Artistic Update

My mom came over today, and helped me repair the door to an even prettier state. We filled in the holes with drywall spackle, went to lunch (Thai food and Thai iced tea!), while it dried, came home and sanded it and then I hand-painted it; quite literally. I put rubber gloves on and immersed my hands in the paint and painted the door. Really, it looks better than it ever has. Maybe I could make a living doing this.

Inspiration, Artistry, and, Oops!!

I have been hearing lately about so-and-so who's an artist, and so-and-so who is "just SO creative!", so I decided to try my hand at the artistic life. The high school kids at church are going to camp in New Mexico this week, and I've been hearing about it all week long. Naturally, memories of high school camp came to mind . . . the wrestling and eating dog food, the mega box wars (this was my favorite; four kids stood at the four courners of a tarp with grease on it, all wearing refrigerator boxes and unable to see, and at the sound of the whistle, all four had to attempt to get to the opposite corner, while treading on a super-slippery tarp, with three other blinded kids bumping into them, and with perfectly sighted staff members tripping them and turning them around.) So this is my memory of camp: running. All I can remember is running everywhere, all the time. There was the subject for my art: I'd draw a self-portrait of me running. I am proud of the colorful drawing. I even made my own frame for it. Now, where to hang it? I know; on my office door. I got my handy-dandy hammer (it was a wedding gift), and I got a few nails. I hammered in those nails with all my might. In the end, it looked perfect-it was like a dream. However, when I swung the door on the hinges, the dream became a nightmare. I guess I hadn't realized how long those nails were, and how thin the door. I reacted quickly, and used the hammer to bend the extra 2 inches of nail down, and I taped some wrapping paper over it all, to cover the war wounds. Maybe that would buy me some time before my better half, who lets me live in his house and be his wife, got home. They say walking helps you to generate ideas, so Rufus and I went for a walk. I figured out how to fix it. I got rid of the wrapping paper, unbent the nails, and pried them out. Problem. Six big and ugly holes in the door. I tried to cover them up with my picture, but to no avail. I had to use thumbtacks, and move the picture over to the wall. I'd have to deal with the ugly holes later. My Mister and I watched a movie, and I thought about ways of dealing with the holes. The breakthrough answer came today, as I glanced at a can of white paint in the garage. I got my hammer again (I figured that if it could get me into this trouble, it could get me out, too), and I got a paper towel, and I gently dipped the towel into the paint, and went and covered up the ugly holes. Our home no longer looks like a drug den. I fixed it. I FIXED IT. In case you didn't get that, I FIXED IT.

A photo of the portrait is on my Flickr page.

An open letter to guys

You'd all better be careful-especially when dealing with girls who have friends. I have a sweet, sweet, friend who wouldn't hurt a fly, and a guy from our church asked her out while driving down the road in his car. She politely refused. Then, he said something very insulting. Let me tell you, that guy is still paying for it. You see, my friend has friends-and those friends have friends-and I tell my friends to stay away from that guy, and I tell them to tell their friends to stay away from that guy. He will be alone for the rest of his life, and not only that, but if I ever see him or hear that he is in the vicinity, I will hunt him down, and he'll pay for his stupidity. He's going down. Big time. My point is simply this: be nice to girls, even sweet, harmless girls--and if you're not, you'd better watch your back.

It's guys like that that motivate me to run up stairs, and use frozen slabs of meat on hooks as punching bags.

Spinal Tap, the movie

I was recalling last night a funny miscommunication at a time when I was particularly vulnerable. It was the day before I was to have a spinal tap, and I was a bit nervous. I was working in the library alongside my good friend Kristin. I asked timidly between the shelves, “Have you ever had a spinal tap?” Kristin said, laughing, “No, but I heard that it’s really funny.” Pausing, brows furrowed, I said, “Not the movie—the medical test!!” (She hadn’t had one.) Several days later, Kristin asked me how the test was. “It was so funny!!!”

Rufus on walking with Mrs. M.

Mrs. M. has been taking me out each morning, before the Los Angeles desert sun brings the temperature over 90. We walk a mile, then we both replenish our electolyte-depleted bodies with water, and then I sleep while she does . . . who knows. I wake up to play with Mr. M. near evening, and then, later on in the cool of the desert evening, Mrs. M. will often take me for another walk. Like all healthy, red-blooded dogs, I absolutely love to walk, but lately something has come over my girl. She just wants to walk and walk, not even allowing me to smell the other dogs' pee, or stop to eat grass. In fact, she acts almost frustrated when I have to poop! I mean, I'm a DOG--that's what we DO!! Then, acting almost hypocritically, she stops everything to scoop my poop into a little baggy, and as I try to get on with our walk as soon as I'm done with my business, she says to me as she bags the evidence, "You did the crime and now you gotta do the time." Talk about mixed signals! Sometimes I just wonder what's going on in her head. She was in such a hurry to get out and go for our walk this morning, that she clumsily gashed her big toe on the bottom of the door. Blood was squirting up and over, not only our house, but the neighbor's house, too. (I'm exaggerating, of course. It was only squirting over our house.) Because of her hurry to get out, she had to go back in and tape herself up. Well, she just stepped out for a smoothie. She'll be hobbling home any minute, so I must bid you farewell, have a good day, and adieu.

Training and injury.

So here I am, several weeks into my rigorous training to walk a half marathon in honor of a good friend. My training has included walking, speed-walking, singing, hiking, taking naps, and strength training. This morning, I experienced a severe big toe injury, and I am now typing with my leg up on the desk to prevent further blood loss. Even in this, I see the amazing goodness of God in that I have just recently been studying anatomy and physiology, and therefore knew the proper procedure for dealing with my toe, keeping a cool head, and making a small tourniquet. I think I'll be OK. I'm optimistically thinking that maybe I can go stair climbing this evening.

Made for so much more.

I've been studying The Human Body Book, an illustrated guide to its structure, function, and disorders. This will not only be useful in contributing to my intellect, but it also clarifies some things about the purpose of life. For instance, the interconnectedness of the different body systems, the specialization of cells, reminds a Bible-reading Christian of the interconnectedness of the body of Christ, how each member is specialized to perform one task, but all members are necessary, and must work together if the body as a whole is to function properly. Also, the fact that the human body is far more than a gene-carrier, existing only to reproduce itself. Our reproductive systems function for only a part of our lives, and that entire system can be removed without threatening our lives. This means we were made-created-for so much more. We were created to have a loving and intimate relationship with our Creator. We were made to carry out our special function within the larger framework of the body of Christ. We were created to care about others.
My current task in the body is to care about my friend and sacrifice time for her by walking to raise money for her in her time of need. I have a friend helping me to do this. All will pray for God's sustaining grace in her life, and His healing her if that be His will. Some will give. That is the body of Christ-each one doing their part so that the whole functions properly.

My dad once raced motorcycles with Steve McQueen.

Triskaidekaphobia, falling and calling

In 1779, William Cowper wrote, "God of my life, to Thee I call; afflicted, at Thy feet I fall." That has been the only sincere prayer I've been able to mutter for a while. It's become my meditation and my mantra. I pray for all of God's children, especially the afflicted ones, to call to Him and to Him alone, and to fall at His feet. Really, is there anything else to do? What else besides falling at the foot of the cross and calling to God in my affliction can I do for my friends battling serious health issues, or friends greiving the loss of a loved one? I can do my feeble attempts to help in some way (like walking a marathon to raise money for my friend in her physical affliction, and trying to comfort my greiving friend), but ultimately the thing that will help them (and also help me) most is calling to God on their behalf, and on my own behalf,
just falling at the foot of the cross, pleading with my all-powerful and compassionate Father.
Happy Friday the 13th . . . that is, unless you suffer from triskaidekaphobia.

Check my Flickr pictures for visual images of my precious peep falling at the foot of the cross and calling to God.

No looking back, no vuelvo atrás.

While back east, we were all just so proud of the little neices who were cute little flower girls in our wedding. They're driving now, and big teenage girls. They're living life to the fullest, school, friends, family, band, orchestra, drumline, stomp team, soccer, baseball, computers, boys, just enjoying their youth. My father in law asked me if I wouldn't like to be that age again. The answer is no. I did high school, and I did it well. I enjoyed it. I became a Christian in high school, and I loved my little school and my little group of friends. I was really involved in our church's youth group; I loved being on the skit team and making everyone laugh. I was fearless and ashamed of nothing. I once portrayed the lame man who sat at the pool of Bethsaida waiting to be healed, so I had to sit in a kiddie pool filled with really cold water in front of a crowd of thousands (maybe the crowd was more like 20, come to think of it. But still . . . )
At school, while all of my friends were talking about their dates for the banquet, I had none, so I made a cardboard sign that said, "Will work for date." (A friend set me up with a really nice guy.) I loved making people laugh. I still do. But, no, I wouldn't want to go back. That was then. It was good, and now it's over. And I would'nt want to relive my 20's, either. They were good, really good, and now they're over. I have the pictures. I had a good 3rd decade. I think I did just fine with what I had to work with. I sometimes think it would have been fun to live on my own, with a roommate or in a dorm, but then again, how many 31-year-olds can say they've been married for 11 years?? I am enjoying my life, getting to know God better daily, and I know the whole of my life was planned by Him before I was even born.

Youth and shortsightedness

I was going through some old letters from high school a few weeks ago, and I had to laugh at one particular card wherein my best friend was consoling me-a 10th grader-for being mistaken for a 7th grader. The shame! The horror! My dear consoling friend assured me she was in the same boat, for she-even she-had also been mistaken for a younger person. And the boy who had mistaken her age had even deigned to suggest that they might share a milkshake! The raw, unmitigated nerve!! How could he possibly be so daring and confident after making such a crude and devastating mistake?!?? It was just . . . gross!!!
How time changes things. Now my letters to my friends contain information about my friends with cancer, or prayer requests for pregnant friends whose babies are not forming normally in the womb.
In the margins of my Bible, next to the verse in Romans where Paul talks about his earthly tribulations not even worthy of being compared to the glory that is his in Jesus Christ, I wrote in 11th grade, "algebra." I can't believe there was actually a time when I thought a high school math class was the worst trial I could imagine!

And miles to go before I sleep . . .

I rode 14 miles today, along the wash. It was peaceful and it was quiet. I will be working on walking that route. There is another route in town that goes by another wash. It is 22 miles. Maybe I'll walk that, too, some cool Saturday morning in October. I choose October for several reasons; it gives me enough time to train. It is my birthday month, and I like to do a physical challenge each year to prove (to myself) that my aging body is still capable of challenges. It will be cool then. October has always been my favorite month, with the leaves on the ground, the wind in my hair, the cool weather that lets me wear my favorite sweaters, and my birthday presents on the table. Riding this morning, before it got too hot, was nice. On the way home, a riding buddy joined me, and I told him about the charity walk I am doing. I believe my walking buddy is coming over this eventide. We will either survey our proposed route via bike and trike, or walk a portion of it.

Climate in crisis.

Today is the 4th of July, and as per tradition, Mr. M and I have been sitting around doing nothing . . . not nothing, watching whatever happens to come on TV. We might have considered breaking our tradition by going out and doing something, but it is now 108 degrees outside. We watched "Who killed the Electric Car?" and "Big ideas for a Small planet." Both shows about how we need to spend a bunch of money on a new car to save the environment (they conveniently failed to mention how much pollution is caused by the production of these cars, and also the pollution that comes from producing the electricity to run them), and we should all fill up the landfills with all of our old clothes to make room in our closets for new eco-friendly clothes. What about NOT throwing away the old clothes, and just not buying new ones? What about NOT trashing your old polluting car to buy an expensive new hybrid, but just using your car less, and walking more?? Bicycling, carpooling, tricycling, and even riding a Trikke with 2 "K"s, is even an option. I walk many places, or ride my trike, mostly to save money, but I am also getting excersize, getting a chance to say "hello" to the neighbors, and helping out the environment.
For those of you keeping track of my training schedule, it is still on, I have mapped several routes (with Rufus' help) for my training partner and I to begin training for our upcoming charity walk-and I am still not ordering Thai iced tea (ouch!), or Starbucks. After weeks of trying to recall elementary math, I figured that by denying myself a weekly Starbucks, I will have $156 a year to give to someone who needs it. And if I add in Thai iced tea . . . you don't want to know!!!

Thanks for the encouragement.

I am now in the process of measuring distances on local walking paths using my trike's odometer, so that I can train by walking those distances and further. It's only been a couple of days, but I've already come up with a training schedule, recruited a training partner (that wasn't hard, and no, it's not Rufus. Rufus is helping me measure the shorter distances, though!) Today, I stocked up on Gatorade. You know, as far as fasting goes . . . at least MY fast, I figured that I could save A LOT of money just by foregoing expensive drinks and sodas, like iced tea-even Thai iced tea, my favorite-and Starbucks. That adds up to a lot of money I can give to people who need it. There are so many little things we can do for other if we will just avoid indulging ourselves with unnecessary luxuries.