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Showing posts from March, 2014

reality television, because reality bites

I gave up trashy, reality television for Lent. This more or less means that TLC, MTV, VH1, and E! don't exist in our home currently. It's been hard. I like the noise in the background. Bravo has been pretty hit as well. This has become an issue at the gym. Our gym doesn't get more than a handful of stations. My options when doing cardio are either E! (out), Bravo (out), sports (ugh), or the news. On the days that I can't just focus on my music, I watch the news. I've discovered why I like reality television better than the news. The news is never happy. The Houston NBC affiliate has a recurring segment called "It's Trending!" that comes at the end of the 5 pm broadcast. It's by and large my favorite part of the hour, sandwiched between the local murders, robberies, and tragedies and the greater sadness that Brian Williams will bring at 5:30. This week alone there's been an oil spill in Houston, a devastating mudslide in Washington, the hear

away I go, spring break vol. 1- maroon 5, prayer beads, pi day, and tulips

If I could bottle up the weather in Houston the past two days and kept it that way eternally I would. That is to say that it's been gorgeous. Sunny, not too humid, in the 60s. Very unusual for Houston, although I'm told that other parts of the country experience this thing called "spring" and another thing called "autumn." I don't know if I believe that or not. Houston certainly oscillates between summer, kill-me-it's-so-hot and winter, kill-me-it's-freezing-and-raining. I may also be looking at everything through rose colored lenses because it's spring break! One of the perks of working in education is that we get spring break. I don't get a full summer vacation, so spring break is an extra nice time. And because Cardinal DiNardo (did you know the full title of cardinals is First Name Cardinal Last Name? neither did I until this fall.) visited the school for the feast day in October we got an extra day off to start spring break. Woo Ca

gentleness- smashed fingers and biting my tongue

Our doorbell rang at 9:30 pm on Sunday night. This is quite an alarming occurrence at our place. Jack was gone (and he had his keys) and no one that we know would show up unannounced because there is an outside door code. Which meant that it had to be someone in the building ringing our bell. Usually when this happens it means something has gone haywire and since Jack is on the condo board, he's typically a person the neighbors go to. Jack's good at being level-headed when things go haywire and someone needs to be proactive and not vindictive. See last year's towing-palooza during the Gay Pride Parade as an example. So out of bed (I know, I am a person who is in bed at 9:30) I got out, threw on a sweatshirt, and went to the door assuming it was something I wouldn't be able to help with. What I found was a note from our neighbor taped to the door. Reminding us that his cat is terrified of loud noises and that he had already asked us to please refrain from slamming ou

by the tips of my fingers

If I were to sum up this weekend, it would be with the word "domestic." On Satuday I did the grocery shopping (much easier to do then than on Sunday afternoon). I did the laundry. I ironed Jack's shirts. I ironed my pants. I cleaned our condo. I baked chicken and cookies. I assembled all of my high protein/low carb lunches. I read. I worked on a new Sunday School series on atonement theology. I sewed. Quilted even. I stayed close to home. It's not because Jack expects me to do these things. I'm unsure how many would get done if I don't do them, but that's a game of chicken I don't want to get involved with. It's nice to have things clean and in order and cooked. It's nice to not feel the need to go out and do things. It's not a weekend I want every week, but it was the one I needed this weekend. The first weekend of Lent. The weekend that should really slow up down. So all my picture of this week are reflective of that. They are

tokens for lent- ashes and notes from dr. stroope

Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Lent is my favorite season of the Christian calendar. I know that sounds weird. Most people love Christmas and Easter. Easter is the relief from Lent, but my soul resonates with Lent. It's the season of dust. The season calls us to remember how small and finite we are. How broken and dirty our lives can be. Remember you are dust. I am painfully aware of how dusty I am. In ways I am unsure most other graduate programs excel at, seminary students know how acutely dust like they are. It's a program unlike all others. Some courses demand your heart. Other courses demand your mind. Almost all will demand both from you. It's a group of students who are giving all of their heart and soul to be the hands and feet of the God they love, while the God they love is being parsed out in a hundred different ways. It's wonderful and terrible at the same time. At some point you have to stop and wonder if knowing so much in

breathe

There are several things that our trainer, Justin, tells us all the time. There are two things in particular that I've noticed he tells me. The first is to overarch my back and keep my shoulder blades together. This is because I have poor posture and slouching is a good way to get injured. The other thing is to remember to breathe. I forget to breathe sometimes. Not in everyday situations. As I sit and type I'm not overly concerned that I'm going to suddenly stop breathing . I suppose I could stop- but it's not a big concern. I forget to breathe when I'm exerting myself. I forget to breathe when I'm worried at times. Today Elizabeth and I were swimming laps. This is in an attempt to compete in a super sprint triathlon this May. I have terrible form. After 45 minutes I wasn't much better. A considerable problem is that I won't put my face underwater. I tried. I forget to breathe. Inhale water, exhale panic. Inhale more panic. Arms splashing everywhe