intended to move this much. And we'd probably still be living in apartment #2 if our downstairs neighbour over there hadn't been so determined to smoke us out. (Which she did, most effectively.)

So, in eight years of marriage, this is move #4. And I would be less annoyed about this (and less tired just thinking about it) if I didn't know that move #5 is looming on the very, very close horizon.

You see, we don't move just because it seems like fun. (We know better.) And despite all appearances to the contrary, we don't move just to get rid of stuff. (While it is a nice side effect, we are actually quite capable of getting rid of stuff without changing venues.) We only move when the correct set of circumstances comes our way; for instance, when we have a downstairs neighbour who is a prolific smoker and we can't breathe in our own apartment without coughing.

In this instance, we can get a better short-term option across town, and because we aren't sure what we will be doing in 6 months' time, we aren't willing to commit to another 12-month lease.

Which is a real bummer.

So, I'm wrapping up my knickknacks in cushion-y stuff (read: clothes), making a stack of things I'd like to give away, and throwing away anything that I don't want and can't imagine anyone else wanting, either. And I'm tempted to phone Goodwill & offer them the entire contents of my apartment.

But blogging about it saves my sanity. :)

Words: Ecclesiastes 7:10

"Do not say, 'Why is it that the former days were better than these?' For it is not from wisdom that you ask about this." -- Ecclesiastes 7:10

This little verse got stuck in my head a long time ago and refuses to leave, and I think that is because of the circumstances under which I ran across it... and those will require some backstory.

The first TV show I remember watching was Little House on the Prairie. Which lead to the first book I ever read (you guessed it!), Little House on the Prairie. I'll blog later about the disappointment that arose from that experience; suffice to say, I was obsessed with Laura Ingalls' world. And why not? Neither the TV show nor the book did a lot of justice to what I now know was the hard, hard life the the frontier family in the 1880s lived. Plus, the show made it seem that most problems in 1880s farm life could be solved by Charles & Caroline's wisdom in one hour or less, or possibly two hours for the really tough ones. (Full disclosure: my mother didn't let me watch the really depressing episodes, so I knew nothing of the fire that killed Mary's baby & Alice Garvey until I was an adult.)

Anyway! In the course of my Little House-addled 10-year-old life, I ran across this verse on a "verse a day" calendar. I was stunned. In fact, I was horrified. I took it to my mother, to confirm that it really was in the Bible and the calendar writers didn't make it up. I then went into a week-long mourning that I had been sinning by being so in love with the Little House way of life. (Which must have been really fun for my mother, by the way.) At the end of it, I resigned myself to not longing for the 1880s as I had done until then, and instead trying to enjoy my 1980s life for what it was. After all, Laura didn't have TV or a huge library full of books to read, as I did.

There you have it: Backstory done & the effect of this verse on my innocent 10-year-old brain narrated. Tomorrow: adult perspective.

You can keep your cute blogs!

You know, I start to read one person's blog. And they have a link to someone else's blog. Someone I know who I think might have something reasonably enjoyable to say (or, if that someone is a parent, at least some cute pictures to ooh and aah over). So I click that link and read the blog. And this new blog has a link so someone else's blog, and...

Down that road many hours lie. But hey, as long as I'm having fun, right?

I think I've read the blog of every 25-to-35-year-old at South Plains over the course of the last few days (and if you're wondering, it all started with Lesley). And you know what? All those people have cuter blogs than I do.

Not just because they have adorable children to look at, although that is part of it. No, it's because they all have fun, scrapbook-y like backgrounds with lots of bright colours and fun shapes.

Then I come back to my own blog. Meh. My blog isn't pretty; it's functional. (Much like myself, ha ha ha.) I toyed with the idea of changing my background for about 5 seconds on Sunday afternoon.

And then I decided that I like by blog, as boring as it is. So, you can all keep your pretty blogs (and please do-- I need something pretty to look at from time to time), and I'll stick with plain Jane.

Because it takes enough effort to come up with something intelligent to say, and I don't dare divert that energy to cuteness.

Words That Have Changed My Life

Chad and I have had a string of varied discussions today. This is nothing unusual for us, who can discourse for 20 minutes on which is the best route to take across the courtyard to check the mail. However, we ran a race, attended a funeral, and went out to lunch all in the space of three hours this morning, which is NOT usual for us who like to do one thing and then take a break for talking about it.

So in the course of our conversations this morning, I mentioned two different verses that have stuck with me since I first heard them (or at least, since I first consciously registered them). And that led me to thinking that I'd like to blog about the words that stick with me. So, expect this to be an ongoing series as I randomly remember things.

"It never gets easier/It only gets easier if you do it."

These, as you may have noticed, are conflicting ideas, but they have both stuck with me. Why?

I was sitting in a womens Bible class about four years ago, and the teacher was talking about making a regular habit of praying/Bible reading/etc. She made the comment, "It's like exercise; it never gets easier." At which point alarms went off in my head & I drew a great big "?" on the page where I was taking notes. Incidentally, this class happened after I'd been solely a cyclist for over a year, so I knew better-- cycling had certainly gotten easier as I went along.

I didn't bother taking it up with the teacher, because I really didn't even know where to begin-- and even if I had done, it was already said & there was not much chance that we'd go back to the point at the next class. But I did discuss it with Chad & others over the course of a few weeks and arrived at the conclusion which I now hold on to: "It only gets easier if you do it."

So far, I've found this to be true in a lot of areas of life, especially in exercise. It takes work-- and lots of it-- to break bad habits and form good ones. But it doesn't get any easier if I give up. It doesn't get easier if I only half-heartedly try every few days or when I'm in the mood. It doesn't get easier from sitting around thinking about it. It does get easier if I do it.

Both halves of this thought have stayed with me, because the first half prompted me to think through the second half. I don't know how many times I've been in the middle of a run, wanting to give up, and the thought that comes to mind is, "This is the only way to make it easy. It only gets easier if I do it." And such is the way with many things-- they only get easier when practised. So, I will continue to practise.

Cuteness at Prairie Dog Town

There are a lot of kids in the running club. I enjoy watching them, because some of them have the sprint-then-walk-then-sprint approach to running, while others are sloooooowly learning the importance of pacing themselves throughout the race (one of the local PE teachers, who is also in the running club, is responsible for most of them learning how to pace). It's fun to see.

I happened to look around this morning in time to see two little girls, who are coached by the aforementioned teacher, finish the running portion of their warm-up & begin doing some lunges across the grass. I was pretty impressed with them because a) they remembered to do lunges at all, and b) they were doing them with good form.

And then I saw, following behind them, a little sister who looked to be about three, also trying to do lunges. She would take a big step, then look at the older girls, then take a big step while bending her knee, then take another big step & forget to bend her knee. So cute!

The older I get, the more I realise just how many small eyes are watching and how important it is to be careful of my words & actions, especially when around little eyes & ears. But that's a hard message to understand when you are still pretty small yourself, so I was also impressed with the elder sister that she didn't shoo off the little girl, but instead took her hand when they were finished & led her back to their mother. What a great sister she is.

Victory for Gracie

I love the family at South Plains with all of my heart. And today that heart is aching.

I don't have statistics, and I'm not that interested in finding any, but it seems that our congregation has suffered a disproportionate number of heartaches when it comes to children. We have had too many miscarriages, serious illnesses, and losses, and those are just the ones I've heard about. There are many, many people who have spent hours in prayer for these precious children; some little ones have recovered as we hoped, and some have had to cope with chronic conditions for the long haul.

And some, as much as it hurts those left behind, have gained the ultimate victory.

Gracie was 15 months old when she was called home this morning. I bet she met up with her Grandma as she arrived. I bet she played with Jesus for a while. I bet she is already making friends with some of the other precious little ones that have been called earlier than we would have liked. I bet she will be watching over her family as her sisters grow older; someday she will no doubt become an Auntie and will have a beautiful vantage point from which to see little nieces & nephews.

I bet she will send down a kiss & hug every time her parents look at her picture.

My heart breaks for her parents, who are younger than I am; why must they face such loss so early in life? And for Gracie's grandparents, and her aunts & uncles, and her small cousins-- her little life has touched so many people. She leaves behind a hole in so many hearts.

We will see you again, Gracie. And we will rejoice together that we have gained the victory in Jesus.

Too Much!

I has happened again.

I wrote a letter to the Busyness Gremlin back in November, telling him it was time to go. Apparently, all he really did was hide in a closet while the Marathon Gremlin ruled my life. And then, on February 15th, that nasty little monster sneaked back out and started stealing all my time away again.

I planned to spend the second half of February enjoying the Olympics. I had this bright idea that I could keep my feet up, enjoy some tea, and cheer for the athletes of my choice. I was ready to stay in and not run for a little while.

In real life, NBC has the worst signal of any other network in Lubbock, so there was an unfortunate lack of cheering at our house (but I did manage a large amount of whining about how much I hate NBC). It turns out that there is one activity after another demanding my attention. And I can only drink a certain amount of tea before my organs start to float away.

The first week of March has not, unfortunately, been any calmer. In fact, it's been worse, because I'm back to running. So, here I am, cancelling some activities and otherwise trying to slow down my life. Again. I don't care if "everybody's doing it"; I don't want to be busy. I love my life calm.

And now, I'm going to root out that little demon and send him packing.

Write your own Olympic Commentary

There is a game on Whose Line is it Anyway? in which the players watch a movie clip with no sound, and they provide the dialogue. I enjoy playing a similar game with the Olympic events, because sometimes the commentary is too much. However, I do have to say that the Winter commentary is so very superior to the Summer commentary, possibly because they are spread more thinly at the Summer games. But I would like to make one teensy, eensy request of our Winter friends: Please don't deliver every line of the call in a shouting voice. You may shout when something exciting happens, but otherwise, your microphone will pick up your normal speaking voice just fine.

So, I tend to be kind of grumpy at the commentators. I know in my head that in order to be a successful journalist, one must sell one's soul to Satan. I know that they aren't paid to sit there quietly, and I should expect to hear the persistent voices throughout the event. I know that they are experts and can make the Games more enjoyable for me by telling me what is going on. I know that any of their millions of viewers can turn on the TV at any time, and that's why the man just said the same thing for the 100th time this half hour. I know all these things, and yet... sometimes I just have to hit the mute button.

Play on, Olympians.

Lent

So in the midst of basking in my post-marathon glow (you didn't really think I could post without mentioning the marathon, did you?), Ash Wednesday happened. As so often comes up in my poorly-timed life, I hadn't completely planned ahead, so had to hastily pull together the fragments of Lenten possibility that had been floating around in my brain since New Year.

And while I don't share my chosen "fasts" publicly, I will say this: Decreasing my Facebook time is on the list. I have a few specific actions in mind to accomplish this, and the reason, of course, is that it takes up far too much of my time and attention. On the one hand, it does combine the ease and speed of email, chat, and blogging all into one user-friendly webpage. But that doesn't change that fact that it sucks hours from my life, hours that could be better spent on pretty much anything else.

And yet-- and yet, it has not been easy. Facebook is my go-to Internet activity. I catch myself loading the page, only to force myself to close it because I've already been there and done everything that I intended to do for one day. I keep sneaking extra moments to see if anyone has answered a message that I sent, or to see if the "clever" comment I made on a friend's status was well-received. Sigh.

I think a year will come that I'll have to give up the Internet altogether, just to break the habit of spending all my spare time finding out what the rest of the world is up to. In the meantime, this small step is proving difficult enough.

Back to Earth.

I've been able to claim the title "Marathoner" for one week. And what a week it's been.

Non-runners, who don't know how horrible my time really was, have been oohing and aahing over every sore muscle and the tales from every last mile.

Runners, who don't care how horrible my time really was, all want to know if I've caught the bug. (Yep. Can't wait for my next one.)

I've been hugging people all over the place (if you missed it, sorry-- I'm done!) and showing off my medal to anyone who will listen. Not to mention forwarding my race pictures to everyone at the office and generally making a nuisance of myself to everyone around me-- I'm sure some of them were hoping to be freed from hearing "marathon" from me every thirty seconds. (I think that's just my repayment for having to hear "football" every ten seconds for six months out of the year.)

I wanted to go running this evening, but I was a bit put off by the freezing temps. I don't have anything on my running plan this week, so it was just going to be for fun. But, it will be warmer later this week, so I'll get some miles in before March arrives.

It is a bit of a departure for me to want to run this badly so soon after a race-- after both my half-marathons, and especially after Austin last year, I wasn't eager to get back to it. But I've recovered so quickly this time (slow race + massage will do that to you!) and I've been feeling great since Wednesday, and I'm desperate to get back out there. Guess I really have caught the bug.

So, this marathoner is ready to see just how fast she can run a half-marathon in Oklahoma.

After 26.2

The finish line at Austin is directly in front of the capital. I've never in my life been so happy to see the number "26" (yeah, it was like an episode of Sesame Street), but that's when I sped up, rounded the capital building and ran as hard as I could up the finish chute. The announcer didn't say my name (Boo!), but I pretty much crossed the line by myself, so all 5 cameras in the vicinity were pointed at me, as evidenced by my official race photos (which, by the way, you can see here).

Oh, and I was crying again. If I was dehydrated at all on Sunday, it was more from crying than from sweating, I can pretty much guarantee you. And as I was running up the chute, I couldn't breathe because I was crying. So, for future reference: Crying+Running+Breathing= Impossible.

I crossed the line and collected my medal. And that was it. Six months' worth of training for the two seconds it took to cross the line and say "Thank you" to a volunteer. I wanted to ask if I could cross the line a couple of more times, just to make it last longer!

So, got the medal, got my t-shirt, got my gear check bag (which I didn't need at all, because the weather was so nice), got a bottle of water, a banana, and a Snickers Marathon bar. (Warning: those are gross. Buy Clif Bars instead.)

Chad, Mike & Sharlan were waiting for me at the end of the finish chute, and when I hugged Chad, I started crying again. (On the upside, I shouldn't need to cry again for about six months.) We headed for the car, and in addition to eating my banana and gross Snickers Marathon bar, I also fished out my Clementines from my gear check bag. (So I guess I needed it a little bit.)

Then I started my round of phone calls: My mum, Linda (whose driveway I've been parking in for training runs for six months), my sister, Sherry (who was intently watching the race results to see if I'd finished), Wendy (who didn't answer), and Sarah (who had a screaming-good 1/2 marathon in Austin).

And I had a really unpleasant ice bath at the hotel. It's too bad that ice baths work so well; I'd love a reason not to do it, but it's so effective that I hate to skip it. Eeek.

Friday Countdown

The Countdown is getting a bit sparse. Apparently, all the major events in my year already happened. Time to think up some new ones!

Prairie Dog 4-miler: 22 days

First Day of Spring: 29 days

The Great H.O.G.G. Race (Half Marathon): 36 days

Easter: 44 days

Oklahoma City Half Marathon: 64 days

During 26.2

So, I'll just try to remember things in order.

I think I already mentioned my tendency to cry at the beginning of long races, right? Well, I did.

I was admiring the many and varied shops that we were running past. My favourite? "Lucy In Disguise with Diamonds."

The first spectator to read my bib and call me by name was at about mile 4. I was amazed, because it never occurred to me that a) anyone could read my name on my bib (I guess I was moving pretty slowly), or b) that they would want to shout it. But she did, and she turned out to be the first of many.

I had a "tough cookie" get in my way-- and here I thought I was the only one who couldn't run in a straight line. I high-fived a giant lemon-- I never did work out what they were promoting. I got behind Chad, then caught up with him again. I was walking with Chad, but ran up a hill, because I thought walking up it would be more depressing. I would have danced for joy when we finally go to the Powerade, if it wouldn't have been a waste of energy. (There was a cute little boy volunteering at the Powerade station, who offered me an entire bottle, which I turned down in favour of a small cup. I think he was disappointed.)

So, after the split from the half-marathoners, I started crying again. Geez. Don't worry-- that wasn't the last time.

There was a girl called Maggie running near me. How do I know she is called Maggie? Because she brought her own cheering section. One guy met up with her at an aid station, and there were two more people waiting at the end of the next block. And they spelled out her name with their arms. But that wasn't all-- she had more people, with signs, a couple of blocks later. And that was the last I saw of Maggie & her retinue.

A little girl was sitting on a curb with her mum, and waving the way small kids do-- just turning her hand back & forth; you really had to look at her to see that she was waving at all. But her eyes lit up and she smiled so hugely when I waved back at her.

A runner handed me a heart-shaped pretzel. Some spectators gave me one of those huge soft mints, which promptly got me worrying about inhaling it. I bit into it so that I didn't have to worry about choking.

Good signs: "Posterboard: 50 cents. Parking: $7. Seeing you kick the pavement's @$$: priceless." "Is he lonesome/or is he blind/this guy who is following/so close behind?" (broken up into four signs, a la the Burma shave ads) "Easy Sunday 10K from here (near mile 20)." "If your feet hurt, it's because you're kicking butt!" "Runner (bib #) lives here." (I thought that was pretty cool). And my favourite: "Mile 26". :)

Near mile 20, there were spectators handing out beer-- and from the way they were acting, I'd say they'd been sampling the product for quite a while. I passed them by for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is: beer is gross at the best of times, and 20 miles into 26.2 is NOT the best of times.

Another spectator was giving out orange slices. I would send her a thank-you card, if I had her name & address.

We ran through UT campus-- and I'm pretty sure we went the loooooong way through. I thought we were never coming to the end.

Oh, and did I mention there were some hills? In fact, at one point a volunteer at an intersection said to me, "Top of the hill! Great job!" I said, "Thanks," but was thinking "Hill? There was a hill? What hill?" I actually turned around to look & saw that he was right, I had just come uphill & hadn't even noticed. Can I tell you what a great feeling that was?

Coming soon: The End.

Before 26.2

I'd better write this now before I forget all of it!

First of all, yes, I'm sore. Really, really sore. I-can't-get-up-from-the-couch sore. I'll roll off onto the floor, crawl to a sturdy chair, and lift myself up with my arms. It's a bit silly, really. Earlier, I took too big of a step and knew it immediately-- and my quadriceps had their revenge. Ugh.

So-- Chad & I were among the last across the start line. Not a problem, since we had chip timing. But before the start... we saw Jill, from the running club (technically, she saw us) and said hello. I saw a guy dressed as William Wallace (presumably), complete with sword. Because of the way the street slopes and the fact that we were at the back of 14000 runners (not to mention that I'm crazy-short), I had to jump to see the pyrotechnics on the start line when the gun went off. And, I called my mum.

Apparently, my mother did not get the memo that I was running a marathon. The conversation was something like this:

Mum: Hello.

I: Hi!

Mum: What are you doing? (A reasonable question when I call her at 7:45 on Sunday morning.)

I: I'm standing at the start line of the marathon.

Mum: What?

I: I'm about to run a marathon.

Mum: You are?

I: Yeah. Chad's running the half-marathon.

Mum: Oh. How's the weather?

I: Good. It's supposed to be really nice today.

Mum: Well, that's good. So how far are you running?

I: 26.2 miles.

Mum: Wow. Well, have fun!

Sigh. I'll have to tell my mum about race distances some day.

Anyway, once we were safely across the start line, I started crying. (Just out of nerves/happiness, not because my mum doesn't know how far a marathon is.) Seriously, I should teach a class on how to run while crying, I'm so good at it.

On the Eve of becoming a Marathoner...

(Reposted from Facebook)

So, I've been composing this little entry in my head for a while; ever since I began my taper for the marathon which, as I write this, is just over 18 hours away. (Oh. My. Word.)

My running career began when I was 12 and thought that running track would be a fun way to hang out with my friends. (I was right about that.) Even then, there was no one who didn't know that I was easily the slowest person on the team. To put it another way, the fast people would be finishing the 800 just as I was entering the first curve of my second lap. And yet... and yet, those same people were still standing near to cheer in the slow people as we finished. Some of my coaches had a hard time believing that anyone could run that slowly, but again, I rarely heard anything but encouragement.

(In gym class, my classmates took pains to tell me that I run like a duck. And quack behind me in the halls for my entire freshman year. Thanks, guys.)

I didn't run competitively in high school (and I rarely ran recreationally), but I picked it up again as an aim student (and Keely confirmed that I do, in fact, run like a duck, although she refrained from quacking), then had an on-again, off-again relationship with running until three years ago. (Three years! Wow!)

I took it up again, found that I liked it, and then (and here is the secret to my sticking with it) we joined the West Texas Running Club. The club puts on monthly, totally-non-threatening, gives-you-something-to-train-for races. I love it.

Anyway. That was all background to the sappy part. I never would have stuck with this, I never would have striven for improvement, I certainly never would have thought about running a marathon without all the support and encouragement I've received from all sides. Running really is a non-team team sport, and I have a GINORMOUS number of teammates.

Chad got me into this mess in the first place. :) There are many people in the running club who are so encouraging, even (especially!) when they finish 30 minutes ahead of me. We've been blessed beyond measure by Shannon & Wendy's friendship; it calmed my nerves considerably to see a familiar face at our first race. (And Shannon graciously refrained from saying "I told you so" after I went out MUCH too fast only 10 minutes after he warned me not to.)

There are other runners at South Plains and at work who have helped with advice and encouragement. But I readily admit to being even more uplifted by non-runners, mostly on Facebook, who make me feel like an Olympic athlete when alll I've done is a slow 3-miler. Especially so are the people who have said I'm an inspiration-- me, an inspiration? I've never heard that in my life about anything. And suddenly this uber-slow, runs-like-a-duck (Chad thinks so, too) overweight girl has become a mostly-slow, still-runs-like-a-duck, normal-weight running girl, who gets by with a little help from her friends.

I couldn't have done it without your help. And so, on the eve of becoming a Marathoner, I say thank you. Rest assured that during the long miles tomorrow, I will be thinking of you. And thanking God for you.

Friday Countdown

I really meant to post this week. Oops! No worries, race report coming on Monday. :)

Vancouver Olympics: Today!!

Austin Marathon: 2 days!!

Ash Wednesday: 5 days

First Day of Spring: 36 days

The Great H.O.G.G. Race: 43 days

Easter: 51 days

Oklahoma City Marathon: 73 days

Friday Countdown

Vancouver Olympics: 7 days

Austin Marathon: 9 days

Ash Wednesday: 12 days

First Day of Spring: 43 days

The Great H.O.G.G. Race: 50 days

Easter: 58 days

Oklahoma City Marathon: 79 days

Good day, sun shines!

I just got this spam comment on the Lubbock Daily Photo Blog:

Good day, sun shines!

There have were times of hardship when I felt unhappy missing knowledge about opportunities of getting high yields on investments. I was a dump and downright stupid person.

I have never imagined that there weren't any need in large initial investment.

Now, I'm happy and lucky, I started to get real money.

It gets down to select a proper companion who uses your funds in a right way - that is incorporate it in real deals, and shares the profit with me.

You may get interested, if there are such firms? I'm obliged to answer the truth, YES, there are. Please be informed of one of them:

I'm obliged to answer the truth, YES, this comment makes me laugh. A lot. And not because I'm a dump. I almost published it for my own amusement, but decided it would give me more of a laugh over here.

From now on, I shall greet everyone I see with "Good day, sun shines!", in the hopes that they may get interested in being my friend.

Friday Countdown

Vancouver Olympics: 14 days

Austin Marathon: 16 days

Ash Wednesday: 19 days

First Day of Spring: 50 days

The Great H.O.G.G. Race: 57 days

Easter: 65 days

Heard in Journeyland, Again

I love our Journeyland group! These kids are so fun!

On Sunday morning, one of them started dancing along to their memory work songs. Not exactly dance music, but so what?

Wednesday, we walk in to the room & there are four kids hopping around in circles on one foot, and one kid sitting in his seat with a bewildered look on his face.

Seated kid: We need a teacher to make them calm down!

Me: Ta-daa! Here I am!

And then I got the kids running round in circles to burn off some of that energy. So much for calming down. Ha!

I then led them in an action song, to get them singing & transition into memory work. Which they did, but by then they were so into circling the room, that they continued walking round in a circle, which I was perfectly happy to let them do until about 7:05, when I called a halt & brought them all over to sit down. I did this on purpose to give them plenty of time to move from active & silly to seated & quiet, since we kept talking for a few minutes about nothing whatsoever before talking about prayer requests. (The teacher was late; we don't usually have time for this much stuff!)

And yet, even with that much time to settle, they were having a hard time listening to one another (and me!), so I finally pulled out the big guns: "If we can't be seated & listen, we'll just have to all sit & stare at a wall during class to practise being quiet." (We were in the movie room; they would have missed the movie if I'd had to follow through.)

That did it.

Heard in Journeyland

Yes, this will be a never-ending series, for as long as I am doing anything with children!

(The children at church are collecting money for some supplies for a church in Peru.)

1st girl: I brought some money for Peru!

I: Great!

2nd girl: Me, too! I have a whole pocket in my purse full of money!

I: Wow. Did your parents give you money to make sure you had some to bring with you today?

2: Yeah, a little, but some of it was money I had saved up.

I: Good for you! That's very kind of you to give some of the money you have saved.

1: I have money saved, too! I have $16!

I: That's great! Are you saving for college? Because you should probably start.

2: I'm not saving for college. I'm saving for a car.

1: Yeah, me too.

So in our class of seven-year-olds, there are two very wise girls saving for a car. I hope their parents tell them about college. Soon.

Friday Countdown

Vancouver Olympics: 21 days

Austin Marathon: 23 days

Valentine's Day: Ditto

Ash Wednesday: 26 days

First Day of Spring: 57 days

Great H.O.G.G. Race: 63 days

Easter: 72 days

Behind a Computer

I've gone missing for a few days, because this has been one of those crazy-busy weeks that I have once in a while, regardless of how hard I try to avoid it.

I've spent my day today (entire day, minus one trip down to the laundry room & a few minutes eating my lunch) looking for scholarships online. And the number of essays I'm going to write in the next few weeks will probably mean that I won't be blogging much. Unless, of course, one of the essays inspires me to blog.

Happy Saturday!

I'll be praying for you! (Heh, heh, heh)

While I care a great deal about those who are in my prayers, it has never come to the point of imprisonment. Yet.

One week down; 51 to go

I decided a few days ago that if my manuscript of New Year's Resolutions is to become more than a mere manuscript, I must actually review it regularly. As in, daily.

So, I read it over again this evening. The result is not quite as disenheartening as I had feared.

You see, I thought this week was pretty dismal in terms of reaching my resolutions. I thought I had made no progress at all. And for a couple of things-- notably, Bible reading & prayer, that is true. But for other things, it wasn't so bad.

I missed a run this week. So I probably won't meet my monthly mileage. But I got the others in.

I didn't cycle every day this week, because of the cold and some work activities. But I did cycle the other days, so my mileage goal for January is not lost.

I certainly didn't walk every day this week. Funny how the cold will put you off! But I did walk twice, which is twice more than last week.

I met some new people at South Plains. And probably weirded them out, because I do that. (Not on purpose!) We started Journeyland. I started a new-to-me book. All steps in the right direction.

So, it's a process. I'm not off to a horrible start. And I did begin The Bible in 90 Days tonight, 10 days later than intended.

One week down. Fifty-one to go. Bring it on.

Below Freezing

So, it's the second Saturday of the the month, and if you're keeping score at home, you know that means that the West Texas Running Club-- at least, those of us with little to no sanity-- had a race today in the just-a-bit-too-cold temps.

I don't usually do a warmup. In the world of Su, that's what the first mile of the race is for. I'm a slow runner and am usually not out to prove much beyond the fact that this chubby short girl, is, in fact, marginally faster than she looks. So, I save all my running for after the airhorn blows.

Today, I warmed up. And I'm so thankful that I did; during the warmup, my face was feeling like it was on the verge of frostbite. (It wasn't; that's just how I felt.) But that meant that my face was reasonably warm already when the race began, thus saving myself that very uncomfortable feeling.

So, I went and found some other uncomfortable feelings as a substitute: My eyes were watering, hence my nose was running, and I was concerned about the snot freezing on my face. And, I went out too fast, so I made up for that by running mile two even faster. Yeah, I can be a bit dumb sometimes.

No PR for me today-- but I wasn't expecting one. And now I'm looking forward to a leisurely 10-mile easy run tomorrow. The marathon beckons.

Friday Countdown

Loop the Lake 5-miler: 15 hours

Burns Supper: 17 days (yes, I am having it on the wrong day)

Vancouver Olympics: 35 days

Austin Marathon: 37 days

Valentine's Day: Ditto

Ash Wednesday: 40 days

First Day of Spring: 72 days

Great H.O.G.G. Race: 78 days

Easter: 86 days

2009: Begone, already!

I hate doing end-of-year stuff. End-of-month is a challenge, but then I only have to account for 22 work days at the most. End-of-year is tiring. I have to personally hunt down every loose end, tie it up, then report to three different people about it. I'm so ready to move on from 2009 now, but I can't until I finish tying.

Anyway. It's cold in Lubbock, so I skipped my running this evening in favour of not getting frostbitten. We're having a soup potluck at work tomorrow, so I need to go chop some veggies so I can delight my coworkers with Black Bean & Sausage soup. One of my favourites.

Heard in Journeyland

So, we're back to shepherding kids around for eight weeks, and we got first graders again this go-round. We've now been doing this long enough that for a lot of these kids, we 1) already had their older siblings, or 2) are friends with their parents, or 3) both. I especially like having the children of friends. It's amazing how quickly, "Do I need to speak to your mother?" works with six-year-olds.

Anyway! Tonight we were talking about the start of the church in Acts 2-3, and the teacher was explaining that the church is not a building. The kids were a bit puzzled by this, and at least one of them insisted that the church is, in fact, the building we were in. The teacher was trying to get them to think it through (or at least make good guesses)

Teacher: What do you think the church is?

Girl: A holy place to worship.

(Class: Looks puzzled)

Teacher: Do you think this building is a holy place?

(Class: Continues looking puzzled)

I: I hope not, the way you all run around & scream in here sometimes.

(Teacher: Snickers)

Girl: I do not!

Just in case you were wondering: Oh, yes, she does.

Resolved: Learn something new

As previously (I think) mentioned, I've applied to university to start in the fall of 2010.

Once that starts, I probably won't be reading anything but textbooks for a few months. But until then, I'd like to expand my current reading repertoire. To this end, I have three reading-related resolutions:

1. Check out a new book from the library every month. And by "new", I mean newly-released. I'm afraid this means I'll be reading a lot of political drivel, but I will certainly do my best to do some research so I can avoid that stuff.

2. Check out (or buy) one classic every month. I'm sadly lacking in my reading of the classics, because there are only so many that you can get in school. Even one per semester, starting in 6th grade, only gets you 14 books, and I didn't get nearly that many because we got a Shakespeare play every year as well. And rightly so, but that takes my list of other books down to seven. And at least one of those (Great Expectations, if you're keeping score) I read about two chapters of, then watched the movie instead, because I hated it. I hope I have more luck with other classics than my 14-year-old self had with Great Expectations.

3. Check out (or buy) one book from The Big Read every month. Now, there may be some overlap with the classics here, but hey, I don't mind that at all. The Big Read is a result of a survey taken in the UK about 10 or so years ago (they may have updated it since then, but I have the list from 10 years ago) of people's favourite books; the top 200 made it on the list. Of the 200, I've read 31. I have several on the list marked that I'm particularly interested in reading, but out of sheer laziness, I haven't gone to the library to get any of them. So, that's about to change.

In other words, I see myself spending some time at the library in the first seven or eight months of 2009. After that, it'll have to be a reward for doing so well on my exams. :)

Resolved: Cut down on stuff

So, there's a link in my sidebar to A Guy Named Dave, who got some attention toward the end of 2008 for taking on the "100 thing challenge". Basically, with a couple of exceptions, he lived with 100 personal possessions for one year.

I'm not sure what form this challenge will take for me. I can safely say that like Dave, I will not count books in my 100 things. I will probably also not count craft supplies, since I have more than 100 things right there. Both of those categories, books & craft supplies, may collectively count as one item each. I can see stuffed animals also getting its own category, which would leave me with 97 things. :)

I'll also be excluding shared things: our car & furniture, for example, do not count towards my personal 100 things. I am entertaining the thought of going through our kitchen and reducing our utensils, gadgets, etc to 100 things. And the same thing in the bathroom. But we shall see.

I'm planning to start this adventure on June 1st. Stay tuned & I'll keep you posted.

Resolved: Need more miles

So, health-related resolutions (lose weight, eat better, exercise more) are consistently at the top of the U.S.'s collective resolution list, as any survey, news report, or know-it-all coworker will tell you.

I'm not resolving to lose weight. Not because I don't need it (dang holiday pounds!), but because that road only leads to frustration. So, I'm skipping the "Lose 10 pounds by spring" madness in 2010.

Nope, my fitness resolutions have a bit more, shall I say, edge:

Running: 1000 miles. I was going for this in 2009, but got distracted. Not this year, baby.

Cycling: 900 miles. I met my 2009 goal (800 miles) by 1.5 miles. On New Year's Eve. But this year, I have the sweet bike and am already equipped with cold-weather gear. Bring it on.

Walking: 350 miles. I've been doing the "Walk to Rivendell" thing for a couple of years; I made it from the Shire to Parth Galen in 2008 by counting all my fitness miles. I tried getting as far as Rivendell in 2009 (459 miles) using just my walking mileage, and didn't make it. And if you can count, you will notice that meeting my goal this year will also not get me to Rivendell, but I've decided that running & cycling get priority & walking is strictly on the side.

I also have time goals written down for any distance I might conceivably run this year. But the only ones I'm really intending to work on are my 5 and 10Ks: sub-30 minutes for the 5K & sub-1 hour for the 10K. And I'll get right on that as soon as I recover from my marathon.

Resolved: See other people.

Yep, I'm part of the movie generation, no matter how much I refrain from participating, which means I love sequels. Apparently.

So! My next resolution is kind of reactive, I guess. I've probably mentioned before that I love South Plains, the congregation we are a part of. It's a loving, friendly, entertaining bunch of people who have been family to Chad & I for our entire marriage. (Yep, I went to the trouble to look it up: February 17, 2002, was the day we first set foot in South Plains. We placed membership two months later, on April 27th.)

But for all that I love South Plains, I must admit: We aren't good with strangers. There was a sketch that was popular at youth rallies when I was in high school, in which a group of Christian teens would be in a huddle singing a song about how much they loved each other, while some other teens on the outside were trying to join in, with no success. South Plains is that group, to some extent; we love each other & forget that we can let others in.

I knew this from our own entry to South Plains. I love it so much now that it's easy to forget the frustration of those first few months, but I was quite forcibly reminded of it recently by another new person, who I had overlooked for months. I had no idea, until recently, that I'd joined the ranks of those who don't see the "new" people.

So! All that to say, I've resolved to look around & meet at least one new person every Sunday. I'm sure this will lead to some embarrassment at the beginning, when I inadvertently "meet" the same person three or four times. However, I can't continue to ignore other people in this congregation that has so blessed my life. It's not right to enjoy those blessings and not pass them on.

Resolved: A bunch of stuff

I'm good at goals. In fact, I'm great at goals.

And I know this, because I've had essentially the same goals for the past 10 years. See, I can hang on to a goal like nobody's business.

My list of New Year's Resolutions is currently a two-page document, but it's not quite as dramatic as all that; quite a bit of those two pages are dedicated to a game plan to actually meet some of my goals. Altogether, I have 9-ish goals for 2010. And since this blog is dedicated to, well, my life & thoughts, I'll just spend a few posts expanding on them. :) Plus, as ever, getting it out in public, even if only for a couple of people to see, makes it more "official".

So, here's the first one: Daily Bible reading

I haven't done daily Bible reading as such for a couple of years. There is a reason, albeit a dumb one; I had a great plan going, kept in pretty good rhythm, had the habit down, etc. until I started studying intently for Bible bowl a few years ago. Then I finished Bible bowl, and I got into a rhythm again, then got interrupted for another Bible class I was studying for. So, essentially, my daily Bible reading kept getting messed up for more intense Bible study. But, this past year I've done neither, and it's time for a change.

I've been waffling between going back to my old plan or trying out the "Bible in 90 Days" plan that a couple of people have mentioned online. I printed the "90 Days" bookmark today, so I guess that's the one I'm going with. :) After 90 days, which should be April 1st, I'll do something else. Or, I'll have decided that I like this plan so much that I'll do it over again.

Come back later for resolutions 2-9.

Friday Countdown

Yep, a countdown is a rather inglorious start to a year of blogging. And yet, here it is.

Anniversary: Today!!!

Loop the Lake 5-miler: 8 days

Burns Supper: 24 days (yes, I am having it on the wrong day)

Vancouver Olympics: 41 days

Austin Marathon: 43 days

Valentine's Day: Ditto

Ash Wednesday: 46 days

First Day of Spring: 79 days

Great H.O.G.G. Race: 85 days

Easter: 93 days

Happy 2010

As I spend my New Year's Eve watching large amounts of Lord of the Rings and making comments about Legolas' hair, I'll also be contemplating my New Year's Resolutions.

Specifically, how I'll decide them on New Year's Day. Yep, my first resolution is to procrastinate in the area of making resolutions.

Check back here tomorrow to see if I've decided anything. And the happiest (and safest) of New Years to you all.

Six Miles To Go

I'm proclaiming this to the entire universe, in the hopes that the universe will provide me with the needed motivation.

My cycling goal for this year was 800 miles. As of right now, December 30th, I am sitting at 794.

I need six more miles to reach my goal. I live three miles from my office. I think you see where this is going.

Yes! All I need to do is ride my bike to and from work tomorrow, and I WIN!!!

(I don't know what I win; more on that later.)

None of my Business.

I have a long list of things that are none of my business.

You see, putting most of the universe into the "not my business" bucket is pretty close to putting it into "not my problem". A category that I like things living in.

Some might call it laziness. They would be correct.

But it's also emotional protection for me. There are some who get up in arms & extremely involved in Every. Little. Thing. I can't do it; I don't have that much emotional energy. My way is much easier! Michael Phelps doing drugs? None of my business. One of the Bush daughters drinking? Also none of my business. Tiger Woods dallying? Certainly none of my business, and I'll thank you to stop reporting on it, Every Single Network! Private lives of my coworkers? I may need to take my earplugs to work with me.

What is my business? Caring about my friends. Being aware of those around me. Showing kindness. Doing my job without causing a fuss. Loving others. Acting like Jesus.

Turns out there are a lot of things that are my business, after all.

No thanks, I don't need any.

So, in case you hadn't noticed, public figures are rather polarising.

Of course you've noticed. Things that live under rocks have noticed. The veggies in my crisper drawer have noticed, although they may be more concerned with their own immediate future.

The head coach of the Texas Tech football team is in some hot water. I couldn't even tell you why, because I haven't bothered to look it up. The comments on Facebook are rampant. I've heard ESPN has picked it up.

I'm not a fan. It matters not to me. I'm just amazed that once again, people have joined up on both sides. Some are screaming for the coach's head; others are screaming for the university administrators' heads. (Truth be told, none of said heads would look that great on a spike.) Students are complaining about the player that triggered it all; fans are threatening to change teams; others are wondering why an adult, college student or not, needs his parents to call the school and complain on his behalf.

The coach, when deciding his career path, probably knew that an incident like this would come up. He chose to coach anyway. He chose to do what he enjoyed for a living. (I'm sure the potential for cash and some TV time didn't hurt his decision in any way.)

And he is, no matter how you look at it, a small-scale celebrity. What about those who choose to go into politics? Acting? Professional sports? (Anyone have an opinion on Tiger Woods?)

Geez. No thanks, I like being anonymous. I like it that people don't line up to praise or denounce every word that comes out of my mouth. (I get enough of that with a handful of people at work.) I can't imagine liking it.

And I guess that's why I'm not famous.

Christmas Eve

Yeah. I mentioned that a cold front came in on Wednesday night, bringing rain, then snow, and some ice.

I still had to go out and buy our Christmas dinner. After giving it some thought, I decided to avoid the massive and panic-stricken crowds (that's what happens when we have snow in Lubbock) that were sure to be at the stores, and instead take my chances with the snow on Thursday.

So Thursday morning, we had to dig the car out, defrost, scrape off the ice, etc, etc, try to help a neighbour who was stuck in the parking lot, and then I went on my merry way. I had no idea, until Thursday, just how helpful it is to have a standard transmission when the roads are icy.

So the store, and the post office, were both as empty as I had hoped they would be. Alas, the same cannot be said for the streets, which had plenty of people willing to drive 5 mph all over them. But hey, I got out, got our food, mailed our packages, and got home without incident.

And since I won the drawing at work on Wednesday, our Christmas dinner was free. Brilliant!

Running & Sliding

I had a couple of amusing runs last week.

(Now, there's a sentence that can be taken a lot of ways.)

On Wednesday evening, there was a cold front on its way in, and the rain came first. I still had to go running, rain and falling temps notwithstanding. So, we bundled up & out we went. It was a pretty slow run, owing to the need to go around puddles & mud slicks. At the end, despite all our best efforts, we were soaked, muddy and cold. And extremely pleased with ourselves.

And I also had to get a run in on Christmas day, when there was still plenty of residual snow & ice from the said cold front, which did manage to arrive successfully Wednesday night. And I wanted to go running in the snow while we still could. This one was equally fun, complete with skirting around icy patches, jumping over puddles, and running in all the fresh (and, in a couple of places, deep) snow that we could. Fun, fun, fun.

Unfortunately, it all ended ingloriously when Chad fell down & injured something. Fortunately, we were very near our house, and as we walked (or hobbled) back home, I said, "You know, I thought I would be the one to fall down."

He said, "Yeah, me too."

Bah. Humbug.

So, having now reached the full measure of my holiday commentary, let me just delve into Christmases past for my own amusement.

My father is not big on Christmas. He has his reasons for this, but the only years that he actually seemed to enjoy Christmas were the years when he had preschool children in his house.

It's not too well-known that the Grinch has a brother, generally known as the Grunch. Rather than settling near Hooville with his brother (who he couldn't stand, anyway), the Grunch decided to live a life of relative obscurity in Greenfield, Indiana, and raise a family. He tried, he really did, to get into Christmas and indeed all holidays, but alas, when there were no small children to bring him amusement any longer, his Grunch-like ways resumed.

He didn't want to get a Christmas tree. He didn't like singing Christmas carols. He really didn't like having to go to school Christmas programmes. All the normal television was messed up for Christmas. What's more, he didn't always get to take his vacation time during Christmas, and when he did, it was usually too cold to do any projects around the house that he wanted to do, so he was stuck inside playing board games with the Grunch children. Boring board games. He did enjoy watching A Christmas Carol so he could "humbug" right along with Mr. Scrooge, and certainly enjoyed Christmas Vacation, just so he could have a laugh.

So, after being raised by such a Grunch, what's a Grunch child to do? I've tried going overboard for Christmas. I've tried going underboard for Christmas. But we've pretty much settled on this easygoing, lighthearted celebration that Chad & I now enjoy.

But beware; one never knows when I might go Griswold all over my house. Or Grunchy.