Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Well, so much for that "I'll be in contact" deep-and-meaningful look; when I went to Albi's last night, Texas was on a date elsewhere! So be it.
I'm afraid I ruined potential connections by being overly concerned about the weather--which was, to my credit, not good last night. Sirens went off and everything. I checked online resources (including Facebook) via my iPod for updates, and most likely alienated the girl beside me. My apologies!
It turned out to be a good evening, with a bit of flood-watching and people-watching-flood-watching going on. I corralled one of the guys into wandering downstream a few blocks with me to see the water's impact there, and got some interesting shots of the clouds that kept moving along to the east.
Other highlight of the evening was listening to conversation about getting cows on a schedule and artificially inseminating them, thereby having their calving season down to about three days rather than the four month range that would occur naturally. While there's debate about whether or not it's really healthy for the cattle, it's a lot like knowing the plumber will visit between 2-3pm, rather than "sometime this week."
I'm afraid I ruined potential connections by being overly concerned about the weather--which was, to my credit, not good last night. Sirens went off and everything. I checked online resources (including Facebook) via my iPod for updates, and most likely alienated the girl beside me. My apologies!
It turned out to be a good evening, with a bit of flood-watching and people-watching-flood-watching going on. I corralled one of the guys into wandering downstream a few blocks with me to see the water's impact there, and got some interesting shots of the clouds that kept moving along to the east.
Other highlight of the evening was listening to conversation about getting cows on a schedule and artificially inseminating them, thereby having their calving season down to about three days rather than the four month range that would occur naturally. While there's debate about whether or not it's really healthy for the cattle, it's a lot like knowing the plumber will visit between 2-3pm, rather than "sometime this week."
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Wondering
Albi called tonight and invited me to dinner tomorrow. She and her husband are having guests; dinnertime is 6:30.
At church on the 4th of July, I ran into Albi and her husband, and Albi's best friend and some strange guy. I reminded Albi of my get-together that night, and she asked if they could bring strange guy along. Sure! I was very much into a "the more, the merrier" sentiment that weekend.
When they arrived, I had already forgotten strange guy's name and had to ask for it again. However, I was high on hostessing and had no problem with awkwardness; what a wonderful sensation!
Later, when I ran into Albi on the balcony, she pulled me aside and said, "So--are you seeing any of these gentlemen?" Nope. "Well--have you met my friend [Texas]? He's really quiet, so you'll have to go initiate something."
I don't initiate. If the guy's not willing to, why bother? And if he's not able to...why bother?
We stood on my balcony to watch fireworks, and I found an open spot between a new Baptist friend and Albi's husband. On the other side of Albi's husband was Texas. The guys on either side of me were conversational and relaxed. It was such a juxtaposition of guests in attendance that night, with my front hall being filled with sandals and cowboy boots.
After Albi's husband and I had caught up a bit, I felt the need to include Texas in the conversation. I got him talking, heard his accent, and loved it. Albi's husband stepped back a bit to allow for face-to-face communication, but was still available to moderate the conversation. He provided security that way, and it made me feel closer to him than I ever have before. I think, really, he reminded me of my favorite uncle. :)
When Albi and her entourage left that night, I invited Texas to my Bible study since he's still semi-new in town and doesn't have a large social group. He looked at me, said with confidence that we'd be in contact, and _looked_ at me. It seemed to be an "I'll follow through with you" look that made me smile and feel gushy inside.
I hope he's there tomorrow night...and if not, I look forward to meeting new, fun people anyway!
At church on the 4th of July, I ran into Albi and her husband, and Albi's best friend and some strange guy. I reminded Albi of my get-together that night, and she asked if they could bring strange guy along. Sure! I was very much into a "the more, the merrier" sentiment that weekend.
When they arrived, I had already forgotten strange guy's name and had to ask for it again. However, I was high on hostessing and had no problem with awkwardness; what a wonderful sensation!
Later, when I ran into Albi on the balcony, she pulled me aside and said, "So--are you seeing any of these gentlemen?" Nope. "Well--have you met my friend [Texas]? He's really quiet, so you'll have to go initiate something."
I don't initiate. If the guy's not willing to, why bother? And if he's not able to...why bother?
We stood on my balcony to watch fireworks, and I found an open spot between a new Baptist friend and Albi's husband. On the other side of Albi's husband was Texas. The guys on either side of me were conversational and relaxed. It was such a juxtaposition of guests in attendance that night, with my front hall being filled with sandals and cowboy boots.
After Albi's husband and I had caught up a bit, I felt the need to include Texas in the conversation. I got him talking, heard his accent, and loved it. Albi's husband stepped back a bit to allow for face-to-face communication, but was still available to moderate the conversation. He provided security that way, and it made me feel closer to him than I ever have before. I think, really, he reminded me of my favorite uncle. :)
When Albi and her entourage left that night, I invited Texas to my Bible study since he's still semi-new in town and doesn't have a large social group. He looked at me, said with confidence that we'd be in contact, and _looked_ at me. It seemed to be an "I'll follow through with you" look that made me smile and feel gushy inside.
I hope he's there tomorrow night...and if not, I look forward to meeting new, fun people anyway!
Wonderful Night
I got creative in my online TV-watching earlier this week, and selected a show about America's museums. One feature was on the Museum of Natural history, which I recognized as being in "Night at the Museum." Since "Night at the Museum 2" is in my Netflix cue, I decided that it should be watched, and soon. I invited my Bible study friends over for this evening, and changed the event from just a movie to games and a movie, and then added a supper beforehand.
I put a couple chuck roasts in my slow cooker, added cream of mushroom soup and whatever seasonings smelled good, and let the slow cooker have at it. The breadmachine from my 90-plus-year-old friend was employed to make dough, which I later fashioned into rolls and baked. One friend brought frozen veggies, and two others brought fruit salads. Good stuff, all around. One of the salad people had asked permission to bring another friend along, and the other friend brought a 2-liter of pop to share. Later, another of the guys brought a case of Mello Yello. I think it's sweet when guys bring a token item. :)
As an early arriver and I were extending the table to put leaves in, I got a call from my old friend Gibson. He and his family were in town; was I available? While his wife had a meeting, he brought their two kids and himself over to join us. Little F was cautiously inquisitive about things in my apartment, but did no damage and didn't throw himself (or anything else) off the balcony. They were here for about two hours, and I would have been quite fine with their staying longer. It's so, so good to see friends raising their children right--"right" in this case being "well-mannered in a semi-stranger's home." F even bonded with me a bit by playing with a toy turtle he found and placing it on my head while I was eating. I told him numerous times how happy I was to have him in my home. When he and his dad left with his baby brother, I asked F for a hug. He nodded solemnly then reached out for me. As I stood after our embrace, Gibson gave a smile and told me quietly, "He was goin' in for a kiss." And I'd missed it? Poor kid! So I asked him for a kiss on the cheek, and he willingly obliged. I smiled all the way back down the hall. It's such a blessing to be liked by your friends' not-quite-three-year-old...and to like him, as well!
The meal was, honestly, fantastic. After eating a bit, I told those at the table that there was more meat, etc. One piped in that they knew, and had been partaking of it. :) Out of two chuck roasts, I hardly have any leftovers. Though my tastebuds are sad, that makes me smile.
We played some Mario Kart, watched the movie, and then those who were left gathered around the table for a game of Pente. It's a game that's chess-ish in thought and checker-ish in pieces. The rules are simple, but the mastery is more complex. I inherited it from another 90+ year-old friend, and wish I could tell her that I have yet to introduce it to someone who didn't quickly love it. The best part in the three games we played happened when we began to table talk. One of the guys played a move that would allow me to win if not stopped. The person next to him missed it. Then the coughing, aheming, and veiled references began, and were directed to the last remaining player before it would be my turn. She sat for eons trying to figure it out. I eventually asked her what the greatest threat was, and she identified a technique I was likely to use to win. Then I had her stand up and look at the board from different angles. At one point, she pointed right at the critical spot, without seeing what she was supposed to be stopping. The guys began creating arrows with their unused pieces, and making all sorts of game references which half clued her in and half drove her crazy. Eventually, she discovered the move. We all sighed and exclaimed, and the game moved on. During the rest of that round, one of the guys deliberately set up moves exactly like that almost-unseen one, just to see who would catch and stop it.
The friend that one of the guys brought is soft-spoken and kind-faced. His contribution to the evening was the Diet Coke. His skin and hair are much darker than that of most of us Midwesterners, and our friend could frequently be overheard explaining slang and cultural references to us. His accent was definitely non-native, and he commented once that his English was not so good. After being together for four hours, one of our friends looked at him and said, "So, are you from another country?" The rest of us couldn't look at each other; I may have dropped my head to the table at that point. Our guest handled the question with great grace and answered that he's from Iran. It is, indeed, another country.
I put a couple chuck roasts in my slow cooker, added cream of mushroom soup and whatever seasonings smelled good, and let the slow cooker have at it. The breadmachine from my 90-plus-year-old friend was employed to make dough, which I later fashioned into rolls and baked. One friend brought frozen veggies, and two others brought fruit salads. Good stuff, all around. One of the salad people had asked permission to bring another friend along, and the other friend brought a 2-liter of pop to share. Later, another of the guys brought a case of Mello Yello. I think it's sweet when guys bring a token item. :)
As an early arriver and I were extending the table to put leaves in, I got a call from my old friend Gibson. He and his family were in town; was I available? While his wife had a meeting, he brought their two kids and himself over to join us. Little F was cautiously inquisitive about things in my apartment, but did no damage and didn't throw himself (or anything else) off the balcony. They were here for about two hours, and I would have been quite fine with their staying longer. It's so, so good to see friends raising their children right--"right" in this case being "well-mannered in a semi-stranger's home." F even bonded with me a bit by playing with a toy turtle he found and placing it on my head while I was eating. I told him numerous times how happy I was to have him in my home. When he and his dad left with his baby brother, I asked F for a hug. He nodded solemnly then reached out for me. As I stood after our embrace, Gibson gave a smile and told me quietly, "He was goin' in for a kiss." And I'd missed it? Poor kid! So I asked him for a kiss on the cheek, and he willingly obliged. I smiled all the way back down the hall. It's such a blessing to be liked by your friends' not-quite-three-year-old...and to like him, as well!
The meal was, honestly, fantastic. After eating a bit, I told those at the table that there was more meat, etc. One piped in that they knew, and had been partaking of it. :) Out of two chuck roasts, I hardly have any leftovers. Though my tastebuds are sad, that makes me smile.
We played some Mario Kart, watched the movie, and then those who were left gathered around the table for a game of Pente. It's a game that's chess-ish in thought and checker-ish in pieces. The rules are simple, but the mastery is more complex. I inherited it from another 90+ year-old friend, and wish I could tell her that I have yet to introduce it to someone who didn't quickly love it. The best part in the three games we played happened when we began to table talk. One of the guys played a move that would allow me to win if not stopped. The person next to him missed it. Then the coughing, aheming, and veiled references began, and were directed to the last remaining player before it would be my turn. She sat for eons trying to figure it out. I eventually asked her what the greatest threat was, and she identified a technique I was likely to use to win. Then I had her stand up and look at the board from different angles. At one point, she pointed right at the critical spot, without seeing what she was supposed to be stopping. The guys began creating arrows with their unused pieces, and making all sorts of game references which half clued her in and half drove her crazy. Eventually, she discovered the move. We all sighed and exclaimed, and the game moved on. During the rest of that round, one of the guys deliberately set up moves exactly like that almost-unseen one, just to see who would catch and stop it.
The friend that one of the guys brought is soft-spoken and kind-faced. His contribution to the evening was the Diet Coke. His skin and hair are much darker than that of most of us Midwesterners, and our friend could frequently be overheard explaining slang and cultural references to us. His accent was definitely non-native, and he commented once that his English was not so good. After being together for four hours, one of our friends looked at him and said, "So, are you from another country?" The rest of us couldn't look at each other; I may have dropped my head to the table at that point. Our guest handled the question with great grace and answered that he's from Iran. It is, indeed, another country.
Ouch...
I'm still FB friends with Gimli but have been debating it lately. I don't want to react out of anger, which is why I haven't removed the threadbare connection. Tonight, I found in my newsfeed that he'd posted a video which he was in. I clicked "play" and...I still don't understand why...why it didn't work out. I had forgotten how he talked, how he moved, what his lit-up eyes looked like... I remembered his broad shoulders and strong arms around me. Maybe I'm still FB friends because it hasn't hurt enough to be over. I haven't felt the piercing pain that would give me a conclusion. It's probably just that he's nice and I'm nice, and hopefully some day we'll be able to have a casual friendship.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
In the Bible study/book study I'm leading, the author of the book has challenged us to spend the next week journaling the previous day's events, and then prayers. Just a page a day; a page a prayer session, he recommends.
That was last week. It's Wednesday again, and I have nothing written. Granted, there were a few days of extreme busyness and exhaustion. But mostly, it's an issue of...me not wanting to come to terms with things? Me wanting to curl up in bed and watch episodes of "Murder, She Wrote" and live in a fictional world that has more spice and resolution than my own does?
It seems I always feel "down" after "that time of the month." It's as if a mini-depression hits. Realizing it is good.
Twice in the past couple months, I've been asked to babysit former boyfriends' babies. Kinda strange, but kinda cool. And at the same time, it hurts so much. "Coulda been me; coulda been me..."
Wasn't meant to be you; wasn't meant to be you...
So this morning, I took a break from Jessica Fletcher and started reading a friend's sister's blog. She went through the adorableness of her two daughters, and in her writing, a desire to please God shone through. She loves her husband, she loves her babies; life can be rough, but God is good. She also included an entry on how she met her husband. In it, she wrote about going through a spiritual rebellion. It didn't look like it on the outside, but she knew it existed on the inside. Through a process, she gave every little piece of herself to God--including her desires to be married and have a family. There was a point after that surrender that she realized that giving those desires to God didn't make for an automatic granting of the wish.
A couple of friends are going through a horrid place in their marriage, and divorce seems imminent. He's on a path toward positive change, but she's wary of trusting again. He's been reading "The Love Dare" after watching "Fireproof," and it's affected his whole life. When we talked about his trying to woo her back, I asked what would happen if she didn't respond the way he wanted. He said he'd keep living his life in ways that please God, and hope that his wife returns to him.
Those are such great reminders for me--to give it up, and maybe not stop hoping that I'll get what I desire, but to continue following God joyfully through the rest of life. It's not easy. I read something today that said a woman's level of fertility decreases drastically after age 35. I turn 35 tomorrow. Is it easier to surrender something you know you can't have, anyway? I give up my dreams to be an WNBA star because I'm only 5'1" anyway? Do I need to willfully surrender before there's a forced surrender? Is this "coming of age" God's way of saying I messed up in not fully surrendering earlier, so He has just removed the option? Then I feel as though I'm a failure in spirituality as well as in the world of relationships.
More wrestling to do...
That was last week. It's Wednesday again, and I have nothing written. Granted, there were a few days of extreme busyness and exhaustion. But mostly, it's an issue of...me not wanting to come to terms with things? Me wanting to curl up in bed and watch episodes of "Murder, She Wrote" and live in a fictional world that has more spice and resolution than my own does?
It seems I always feel "down" after "that time of the month." It's as if a mini-depression hits. Realizing it is good.
Twice in the past couple months, I've been asked to babysit former boyfriends' babies. Kinda strange, but kinda cool. And at the same time, it hurts so much. "Coulda been me; coulda been me..."
Wasn't meant to be you; wasn't meant to be you...
So this morning, I took a break from Jessica Fletcher and started reading a friend's sister's blog. She went through the adorableness of her two daughters, and in her writing, a desire to please God shone through. She loves her husband, she loves her babies; life can be rough, but God is good. She also included an entry on how she met her husband. In it, she wrote about going through a spiritual rebellion. It didn't look like it on the outside, but she knew it existed on the inside. Through a process, she gave every little piece of herself to God--including her desires to be married and have a family. There was a point after that surrender that she realized that giving those desires to God didn't make for an automatic granting of the wish.
A couple of friends are going through a horrid place in their marriage, and divorce seems imminent. He's on a path toward positive change, but she's wary of trusting again. He's been reading "The Love Dare" after watching "Fireproof," and it's affected his whole life. When we talked about his trying to woo her back, I asked what would happen if she didn't respond the way he wanted. He said he'd keep living his life in ways that please God, and hope that his wife returns to him.
Those are such great reminders for me--to give it up, and maybe not stop hoping that I'll get what I desire, but to continue following God joyfully through the rest of life. It's not easy. I read something today that said a woman's level of fertility decreases drastically after age 35. I turn 35 tomorrow. Is it easier to surrender something you know you can't have, anyway? I give up my dreams to be an WNBA star because I'm only 5'1" anyway? Do I need to willfully surrender before there's a forced surrender? Is this "coming of age" God's way of saying I messed up in not fully surrendering earlier, so He has just removed the option? Then I feel as though I'm a failure in spirituality as well as in the world of relationships.
More wrestling to do...
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