The Downside of Discipline

Want a peek into the inner workings of my mind? No? Well, you're going to get one anyway.

One of the reasons I do well as a freelance writer is that I'm pretty good at taking large jobs and breaking them down into manageable chunks. I can predict with a fair amount of accuracy how long it will take me to read or write X number of pages, depending on the subject and the difficulty of the material. Once I do all the scheduling, I'm very disciplined about making myself do whatever chunk needs to be done each day, knowing that the schedule will collapse like a house of cards if I fall behind.

So if you paid attention to the title of today's post, you might be asking what is the downside to all this discipline.

The downside is that I have a hard time turning off the mental discipline even when I'm on vacation. For example, I'm doing a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle and I'd like to finish it before I start working again next Monday. So the brain kicks into hyperdrive and immediately calculates that I must place 143 pieces of the puzzle each day, or I won't get done.

Yesterday, after one day of the vacation was past, I started reading a murder mystery that is 470 pages long. Yes, you guessed it. I hadn't gotten five pages into the book before I was telling myself that I needed to read about 79 pages a day to finish during my vacation.

I tell myself to stop. I tell myself that this is a play week, and those kinds of arbitrary goals don't matter, . . . and yet, as of this morning, I'm still on schedule with both puzzle and book reading.

Michael and I are going out to lunch and a movie today. Maybe I'll be able to let go of the reading and puzzle solving goals for today. Or maybe not. Perhaps on Thursday, I might find myself calculating how many more puzzle pieces and pages to do each day to compensate for the lost time.

Discipline and being detail oriented. It's a blessing and a curse.

Staycation plans

As of yesterday, Michael and I started a week off from working / holiday duties / household chores. Actually, I haven't done any freelance work since last Tuesday, but I'm still pretty fried mentally. So this week is being given over to play. No catching up on chores. Play.

1. Computer games

2. A jigsaw puzzle

3. Movie watching (both light and serious)

4. Coloring

5. Light reading

Family Treasures

First, thanks to all of you who asked about the lap robe. I did finish it, and my mother thought it was very pretty.

Since she lives in a nursing home now, she gave me a few of her special dishes. (She's been giving me dishes little by little ever since I married, but these were two she wanted to keep as long as possible.)

The dish below was something my mom bought for $3.00 some 60 or more years ago. She gave it to my dad's aunt for Christmas. Aunt Maude thought it was so pretty that she kept it out on display in a place of honor. When my great aunt died, Mom asked for the bowl for a remembrance. Now I have it. (I do remember my great aunt, so it's nice to have something of hers.) The bowl is much large than it looks in the photo. It's 10" high, and the bowl is an oblong roughly 12" by 8".

The covered footed compote below is from the 1890s (I think). The company that made it is called Riverside Glass Works. I believe it was a wedding gift to my paternal grandparents. If so, this made the long trip from Illinois to Idaho and back without being damaged. Anyway, this was part of my parents' house my entire life, but we never, ever used it (except to store silver dollars). It was considered too special. (FYI, it's about 10" high and not quite 8" in diameter.)

How many rabbits do you see on the lid below?

The Lives of Others: video review

You will probably never hear Michael or me say, "We only use movies as an escape." We enjoy comfort movies and "veg out" movies as much as the next person, although we tend to be a little picky about what we'll accept in those categories. We don't do horror, gratuitous violence, or comedies whose target audience is 14-year-old boys. (EDIT: We do watch comedies, just not the juvenile ones.)

However, for us, watching nothing but escapist movies would feel like living on a diet of only Big Macs and cotton candy. Our aesthetic side would start to feel flabby. We like to watch movies that challenge us once in a while. We especially like movies that develop the psychology of characters. If they do so while tackling an important historic issue, all the better.

One of the best serious movies that we've seen in recent years was the German movie The Lives of Others, which won the academy award for Best Foreign Language Picture in 2007 (awarded for movies made in 2006). We first saw it more than a year ago, but I've been thinking about it again because I recently bought it on DVD. We've watched it recently and listened to the commentary, and I am so glad we've added this to our collection.

The movie is set in East Germany in 1984. It shows how the Stasi, the state police, spied on citizens it suspected of being dissidents and how it coerced many people into informing on each other. The central character of the film is a Stasi officer who is assigned to eavesdrop on a playwright and his actress girlfriend. This officer has never really been exposed to art before, and as he spies on the couple, he slowly begins to change, partially because of the emotional power of art and partially because of their relationship. The situation portrayed turns out tragically, and yet it is a tragedy that produces grace and hope for two of the characters. Seeing the film again, I found it even more moving than I did the first time.

The writer / director did extensive research, and the historical accuracy of the film is superb. The movie is an incredibly powerful portrayal of what oppressive dictatorship does to the people who live under it. If anyone thinks that it's no big deal to have our government spying on U.S. citizens with warrantless wiretapping, I would suggest that they watch this film to see exactly where that kind of violation of privacy can lead.

If you like historical / psychological movies and you missed this one, check it out. It will make you think, and the characters will haunt you long after the closing credits.

Holiday Report

Well, Christmas is over for another year . . . except that it isn't. Today, we have to clean house because tomorrow, my older brother and his wife are coming over for a belated Christmas dinner. And Sunday, we're driving 100 miles to visit my mom and take her out to lunch from the nursing home where she lives now. My younger brother will be there too.

So in addition to cleaning and entertaining the next two days, I'm going to try to knit six hours to finish this lap robe for Mom's Christmas present. Wish me luck!

Smokey's Christmas post

My mom gave me permission to share this video with you. Merry Christmas!

Love,

Smokey

P.S. She has a Christmas post below this. Some stupid pome or something. It's not nearly as much fun as my post, but it's her blog so I couldn't stop her from putting it up.

A Christmas Poem

This is very old. I wrote it in 1982. But it seems appropriate to share during this season:

This stable I tend in Bethlehem,

feeding animals in my father's inn.

The work is rude, all flies and sweat

manure and mud or dust at best.

I'd rather be inside serving food to our guests

and hearing their stories of adventure and death.

For I've set my heart on glory and kings,

hating this Caesar who brings us such harm,

ruling my country with taxes and arms.

The needs of this stable seem trivial things.

Father sent me out here because I'm too full of dreams.

He says men on the road aren't all that they seem.

Even out here though, I've seen a strange sight—

an event that I'll ponder the rest of my days, 

unable to explain God's mysterious ways, 

remembering the child who was born just last night.

Here in the barn, not a room in the inn,

like a beggar cast out on the care of the town.

Yet angels appeared and shepherds bowed down

proclaiming him savior and calling him king.

I guess in the scope of the Almighty's scheme,

the birth of a savior is much more than it seems.

I won't be blogging the next two days. Have a merry and safe Christmas.

Christmas Miscellaneous

The well is dry in terms of written blogposts, so I thought I'd share a little more Christmas cheer from my house.

I got this idea from Sharon at Rose of Sharon, who showed a nutcracker poinsettia combo in her house. Michael's sister was a ballerina, so seeing productions of The Nutcracker is a special childhood memory of his.

This music box plays "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen," which has been one of my favorite carols since I was a little girl. I also love it because we were married in a church called St. Nicholas. So it's one of the things we continued to put out, even after we did a purge of excess Christmas decorations a few years ago.

We have a set of four of these that we bought from the National Wildlife Federation. We use them only during the Christmas season.

My Own "To Build a Fire" Experience

Here's my news flash for the day. Fatigue and stress can make a person stupid, and stupid can be dangerous.

I woke up at 5:00 this morning, eyes wide open, mind racing, thinking of all that needs to be done in the next three days. After lying there for a while, I realized I wasn't going to fall back to sleep, so I decided to get up.

Before taking Smokey out, I checked the weather. It was 5 below zero, with winds gusting up to 30 mph, which made for a wind chill of 28 below. I briefly considered putting a pair of pants on over my flannel pajama bottoms, but I decided I wasn't going to be outside that long. I dressed Smokey in his sweater and put on my full-length down coat, snow boots, scarf, and mittens. As we walked outside, I twisted the doorknob to make sure the door wasn't locked.

Smokey did NOT like the weather and refused to do more than pee. I knew that he'd be more receptive to pooping after he'd eaten breakfast, so I resigned myself to having to go out a second time. After five minutes of urging him to do his business, we headed back inside.

At least, that was the plan. The front door was locked. In my fatigue, I had tested the inside doorknob instead of the outside doorknob when I checked to see if I'd unlocked the door. And because I had switched from my short down coat to my long down coat, I didn't have my keys.

The next five minutes or so were spent pounding on the door and ringing the doorbell. Smokey helped by barking. Unfortunately for us, the master bedroom is the room farthest away from the front door. We were not able to wake Michael.

Finally, I picked up Smokey and waded through knee-high snowdrifts around to the back of the house and pounded on the bedroom window. I was completely out of breath when I got there from the cold and the exertion of pushing through snow while carrying 20 pounds of canine, and my lungs ached painfully. (I have asthma.) I stood still for a few seconds to calm myself down and then made my way back to the front door. Michael came about 30 seconds later.

He let me in, I stripped off the snow encrusted clothes and put on dry ones, used my inhaler, and drank some tea. All three of us hugged in bed for a while, and then we made a hearty breakfast of fried potatoes and scrambled eggs. (For once, the diet can go out the window.)

I haven't been that frightened in a long time. I'm still feeling the after-effects of the asthma and the survival adrenaline rush.

Don't underestimate how dangerous this weather is. Have a safe Sunday everyone.

P.S. I was going to photograph my footprints in a snowdrift, but I really don't want to go back out there. So today is a "use your imagination" post.  :-)

Saturday Summary

This is going to be short and sweet because my brain is pretty much fried. I'm juggling three writing jobs right now, so I'm writing/reading/researching about 8 to 9 hours each weekday plus 3 to 6 hours on weekend days. Today will be my 13th straight day of work. I did this to myself, and it will be good to have some extra income coming in, so I'm not complaining about how unfair life is or anything like that. I'm just explaining why this is such a lame blog post.

I did manage to finish my scarf project. (For those who are new readers, I made a New Year's resolution to make 12 scarves for the homeless this year.) One reason I've continually updated this on the blog is that knowing I'd made the resolution public kept me determined to carry through with the commitment. The photo below shows the scarves that went off to the shelter this week.

Have a good Saturday, everyone. And send me some good energy. If I get enough done today, I'll be able to take tomorrow off, go to church, and do the last couple of Christmas errands.

Evan's Second Bone Transplant

I'm putting the journal entry about Evan here instead of in the side column:

Day+1, 172 days here....................

This is Grandma Dorothy updating for Jaime. Many have been texting and calling for an update. The past 2 days have been a struggle. We have a new and hightened admiration for anyone who chooses to donate for a bone marrow transplant! Tuesday morning we all left Evan's room about 7:30 AM. Evan had his 2nd and final radiation treatment. The procedure is amazing. Dr. Firat, the radiation oncologist, was wonderful. Jaime had discovered a few days prior that he was Turkish, so they were sharing mideastern ancestory! He worked dilegently to ensure that Evan's blocks were perfect so that his body received radiation only where necessary. We discovered that he made yet additional adjustments after we left to get Jaime to interventional radiology for the placement of her Mahukar catheter. Where the boys have their central lines in their chests, Jaime had hers in the neck. She didn't appreciate the fact that I told her she was now like Herman Munster! Evan also told her that she was not allowed by him-the thought of a tube in her neck freaked him out. He pretty much held to that prediction! The insertion of the catheter was not completed as we had expected and was also more painful than anticipated.

After that procedure, she went up for lab and then to the Day Hospital for the cell collection. Joan was Jaime's collection nurse and we came to appreciate her wealth of knowledge and expertise. The entire unit was very supportive. We finally left there about 3 pm on Tuesday afternoon. Jaime was not feeling well-she was in pain and nauseated. The pain was both bone pain from the preparation for cell collection and the catheter in her neck. We checked on Evan, who was a champ all day. He did well in radiation-amazingly well, since he could not move at all. A custom mask was made and placed over his face for the procedure. The mask was also fastened to the the x-ray table in order to keep him still. Sounds barbaric, but done with love and care. He has his mask for a souvenier and really is proud of it. He doesn't like seeing the pictures of the procedure though. He had a lot of jaw pain after Monday's radiation, but Tuesday was pretty comfortable.

Jaime and I went down to the cafeteria for dinner and suddenly Jaime started bleeding-not much-thru her dressing. When I told her, she said she wasn't feeling well and was dizzy. We hurried up stairs and had one of the nurses check on her and we reviewed the discharge instructions. We did everything we were supposed to, but at the nurses' suggestion, we called the after hours number. Since we were at Children's, they suggested that we come over to the bone marrow transplant unit for a check. We got a wheelchair and flew thru the tunnels and restricted areas, guided by a housekeeper on a riding carpet cleaner to the unit!

We were met by Dr. H-although he didn't identify himself, but knew we were coming. We joked that Jaime could have been examined by another housekeeper! At any rate, both he and one of the nurses reassured us that all was well and we applied a new dressing and secured the catheter in a more comfortable position. Dr. Margolis called Jaime on Tuesday night, reporting a harvest of over 7 million cells. That was great news, but not knowing how many of those cells would be viable for transplant, it was decided that a second collection would be done on Wednesday.

Wednesday, we started over to Froedert by 8:15 AM, thinking the day would go much faster since it was only lab and collection. The collection itself takes about 3 hours, but has to be stopped whenever Jaime would experience side effects. Well, so much for plans-we didn't leave until almost 4 pm. Joan adjusted the collection differently now that she had an idea of how Jaime's system worked and it was more effective. But, the blood collected looked different. We were both anxious to ask why-not knowing if one day's collection was of better quality or greater quantity or what!

When we did ask, we discovered that Tuesday's collection had a lot of plasma in it and that Joan had to do a lot of adjusting to get the composition correct. Tuesday's collection was red-orange and more abudndant, while Wednesday's collection was a lower volume but much redder.

We found out today that yesterday's collection was even greater. Evan's total number of cells transplanted yesterday was 4.51 million and he should have about 3 million tonight. That's about 4 times more cells than he had during his first transplant. Jaime was a trooper and provided the greatest gift possible. While down in collection yesterday, Jaime had a storm of visitors. Dr. Margolis, his physician's assistant, Darci and Dr. Doug, the fellow came to make rounds! They checked on their star donor and provided an update on Evan as Jaime had missed morning rounds.

Not long after, Dr. Firat came over to see how she was feeling. All of the floor nurses have been checking on her to be sure she was comfortable and doing ok. After looking at Jaime (she did look miserable) and reviewing her labs, Dr. Margolis decided against a 3rd day of collection. That meant that Jaime could get the catheter removed from her neck. That procedure took an extra hour or so as pressure has to be applied to the insertion site to be sure she doesn't start to bleed. It went well and we came back to Evan's room just after 4 pm.

Evan received platelets and then his mom's cells about 8 pm. Once again, he slept thru the procedure! We took lots of pictures of Anna (aka Blondie-Evan loves her!) getting the tiny package of cells ready and watching them infuse. It's amazing how small the packet of cells is.

We tease Evan that we'll know the transplant works when he gets freckles and his hair grows back red! Evan woke up early today and was in a pretty good mood. He lost a tooth a few weeks ago and the socket started bleeding last night. Since he won't let us wash his mouth, he looks like he's part vampire. His mouth rinses don't remove the blood and we don't really want the clot that formed to be washed away. He also has complained of abdominal and ear pain today. Dr. Margolis has taken away his oral fluids again to ease his stomach discomfort. Both ears are full of wax, but nothing can be done about that for the time being. His mucositis is back. Good news-his chest CT is normal and the ultrasound of his spleen is without spots!! Either they were artifacts on the original reading or the infection has resolved. His temperature has been up and down and blood cultures have been taken. His blood pressure has been up today but he was extremely good about taking his medicine for that. He also had some platelets today. He's getting prepped now for his mother's second set of cells and as usual, is sleeping thru the process!!

This was chatty, but will hopefully give you a rundown of the events for the past few days. Hopefully the editor in chief will be back at the news desk tomorrow!!

Good night and God bless! Keep all donors in your prayers, because they give tremendously of themselves in order to give life to others.

Dog Parables, Part XV: No Lone Wolf

Dogs are pack-oriented animals. Because Smokey no longer lives with his dog family (that's his canine father on the right, above), he views Michael and me as his pack. We are everything to him: food providers, protectors, and companions. His greatest fear is of separation from us. Michael was sick with a sinus infection earlier this month, so Smokey and I spent several nights sleeping in the spare bedroom to try to avoid infection. Smokey was very distressed that his pack was splitting apart, so much so that on two different nights, he woke me up by vomiting in the corner of the room.

He also insists on trying to protect his pack by warning us of danger, even though we've tried to train him that it's really not necessary to bark at every person who walks down the street. He has transfered his loyalties to us so completely that the one time we left him for a weekend, he was miserable even though he was staying with his first human owners and his canine mom, dad, grandmother, and aunt.

I think we could learn something from dogs in this respect. Too often, American Christianity seems like a solely individual affair. The emphasis is on our "personal" relationship with Jesus, on our individual salvation, and our personal morality.

The Bible seems to me to have a different emphasis. It talks about our becoming members of the body of Christ and stresses how much we need each other.

Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot were to say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear were to say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members, yet one body. I Cor. 12:14-20

Our gifts are intended to coordinate with each other, to work together as a whole to represent the totality of Christ. We are his body in this world, but only if we all work together to accomplish his work. And I believe that work involves much more than just obsessing over our own individual righteousness.

The early church shared all their resources in common and made provision for widows and orphans. They cared for each other in wholly practical ways. In difficult economic times like this, the Church should be doing more of this than ever.

Hebrews reminds us that Christian community is meant to provide for our spiritual needs as well: "And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching." Hebrew 10:23-25

As Christians, we aren't meant to go it alone. To put it in terms that my Smokey would understand, we're meant to be pack animals. I've often heard people say that church isn't relevant to their lives, but I think that since we live in such an individualistic culture, it's more essential than ever.

The Christmas Meme

I saw this at Jan's and decided to play.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper. Gift bags don't seem like real wrapping to me.
2. Real tree or Artificial?
Artificial. For years and years, we had real and I got sick every single Christmas. The pollen trapped in the branches was aggravating my allergies so much it made my immune system too vulnerable.
3. When do you put up the tree?
The Saturday closest to St. Nicholas Day.
4. When do you take the tree down?
Usually not till after Epiphany.
5. Do you like eggnog?
Yes, but I won't be drinking it much anymore.
6. Favorite gift received as a child?
A birthstone ring when I was 9.
7. Hardest person to buy for?
One of my brothers in law.
8. Easiest person to buy for?
Smokey and Michael. It's a tie.
9. Do you have a nativity scene?
Yes. I showed it earlier this month.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards?
Usually, we mail Christmas cards but we're too busy this year.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
Oh really, I don't keep score
12. Favorite Christmas Movie?
A Christmas carol with Alistair Sim
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Usually in October.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
yes
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Belgian chocolates from a shop in Evanston
16. Lights on the tree?
Usually mixed, this year just white.
17. Favorite Christmas song?
too many to choose
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
travel 50 miles Christmas Eve; stay home Christmas Day
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's?
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, . . . and Rudolph
20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
angel
21. Open presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Michael and I exchange present Christmas Eve morning (to keep our personal relationship private); his family does it Christmas Eve; my family usually does it Christmas Day
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
the hype to spend, spend, spend
23. Favorite ornament theme or color?
angels, my favorite is the little Swedish pewter one shown in the header
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?
ham
25. What do you want for Christmas this year?
time to reflect
26. What do you like most about Christmas?
the Christmas Eve morning time with Michael. I make Swedish pancakes for us and we open presents just like little kids

If you want to play, leave a comment here. It will be fun to read other answers.

On This Day Earth Shall Ring

I'll tell you up front that this post is a shameless plug for my absolute favorite Christmas album—On This Day Earth Shall Ring: Songs for Christmas. For nearly 25 years, this has been the first collection of music I have played during the Christmas season. It is a rare album that can weather such a long life without growing stale, but my love for this has never waned. One reason I like to recommend it is that it's not put out by a major label, so most people have never heard of it. (I also love supporting really talented artists who haven't made the "A list" in terms of money and fame.)

In 1985, I was blessed to hear a Christmas concert performed by a team of several incredible artists, including folk singer Anne Hills and Japanese classical guitarist Shinobu Sato. I loved it because it combined traditional carols with some Renaissance carols like "Riu Riu Chiu." I've always loved the sense of being connected to Christmas down the centuries. My roommate and I bought the LP they were selling at the concert, and that was how I found this album. When I married, I tracked down my own copy, and later I purchased the album on CD (which had three added tracks of equally wonderful quality).

If you enjoy the timelessness of Christmas or if you want an album that just revels in the sheer beauty of music, I think you'd like this. Amazon has a sampler you can listen to, but I think other sites on the web sell it too.

P.S. Feel free to leave your own shameless plugs in the comments.  :-)

Low Expectations

This is the story of a water heater.

Michael and I aren't "handyman" types. Before we bought our house, we knew practically nothing about home upkeep. For example, we didn't know that with some water heaters, you need to flush out the accumulated lime every year (if you live in a region with hard water). So we didn't do that with our first water heater, and it had a very short life. After 6 or 7 years, it filled up with so much lime it just stopped working altogether.

I called the local hardware store to get a recommendation of a plumbing contractor, and we had our water heater replaced. Being the naive homeowners that we were, we didn't realize that the contractor we hired installed a used water heater in our house. (We found out later when we had it serviced by a different plumbing company, the one we still use, and they told us it was manufactured several years before we had it installed.)

Even though we did have this second water heater flushed periodically, it didn't work very well. We had it set fairly high, but we rarely had very hot water. When we'd wake up in the morning, the temperature of the hot water would be only about 80 or 90 degrees. I'd run the faucet for awhile and the influx of cold water into the heater's tank would force it to kick on, and in about half an hour we'd have hot water. We'd have a similar problem in the evening if we hadn't run very much water during the day. Even though we had a 40-gallon tank, which should be plenty for two people, we never had enough hot water for both of us to take a shower one right after the other. (And I don't take long showers.)

You would think we would have realized within a very short time that this isn't the way water heaters are supposed to work. But we didn't. We made do with this ridiculously inefficient water heater for 7 or 8 years. We did have it serviced a couple of years ago, and we knew that it had some serious problems that meant we'd have to replace it soon, but we were waiting until we started getting more work.

Friday, we called a plumber to come fix a problem with our toilet. While he was here, I went to the kitchen to load the dishwasher, . . . and we had no hot water. So I asked if he'd turned it off because he was working. He said no and checked our water heater. The pilot was out. (What are the odds that it would break at the exact time we had a plumber in the house? But it did.) He relit it, and we asked him for details about what it would cost to replace the tank, but we didn't want to make a snap decision while he was there. 

Anyway, after the plumber left, Michael and I talked it over and decided that we were too nervous about continuing to make do with that faulty water heater. We arranged to have a replacement installed on Monday (today).

At dinner time, I discovered the water heater had gone out again, so we had to call and arrange to have the installation done Saturday.

So we've had it two days, and the new water heater works like a dream. I can start my dishwasher without all that malarkey of running out a lot of water and then waiting 40 minutes for the tank to reheat. When I turn the water on with the tap turned all the way to hot, steam billows in the sink. That has NEVER happened in the 13 years we've lived here.

This story sounds rather ridiculous when I type it out, but I have a fairly logical explanation for why I was willing to put up with this situation for so long. My dad was one of those stereotypical self-taught handymen whose opinion of his skills was far greater than the reality. He was constantly starting jobs around the house and never finishing them. When I was a teenager, there was at least one unfinished repair job in every room of my family's eight-room house. I can remember one period lasting several weeks during which we washed dishes in a plastic tub in the dining room because he tore apart the kitchen sink and delayed putting it back together.

The good part about this background is that I can be pretty flexible about improvising when something doesn't work right. For a brief period Friday night, we thought we might have to wait until Monday for the installation, and I immediately heated several pans of water and began unloading dishes from the dishwasher and washing them by hand. I also started trying to calculate if I could boil enough water for a bath and wondering how to wash my hair. When Michael got off the phone with the plumbing company and told me we could get the job done Saturday, I actually felt a twinge of disappointment that I wouldn't have the chance to prove how resourceful I was.

The bad part about my family background, which incidents like the one of the water heater demonstrate, is that I have low expectations for having things work. It just doesn't strike me as odd to have to finagle and fiddle to trick my water heater into providing hot water.

I think that something similar happens to a lot of us when it comes to our relationship with Go. We each carry a certain amount of baggage from being raised by flawed human beings. Too often, we magnify whatever faults our parents might have had and project those onto God. My mother, for example, is a very narcissistic woman who expected her children to dedicate themselves to meeting her emotional needs. As a consequence, I have struggled all my life to believe that God cares about my needs. My default is to think that he expects me to be all about service and obedience and self-sacrifice. I got that low expectation from the family in which I was raised, not from any experience with God, yet I'm constantly making the mistake of putting it on Him.

It's hard to try to separate our experience of our parents and other authority figures from our view of God. But I think it's an essential part of our growth as human beings. I'm often so afraid of being disappointed and hurt, and yet my personal experience of God is that he delights in exceeding our expectations. Slowly, slowly, I'm learning more about trusting him. I think it's going to be the work of a lifetime.

Attn: Dog Lovers

Go check out the giveaway on Dlyn's blog. (It's a couple of posts down. Look for the post by her dog Riley.) Entries accepted till midnight tonight.

My Saturday post is below.

Followed by Aliens

One afternoon during December last year, I was driving home from a large shopping mall twenty minutes from my  home and I happened to glance in my rearview mirror. The car behind me was a large white Buick driven by a woman wearing huge, round, reflective glasses that made her look like she had insect eyes. The windshield must have had tinted glass because her facial skin looked as green as the Wicked Witch of the West. And her long hair was hennaed to be aggressively red. For just an instant, I had the panicky thought, “I'm being followed by an alien.”

Then I realized that she probably thought she looked really cool. And I remembered an incident that had happened earlier that day. Michael and I went out to lunch at a restaurant that was hosting a party for children ages 2 to 9 to have breakfast with Santa. As the hostess led us to our table, she told us we should make reservations in case we want to bring our grandchildren! She said it twice.

Needless to say, I wasn’t pleased. I know that to many 22-year-olds, anyone over 30 looks ancient, but I’m still young enough theoretically to have a 9-year-old of my own. Yet I'm sure the young woman never realized she had pigeonholed me.

Having both those experiences in a single day made me realize that people rarely think of themselves the same way they appear at first glance. I don't think of myself as grandmotherly, and the alien probably doesn't think of herself as ET’s cousin. Now I just hope I remember this next time I’m tempted to judge someone on first appearances.

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Devotional Books

This is the time of year when I start looking for next year's devotional book. I like using devotionals. Reading the daily entries is usually only a small part of my prayer time, but it does provide something to think about and often provokes thoughts about my own life.

One problem I have, however, is that many devotional books rub me the wrong way. I like books that tend to open up my thinking rather than presenting a too-narrowly pointed lesson. The two that I show in the photograph were devotionals that both Michael and I enjoyed using.

A Year of Days with the Book of Common Prayer was written by Edmond Browning, former presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church. He has a gentle, open, humble spirit, and I liked this book so much that I've used it twice (a couple of years apart). Here is one quotation that sums up his approach: "The more I trust in God's goodness at work in my world, the more evidences of it I will see and the more opportunities for its exercise I will create."


Listening to Your Life: Daily Meditations with Frederick Buechner is the book Michael and I have been using this year. Frederick Buechner is a wonderful writer. He's a Presbyterian minister and a novelist, so he brings the eye and sensibility of an artist to his work as a theologian. This particular book is not a typical devotional. There are no Bible verses, no questions for the reader to ponder. Instead, it consists of passages from Buechner's novels and other writings. Again, I find the work to be thought provoking but not didactic. If you like a more literary approach, this would be a good one to try.

(While I'm on the subject of Buechner, one of my very favorite novels is Godric: A Novel, the story of a medieval English hermit and unofficial saint, his sinful past, and how he found God.)

I have yet to find a devotional book for next year. I'm thinking of doing something very unconventional and reading poetry instead. However, if you can recommend any devotional books that you think would suit me (remembering that I'm not looking for overly evangelical ones), I would appreciate it. Alternatively, if you can recommend poets whose work you find conducive to meditation, I'd love to know that too.

Coloring as Meditation

A couple of years ago, I was looking through Isabella catalog, which focuses on "gifts for reawakening the spirit" and I was intrigued to see a coloring book of mandala designs. The description said "Coloring a mandala focuses the attention and nourishes the psyche and senses. Such an activity is deeply relaxing and fulfilling, not to mention healing."

Well, I have to admit to being highly skeptical. But I liked the designs because they were either geometric or symbolic. Because of my work as a writer, I used the verbal centers of my brain ALL the time. I also spend a lot of time dealing with numbers. Sometimes, when I'm feeling a lot of mental fatigue, the best thing I can do for my brain is to deliberately use a different set of faculties.

Coloring allows me to do that. It's non-verbal and non-logical. Many of the mandalas in the book I use are non-representational, while others draw on ancient religious symbolism. I don't do it very often, but when I do, I find that it taps into emotion and creativity. When I'm working on one of these pages, my thoughts grow completely focused on the task. I don't plan the pattern or colors I'll use ahead of time. Instead, I just stare at the page until I start to visualize colors in some of the spaces. Usually, I know only one or two colors at a time and then I stop and wait until I "see" what the adjacent colors will be.

Doing this really helps me get in touch with some deep well of self-expression, and it also makes me feel centered and focused. Partially, I think the activity feels so healing because it takes me back to my childhood. Also, when I do it in the winter, it helps me cope with the lack of sunlight and color.

Sunday, I spent a couple of hours working on the design at the top of this post. The colors were not chosen according to any aesthetic theory. They were just the way my spirit wanted to express itself on that particular afternoon. A few of the others that I've done in the last two years are below.

Waiting for the "Advent" of Good Government

For the first time in my life, I feel ashamed to be an Illinoisan. Yesterday, our governor was led from his home as a criminal, charged with a series of corrupt acts that left even hardened FBI agents in shock.

• He allegedly tried to "sell" the Senate seat of Barack Obama for a political appointment for himself or for other economic gain.
  
• He allegedly withheld $8 million in funds from Children's Memorial Hospital because the CEO didn't give him a political donation fast enough.
• He allegedly withheld state support for the sale of Wrigley Field because he was trying to strongarm the Cubs's owners, the Chicago Tribune, into firing editors who criticized him.

These are just the most shocking of the charges outlined in a 76-page document. Ironically, even though he's been under investigation for years, he's recently stepped up his political extortion. Some analysts believe he was trying to stockpile money before a recently passed ethics law goes into effect on January 1.

I'm still so stunned by all of this that I'm finding it hard to think of anything profound to say about the event. However, I do think it fits, in a perverse way, with the Advent season. Here's a passage I found on a website describing the season of Advent:

The season of Advent has come to be celebrated more in terms of expectation or anticipation. Yet, the anticipation of the Coming of the Messiah throughout the Old Testament and Judaism was not in connection with remembrance of sins. Rather, it was in the context of oppression and injustice, the longing for redemption, not from personal guilt and sin but from the systemic evil of the world expressed in evil empires and tyrants. It is in that sense that all creation groans for its redemption as we witness the evil that so dominates our world (Rom 8:18-25).

Lord knows that my poor state needs redemption from systemic evil. If Blagojevich is convicted, he will be the fifth Illinois governor (and the second in a row) to serve prison time for corruption. Not only that, but our state government has been paralyzed for several years now because of petty quarrels between the governor and the legislature. Blagojevich is hugely unpopular in this state, and was even before his arrest. (I'm grateful that I did NOT vote for him last time. In 2006, I voted for the Green Party candidate because I couldn't stand the tickets put up by either major party.)

In the midst of all my frustration and anger, I have managed to find two seeds of hope. First, several people have been calling for governmental reform in Illinois. Maybe this will shock people enough that something will actually start to happen.

Second, the federal agents who arrested the governor acted very precipitously yesterday. Rather than allowing him to turn himself in quietly, they went to his house at 6:00 AM and took him away in handcuffs. They did it because, in the words of one official, they believed that "a political crime spree" was in progress and they wanted to act quickly to prevent further damage. They were afraid that the Senate seat would be sold to someone unworthy of the office, that an innocent editor would lose his job, and that the sick children of this state would not get the help they needed.

Today, I'm grateful that at least some public official took their responsibilities to their fellow citizens seriously.

P.S. Rod, in the unlikely event that you're reading this, go ahead and try to extort me into writing nice things about you on my blog. I'd love the chance to contribute evidence to the Feds' case against you.

Favorite Ornaments

A few days ago, Dawn of Renaissance Mama did a post in which she showed some of her favorite Christmas ornaments. I decided to do the same thing.

This little nutcracker was the first ornament Michael and I ever bought as a couple. We got it the Christmas we were engaged. We bought it from the gift shop of the Art Institute of Chicago. It's from Germany.

When I was a very little girl, my family had some glass bird ornaments that clipped to the tree branches. Michael and I bought two of them from a store in Door County that specializes in European style ornaments. I think this peacock is stunning.

We have a lot of angels on our tree, including this cherub.

Pegasus is a very important symbol to me personally. (To find out why, go here.) When I was single, the woman who lived in the apartment below me was like my second mother. She gave me this ornament. She died of cancer the same week that Princess Diana and Mother Teresa died.

This little cathedral is from a trip to Santa Fe. It's one of Michael's favorites. We have a lot of ornaments that are souvenirs from trips.

St. Nicholas Day tradition

Michael and I were married in St. Nicholas Catholic Church in Evanston, IL. The parish held their annual fair each year on the weekend closest to St. Nicholas Day (December 6), and one of the things they always did was to sell live Christmas trees. So we got in the habit of putting our tree up that weekend, a custom we continue.

This year, Saturday was actually St. Nicholas Day. Michael has been sick, so I had to do the cleaning and decorating on my own this year. Here is a mini photo documentary of the day.

What is this tiny, little Christmas tree?

Ha, I think it goes on top of this funny-looking thing. Notice that we don't use a live tree anymore because of my allergies. Those two bankers boxes are where we store our ornaments during the year. They become a handy platform for our tree, which is only four feet tall. The last live tree we had was so huge I felt like it had taken over our living room. So when we decided to buy an artificial tree, I wanted a small one.


Here it is, with the two halves reunited for the season.

Because of the bankers'  boxers, we use a Christmas tablecloth instead of a tree skirt. Usually, we use a blend of white and multi-color lights, but this year, I felt like going with the pure white look.

All done!

Smokey knows which stocking is his and can't wait to see if his chew toys are in it yet. Notice that Michael's stocking isn't even hung up yet, and Smokey is already checking out the situation.

Growing In the Darkness

Advent is a season in which the traditional readings contain a lot of imagery about light and darkness. I've been thinking the last few days about all the meanings that darkness has. It is often used to symbolize evil and our uncontrollable passions. It is also used as a metaphor for ignorance or depression.

But there is a different kind of darkness that I think is more appropriate for this time of year—the darkness of hibernation, of waiting, of dormancy that stores up the energy needed for a new season of growth. Darkness is often a necessary precursor to creativity.

In the last week or so, I have been reading through Rilkle's Book of Hours in the mornings. I had heard of Rainer Maria Rilke for years—and even had his work recommended to me by friends—but I had never read his poetry until I encountered it on several blogs. I liked the poems so much that I bought a collection for myself, and I've been using it as part of my devotional time this Advent. What follows is a poem that I found especially moving this week:


You, darkness, of whom I am born --

I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.

But the dark embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations - just as they are.

It lets me imagine
a great presence stirring beside me.

I believe in the night.

(Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)

Update on Evan

I know that many of you keep up with Evan on my sidebar, but today I'm going to post the update here because the news is so very serious.

He has rejected his first bone marrow transplant. In this post, from the CaringBridge site, Jaime explains the options and what the family has decided.

When you read this, you will realize how desperately this family needs our continued prayers.

Day +27 our 157th day here...

So, yesterday was incredibly long as well as busy. It began with Evan's additional line being placed at 9:30. The wonderful staff in IR allowed me to be in the room until Evan was loopy enough for me to leave. Dave, their fantastic PA is the one who placed the line, he has also done things for Ian so we know him. It also helps that our new BMT PA (who we love) came from radiology and as able to call in a special request for Ev! When they were done placing his new double lumen power PICC, Derm did a skin biopsy of his rash area. Let's just say that was not a fun time. Then his silly momma almost passed out due to a wee bit of heat overload, talk about embarrassing! Evan had a pretty rough hour after with some aggression, but had a good day overall.

When we got back up I met with Dr. Dave and the team. At this time, our two options were presented with their pros and cons. I have seriously debated if I was going to share this information and I have decided to. Please know before you continue reading that you may not like what is said. It is not easy for us to think about it either, but we also must know the facts. So that being said here are the two options that were presented:

Option 1-Use Frau X's frozen cells

If this option were chosen we would be giving him all the T-Cells which would be 10 Million vs the orignal dose of 100,000. Wow you may be thinking, yep! So, what does that mean in english, GVHD (graft vs. host disease) for sure. How much, not sure and this is the issue. If he COULD survive the GVH, nobody can tell how bad it would be. His oncologist, Dr. Mike, is very concerned that he will not survive the GVH. While Dr. Mike is not currently treating him, Dr. Dave (as do we) values his opinion as his oncologist and former transplanter. They are confident they would be able to get him to engraft, but at what cost. The one advantage to GVH is GVL (graft vs. leukemia) which almost eliminates the leukemia from returning. We also have virtually no wait other than his conditioning. Dr. Dave told me that living with severe chronic GVH is a fate worse than death.

Option 2- Use mommy (me) as the donor

After looking at my initial labs it was determined that I am actually an 8/10 match. Evan and I share may of the same proteins which is an advantage. There is also very compelling data from Italy with Haplo (half matches ie parents/siblings) Mother and Father donors. For some reason, using a Mother yields the highest positive outcomes. I have seen the paper and it is impressive. With using me he will most likely not get GVH (very, very small chance) and in turn no GVL. He will be at a very high risk for viral infections for at least 6 months (much higher than if we used the original donor) and his relapse rate is higher. He would then require TLI (Total Lymphoid Irradiation) in addition to the chemo drugs. I would receive GCSF (immune booster) prior to my collection which potentially will make me feel like a bad case of the flu. I would also need a line placed in my neck as my veins don't always like to cooperate.

I am sure you noticed that our biggest (his medical team as well) concern is now his survival. With both options, it is still very possible that he is not going to make it. We are unable to predict what could happen and must make the best decision based on the data. They wanted to make sure I would get the necessary medical clearance so I had labs, a chest x-ray and a physical done by the physician they use for donors.
This morning Dr. Dave and I called Chris to go over the data again in order to make ther big decision. It became clear to all of us after the call that the best option for Evan is using his mommy as the donor. I have been cleared by Dr. Sobczak (the physician I will be seeing through this process) and we are moving forward. I have signed all the consent forms and they are currently putting in all of the orders.

Evan will have a 12 day conditioning regimen starting tomorrow. He will have the TLI on Day-2 and -1. I will begin my shots next week. On Dec. 16th I will go to Froedtert to have my line placed and be collected. I may need to be collected again on the 17th but that will depend on the amount of cells they are able to get the first time. Evan will get his new cells on the 17th and again on the 18th if I need a second collection.

I know I have just thrown a TON at you, that is only a glimpse of the past few days. We have made the decision and now must focus on the prize! I know that many of you want to come up and see us, but at this time we are not allowing anyone (even if you have received your flu shot) to come. I know this is hard and we miss you all so much this is now about Evan's chance to survive. We hope that you are able to understand that this is a hard decision to make, however, we have come too far for a cold to wipe him out. The holidays make this even harder, but there will be plenty of days in the future once he is over this.

Before I end this I wanted to make sure you all knew that we moved rooms again. We are now right next door in room E585 and the new direct number is 414-607-5145. Dr. Dave wanted us in a new BMT cleaned room and since the room right next to us opened up it worked well. I finished moving stuff last night about 11:30, thus the lack of update. We are also moving rooms at RMH to the 3rd floor of the Long Term Stay. We are very excited to be on a floor with all BMT families (there are only 5 rooms total up there and we all are the only ones to us our kitchen) who we have become good friends with. I hope you all still like us after Ian invades!!!

Thank you for your continued thoughts and prayers as we take another fork in our journey. God Bless.

Casey at the Bat

This is a little break from seriousness to show you a video clip from YouTube that features my older brother Keith. Visually, it's pretty simple--just a shot of him reciting, but I think he does a great job at dramatizing the poem. He's been developing a sideline as a storyteller. He just told me about this yesterday, so I decide to post it here.

P.S. That's him singing at the end too.

Dog Parables, Part XIV: Rigid About Routine

This is the loveseat where I usually sit in the living room. I have my quiet time there in the morning, I sometimes sit there during the day to work on my laptop, and I watch TV and knit while sitting there in the evening. Usually, I sit with my back against the armrest and my legs stretched out in front of me because my mother trained me not to cross my legs and to prop my feet up whenever possible (blood clots run in my maternal family).

In the morning when I have my quiet time, Smokey joins me. He wedges himself between my hip and back cushions, and he begs for me to pet him as I meditate or pray. This has been part of our routine since he was a puppy, and on the days when I have too full a schedule to have my devotional time, Smokey always seems a little out of sorts. Not having his morning "mom time" seems to upset him slightly for the rest of the day.

We've developed a different routine for the evening. Usually I sit there watching TV or reading blogs, and Smokey sleeps at other end of the loveseat next to my feet. About 9:00 or 9:30, I often curl up on the loveseat with my head on a pillow facing the TV and my body in fetal position. Smokey moves from his spot so he can curl up next to my chest. Usually after a few minutes, he will roll over on his back and turn his head to the side so he can tuck it under my chin. Then he snores contentedly for as long as I'll leave him undisturbed. He seems to find great emotional reassurance in this evening bonding time, and if I go too long without curling up in fetal position, he grows restless. He'll start repositioning himself and sighing loudly every 10 or 15 minutes, as if to remind me that I'm neglecting our time together.

In other ways, he is a dog that is very attached to his routines. He subjects our behavior to intense scrutiny, looking for signals about what routine we're following. He can tell, just from our morning activities, whether it is a work-at-home day, a go-to-church day, or a go-somewhere-with-Smokey day. Often, when we are finishing getting ready for church (or some other outing), he will run into his crate without being told about five minutes before we walk out the door.

Routines can be helpful for people too. They help us to be more efficient and productive, and they help us to predict what the people around us might expect from us.

But being too rigid about routines, as Smokey often is, isn't a good thing for humans. Frankly, I am not a morning person. I tend to get up earlier than Michael does, but I like to have a slow-paced, quiet morning with a minimum of interaction. Sometimes I really have to bite my tongue when Michael gets up and starts moving around the kitchen before I feel emotionally ready to have him there. One staple of my morning is making cappuccino. We use filtered water, and if Michael wanders out to the kitchen and empties the Brita pitcher just as I'm about to get water for the espresso machine, I tend to feel really annoyed. I know that he has medicine he has to take first thing in the morning, but I still sometimes resent it if he delays my routine by five minutes.

When I get like that, I have to remind myself that as helpful as they are, routines are not more important than people. Routines are meant to serve human beings, not the other way around.

Now if I could just convey that lesson to Smokey . . . 

Stone Crossings: A Book Review

One of the blogs I have in my reader is Seedlings in Stone by L. L. Barkat. Her posts are usually contemplative or thought-provoking and filled with sensory details. L. L. has a very evocative style that I enjoy, so about a month ago, I purchased her book Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places.

The book has twenty chapters, and in each one L. L. talks about something in her own life and then explores a more abstract truth related to her experience. For example, she recounts a childhood humiliation and goes on to discuss shame and being healed from it. She uses an argument with her husband to launch a discussion of forgiveness that goes on to describe the process of reconciling with her father. In some chapters, L. L. recounts incidents of heartbreaking difficulties or abuse, while in others she explores her own weaknesses with a searing honesty. In every chapter, she combines intellectual exploration with a graceful use of Bible verses, always to the point but not so didactic that they feel preachy.

If you are interested in reading one women's experience of the ways in which faith and personal growth intersect, I recommend this book.

Winter Soulstice

In the deep of winter,
a coat of sable darkness blankets the earth
and all is quiet.

Within a mulch of soil and crumbling leaves,
seeds lie, waiting.
Their outer shells show tiny cracks that widen over time
but still do not give way.
For now, their lives are sleeping.
Someday, too distant for us to see in the darkness,
yet sooner than our numb hearts can imagine,
the seed coats will split,
and green insistent fingers of hope
will push toward the sun and return bounty to our lives.

For now, we hear the fretful cry of a child trying to sleep,
and we remember why we endure this yearly cycle of dying.
New life is coming.
The gift has been given and waits only
for the right conditions to prompt its growth.

Come. While the outside world is resting,
let us till our inner gardens.

(written 2006)