Through a Glass, Darkly

I’ve been trying to be a good sport about the flood and subsequent “disaster chic” look to our house. I have been trying to focus on the fact that I have a place to live with working air conditioning, that I have a good job, that this is only temporary, that none of our stuff got messed up, all the right things. The truth is that I am a little tired of only having plywood to walk on and our house looking like a wreck and my stuff being boxed up and not being able to sit in the front room because that’s where all the boxes are. And last night I hit the wall as far as being able to be a good sport about it. I was tired and stressed out about all the decisions (should we upgrade our carpet? Should we get hardwoods in the front part of the house? Are those good decisions for the house we have?) and feeling sorry for myself. And, honestly, I don’t feel a whole lot better today.

My birthday is next week, and what I want more than anything is my house back. Can someone arrange that?

A couple of years ago Mike and I were in a situation where young married couples were asked to give one word to describe their relationship. The only thing I could come up with was “fun.” Mike and I do have lots of fun together. We enjoy a lot of the same entertainment like movies and TV shows and sports, we laugh all the time, and we just enjoy being together. So, “fun” was my answer. (I can’t remember if it was our answer, or if we were both giving answers, or what the deal was. The important thing to remember is: Kari + Mike = Fun.)

As we went around the room, each couple said their word. I don’t remember any of the other couples’ words except for one. I remember the couple who went right in front of us. Their word was “journey.” I have never felt so shallow in my whole life. To go from “journey” to “fun” in 2.1 seconds . . . well, it just made me feel very small. And immature. The contrast seemed like, “We’re over here having a real relationship while the two of you have your silly fun.” (Not that anyone said that, just that that’s how I felt.) It has become something of a joke for me and Mike, a word we pull out when we’re trying to make the other person laugh. “I think things have been going well lately, don’t you?” “Yes, I think we are doing well on our journey.” (See? See how fun we are?)

In the past few years, though, the normal good and bad times of life have caused a bit of a shift, and something about yesterday’s entry made me realize: I don’t think that “fun” is the word that I would use anymore. Not that we don’t have fun, because we do. Our relationship is still characterized with a lot of laughter and goofing off. But the word I would use these days is “courage.” I see Mike being brave in so many ways, including going back to school and learning to deal with issues from his childhood. I see both of us learning how to open up more and more. I see the times we could have called it quits, and how we squared our shoulders and kept trying. It takes courage to do this thing, and we are bravely doing it together.

I have a Trivial Pursuit desk calendar. Here is the question for June 28.

Arts and Entertainment: Who wore a toupee at his audition for Star Trek: The Next Generation, only to have Gene Roddenberry [Mike: "Who?"] say he “looked like a drapery clerk?”

Come on, Mike! You know this one! hehe.

I’m reading Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, and I’m mostly enjoying it, but it’s taking me a while to get through it. I’m not sure why, exactly, but something about it is slow. I’ll read and think, “I just got through a lot!” but I will look at the page numbers and realize I only read three or four. The story is interesting, and it’s not hard to immerse myself in the world of the book, but when I put the book down it’s not that easy to pick it back up again. I’m about 2/3 of the way through, so I can’t decide yet if I recommend it or not. Like I said, the story is interesting, and I love some of the characters (and the ones I don’t love are still interesting), but there’s just something about it that hasn’t grabbed me.

There was one bit, though, that I loved and wanted to share:

“Never in a lifetime would Gen [the translator] have come to her [the opera singer] on his own. Never would he find the courage to express his own sympathies and remorse, in the same way that Mr. Hosokawa [Gen's boss] would not have the courage to speak to her even if his English had been perfect. But together they moved through the world quite easily, two small halves of courage making a brave whole.”

That last sentence is my favorite part. I read it to Mike last night, because I have seen us work together like that, and it’s a beautiful thing.

Friday night we were hanging out with some friends and they suggested we watch a movie. There was one that three of us had seen but Mike had not seen, and he agreed to watch it with us. Now, before I talk about the movie, I have to remind you that I spent several years as a Star Trek geek. I have seen pretty much every episode of the original series and The Next Generation. There were several years in which I had Star Trek calendars (they were replaced with Beatles calendars, my next obsession). I even had two Star Trek t-shirts that I wore proudly (and probably still have somewhere). I read magazines about Trek and sat down with my family each week to watch the episodes. It is important, though, for me to make sure you understand: I never went to any conventions, I didn’t buy figurines or trading cards, I never dressed up like any of the characters. I just get interested in things and like to find out about them.

I am sure, with those clues, that you are well on your way to guessing the movie we watched. However, before I get there, I would like to explain to you one of the differences between me and Mike. He has never seen an episode of Star Trek, and has only seen a few of the movies. And he’s not very interested in rectifying that situation.

So, maybe I should have thought it through before I convinced him to watch Trekkies with us. For one thing, the people in the movie are scary (but earnest). But also, I think the information I kept giving him (to fill in holes) really creeped him out. The best was when it showed Majel Barrett Roddenberry and I turned to him and said, “That’s Gene Roddenberry’s widow.” He looked at me and said, in all seriousness, “Who’s Gene Roddenberry?” Ooooookay. He doesn’t know anything about Star Trek. I kept explaining the relationships between the characters and the different species and I am pretty sure that the combination of me geeking out and the geeks in the movie means that he will never ever allow our children to watch Star Trek. I think he did enjoy it, though.

The other noteworthy thing that happened this weekend was at church yesterday. The same friends were in Sunday School with us, and somehow we got on the topic of pet loss therapy. I explained the story of Big Mouth, my goldfish when I was growing up. He died, and I was very sad. But Big Mouth wasn’t a puppy or a kitty, so no one felt very sorry for me. It reminds me of something Faith said in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Rainbow Valley:

“But why does everybody seem to think it funny that I should have loved Adam [her rooster] so much, Miss West? If it had been a horrid old cat nobody would have thought it queer. When Lottie Warren’s kitten had its legs cut off by the binder everybody was sorry for her. She cried two days in school and nobody laughed at her, not even Dan Reese. And all her chums went to the kitten’s funeral and helped her bury it–only they couldn’t bury its poor little paws with it, because they couldn’t find them. It was a horrid thing to have happen, of course, but I don’t think it was as dreadful as seeing your pet eaten up. Yet everybody laughs at me.”

Big Mouth didn’t get eaten - he just got sent to the great toilet in the sky. But I was still very sad about it. I was allergic to cats and we didn’t have a dog. All I had was Big Mouth (and Lard Bucket, my algae eater) and he died. After a long life, but still. I shared my sad story and my need for pet loss therapy, and we all laughed about it and proceeded with the lesson.

That would have been funny enough, except that yesterday’s text was on Jesus feeding the 5,000 with five loaves and two fish. At our church, the text is read and then the children come forward for their sermon. As part of their lesson, they were given goldfish crackers to share with their friends. After the service, some of the guys came up to me and said, “We were worried about you during the children’s sermon. Did the crackers make you miss Big Mouth?” I hadn’t even made the connection (because I have been living with the pain of his loss for so long, don’t you know), but it gave us all a good laugh.

The other parts of our weekend were filled with things like car washing, naps, margaritas, and reading. And a fair amount of laundry. It was a good, productive weekend. Except for that whole “missing Big Mouth” thing.

This morning on the way to church, “Shiny Happy People” came on Mike’s iPod, and just for fun we listened to “Furry Happy Monsters” after that. Mike turned to me and said, “Coldplay should go on Sesame Street.” Of course, in my opinion, their best song for Sesame Street is “Yellow.” In honor of his suggestion, here is how we believe Coldplay should alter their song. Imagine Chris Martin singing it to Big Bird.

Look at Cookie - Look how his fur is blue
And take a look at you - Yeah, you are all yellow

I see your friends, and how they smile for you
Your yellow feathers too

Last night Mike and I were sitting outside reading on our front porch (the weather was perfect, by the way), and we looked out at the street and saw a couple jogging, kids riding their bikes, people walking their dogs, a family taking a walk . . . Mike said, “We should get Thomas Kinkade to come and paint our neighborhood.” I told him that was wrong, because all the lights weren’t on in all the houses, but it was a very picturesque moment. We should have gone in and gotten lemonade to drink while we were reading. Or sweet tea. We did go inside and get ice cream to eat on the porch.

One of the reasons I was glad to be outside was that yesterday the people who are fixing our house packed up all our books (and movies). I found this seriously distressing. For one thing, I have no idea how long it will be before they put new carpet down and I can see my books again. I feel incomplete without my books being readily available. For another thing, I feel a little violated, like someone went through all my books. I am sure that the guys who were packing them up were more concerned with their work than they were with flipping through my books, but it makes me a little uncomfortable nonetheless. I’m not nearly as attached to other stuff as I am my books. Books are just so . . . personal. Of course, it was very nice that we didn’t have to pack it all up ourselves, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It was just a bit jarring.

As it was, we had to go through pretty much all the boxes anyway, because there were some things we needed and some things Mike needed to return to the library. And, of course, we kept looking in the wrong boxes. Mike bets that they ran out of boxes before they finished the living room because (of course) we have so many books.

Anyway, enough of the book rant. It was a very nice night, and I feel pretty rested today.

Sometime in the past couple of years I realized that there are areas where I gloss over things, where I paint them a little shinier than they were. Nothing especially bad has happened to me, by any means, but it seems that sometimes I am not able to face up to things as they really were. It’s almost as if I refuse to look at the bad and focus on the good to the detriment of seeing things with clear eyes.

There have been a few things in the past couple of weeks that made me realize how much this was hurting me and my relationships. It was interesting, too, that this was one of the themes of the best book I’ve read recently: Locked Rooms by Laurie King. (Yes, I’m just going to keep pimping it.) Mary Russell had to come to terms with some aspects of her past that she had been repressing, and some of the things that Sherlock Holmes was thinking and saying to her could have been said to me.

I don’t know why I cast myself in this role of perfection, why I squash out feelings I’m not comfortable with. But I have made some progress lately, sharing things with Mike that he never knew, trying to be more honest with myself. We’ll see where it takes me.

I’m about 1/3 of the way through Locked Rooms, and can I just say . . . wow. My coworker just ran up to me (she has the other copy) and said, “I didn’t want to come into work today! It’s her best yet! I just wanted to finish it!” I feel the same. [I don't know many other fans of the series (although I am trying to turn Mike into a fan with our reading of Beekeeper), so it was fun to share that moment with her.]

I have enjoyed all of this series, and I doubt any of them will surpass The Beekeeper’s Apprentice in my heart, but this is definitely the best in a while (at least so far, but I have confidence she can keep it all together). Bravo!

(I don’t want it to be over, though, because she’s not writing another Mary Russell for a while. Dangit.)

The first time I heard Sixpence None the Richer, I hated them. I didn’t like her voice, and I didn’t get what their lyrics were about, and they didn’t seem to be talking about God at all, so I didn’t know why they were a Christian band. I wasn’t counting JPMs, not quite, but it was close. And I wasn’t interested.

Enter Mike. If he had told me that Milli Vanilli was his favorite artist, I would have listened to them for him. And since he likes Sixpence, I was willing to give them another chance and try their self-titled album. And, you know, I liked it. Not all of it, and I’ll admit to being one of those people who really likes “Kiss Me” and its jangly guitars, but I liked it. I borrowed his copy and listened to it a lot.

It’s funny, because when I was thinking about this this morning, I realized that a lot of the songs that are really meaningful in my life come from that particular time of my life - Waterdeep’s “18 Bullet Holes,” and Counting Crows’ “St. Robinson in his Cadillac Dream,” just to name a few. We listened to a lot of music in those days, and maybe just the act of falling in love made everything new and exciting, made everything sparkle. Whatever it was, the Sixpence song I remember most from that time is “Anything.”

So hey baby, can you shed some light on the problem maybe?
‘Cause we’re all tired and we’d like to know
If we should pack our tents, shut down the show.
Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign.
But anything would be fine.

I remember thinking that was really clever when I first heard it . . . and then everything hit the fan with Mike’s family. And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix things. I didn’t know if I should run from Mike, because his family situation was a little more than I knew how to handle, or if I should let him go, no strings attached, rather than making him choose between me and his family. And somewhere along the line, this song became a bit of an anthem for me: “I need to know what to do, please. Skywriting would be nice, but anything, really.”

Of course, it doesn’t work like that. It’s pretty rare in this life that we get anything as clear as skywriting, or a voice from heaven, or a burning bush. We usually get just enough to know what to do next, and as all those nexts added up to me still being with Mike, I took that as my sign.

If I had had skywriting, like I requested, it’s not like it would have made the hard times any easier. I still would have been sad and worried and upset. And if I had really known back in that very difficult summer of 1999 how persistent some of those issues were going to be, maybe I would have run. Looking back, I’m content with the decisions I made. And this morning, when “Anything” came up on my iPod, I thought about some of my current struggles, and I prayed that I would know what to do. It doesn’t hurt, I thought, to ask for skywriting. If that’s not possible, though, could you show me what to do next?

Jeff put up photos from our ballpark escapades. Enjoy!

Several months ago, Alisa and I reread Mudhouse Sabbath together and talked about it over email. These thoughts were gleaned from that discussion.

At the heart of weddings–because also at the heart of marriage–is the balance between privacy and community. Marriage, to be sure, is an intimate matter, the making of a partnership that knits two people together in secret and inside ways (just consider what Adam says of Eve: “bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh”). But it is a pernicious myth of modernity that marriage is merely private: Marriage is also a community endeavor. It is your friends and family who help you stay straight and true when your marriage feels too crooked or curvy. It is your sister or best friend or bridesmaid who can remind you why you ever married him in the first place. It is the neighbor or confidant who is just outside the thing who can sometimes tell you the truth about it. -Lauren Winner, Mudhouse Sabbath

When I read that, I cried and cried. I don’t remember doing that the first time I read it, but I did this time. We are approaching five years of marriage (five years!) in a couple of weeks, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that Mike and I wouldn’t still be together without our friends. That God has used them to keep us together. And the fact that we’re in such a peaceful place right now is due in huge part to their faithful efforts, their listening, their encouraging, their prayers, their reminding, their presence, their love, their tears, their partnership, the way they have walked with us. I would do things so much differently if I were to get married now. I’d have different people as my bridesmaids, and dress styles are different now, and I would care more about some of the details than I did then. But I am thankful for the people who were there, who accepted the charge to do everything they could to uphold our marriage, and who have followed through on that. And the friends we have made since who have done the same. I think the worst thing a couple can do is to isolate themselves. I have friends who have done it, and I have sighed over it and lamented that choice for them, because I think what is really needed is for the couple to be surrounded by community. You have to have it to survive. It’s not just the two of you against the world . . . you’re a part of something bigger.

If I have learned anything in these almost five years, it’s that.

-Coke Zero. So, it seems like they have taken the original Coke formula and added Nutra-Sweet. This is genius. Why hasn’t this been done before? Because I love it. I’m a convert. Diet Coke is fine, but this . . . this is pure non-caloric goodness.

-“Swallowed in the Sea.” I’m not a big Coldplay fan, but I can’t stop listening to this song. I dig it.

-The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Excellent book. In the midst of some difficult relationships and the flooding of the house, it made me remember, “My life is really easy compared to most of the world.”

-Locked Rooms by Laurie King. Okay, I’m not enjoying it yet, but it came in last week, and it’s being processed as I type. And I’m first on the holds list. I love Mary Russell (in fact, Mike and I have been reading The Beekeeper’s Apprentice together, which has been lovely) and I can’t wait to see what happens next in her story.

Are there people in your life you ought to be able to get along with . . . but it just doesn’t work? Maybe friends of friends. You should be able to get along with friends of friends, right? And yet, there’s something missing. You’re too similar, maybe, so you rub each other the wrong way. Or it could be family members, people you’ve known forever. You should be able to get along with them, right? But maybe you’re too different. Maybe it seems like you’re too different, but you’re really too similar after all. Whatever it is, being around these people turns you into the worst version of yourself. And you don’t even know why.

It’s stuff like that that makes you forget all of your normal, healthy relationships, forget that relationships are a two-way street, and think, “Is it me? Is something wrong with me? Am I that difficult to get along with? Do I suck as bad as they say? If it’s not true, why am I the center of this kind of thing?” Your friends say it’s not you, but you notice they don’t have trouble getting along with people like you do. You wonder why your most innocent actions are interpreted as malicious. You wonder what is wrong with your social skills that makes this kind of thing happen.

And so it weighs on you as you try to figure out what to do to fix things, or if the relationship is even fixable. If there’s anything you can do. Or if it’s already too late.

A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken. Call me cold-hearted, but I didn’t cry. I did end up enjoying it . . . I had gotten to the point where I didn’t believe that they would ever see how dangerous it was to put so much of their lives into each other, but then C.S. Lewis said exactly what I was thinking about those things, and said it much better than I could have. In the end, I liked it, but not as much as I was hoping. I think that people who love fairy-tale romance more than I do would like it more than I did.

With this Ring, I’m Confused by Kristin Billerbeck. I have never loved this series as much as Alisa, but I wanted to finish out the story. I had the usual objections about being able to relate to Ashley’s shopping habits and money management. In this one, my main problem was that I couldn’t believe that she didn’t feel like she could tell her fiance about the problems she was having with his family. One line in particular made me groan out loud to the point that Mike asked me what was wrong - it said something about whether or not she was ready to move across the country wtih a man she barely knew. And that sentence crystallized my objection to the book: I felt as if Ashley was marrying someone she barely knew, someone she fell in love with because she liked the image he projected and not because she knew what made him tick. Now, I will be the first to say that, no matter how well you know someone (or you think you know someone) before you are married, that there will be huge things to discover. But the theme of the book was Ashley not communicating with her fiance, which seemed pretty shaky grounds on which to build a marriage. I liked seeing some of the secondary characters again, especially Kay, and would love to hear more about her story. Her scenes with Ashley were my favorite.

Swimming with Scapulars by Michael Lickona. I had high hopes for this one, but it ended up being kind of “meh” overall. It’s just some thoughts on being a devout 30-something Catholic in this country, and to me it seemed disjointed. If nothing else, I got some good reading recommendations, but I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone whose hackles are raised by all things Catholic, as Mr. Lickona is very serious about his faith and his church.

The J.A.P. Chronicles by Isabel Rose. See what I did? Two light books and two more serious ones. This one was a big thumbs down. A review I read in Bookreporter.com this morning summed up how I felt:

In other words, I should have listened to my coworker who said it wasn’t very good.

So, that’s it. One week, four books, and not one that I loved. Right now I’m reading The Kite Runner and it’s very good so far. I’m about halfway through, and I have no idea where the story is headed.

Have you read anything good lately to recommend?

Not only am I a far cry from Dorothy Day, I am not even very good at luncheon hospitality. I want to be. I try to be. But I am too busy, my kitchen is too small, inviting people over takes too much time, my apartment is always too messy . . . Intentionality, however, is not perfection. Let’s consider that very last excuse in my list, the seemingly innocent insistence that my apartment is never tidy enough for guests. Well, now. I probably shouldn’t have curdling milk in the fridge if I’m inviting someone over for tea, and it might be nice if I emptied the kitchen trash can and didn’t leave dirty clothes all over the bathroom floor. But to be a hostess, I’m going to have to surrender my notions of Good Housekeeping domestic perfection. I will have to set down my pride and invite people over even if I have not dusted. This is tough: My mother set a high standard. Her house is always immaculate, most especially if she’s expecting company. But if I wait for immaculate, I will never have a guest. -Lauren Winner, Mudhouse Sabbath

This morning, in an effort to restore normalcy to our house, I swept the kitchen floor. This was after the electrician came, and there were bits of ceiling all about, so I swept. Not long ago, I watched as they sliced up the floor and carried it out the kitchen door. So much for normalcy.

It’s funny, I know, that I swept the floor, but I didn’t know what else to do. And, as my mother’s daughter, I thought, “All these people are traipsing in and out of my house . . . I don’t want them to think I’m a slob. I want them to think I’m the kind of person who makes her bed (because I am).” So I folded laundry and remade the bed after washing the sheets. I put away the dishes and reloaded the dishwasher. I unpacked the rest of the suitcases. And I swept the floor.

I sent Kelly an email this morning saying that it was too soon to tell but that it might be tricky for them to come stay with us in a couple of weeks. We’ll know more in a few days, but I realized that it made me sad. We don’t have any big parties coming up, but we’ve had plans for Scott and Kelly to come stay, and for Josh to visit, and we have dinner with the Shearers somewhat regularly. I have never been great with hospitality, both in my home and in my heart, but I have been working on it. It’s less because of the clothes on the bathroom floor (I don’t leave clothes on the bathroom floor) and more because of the high standard that my mother set. I have Mike to take out the trash, and I keep things pretty straight, but neither of us likes to dust. And I have been learning to let go of those things and have people over even when I haven’t dusted. But it surprises me that I feel bad that I can’t have people over at all. (Unless, of course, they like bare floors and huge fans intended to dry things out.) It’s nice to think that it’s become something I want instead of something Mike pushes me to do. It’s one of those ways that marriage has changed me.

In order:

-We had a lovely time at Chez Holland. They even got Diet Coke for Mike (the regular kind, not the Splenda-laden kind they drink, because, as I mentioned, Mike is a Diet Coke purist) and the Braves won and it was cool rainy weather and we got to wear ponchos and we looked awesome and Mike did in fact drink 10 Diet Cokes at Macaroni Grill and everyone should Voten por Pedro. It was a good great time, and I don’t know if their pictures are online yet, but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

-We had a lovely time at the beach. I read four books, which I will discuss at a later date, and I got a little sun (if Susan is reading this, she should know that I wore sunscreen . . . mostly) and Scott and Kelly and I tied for first place at miniature golf and we ate delicious food like shrimp and grits and Kelly and I scrapbooked and the boys (of course) played Halo and we played like a gazillion rounds of Texas Hold ‘Em (and I am getting better at it). And my dad took me and my brother and Scott and Kelly to the Pavilion, where we rode the SWINGS (which are my favorite) and a scary scary roller coaster. Good times were had by all.

-Which brings us to yesterday. When we got home, I saw a puddle in our kitchen floor, and we discovered that our upstairs bathroom (the guest bathroom, not ours) had a leak. Maybe the whole week we were gone. And there was some serious water damage. So last night and today have been us trying to deal with those things. It’s not exactly what we were hoping for when we got home last night, but we did okay in the crisis - I got the towels and Mike called the insurance company and I called my dad and Mike went to Lowe’s. It’s being handled. I am currently waiting on the guys who came last night to call and let me know what the plan is today. We are hoping the electrician can come soon so that we can turn on the lights in the kitchen again at some point. I am both holding it together and going a little crazy. The solution, I think, is to do more laundry. So that’s what I’m going to do now. I will try to have a more articulate post when I am feeling more articulate and less crazy. Laundry, though, is soothing. If you need me, check the laundry room.

This afternoon Mike and I are heading out for our vacation. This has been a full week - working and packing and a Grasshoppers game and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants with Alisa and one of my aunts. It’s been good, though - my super-organized packing has meant that this week wasn’t as stressful as it sometimes is right before a vacation.

Life seems so full these days - work and friends and family and church and time with Mike. Full in a good way. I am excited about a vacation that means more fun time with friends and family, just relaxing and enjoying the time together.

There’s not really a point to this post, except to say that I’ll be gone for a week. Hopefully you won’t recognize me because I’ll be so tan. (Susan’s on her way to Taiwan, so I can talk about tanning without her rebuking me.)

All right, so, I’m reading A Severe Mercy, which came highly recommended, and I’m about halfway through. And I have to admit that, until last night/this morning, I wasn’t really digging it (but I was going to finish it, because it came so highly recommended. And I am stubborn). I read Mike some bits, and he had the same reaction I did, and I realized that what bugged me was that it was so earnest. They were so sure that their love could last and that they could do these things to protect it, and my cynical heart just couldn’t take it.

In our house, Mike’s the one who falls for those romantic kind of stories, and I’m the one sitting back explaining why it can’t happen that way, or why it won’t last. I don’t deny that I can and do get caught up in stories, but I guess it has to be the right kind of story. I did it to my friends Emily and Melissa last week: We watched 13 Going on 30 and while they were rooting wholeheartedly for Jennifer Garner (which, I don’t watch Alias, so that might have helped), I kept saying, “What about the fiancee?” I was (without giving too much away, I hope), in the end, satisfied with how it all turned out, but I feel like you can’t ignore the way things really are (in the world of the story) just because you want two people to get together. And even though A Severe Mercy is true, I feel like saying to these people, “You can’t just assume you will always be able to resolve these things, or that life is going to be that easy. Love isn’t always enough.”

Meanwhile, though, it seems like they have come to some of those same conclusions themselves (or found away around it), and I have been enjoying where the story is going, especially now that C.S. Lewis has entered the picture. I wonder, though, why it is that I am so uncomfortable with the genuine feelings that these (very nice, I am sure) people are expressing. Why does such straightforward emotion make me squirm? Why do I always make a joke or a sarcastic remark instead of being able to express my strong emotions with my friends? Why do I work so hard to avoid being earnest myself?

Our impending vacation means that I’m trying to get both the house and our suitcases in order. I say suitcases because we are first going to Atlanta to see a Braves game with the Hollands, and I didn’t think we needed to take our big beach suitcase to their house. So we have things we might need for a weekend in Atlanta in one small suitcase, and things we need for the week at the beach in the other, larger suitcase. Doesn’t that make sense?

To organize these things, I’ve been making lists on index cards. One has things for the Atlanta trip, like my Braves hat and something to wear to the game, and the other has things like Kelly’s birthday present (only four more days until you get it, Kelly!) and her Friends DVDs and beach towels and swimsuits and so on and so forth.

Mike thinks this is hysterical. He teased me by reading my list out loud, which does make it sound silly (hehe). Alisa and Kelly called me Monica. But, next week, when I have everything I need, do you think that I am going to let Kelly or Mike borrow any of my stuff? Well, yeah, I probably will, but first I will gloat! Index cards full of organization give me full gloating rights!

(Does it make it worse that I started packing on Sunday and we don’t leave until Friday? Yeah, I thought so.)

The new Pride and Prejudice trailer is up at Yahoo. I am so nice that I am telling you all about it before I can even hear it myself, since I’m at work and this computer has no sound. It looks good, and I’ll be watching it as soon as I get home. Here’s hoping.

(How long before Mike comments on Keira Knightley?)

The reason I didn’t continue with my very first blog is because of the temptation to turn everything into a clever little moment. Did the cashier say something funny when I bought some gum? I should blog about it. Did that right-hand turn I made make me think of something spiritual? I should blog about it. It stopped being fun and started being a chore.

I still do this to some extent, but work and marriage and reading provide plenty of fodder these days without having to be overly cute about it. There was one thing this weekend, though, that made me realize that I had been too focused on blogging the moment rather than enjoying it.

At church on Sunday, we had communion, and this time it was by intinction. We got up to get in line, and I thought about taking communion like that - when you step up to the bread and you have to tear off a piece, and you worry about taking too much, and you worry about getting enough to dip. Or, at least I do. And I thought, “Hey, I should write about that, how there’s not one right way to take the bread, just like there’s not one right way to approach God. And he takes us as we are.” Just then, Bill, our bread server, came into my vision, and I realized that he was tearing off the bread for us. Which ruined my entire analogy. I quickly tried to come up with something else, like, “We need each other to get to Jesus,” or, “Service is an important part of the body of Christ,” but then I realized that I just needed to let it go. It wasn’t a blog-worthy moment. And I laughed at myself and tried to ready myself for communion in the time that I had left.

Even though I was mentally all over the place, when Bill handed me the bread, and when Mildred offered me the cup, I still experienced that moment of grace when they looked into my eyes and spoke the truth about these things we were doing: “The bread of heaven.” “The cup of salvation.”

I guess there’s some good news in there after all - we can come to the table even if we’re focused on the wrong thing entirely.

Geof requested that I do another one of these baton-type things, this one relating to books. So, here goes.

Total Number of Books I Own:

This is unknowable. Seriously. I have no idea, and I am terrible at estimating things just by looking at them. I can’t tell how many people are in a crowd, and I certainly have no idea how many books are on my shelf. Let me go ask Mike what he thinks . . . he says around 800. We got rid of a bunch lately, both on Amazon and giving them to the church. And the Great-Let’s-Send-Mike-Back-To-School project has put a serious damper on any book buying there might normally have been. Although, as I have mentioned, I am not the kind of person who goes crazy in a bookstore.

Last Book I Bought:

Well, this isn’t very fun for any of you, is it, since I already mentioned that the last book I bought was The Ordering of Love, Madeleine L’Engle’s new poetry book, purchased with a store credit at Barnes and Noble. Before that, the last book Mike got me was, I believe, Plan B by Anne Lamott. Kelly gave me A Long Obedience in the Same Direction by Eugene Peterson and Secure in God’s Embrace by Ken Fong. The next book we will be purchasing is, of course, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. yaaaaaaay!

Books I’m Reading Now:

I am not currently in the middle of anything, because I finished three books on Saturday, so I’m going to tell you what I’ve been reading and what is in my pile to read.

Recently read:
-Mike and I are still working our way through The Chronicles of Narnia. We have finished Prince Caspian. (reread)
-Harry Potter, books 1-5 (a reread)
-The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants books 1-3 (book 1, reread; books 2 & 3 were new to me)
-The King’s English by Betsy Burton
-Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns (reread, for my book club)

Up next:
-The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (reread, with Mike)
-The Life of Pi by Yann Martel (reread, for my book club)
-The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
-A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken
-Swimming with Scapulars by Matthew Lickona

(I’m going on vacation, so I’m allowed to have a lot of “up nexts.”)

Books That Have Been Important To Me:

Well, you can find my top ten favorite books here. Those are the ones I am always mentioning: Pride and Prejudice, Traveling Mercies, Gaudy Night. Since I have already talked about those, I’ll give you a few others. (Oh, and I think saying “the Bible” is totally cheating. The Bible is more than a book.)

-Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Oh, how I wanted to be Anne (spelled with an E). My mom almost went crazy with the talking I did about “kindred spirits” and “the depths of despair.” When I found out there were more Anne books, it was better than Christmas. Of the grown-up Anne books, I like Anne of the Island and Rilla of Ingleside the best.

-The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Until recently, I would have said that I liked The Hobbit better than The Lord of the Rings. Now I would probably say that I appreciate the richness of LotR better. Part of my affection for it was the way I heard the story - my cousin and I were staying at our grandparents’ house, and he must have just read it, because we stayed up really late and he told me the whole story. Even the riddles that Bilbo and Gollum told. I went home and got a copy as soon as I could. I was probably about nine. When kids come to the desk and ask for the book, I always ask how old they are, and tell them that I was about their age when I first read it.

-Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It’s not in my top ten, but it would be in my top twenty. One of my favorite quotes comes from it, for one thing. Anything I could say about this book would be woefully inadequate, so, just . . . read it.

I’m passing this on to three people:
Mike (because I like to hear him talk about books)
Kelly (because her blog is new) Kelly’s answers
Susan (but I bet she won’t have time right now) Susan’s answers (I was wrong.)

And, for the record, I’m refusing to do any more of these baton thingies for a while. hehe.

One afternoon while driving home from work, I was talking with Mike on my cell phone and he said, “I am watching from the upstairs window, and you just ran that stop sign.”

“What?! There’s no stop sign in our neighborhood.”

“There is now. And I ran it, too.”

Apparently that day, without warning, stop signs appeared at a four-way intersection in our neighborhood that previously only had two stop signs. An intersection, dare I say, that only needed two stop signs. I didn’t even see it for a couple of days, and then I would get home and realize that I must have run it again. Don’t I sound like a safe driver?

They don’t look like real stop signs - shouldn’t new stop signs be bright and shiny? These are already plenty dinged up, which makes me doubt their validity. Even though I am pretty sure that the whole thing is simply an elaborate prank, I have managed to remember to stop for an entire week. And, may I say, Mike and I aren’t the only ones in the neighborhood who I have noticed running them. Who decides this stuff, anyway? Who are “they?” Can they put stop signs up in the neighborhood without anybody knowing about them first? Don’t they care that previously law-abiding citizens (never mind that the speed limit in our neighborhood is 15 and I can usually be caught going 25-30) are now breaking the law without even knowing it? Don’t they know that it will only make me drive faster on the non-stop-sign part of the road in order to save that three or four seconds where I pause just enough to be considered “not breaking the law?” And, uh, why do I care so much?

This is what happens when I have to work on Saturdays.

The other day “Goodbye” by Patty Griffin came on my iPod, and I know this song is about someone who died (it seems, in fact, like it’s about a suicide), but it makes me think of my old best friend, with whom I have not spoken in over two years. I have mentioned her on here from time to time, and while I know I am doing better with the situation, it’s hard to think that it’s been two whole years. Two years. She doesn’t know about our not-really-new-anymore house, or my job, or Mike going back to school. And that’s just the big stuff, the stuff everybody knows. What I really lament is the little stuff - the way we never got to talk about The Return of the King movie, the way I never got to introduce her to some of the music I have come to love over the past two years, the laughter that we never had, the lounging around that we missed.

I am able to admit that there were things about our friendship that didn’t work, and I have the feeling that, unless things changed a lot for one of us, we wouldn’t have been able to sustain a long-term friendship like I had hoped we would have. That’s something I know, and that Mike has said, but that I have never admitted before (except silently to myself, but then I would quickly banish the thought), because that’s not what I wanted. I didn’t want to admit it because I thought it meant I’d have to stop being sad. The truth, though, is that I’m still sad. Maybe I will always be sad, I don’t know. I don’t think I will, to be honest. I hope that one day the memories I have of our time together will be seen through the sunshiny haze that I now see when I look back at my childhood, and I’ll be able to let the painful parts go. As I was writing this, “Bookends” came up on my iPod, and the sentiments I expressed in that entry are still applicable today. I think I am learning how to let things be what they were, and the only thing that could help me do that is time.

What really strikes me as I read the lyrics of “Goodbye” are all the ways that I wanted to let her know that I thought she was special and important, not only to me, but as a child of God. I failed her in that, I know. I can be too rash and impatient sometimes, and I know I was with her. I don’t blame myself for our failed relationship, but I know that her inability to see herself as someone valuable is ultimately what pulled us apart. We started caring about different things, and the memories we had made weren’t enough to keep us together. And that’s sad.

I’m not especially sad about the whole thing today, just reflective. It makes me wonder, sometimes, when life keeps turning out so different than I expect, how I am able to keep pouring myself into relationships with such fervor. I suppose it’s only by the grace of God.

Occured to me the other day
You’ve been gone now a couple years
well, I guess it takes while
For someone to really disappear
And I remember where I was
When the word came about you
It was a day much like today
the sky was bright, and wide, and blue

And I wonder where you are
And if the pain ends when you die
And I wonder if there was
Some better way to say goodbye

Today my heart is big and sore
it’s tryin’ to push right through my skin
I won’t see you anymore
I guess that’s finally sinkin’ in
‘Cause you can’t make somebody see
By the simple words you say
All their beauty from within
Sometimes they just look away -Patty Griffin

I suppose it was just a matter of time before the musical baton got passed my way. Jeff Holland is the one who kindly handed it over to me.

The honest truth is that I’m not a huge music person, not like a lot of my friends and most definitely not like my husband. I like music, and I listen to it in my car and at work, but I feel a little insecure about talking about it because I’m such an amateur. I am also very lyric-centric, and I don’t know anything about playing music, so it’s hard for music to really grab me without the words being something that move me. So, with that in mind . . .

Amount of music on your computer?

Most of it is Mike’s. He says: “9580 Songs. 39 GB. Although I do have a lot more stuff than what is on my computer, these songs are all in my top 10,000.”

Currently listening to?

I usually put my iPod on “shuffle songs,” because I’m not so good at creating playlists. Lately my no-skips have been Patty Griffin, Waterdeep, Miranda Stone, and Sarah Masen.

Five songs that mean a lot to you?

So. Difficult. Disclaimer: These are not the only five that mean something to me. Just five that I’d like to talk about.

“Reflecting Light” by Sam Phillips. Yes, I’ll admit I heard this first on Gilmore Girls. Luke can waltz. Yeah, I said it. But this was my introduction to Sam Phillips and A Boot and a Shoe, and there’s just something about the way the music is so peaceful and the lyrics are so sad that make this a must-listen every time.

“Love’s as Strong as Death” from Canticle of the Plains. We had this song in our wedding, and we both loved it.

“Mansions” by Burlap to Cashmere. Yes, this is the most radio-friendly song on Anybody Out There, and there are probably better songs of theirs. But it has a special place in my heart because I heard it for the first time with Mike in his living room, and then he let me have his pre-release copy of the CD. And I gave him a hug. That was the first inkling I had that he might actually like me like me. Mike talked about his first time hearing the song here. (One of my favorite Burlap stories is that Mike came back from Cornerstone that year all excited to tell me about his discovery of the band, but as they had played at Ziggy’s that spring, I had already heard their CD from a friend. He was so deflated that I already knew about them. hehe.)

“At Least I Got a Car” by Waterdeep. This song just screams to be played loud, with the windows rolled down. And even though I have never dropped out of school, I can relate to the fear of change and wanting to just play video games (or, in my case, read) instead of being a grownup. When this song comes up on my iPod, I have to listen to it at least two or three times before I can move on.

“Hold it up to the Light” by David Wilcox. And Smalltown Poets. I heard this song when Mike and I were getting a lot of resistance from his parents about getting married, and it helped me realize that you can’t second-guess yourself, that you have to just move on and make the best decisions and live your life. It helped me learn a bit about living without regrets.

Top five albums?

Also hard. Let’s see. To me, a top album is one where I skip hardly any songs. So it may not have a particular favorite song (although some of these do), but I pretty much listen to everything on these five:

A Liturgy, a Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band by Rich Mullins. My first Rich Mullins album, and still one of my favorites of all time. There was almost a year or so where I listened to it every single day. I just could not get enough of it. “Hold Me Jesus” was long considered my favorite song of all time (although I don’t know that that’s true now).

Seven Deadly Sins by Miranda Stone. I got this album when I was in a very low place emotionally, and the whole thing reminds me of how I was holding on to my faith, trying to believe that God was working in my life and in my situation. I listened to it over and over and over.

Caedmon’s Call by Caedmon’s Call. Here’s a confession I’ve been wanting to make. Caedmon’s used to be my favorite band, but there are currently only three songs by them on my iPod. How things change. But I still love this album, and consider it one of my top five of all time.

Greatest Hits by Simon and Garfunkel. (We have The Essential Simon and Garfunkel, but this is the one I’d choose. The only song I think it’s missing is “The Only Living Boy in New York.” And since it’s my list, I can choose a greatest hits CD.)

August and Everything After by Counting Crows. I like pretty much all their albums, to be honest, but this one stands out because it’s the first one I heard. This boy who was crushing on me lent it to me, and I remember liking it. And then, when Mike said they were his favorite band, I borrowed this album so I could learn more about him. One of the things I appreciate about our relationship is that we make an effort when it comes to each other’s interests: I listen to Counting Crows and learned about the NFL for him; he listens to Patty Griffin and learned college basketball for me. This album reminds me of that give-and-take (though I will admit to skipping “Ghost Train”).

Honorable mention: Flood by They Might Be Giants.

Last album bought?

Mike got us Springsteen’s new album. The last album purchased specifically for me was probably A Boot and a Shoe because Mike doesn’t care for Sam Phillips (which is okay since I don’t dig Coldplay) (I told you I’m not a music person).

Recent discoveries?

I like what I’ve heard of Anna Nalick. Mike is the discover-er in our family.

And the baton goes to:

Alisa (Alisa’s answers)
Brian (Brian’s answers)
Emily
Roger (Roger’s answers)
Shelby (Shelby’s answers)

We thought it wasn’t coming out until December. Instead, Season 4 of Gilmore Girls will be out September 27.

(Hey, Mike, can you buy me that for your birthday? What’s that you say? You’re not having a hobbit birthday? Dangit.)

-Diet Coke with Splenda. Okay, I don’t love it, but I would drink it again, and it was fun that Brandon and Sarah made sure I tried it because it combines two things that are very popular at our house. Mike, of course, being the Diet Coke purist that he is, doesn’t like it at all.

-The Ordering of Love. So, maybe I do like poetry a little bit. I spent 20 minutes in Barnes and Noble one day looking at this book (that I have been wanting since the moment I heard about it), and Mike had a store credit that I used to buy it yesterday. Poetry has been popping up quite a bit lately, poetry that I have enjoyed, even. There was a poem on Lauren Winner’s blog that I enjoyed a lot last week, too. Maybe I’m not a hopeless case. I would actually love it if some of my friends gave me copies of their favorite poetry books for me to read . . . like I said in the comments on that earlier post, I need a hook when it comes to poetry. Help hook me in!

Here are some good things that have happened since I last blogged.

-A beach day with Mike. Do you know how rare and difficult this is? Mike does not like the beach. However, our friends convinced him that it would be fun . . . actually, no, that’s wrong. We just flat-out told him we were going to the beach and he would have to suck it up. However, our friends know how to do the beach up right, and between the canopy, the grill, the wave runner, his book, his Tilley hat, and lots and lots of sunscreen, he managed to have a good time. And I like going to the beach with him. I even got him to drive the wave runner! He is, as expected, a very safe driver. Neither of us got burned, the weather was lovely, the water was a nice cool temperature, and it was definitely a day to remember. So, of course, I didn’t take any pictures. Booooo, me.

-Learning to play poker. Since Texas Hold ‘Em has gotten so popular amongst our friends, I decided to bite the bullet and learn how to play. And, here’s the thing - I wasn’t awful. I wasn’t great, but I was getting the hang of it by the end. Also, when I was frustrated at the beginning, I realized that I may have grown since the Nerts incident last summer. I didn’t freak out and have a meltdown, and it’s to Scott and Kelly’s credit that they didn’t make a big deal of me being uncomfortable. I am not really ready to play with people who are going to take it seriously, but at least I know how to play.

-Scrapbooking. Over the weekend, I scrapbooked with my friend Kelly. This afternoon I scrapbooked with my friends Emily and Melissa. And Friday night I will be going to Melissa’s house to scrapbook again. I am getting caught up! Yay for creativity! Also, this afternoon we watched 13 Going on 30 while scrapbooking, and we found out that I was the least popular person in the room in high school. hehe. And I’m the only one who roots for the fiancees.

-Sandwiches with Sarah. Sarah was coming through town today, so we took a few hours and had lunch. I suggested that instead of buying food, that I just make us sandwiches. I felt like such a mom as I made turkey sandwiches and sliced cheese. I even brought my apple corer so I could give us perfectly sliced apples. To her credit, Sarah did not laugh at me for this. We had a nice time catching up, since we haven’t hung out since February, and we learned that I will one day be an excellent lunch-packing-mom.

-Harry Potter. I am getting really excited about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Crazy excited. I am in the midst of my re-read now, and my excitement is reaching uncharted levels. Tune in July 15 to watch me bounce off walls.

-Book club. My book club met yesterday to discuss Cold Sassy Tree, and it went very well (which is why I didn’t blog yesterday afternoon, if you were wondering where the heck I was). There were new people, and overall the book was received very well. Next up: Life of Pi. It will be interesting to see how it’s received, but I have high hopes for a good discussion (even if they hate it).

Mike is cooking ribs on our new grill, so I’m going to go see if he needs anything else. (I guess a new grill could be good thing number seven, but let’s just leave it at six.)