Never thought I'd ever see or hear

Coming from the mouths of my sister, my brother, and my mother:

"Big booty, big booty, big booty...hey, big booty."

Standing in a circle in the kitchen...keeping beat by alternately clapping and slapping their legs.

Please...help us now. No alcohol has been consumed this evening either.

Hard to believe, but true.

Holiday travel update

I know it's been over a week since I last posted. Too true. My only excuse is that I was road-tripping to North Carolina again, this time with Leslie.

We stayed with the Edwards' near Charlotte and thoroughly enjoyed the southern cookin', warm weather, and general hilarity of being with that family.

The trip takes 10 hours each way. It's much easier with a driving partner, and yet...by the end of yesterday's driving, Leslie and I were ready to be done with each other. We still have two days where we are each other's only conversation partner, and we're making it. Today passed by quickly with sleeping in, vacuum sealing my windows with two-sided tape, plastic, and a hair dryer, taking a 5-mile walk, and doing four loads of laundry. She's going out tonight to a friend's and I'm staying in to soak up the "me" time and get some music swapping done from her laptop to my computer. I love sharing music.

I'm tired, though, and ready to see other people. I have a date planned with Leslie D., one with Amanda, and hopefully I'll see a few other old school people while in Roch. We're excited for Evan's birthday gaming fun on New Year's Eve, too.

Feeling completely domesticated...

I baked cookies last night, my favorite kind: molasses crinkles, with the intention of giving them to my neighbors who are my friends, that is my friendly neighbors.

The list is...well...short. Mary Ellen, my 70-something duplex-sharer who is so sweet, whose children refurbished the outside of my home when they did her's, and who has a tiny mini-yorkie named Ginger who is so adorable I almost can't stand it. Dereck, my across the street, caddy-corner neighbor who has been a friend since we lived in the same dorm my sophomore year of college, that is to say, five years ago. Liz & Chalupa, my dear friends who keep me sane and who have fed me and entertained me more than anyone else here in Upland. I've known Liz since Freshman year and Chalupa since she married him last year. I love them both.

As Dereck is rarely home due to his somewhat schizophrenic job, I couldn't deliver the cookies to him last night. But I did visit Mary Ellen and Ginger, where we exchanged phone numbers and had a pleasant chat about Christmas/winter plans. I really want to be this woman's friend. I think we should play dominoes or scrabble this winter. How fun would that be?

When I got to Liz & Chalupa's, I was greeted by four people--Sara & Landon were there--which was very exciting. I'm not sure I've seen much of them since they got married in July. Sara made me a besprinkled and frosted snowman cookie before I left.

At work yesterday, I discovered a co-worker loves molasses cookies and he told me if I brought him even a half of a cookie it would make his month. I brought him six. He's happy.

Being neighborly is fun. You learn interesting things about people and are given cookies in exchange for your cookies. I remember when I used to think fostering relationships was a waste of my time. It wasn't even that long ago. I'm glad I got over that. Loving people, in whatever way you can, makes a difference for them, but also in you. Loving people has changed me, even if it's as simple as walking next door.

It's Christmas. Do something kind and generous for someone else. See if it brightens their face and your mood.

I don't think it's ever been this funny

Youtube has finally made me laugh. A lot.

I realize...

I haven't been very talkative via the blog for a while.

It's not because things have been bad or I've been blah. No, not at all. Life is very good, at the moment, and I have so many fun things going on.

Some of them, I'm not inclined to share on a blog, but others--like the upcoming road trip with Leslie--keep me excited and eager to finish out this week.

I will say this. I love my job, the people I work with and the grand scheme of what I do. However, I need a break. A Christmas break.

I don't think I'd survive in the real world, the one outside of academia. I'm pretty sure if I only had a week of vacation a year, I'd shrivel up into the most hermitous hermit, or else I'd become the most bitter old wench.

Thank God I found this profession!

By that time, I'll be 90 years old...

Tomorrow, my grandparents celebrate their 65th wedding anniversary. They've lived through a world war, a cold war, and a war on terrorism. They survived raising five children, watching 21 grandchildren grow up and get married, and welcoming 21 great-grandchildren into their ever-expanding family.

Their children planned a celebration for them yesterday which involved the presence of 60 people; only seven were absent. We have a huge family.

As grandma pointed out, it's quite a feat that we're all here. Grandpa was one order away from the invasion of Japan which could have cost him his life. Thus preventing the establishment of this family. We're all respectful and respectable people. Friendly and kind, thoughtful and loving. Even more amazing is that we gather for reunions and parties about fives times a year.

In thinking about us en masse and individually last night, I realized how uncommon it is to have a group of 67 people who love each other and who are committed to Christ and living according to his example. Many of us have traveled the U.S. extensively, and some of us have been overseas several times. While we can never know the true impact that each of us has had in the various places we've traveled, we can know that from the love of two young people in the 1940s, people who didn't even know each other very well, the world has been touched, perhaps has been changed. By two people who shared values and made the choice to be vulnerable, to take a risk (as every relationship is), and to love.

Their commitment to each other and to raising an educated, Godly family is inspiring. I calculated, and if I were to get married this year (giving me 22 days to seal the deal), I'd be 90 before reaching my 65th anniversary. They are 87, healthy, and clear-minded. They are supportive and interested in each child, grandchild, and great-grandchild.

Despite the fact that I prefer small gatherings to large ones, yesterday was a special time of hearing stories about the beginnings of a relationship that impacted (and created) us all, about a war which changed a young man forever, and about the hardships of raising a family in the Depression and educating them (debt-free) in an era where many did not get that opportunity. It blessed me to be there, to watch the varied personalities interacting, the children playing, the cousins trading stories.

I love this family; as much as I don't show it, I truly do.
Thanks, Prent and Doris, for making us each feel special, for having the capacity to love a gigantic family with Christ's love, for being an example of what commitment truly is: sacrifice and prayer.

In other news

Friends have been introducing me to all kinds of new (to me) music in the past few months.

Most notably, I have morphed from a self-proclaimed John Mayer Hater to a ginormous fan of his newest work, Continuum.

Other artists that have joined the list of Lana's Fall Favorites include:
A Fine Frenzy (I love everything about this girl)
Gavin DeGraw (mostly his live music--check out his song Belief)
Mat Kearney (thanks to Sara's Thanksgiving Music mix, I know now how sweet Mat Kearny can be)
Jordin Sparks (last year's American Idol winner, she continues to be phenomenal and to open me up to the realm of R&B and Soul)
Over the Rhine (everything they've done...I love them)
Carrie Underwood (although I haven't listened to Country music since the 90's, Franz bought Carrie's latest venture and we all loved her vocals--and humor--during Thanksgiving break)

Faux pas

Though I've never claimed to be fashionable, I generally try to live with semblance of fashion, meaning I try not to clash or commit any critical faux pas.

However.

Today, well, really it wasn't my day. I've been feeling cold-y for a few days and I had an early dentist appointment this morning. I made minimal effort for that event, but planned to shower and dress normally for work this afternoon.

Turned out, I somehow put on white athletic socks after my shower and never changed. Thus, I'm wearing a purple shirt, jeans, brown shoes, and white socks.

They stick out like a French aristocrat in Wal-Mart, so I am trying to keep them hidden behind my desk.

Paradise getaway

My family had the most untraditional Thanksgiving ever. Split in half, we all ended up in Mexico, but in two coastal cities more than 20 hours apart from each other. Needless to say, we didn't all see each other, but managed to have a blast in our respective paradises: Mom & Dad, Ev & Emily in Puerto Vallarta; Emily & fam, Leslie, & myself in Puerto Penasco (also known as Rocky Point).

I don't know how to pick a few pictures out of the whole trip to show you how beautiful and perfect it was, but I'll try. And I'll add in a few adorable pics of the nieces for good measure.

The girls and their favorite Aunt Leslie

Katie's unbeatable smile.

Sisters, sisters...

Maddie & me

Our lovely hosts, Emily and Franz

Further visual representation of the perfection of Rocky Point

And let's not forget the view from the condo

The BBC News site is my source for world news. I may only read the headlines, but I feel more aware of worldly happenings than if I had no news intake at all.

At times, I'm deeply disturbed by what I find on the BBC News.

One of today's:
Hundreds of Nigerian robbers shot

Though the current police inspector general of Nigeria has been in office for only 100 days, he admits that 785 "suspected armed robbers" have been shot, murdered, without fair trial in the last three months. That is, 90 days.

The appalling daily average, then, is around 9 suspected armed robbers killed each day of those three months.

I'm deeply grateful to live in the United States where we have a fairly decent judicial system. No, it might not be perfect, and yes, some innocent people probably are put behind bars, maybe even sentenced to the death penalty.

But most of the the institutions here work. If they don't, they generally don't result in hundreds of murdered people for no reason (note the generally).

I'm grateful to live in a place where the streets aren't lined with military personnel with huge guns, where I don't fear losing my life or my possessions daily, where I know I am free to not only believe what I want, but to voice those beliefs, my opinions, without fearing political, personal, or any sort of repercussions.

I can talk a lot of crap about our government and institutions and the atrocious health care system in this country, but I am eternally grateful that I was born here, that I've grown up here, where I'm free. Where I have more, in nearly every sense of the word, than millions, if not billions of others around the globe. How blessed we truly are.

The Stench

If I told you what it actually smelled like, I wouldn't have any friends anymore. I'd be ostracized by everyone who knows me.
_________

I work late on Tuesday nights. Last evening, I was sitting at the reference desk and kept getting a waft of the most undignified smell. Such an odor has no place in a library, that's for sure. Linda, today, mentioned the smell of a locker room; indeed, it was akin to that.

Every time I'd go around the desk to go downstairs, the smell would become so powerful it'd almost knock me out. It was such an offensive odor, I didn't want to mention it to the student workers for fear it was one of them or a patron nearby in the library.
__________

This morning, I noticed the smell still. When I was helping a student at the reference desk at noon, I told her to scoot closer to me to avoid the stanky aura that was drifting over the fortress-like walls of the desk.

I mentioned it in a staff meeting today. In explaining where the stench was coming from I pointed out the area by the column that has plants and pumpkins near.

"Maybe we have pumpkin rot," someone offered.

And indeed, that is what we had. The most foul odor ever. Pumpkin rot inside. The entire bottom of the pumpkin was split open and rotting on the carpet.

Needless to say, it's been removed.

A Free Friday

There's nothing like making sure you're busy.

I feel like I'm following in the footsteps of my oldest sister, though I'd never claim to be close to her family's level of innumerable commitments and responsibilities. I keep myself going, a full schedule, with the help of 3 calendars/planners. One is electronic. One is portable and in print. The final one stays in my kitchen on the wall.

Looking back at this semester, I think only one or two weekends were free from an event. And I'm tired. But my weekends are booked from now until, well, after Christmas.

I had Friday off of work this week only because I worked all day on Saturday. And although working on Saturdays is inherently lame, having the occasional Friday free from the office is great. You get to run around and do things while the majority of the world is working. It's liberating.

I decided on Friday that I would take my car back to the shop to have them check out the squeaking that had been going on since they changed my oil two weeks ago. As the laws of nature would have it, my car didn't squeak that morning. I knew that would happen. That's Lana Luck for you.

They ran a brake check anyway and found my brakes in great need of help. 5%-10% left on the front and 70% left on the back. Something was off. So they did all this stuff and I sat in the sun-warmed waiting room, reading, for 2 and 1/2 hours. There went my Friday morning (although I did finish the Boleyn Inheritance finally). And all my money.

I had grocerying to do and I wanted to wash my car, as it's been months since I've done that, but I'd spent $300 on two new brake pads and other brake "stuff" when I wasn't expecting to spend any. I got a minimal amount of groceries and called it a day.

The rest of the afternoon, as it was well into the afternoon once I made it home, was spent cleaning, straightening, lifting weights, watching movies, making music mixes, etc. These last two music mixes (Summer 07--Road Trip Replay and Fall 07--Stay with Me) are close to my favorites (for now). My mixes go like this: one for each semester or season so that I am creating a sort of chronological, autobiographical montage of the music I was listening to during any specific time (beginning when I was in grad school). The project has proved insightful. The two mixes that came out of last winter included a great deal of electronica and techno. Good choices for dreary winter.

Reading

I read a lot.

I'm a librarian and I read.

It's almost too cliche to claim, somewhat like adoring cats or knitting scarves or wearing buns in your hair, yet I've come to grips with it. Walking past the small fiction section in our library last week, I realized that I truly love books. If I didn't work in a library, I'd still spend a great deal of time there. The stories of thousands of generations are housed in one building; the lives of myriads available, adventures to discover and emotions to feel.

Lately, I've been enjoying The Boleyn Inheritance, an historical fiction novel about the court of crazy King Henry VIII and his wives numbered 2, 4, and 5 (Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, and Katherine Howard).

The book, however, was too cumbersome to lug to Chicago, in a backpack or my purse on a train, so I stowed it in favor of an old classic: Redwall.

Some of you may remember the animal fantasy world of Brian Jacques, author of this phenomenal series. I hadn't touched one of these since I was 10 or 12, and opening it up, reading the names, so distant yet so familiar, was like coming home to a warm cup of soup and a fresh loaf of bread still steaming from the oven. Simply wonderful.

Elaine lent me some Annie Dillard, as I've never read any works of length by her and have always heard great things about her. I'm excited to dive into her well-constructed sentences and stories. There's nothing quite like reading something by a true crafter of words.

Why I may belong in the nuthouse

As I packed up my weekend things at my parents, getting ready to head home, I realized that I'd be chilly driving along in my t-shirt. Though I had my winter coat, it was too much, too heavy. And my short sleeved jacket, though very cute, would not help with the chilly arms.

I went into my old room (which is nothing more than a fairly empty storehouse these days), opened the closet and stared at the few items in it.

• 1 sparkly, purple, one-shoulder prom dress
• 1 green army coat from the 60's, completely worn out and raggedy, but a family treasure nonetheless
• 1 maroon puffy coat from the late 90's (too hot for the present circumstances)
• 1 blue rain jacket with torn pockets (totally not my favorite)
• 1 black leather jacket from the late 90's with elastic-cuffed sleeves that cut off circulation to my hands (thus, not an option)

All that was left hanging in the closet, after pushing aside the previous items, was a soft, yellow short bathrobe that I bought as I went to college six and a half years ago. I'm so not a bathrobe person, so I've worn it maybe three times. But I couldn't give it away because it's too perfect - so soft, so cheery - you'd think it'd be a happy something to get me through winters in Indiana.

For a few seconds, I contemplated whether I'd really wear the thing if I toted it all the way to my house, but I needed a jacket of sorts, and it would play the part.

Thus it was that I slipped my yellow bathrobe over my pink t-shirt and jeans, loaded my car, and drove home. After an hour of driving I reached a small town with street lights that allowed other drivers to see what I was wearing. I received a few strange looks, and yet, I was secure (and toasty) in my bathrobey-jacket.

Here I am, finally home, and absolutely comfortable. Perhaps I've started a new form of Driving Jacket, much like the old school Smoking Jacket???

Birthday extravaganza in the city

I spent my fall break (which was merely one day) in the grand city of Chicago visiting my favorite Elaine.

She had promised coffee shops and time for relaxing and reading, movies and meeting her fiance. She'd also hinted at my birthday present, but all she said was "it's somewhat of a process," and "it's an experience."

If anyone knows a thing about me, you know that I'm not one for surprises. I like to plan; I like to know; and I like to be in control. When someone I love tells me that they have a surprise for me that is a process, I can't even begin to fathom what that would be. I immediately break out in cold sweats.

But as it's Elaine, I had nothing to worry about. She knows me, better than anyone really, and I am quite sure she would not give me a present that I hate.

The process was: jam-making. We made jam. We may have even let slip...we be jammin'.

We made strawberry and raspberry on Friday and had so much fun that we returned to the kitchen Saturday to make pomegranate. The raspberry is delicious, and I have yet to try the strawberry, but honestly, how could that go wrong? The pomegranate might be something that would be ideal with peanut butter, but by itself...it's a bit much for me. Overall, the experience was fantastic. I learned a new kitchen skill, one that is easy and impressive at the same time. I hope I never buy jam again. There's no need; it's so simple to make. Elaine found all her recipes on AllRecipes.com.

She also gave me these pillow cases (look how perfect they are, friend! Thank you!).

I hope that she can visit me sometime in Upland, although, I must admit, we're pretty much guaranteed a better time in Chicago. However, we do have our fun little things to do here...Helping Hands, Mick's flea market, Gas City petting zoo, etc.

Thanks for such a fun and relaxing weekend, Elaine. I hope we can visit The Cheese Stands Alone again sometime. That 4-year Gouda was heavenly!

I hate to be silent for a week at a time, but my mind will not be still, will not give me a moment's peace to form something of worth.

I look forward to a weekend away - with my dear friend, Elaine. I, also, happily anticipate a train ride up that way. I love riding the train!

Utterly Thrilling

It's always fun to receive packages in the mail, but I don't usually expect them at work. Yesterday, my little mail slot was jammed full of a thick package from Haworth Press.

After dislodging it from my box, I turned it over several times, giving it a quizzical look, trying to figure out what Haworth would send me that weighed about five pounds (it was a large, padded envelope). Then it dawned on me...Haworth publishes Behavioral and Social Science Librarian, which is the journal publishing the article on Carol Gilligan that I wrote in grad school.

It's finally published, was my next thought, and I quickly found a pair of scissors and started de-stapling and ripping open the envelope.

And there it was. My name. In print. In a peer-reviewed, scholarly, reputable journal in my discipline.
Wow.

They sent me two copies of this Fall's edition of the journal, along with 10 reprints, which are like mini-journals with the cover and only my article in them.

I want to write something else to be published so I can feel this euphoria again.

A la Frederick Buechner

“In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another day just like today, and there will never be another just like it again. Today is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious today is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.”

[emphasis added]

A Witness to my life

Somewhat embarrassed, I have to admit that I came across this profound quote in the movie Shall We Dance? which discusses why people get married.

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

Separated at birth

Last night, I discovered this guy:

But I already know and love this guy:

How is it that they look, sound, and move the same?

Yay for good-looking, uber-talented, look-a-like musicians!

US Postal Service...delivery

When I got home from work yesterday at noon, my recycle bin was in an odd place outside my back door. Like someone had moved it. But who?

I realized, after looking at it for a good 2 minutes, that there was a brown package underneath it.

The return address was unfamiliar on this good-sized brown box, closed with duct tape. Upon opening it, I found newspaper stuffed around a foil-wrapped rectangle.

It was a loaf of homemade bread.

My friend who lives in Iowa makes bread and the last time I talked with him I may have said something like - I love homemade bread. You should send me some.

I was joking. He was not.

And now I have a huge loaf of scrumtrulescent bread.

He wins.

I can't stop looking at this picture on my computer background.

How cute are they?

October 4th - a day to remember St. Francis

St. Francis of Assisi had a big impact on the world of religion. He formed the Franciscan order of monks and was an advocate of living with Christ as the ultimate, and immediate, example. I didn't know about him until college, perhaps, when I heard reference to his various prayers.

I also encountered him in a movie that I like very much - Stigmata. The first time I saw it, I was somewhat appalled, somewhat intrigued. It seemed sacrilegious, and yet...it started me on the road to seeing Truth and Beauty in film. Though the apocryphal book The Gospel of Thomas plays a significant role in the movie, which immediately turns off most conservative Christians, I think there are elements of truth that can be gleaned. I don't take it as Gospel. But as an appreciator of literature and the Bible as the Word of God, I can see both truth and beauty in the text of the Gospel of Thomas.

How does Stigmata relate to St. Francis. In the movie, the final scene takes place in a garden with a life-sized statue of St. Francis nearby. This morning, I found out that St. Francis received the stigmata during one of his meditations in 1224 (the year). Thus the tie in the movie, thus the tie in this post.

Francis is the patron saint of many things, among them: animals, birds, the environment, and peace. You'll see his statue, with birds alighted on his arms and shoulders, in gardens because of this role. I've always wanted a statue of St. Francis--despite the fact that I don't garden, nor do I have a garden--because its presence is a reminder of goodness, of peace and harmony with nature. And I do love animals, birds, and Nature.

Celebrate St. Francis today. October 4th is His day!

Meaningless phrases

There's one specific phrase from a song that I've heard in chapel and in church that always baffles me.

"We wrap our lives around Your life."

Besides the fact that it sounds weird--somewhat like wrapping your mind around something, but on a grander scale--I think it's biblically unsound. Why would we envelope Christ? If something were to envelope Christ, wouldn't it downplay his characteristics? Isn't it understood that the more powerful, more important things envelope other things?

Wouldn't a more accurate representation be that He encompasses us? Since it is biblical that because of His life and sacrifice, when God looks at us He sees instead that of Christ. If I'm wrong, let me know. But this phrase...

I have to stop singing the song every time I hear it and debate in my head the ways in which I think this is yet another poorly thought-out and written praise song.

Detox (not the drug kind) and fasting

I'm trying to decide if I could do it...if I could really follow this guide for the process of detoxing, which incorporates one day of total fasting from solid foods (and everything else except water and the special mixture of juice and spices).

My interest in this diet is for the detoxing. My cousin followed the steps prescribed in this book and said she felt more alert and energetic, and even healthier after the 11-day process. The book is not just a step-by-step guide, it also explains why detoxing is vital to health. I've been disturbed and disgusted to learn about the toxins from everywhere in our environment that are poisoning us and (according to the author's stance) making us fat.

Keep in mind, this is not drug/illegal substance detox, this is environmental toxin detox.

Interestingly enough, in church this week, the sermon was on the spiritual discipline of fasting, how it's downplayed in our current Christian culture. A discipline that was practiced for thousands of years has been overlooked because...well...it is so extremely contrary to the American way of life. Not just with food - but with all things. Instant pleasure, gratification, satisfaction. You want it, you can have it. That's what we're taught. We also have this ever-present sense of entitlement that we deserve to have our desires fulfilled in the most expedient manner. Fasting, then, from any sort of need or want, goes against how we're trained to live--our thought processes, our life cycles, everything.

If I can follow the directions in the book to fast for one day (though the whole preparation process from start-to-finish is 11 days), it could possibly benefit me not only physically (my health), but also mentally and spiritually.

I want to do this. Despite the fact that the prescribed foods are, at times, different (aka, strange) and not at all what I want to be eating. Plus, there are supplements for things I've never heard of. I'm not even sure if you can find them in small town Midwest.

I don't know if I can do it alone. Anyone want to try it with me?

Best Band Name Ever

The Hot Jesses.

(that would be Jess-ies, not Jess-es, because it's the masculine form of the name.)

Liz and I decided that every guy named Jesse should be hot. The ones I know definitely are. And when she said it out loud - The Hot Jesses - we both knew that if we ever were involved in starting a band of guys, it must have this name.

Where is our individual sense of duty?

My brother and I were discussing the impact the death of my classmate had on each of us recently. And while both of us walked away from this tragic situation with a renewed admiration for our troops overseas, my admiration for the individuals who sign up to defend us does not translate to me understanding why we are still in Iraq.

What is remarkable, however, about Nick's story is his conviction of duty to his himself, his family, his hometown, his nation, his brothers in the military.

Duty.

I think we tend cringe at the word because it implies that we owe something to someone else, an idea which at least my generation hates with a passion. We live as if we owe nothing to anyone except ourselves, as if no one else matters, no else's needs could ever come before our own.

But Nick is different. He bore that sense of duty like a true hero. He put his life at risk to protect what he loved, whether that was his family, his country, or more specifically his fellow soldiers. In contemplating this, Ev said, "His own understanding of duty denied him the right to overlook, ignore, and hide from...reality. "

We hide from reality because it's painful, it's uncomfortable, and it's not always pleasant or aligned with what we desire out of life, small or big things. Nick chose not to turn away when reality found him and he chose to make a difference, to put his life as he knew it - a Midwestern, small town father - on hold. I'm sure it helped him gain a more balanced perspective and an appreciation for life in this country that so many Gen Xers despise.

What is duty? What is my duty? I've never really thought about it prior to my conversation with Evan. That I would have a duty in this world never crossed my mind. I live for myself, which is so easy to do as a 25-year-old, single, working professional. What else is there in my world but what I need, want, and choose to do?

It's like I forgot to pause in my trek through life, to take my eyes off of the road--the inches in front of my feet--and to look around, to take in, absorb, the view, the other people and their needs around me. Like glancing up while speed reading a 500-page novel for the first time in hours; your eyes have to adjust to seeing more than a few inches away, to the lights, colors, and 3-D objects around you. My eyes are adjusting to this new view, eyes off of my feet.

Where does my duty lie? I hope to find in this season of reflection a renewed sense of purpose. And if I should have a duty that denies me the right to overlook the harsh reality around me, I want to find that, too. To embrace it. To let it change my life.

Thanks, Nick, for inspiring so many by the way you lived. That we would all know the conviction and passion you had, even if just for one simple thing.

Fascinating debates

Hanna Rosin has written a new book called God's Harvard: A Christian College on a Mission to Save America, that takes a look at the small Christian college outside the nation's capital - Patrick Henry College. A journalist, Rosin spent 18 months immersed in the school's culture, talking with their students and following them through internships in the White House and Hollywood, working on campaign teams, and pursuing their studies with dogged passion.

In line with the Web 2.0 generation, Rosin carried on an email conversation or debate about her book with David Kuo, author of Tempting Faith and former White House employee. Their debate has been published on the web at Slate.com.

You can read each response (David to Hanna, Hanna to David, etc.) by clicking on the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4 in the boxes. It's an interesting discussion, they have, and well worth perusing. Also, if you end up reading the book, let me know what you think about it.

I hate beling alone when I'm sad.

Conversely, I hate being sad in front of other people.

There are the few friends in life with whom you can share the full gamut of emotions.
Still, crying is never a graceful or becoming thing to do.

Pray the sadness fades.

Want to take a vacation in Mexico?

Try out Puerto Penasco (Rocky Point), Mexico.

Condo for rent.

The owners are really great people and you most definitely will enjoy your stay!

The Ides of September

Some days, you just need Christmas, no matter what the time of year.

On days when

• You get up at 6:30am
• You teach any number of classes (1 to however many)
• You experience technical difficulties in a computer lab, where it's essential that doesn't happen
• Your presentation monitor goes blank for no reason in the middle of the presentation
• You've taught 4 classes of freshman in two days

Sometimes, the only way to get Christmas on the Ides of September (which was, well, yesterday according to Wikipedia), is to visit your local Starbucks.

It's more of a Christmas-in-my-mouth sort of experience, this Decaf, Nonfat, Grande Peppermint Mocha.

It's exactly what the doctor ordered (if by doctor, I mean...well...me).

A blast of the unfathomable

Grief.

Comes in waves. You can almost watch it roll in and out.
In...denial. It can't be true. He's still alive.
Out...understanding. He's gone.
In...His child no longer has a daddy. His wife, husbandless at 25.
Out...It's silly to cry with six years of separation.

The fact remains that I did know him. We were friends. We had next-door neighbor lockers in middle school. We accompanied each other to dances, with matching corsages and boutonnieres. We shared mutual respect.

He got married, had a baby, and joined the military.

Had I run into him in the last few years since high school, I'd have thoroughly enjoyed catching up. Meeting his family.

His step-brother has lost not only this life in Iraq, but his uncle as well. Within this calendar year. And his father died on Monday. Three of the most important men in his life, gone.

I mourn for that family. For the loss of brother, son, husband, and father. For the emptiness and pain. I pray for comfort and peace, and against bitterness and hatred that can so stealthily fill those empty spaces.

W. S. Merwin "Separation"

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

"Were you having car trouble this morning?" A fellow university employee asked me quite early this morning.

"No," I said, confused. I couldn't figure out why he'd think that.

"It's just that your car is parked so crooked in its spot...I wondered if it was okay."

I flashed red. Was it possible that I had parked really crooked and not even realized? That's bad. He laughed and said he didn't think it was bad enough for me to get a ticket, but he wanted to give me a hard time about it. I felt like a fool.

Twenty minutes later, he sent me a picture of my car in its spot.

I still don't think it's a really bad parking job. The spaces are so wide you could practically fit two of my cars in one.

Best non-made-up disease that sounds made-up

Popcorn lung.

That's right. It's a real disease according to a pulmonary specialist at Denver's National Jewish Medical and Research Center.

What happens is the fumes from microwave popcorn, which contain diacetyl, poison the lungs.
Or something like that.

"Dr. Cecile Rose said the ailing patient, a man whom she wouldn't identify, consumed 'several bags of extra butter flavored microwave popcorn' every day for several years.

He described progressively worsening respiratory symptoms of coughing and shortness of breath. Tests found his ability to exhale was deteriorating, Rose said, although his condition seemed to stabilize after he quit using microwave popcorn."

I'm going to make a wild guess that popcorn lung isn't his only problem after consuming "several bags of extra butter flavored popcorn a day for several years".

When my friend's sister read this article, she immediately sent up this request:
"Dear God,
Please don't let my sister die from eating too much microwave popcorn.
Amen"

Check out the article. It's worth a perusal.

Birthday twins!

My sister-in-law and I had a shared birthday party on Saturday night. Our favorite hometown pizza (Nubiano's) - cheese for me, pepperoni for her, and supreme for dad, ev, and mom; a DQ ice cream cake for dessert; and some fruit and veggies on the side made for a perfect meal. We had a fire outside to usher in the evening, and the stars that night were spectacular.

Em and I ended up at our small party in the exact same shirt - Gap Outlet, classic v-neck T, color: pink. I had dark jeans turned up into capris and she had navy capris. It was uncanny the way we matched for our joint birthday celebration.

Everything matched us, too. Our packages were wrapped in papers with light pinks, our cards had light pink, our cake was iced in light pink lettering. When we went outside for the fire, mom changed into a light pink polo, I think because she felt left out as the only girl not in that color.

Suzanna being cute!

Our little echo.

Rockin' out

REO Speedwagon is coming to Indiana.

Sunday, October 7th, they'll be at the Emens Auditorium at Ball State.

Who's in with me?

Reading

I've been wanting to read this book for a year.

I first saw it last August when I was birthday shopping for my sister-in-law. Intrigued by the cover initially, after reading the back of the jacket, I knew that both she and I would enjoy this novel.

To be honest, I can't remember if I bought it for her. But it has been on my radar ever since. My sister bought it, then, sometime within the year, and lent it to me after reading it herself. It's been gathering dust for months on the little rickety bookshelf between the dressers in my bedroom. I've wanted to read it, since having possession of it, but it's easy to pass over on that tiny, low, out-of-the-way bookshelf. Plus, Harry Potter and his gang side-swiped me mid-March and have usurped all my literary time since.

Last week, I began a list of "Things to Do" for the remainder of my August and the subsequent September. The defining factor of items on this list, what separates them from the many, similar lists I keep at work, is that this list is for fun. I make lists of what to do for fun. In my free time. (Does that somehow diminish the "free" part? Jury's out.)

In an ambitious gesture, I included 3 book titles on the list. What with school starting and thus working late, small group, and some other yet-to-be-defined activities, reading three books in a month seemed impossible even as I wrote it. Diligently, however, the very next day, I picked up The Memory Keeper's Daughter. A tale of loss, emptiness, longing and endless searching. A story of hopelessness, and yet, moments of redemption and all of it told in such beautiful language. An astounding work of art, this novel. Recommended to all.

It's 6 am

and I have been up for a few hours, having gone to bed at midnight. The original incessant itching of my legs has resulted in hives in miniature all over them. I don't know how to make the itching stop. I'm kind of going insane.

I'm tired and yet wide awake. I tried sleeping on the couch to no avail. I can't shut my mind off; I keep running through work scenarios as I lay there with my eyes closed.

This sucks. All I want is a full night of sleep. I can't remember the last time that happened.
No hives. No problem-solving. Nothing but unencumbered, uninterrupted 8 to 9 hours of sleep.

I knew August was going to be busy, but I was not prepared for the exhaustion that would accompany said busy-ness.

In the past 10 working days (well, including this week), I will have been in workshops, conferences, or meetings for 8 hours on 8 of those days. That gave me two in my office to try to come up with an agenda and handout for, and further organizing of, a training session that I'll be giving next week to new student employees, which I was informed about this week. Not to mention the 10 other items on my list of things to do. But, alas, no time.

Classes start on Tuesday, and I'm grateful, despite the somewhat stressful additions that have been added to my job this semester. I'll be grateful to have new faces to look at, more people in the library daily than I've seen this entire summer put together. And some old friends are returning; I must say, I've missed them.

Cheers to a new semester, new faces, new chances, new trials, new successes, and hopefully, some new hobbies. I'm fresh out of ideas!

Where're my shoes, Ma...I'm going Shoeless.

After attempting to run this evening, and finding that my toes, arches, ankles, and other portions of my feet were cramping to a most painful degree (in which I was limping home), I said

-- Not again! I will not run in these shoes again!

The reason I had to get web access at home was for such times as this. I had to answer the question: where can I find my Brooks Adrenaline GTS running shoes?

I've worn these tennis shoes for probably 3 or 4 years exclusively. I will not run in another pair of shoes. And the GTS has had several iterations. Versions 4, 5, and 6 (twice over) are all ones that I have tried. And loved. Each version is better than the previous one.

I found out online before driving 35 minutes to a store, that a new iteration has come out this year; #7. It has a new insole and some other features. But it's the same shoe; beautiful and comfy on my extra-wide bunion-ridden feet. I also found online that the Muncie Mall had it in stock, whereas the Marion one did not.

As you can see, the seventh version is subtly pretty, like all the others I've had. The colors vary between each design, but they're always tasteful. No blaring, glaring or garish colors. This is the one I bought tonight - saving nearly 25%. I love back-to-school sales!

Movies

Watching movies, I've realized, is a brilliant hobby for a single person. You can watch anything you want, only needing to match the movie to your own mood, not the moods of an entire group of people. Having friends around is also great, because, when you need to, you can watch movies with them, too.

Liz, Chalupa, and I saw Bourne Ultimatum this afternoon.

Thrilling up until the last few minutes. Not too many car chase scenes (as Liz indicated, get old pretty quickly). Tons of intense, near-miss moments between would-be assassins and their escaping prey. Not everyone was so lucky, as always must happen in these types of movies.

Highly recommended.

Also, watched Veronica Guerin last night. Very sad, true story about an Irish journalist from Dublin who was murdered by drug gangsters in the mid-90's. Also recommended.

List of movies currently in theaters that I want to see:
Becoming Jane
Chuck and Larry
Hairspray
Harry Potter (for the second time)
Ratatouille
Stardust

Really creepy

It's not like I watch too many scary movies or anything...but some situations, some people, some circumstances just give me that feeling. The one where I know something is amiss. My gut tells me.

I was standing at my kitchen sink, in front of the window, this evening, cleaning up after baking some banana bread. A car drives extremely slowly past. Stops at my mailbox and backs up.

I walked out of the room, stood in behind my closed front all-wood door, talking to myself about how creepy it was that the car had backed up. I listened for the crunching of gravel (our neighborhood is quite silent in the evenings). I stayed put for two whole minutes, which seemed an eternity. I peeked out of the blinds and saw nothing, so returned to my kitchen sink. Thirty seconds later, the car comes slowly past going the opposite direction. It had turned around in the U-drive next to our duplex. But it had taken far too long to simply drive around it. The car had seemed to have waited or something.

I can't express how creeped out I am. Maybe it was Liz's recounting of the meth-head break-ins a few towns over. Scary stuff, because you know those people are literally losing their minds. No telling what they'd do.

Needless to say, I made sure the doors were locked and then...well...stayed away from the windows.

What happens when we all get together

Our extended family is huge. And when we get together, which we do nearly six times a year (on a good year), crazy things can happen.

For instance, Elliott was trying a new style. What do you think?

Here is Patrick - who was quite the trooper and yet required a lot of attention and entertainment.

Toby - aka The Gerber Baby - and his grandma. He's the sweetest baby ever!

Myself and Ava, Sara and Phil's dear little tyke. She's the most laid back baby ever.

And, as you can imagine, there ornery girls are up to no good! That's not true, but they are here lounging in my house, as we had a mini Gottschalk family reunion on Sunday, since Leslie (far right) was visiting Indiana for the first time in six months. I'll see her next at Thanksgiving in Arizona. The rest of them will catch up with her at Christmas, I think.

Forgetful Me

Um....last week, I saw the most amazingly brilliant show, and I didn't mention anything about it.

August 1st, Stephanie and I (this is my cousin, people) took a day trip to Chicago to see Wicked, the musical.

Go, every last one of you. If you get the chance. GO!

I thought the book was amazing. The musical was better. Totally different. The theatre - Oriental Theatre - was gorgeous, too. But there were intense people working there who warned everybody that no pictures could be taken in the theatre itself. In the lobby - that was okay. Not that theatre.

Some international bandwagons are worth joining

I finished the seventh and final Harry Potter book in a few days. I couldn't stop reading it. On some level, I wanted to read it instead of hanging out with my sister, whom I hadn't seen in 6 months. She won, in the end, which is only right.

Since finishing, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Every day glimpses of scenes or phrases from the book flit across my mind; sometimes I even dream about it.

I just saw that "The seventh installment of the Harry Potter saga is the fastest-selling book in history, publishers say, with some 11 million English-language copies sold in the first 24 hours."* 11 million. In one day.

I saw a kid in Wal-Mart yesterday who was waiting in line with the book. The loving way in which he handled it, the somewhat euphoric grin on his face mirrored my own feelings of first laying hands on what would turn out to be the best book in the most well-written young adult series that I've encountered.

Immediately after finishing the final pages, I wanted to start reading the whole series over again, just to see how well J.K. tied characters, plots, and themes together throughout all of the books. I've resisted this urge, however, since I have about three different extensive lists of books to read. That said, I still haven't managed to pick up a book since completing The Deathly Hallows. I'm afraid anything I jump into will be highly disappointing after such a perfect ending to a brilliant series.

I resisted beginning the Harry Potter books until this winter because I didn't want to be that person -- the one like millions around the world who were "ooohing and ahhing" over the books and J.K., who were dying to read each successive installment, who had animated discussions about characters and places and animals that didn't really exist. Having heard from several close friends that they were the best young adult literature to come around in years, I finally picked them up. And I'm thankful I was able to read them all in a few short months. I would have been pre-ordering or standing in lines to get it, had I not had the good luck to know people who owned Books 1-6 and who purchased the final book early on, letting me borrow it a few weeks after it was released.

Recently, I've found myself joining in several animated discussions about the characters and events of these books. When a friend asked me what animal I'd most like to run into, I said a Hippogriff, which of course, is not real. It is legendary, however, and thus not just a Potter series invention. When I found out that Disney World is creating a Harry Potter Theme Park, complete with Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the Forbidden Forest, I knew I would want to go. The world Rowling has created is simply THAT amazing.

As in all good books, the characters seem real and are believable. Their motivations and psychoses need to be discussed, deconstructed, and further developed. Severus Snape and Sirius Black are, indeed, remarkable men, though tormented. Harry is an exceptional child. Hermione, brilliant. Draco, quite cowardly and evil.

I'm grateful for this international craze because it is encouraging individuals of all ages, socio-economic backgrounds, and races to enjoy reading. There are so many books being published that aren't worth the ink and paper it takes to print them. It's nice to see a series so well-constructed and written taking the stage. And because libraries caught on early that these books would be hits, virtually anyone in America has access to them...for free. Such a vivid and enchanting imaginary realm deserves the attention and acclaim it is receiving.

* Police arrest French teen over Potter translation, By Reuters.

Whilst perusing the isles of a local megastore this morning, Leslie pointed to something and we started laughing. At which point my right contact blinked out of my eye and rolled down my shirt onto the filthy floor.

We spent the next 5 minutes looking for it...me, scared to move in case I'd crush it (I have hard contacts), and fearing I'll lose it permanently, meaning another $100 contact to order and get in a week. Meanwhile...how would I see?

I eventually found it, beside the front wheel of our cart, popped it into my mouth (how else can you moisturize it in the middle of a store?), and moved on.

I feel sort of like I have fungus on my eye, and maybe one my tongue from this unfortunate event.

Update...it's finished!

Here she is in all her frustrated, yet finished, glory.

Special note here, this corner shows the binding, which was quite difficult to attach.

This shows the back - the millions of stitches that we had to use to hold the batting (middle layer) in place.
Here are the two pillows I made with leftover scraps from the shirts on the front of the quilt. They were pretty fun to make.

Thus, major project #2 of my year is done. First, the Ireland scrapbook. Second, the t-shirt quilt.

Next on my list of accomplishments is to read Harry Potter #7, after seeing Wicked, the musical, in Chicago on Wednesday, of course.

How many librarians does it take...

You would not believe how long it takes to work on a 7 1/2 foot by 9 1/2 foot quilt.

FOREVER!

The idea, the design, was ruminating in my mind last Fall. In December I began the arduous task of interfacing and measuring and cutting up all of my favorite old t-shirts. That was Step 1. In December. That month, I also picked out the colors of fabric for the inbetween parts - charcoal with a subtle pattern and deep red with dark flecks in it. These would, in essence, create the cross-beams between each shirt square. I began cutting those out, as well, while on vacation at my sister's in Arizona.

In January, I bought a sewing machine. And thus began Step 2 of the quilt -- sewing all the t-shirt squares, strips, and tiny squares together in rows and then one by one sewing all the rows together. 8 rows of shirts. 9 of the cross-beams.

I almost quit in March, when I realized that it wouldn't/couldn't be perfect. I messed up one cross-beam row. Didn't align at the corners with all the other squares.

I left it sit, my sewing machine idle, for at least 6 weeks. I was immersed in a huge scrapbooking project. Once that was done, I had nothing left to work on, except this ginormous quilt, hanging out unfinished in the corner.

I got the top part finished in...well...May, I think. At that point, I believe I had done the hardest part.

That is, until last Thursday, when I delved into it again, after a long break. I headed to my parents' house and swore I couldn't leave until it was completed. I needed my mom's expertise in sewing and her help with the calculations (I really suck at numbers)..

After 3 trips to the store for more supplies, we began. Step 3 -- quilt assembly.
Assembly...doesn't seem like it would take too much time. But this is what I found that it entails.
~ Taping the fabric backing to the floor
~ Laying on top of that, the batting, or stuffing, for the quilt
~ Cutting and sewing the batting in order to match the size of this gigantic quilt
~ Putting it back on the floor, on top of the backing
~ Laying the quilt top (all of my t-shirts and what I had finished up until this point) on the batting
~ Pinning all 3 layers together - using probably around 200 pins...all of the ones I had, plus what mom had in the house
~ Using embroidery floss to making stitches through all 3 layers to hold the quilt together when the pins are removed (12 skeins of charcoal floss, 4 of red, 1 of white): Note that each stitch is actually a double stitch, requiring double the amount of floss and time. Five stitches in each of 48 t-shirt squares; 3 in each of 100+ charcoal strips; 1 in each of 63 tiny red squares.
~ Removing all the pins
~ Flipping the quilt over and tying knots in every single stitch
~ Putting whole quilt on floor, trimming the edges and preparing for attaching the binding

All that is left, Step 4, is binding the quilt together - which makes the edges look nice and holds it all together. That is what will happen tomorrow.

December to August. That's how long it takes to make a quilt. Without Mom and Dad's help this week, it would never have been completed.

People I saw along the way

In reverse chronological order:Tommy & Tracy Edwards at their beach in Surfside, SC.
Beka Dean came from Greenville, SC to the beach to hang out with the Edwards and me. Here we are at The Carolina Opry (Beka hates this picture...but the retakes were worse, in my opinion).
Elizabeth Marx at her house in Charlotte. She returned this past Tuesday at midnight from two and a half months in India. I was there to meet her, to welcome her home!
PJ, or Patrick as he is now called, lives in Durham. We met up with his friend Shawn for some dinner, a trip up to Chapel Hill, and some great stories (where is the picture of that Norman Rockwell sweatshirt?).
Sarah took all of the pictures of she and I. This is the only one I had of her. We visited Winston-Salem for some Starbucks, as well as a quick visit to the Wake Forest library (where she is in the above picture). A lovely library!

Road Trip--Destination North Carolina

The Breakdown

1,462.8 miles
20 bottles of water
15 music CDs
13 people (Sarah Morrison and fam; PJ and Shawn; Elizabeth, Samantha, and Lydia; Tommy, Tracy, and Beka)
9 cans of soda (Cherry Lem/Diet Pepsi)
6 states (Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina)
5 cities (Elkin, Durham/Chapel Hill, Charlotte, Concord, Surfside)
4 books (Suite Francaise, Not Without My Daughter, Fourth Dawn, We Really Do Need Each Other)
2 Powerades (red and blue)
1 book on CD (Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Aron Ralston - highly recommended)

Total cost (including gas, food, entertainment, and tolls): $216.43

Best vacation ever.

What will I do?

My vacation is going well. It's everything a vacation should be. It began with lots of family time and now it's just me. Me, in my house. By myself. Relaxing.

There's plenty of time for reading, listening to music, jogging, organizing things (as librarians tend to do), catching up with friends, walking, etc.

But I'm kind of going crazy. Stir crazy. Cabin fever crazy.

I've only been here for a few days by myself and I've exhausted all conversation possibilities with myself. I've cleaned as much as I can. I've played the piano for hours. I've read for hours. I've watched movies for hours. I've stared at my phone wishing people to call me. I've checked my email 100 times a day. I've blogged here and there multiple times.

I'm currently packing my things for my road trip, which begins later this week, but I'm so distractible. I feel like I have ADD.

Each time I leave the house to go on a made-up errand, I desperately want someone to be here when I return. But there never is. I want to come home to someone, to talk to someone, even if it's about nothing. I know I've said it before, but I really would love to have a friend in the exact same stage of life as I am right now. Right here. Someone I can call randomly or who I can plan to see every day. Someone who understands where I am.

Here's the dilemma. I am on day #4 or #5 of "Alone-time", and I'm going bonkers. What am I going to do next summer when I have two entire months off? I'll have to get a summer job just to keep myself busy, preoccupied, and to not go insane. Part-time at a clothing store? Mostly for the discount on clothes. It's a possibility, I guess...

I've promised to fly out to Arizona to babysit/nanny the girls for a few weeks in June, next yea. So that'll help to keep me very busy, but only for a short period of time. Seriously...I need a game plan for the rest of the time.

If I could organize my life like a job - have planned events and projects to accomplish and check off of lists - then I could probably make it without needing an income-producing job. It's not for the money. It's for me. I can't sit still.

I guess the most disturbing part is that this idea of ADD Lana is so contrary to who I thought I was. I thought I was quiet, introspective, and easily amused. When I step away and look at myself, that's always what I see. Upon further reflection recently, I think I am those things, at times. But increasingly, I'm finding myself unable to be still. I've trained myself as an efficient multitasker throughout my school career and now I don't know how to be anything else.

Any advice, friends and readers?

Successful Shopping Spree

This is how I know I picked the right day to browse.

15 shirts for a total of $121.00

I won today!

They never stop....

....READING

Caught Ya!
Matching Jammies...and a book about baby farm animals.
Katie's favorite book - Green Eggs and Ham - and her Great Grandma.

Reading cubbyhole, anyone?
Lounging...and reading, together...
And with Mommy.

My all-time favorites from last week...
Look closely, yes, that's right. Maddie is reading Married for Life, most notably the chapter entitled: "You only get out of a marriage what you put into it."

We always knew she was ahead of her peers, but seriously. Maddie, darling, you're nearly five years old. You have time. Your clock isn't ticking quite that fast.

In the car, she was expressing how badly she wants to have her own baby.
"But maybe, Mommy, I should wait until I finish high school," she said, wisely.

Emily agreed, adding, "Yes, baby, at least high school, probably even college would be good."

"Yeah," said Maddie, "probably after college. Because that way you can learn how to take care of babies."

Sounds like a good idea.