Here she is in all her glory!
Okay, so it's really just the top of the quilt, but honestly...I can't believe I did even that much. It's awesome.
I'll have to enlist some help (Mom...?) for the batting and hand-sewing on the backing, but, for me, this was the major part. Cutting, arranging, picking out colors, sewing, seam-ripping when I messed up (three separate and major times), and ironing seams, once I got them right.
Below is my favorite part of the quilt -- dead center, all my favorite old t-shirts: Care Bear, MASH, I heart Ireland, my tiny pocket red shirt from 8th grade, Ciao Ciao from Italy, my Good Will China shirt that Evan picked out, Mr. Bubble, and, last but not least, Steve Buyer...best and last campaigning I ever did, handing out fliers for him during a parade in my hometown.
Yay for me!
Words mean a lot to me. Because of this, I find myself, perhaps more easily than some, irritated by the misuse or my perception of the misuse of words, phrases, and statements.
I don't like the statement, "we covet your prayers," which Christians in conservative circles often use.
To me, coveting is not a good thing. I was always taught that it was a sin, a bad thing. In fact, I do believe, if I'm not mistaken, it's the final, the 1oth, commandment: Thou shalt not covet.
Dictionary.com states its definition as: "to desire wrongfully, inordinately, or without due regard for the rights of others," with the option of "to wish for". But what I'm saying is...if you wish for something, why not just say that: I wish for this or that"? Covet has bad connotations, especially in Conservative Christian America. Why use it when other words suffice, and indeed, do not bring forth such negative feelings?
Perhaps I'm on an upswing right now. Let's hope so.
Evidence of such:
Today I cleaned my house, I picked up my sewing project that had been on a two to three month hold, walked five miles, bought a loaf pan, and have banana bread in the oven. Shortly, I plan to continue with the sewing project, hopefully finishing up the major portion (if not the entire top) of the quilt tonight.
Oh, and I also killed three spiders today. That's always a great feeling.
Maybe I'm more like Emily than I thought. Maybe I have to have a project to work on or I feel directionless and lost. Maybe I do find my identity in how much or what I can create. I simply have never had the chance to find that out.
I'm glad I have this time to myself - living on my own, doing my own, individual things - to figure who I am apart from academics, grades, studies, etc. I was a studying machine, and being that person or that thing, is not fun. It was never fun. It was life. And not a great one at that.
Thank GOD there is more to Life than what I had seen by the age of 23. Thank God I have this time to sort it all out. To search for meaning in other places, to focus on relationships rather than the next test or assignment, to collect myself into who I am in preparation for the next step in my journey.
Thank God for that.
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droughte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages):
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmers for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The holy blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke...
(For a beautiful rendition of this piece, contact Evan or Leslie Gottschalk...they speak it brilliantly.)
Congratulations to Jordin Sparks, resident of Glendale, Arizona (aka my favorite place in the world).
She has just become the next American Idol. And if it's possible to have a hero be someone who is 6 years younger than you, she is mine. (yes, she's 17 and she's freaking talented!)
Props to Melinda for being a phenomenal singer, performer, and a person of integrity and goodness. To Blake for beatboxing his way into millions of people's hearts. To the other finalists who put on a good show (except for Sanjaya. You'll never hear me saying thanks or good job to him).
I can't help it, I love that show.
Last night I cooked. Now, I've done that before, so that in and of itself is not the big deal. It's what I cooked.
I bought some raw chicken. And I put it on a grill. And I cooked it.
I don't do raw meat, especially not raw chicken. That's enough to make me gag even just thinking about it. But I was starving for meat yesterday. It happens sometimes, as I rarely eat it.
When Evan graduated from college and again later when he got married, he gave me several kitchen-y things: a toaster, old pots and pans, and a tiny George Foreman grill. I've never used the grill because, like I said, I don't do meat.
Last night was my first try with it. The chicken was brilliant and I'm sold. I think I can do it. I even picked up the chicken and placed it on the grill with my bare fingers. No gloves, to utensils. It was gross, but bearable.
I must be growing up. When I do things like get over a major hang-up in my life...
I can't lie. I like my weirdnesses. Many of those "major hang-ups" are things I actually don't want to get rid of. Produces a lot more stories in my life.
was having chocolate fondue for dinner on Tuesday night with Liz.
She randomly emailed me during the day, asking if I'd be interested...who can turn that down?
We compiled our resources: 1 fresh, perfect pineapple, 1 banana, a pile of ripe strawberries, and a bag of fresh marshmallows (for dessert).
In lieu of dinner, we melted chocolate in a pot over hot water and dipped everything mentioned above into it.
It was delicious and a perfect cap to my day.
...I guess it depends on your definition of exciting.
Last week, a neighborhood cat mistook my front door for her own, which is across the street from me. This is how I knew.
Morning #1) pile of cat yak right outside my front door.
Afternoon #1) come home to said cat cleaning up her own vomit.
Morning #2) second pile of cat yak a foot from the one the day before.
Morning #3) once again, a clean front stoop on no account of my own.
Afternoon #4) dead baby bird, half-eaten, in between 2 former piles of vomit.
After catching the cat cleaning up after herself that first afternoon, I tried to befriend her. That way, if she continued with her "presents" outside my front door, I'd also be getting the benefit of a friendship from her. But she was skittish, seemingly terrified of me, and ran back to her home.
I'll give her this: every front stoop in our neighborhood is the same. Maybe she did actually get confused the first time. But after that, after I tried to befriend her, I think it was spite. I haven't seen her around my place since the dead baby bird showed up.
My stories, if I've had any in the past week, have been rather dry and boring. Hence the lack of posts.
Maybe something more exciting will happen this week...maybe?
I just made the worst cup of coffee ever in the world. Perhaps I was to asleep to know any better.
A new tool that has revolutionized my coffee-making and drinking at work is the manual coffee filter cone. I use it nearly every day with my scrumtralescent French Vanilla coffee.
Today, however, I misjudged the amount of grounds I put in the filter, based on a particularly strong cup I made and gagged on last week.
Oops.
Try, try again.
A fellow student of mine in grad school graduates today and this past week landed her first professional job...
...as DIRECTOR OF LIBRARY SERVICES in a university.
Say what? That doesn't happen. Your first job out of school is one that pays crap, one in which you slowly learn how to run a single collection or department by working your way up through the corporate ladder.
You don't start at the top of the ladder.
Congrats to her! How very exciting.
Last night at 9:45 I reached a milestone in my life: I finished Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince. And it was sad, oh my goodness. I cried. I cannot lie. This last book, or the second to last in the series, is very sad. Which goes to show how fond I've grown of the characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Ginny, and others. I love Hogwarts and Hagrid's cottage, and have learned to despise the Dursleys and Malfoys. (a link to a great H.P. character resource)
It has been just three months since I picked up the first book, H.P. and the Sorcerer's Stone. After quickly racing through that one, I realized that I had to finish the series as soon as possible. It was going to take a lot of time, as the books get longer and heavier with each new installment, and I had no desire to turn into a hermit who sat around with her nose buried in a book during every spare minute.
At that point, I remembered the suggestion of my friend Kate that I listen to the books on CD. The dramatic reading was excellent, she told me. When I found out that one of my co-workers had them all on CD, I began borrowing them. Thus, I could spend my lunch hours "reading" about Harry Potter, while preparing, consuming, and cleaning up after my food. I could continue my journey with Harry during my three weekly trips to and from Muncie. To the grocery store (first time I felt lucky that it was in a different city), on the way to friends' houses in Ohio, on my way to meet my parents for dinner, etc.
I was able to nearly finish a ginormous scrapbooking project because I could listen to Harry's stories and get lost in the process of choosing background paper, matting, and cutting and arranging all of my photos and bits of pamphlets that I'd saved from my trip to Ireland. I also made great progress on my quilting project while listening to Harry Potter.
And did I mention the Jim Dale, the reader of the books on CD, is the best dramatist ever? He won an award (can't remember which one) for the 134 different voices he created for H.P. and the Order of the Phoenix. How could a person keep all of those characters straight without Mr. Dale's voices? He brings life to the characters in a way that reading the words on a page could not (not that I'm discouraging reading them, but I'm saying -- he's good. He's very good.).
But now I'm finished. And I'm sad, though very eager for Book 7 (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows) to arrive (July 21st). I'm also excited to share the tremendous story-telling ability that JK Rowling possesses and the convincing world she has created.
From one bibliophile/librarian to her readership - you absolutely must read these books. They are so well-written; the characters are endearing and revolting (as per the author's intentions), and there are so many excellent themes woven throughout each book - within each and within the series as a whole. She deals with issues of racism, adolescence, cliques, self-identity and self-esteem, and decision-making. Giving of oneself for others - therefore, selflessness - is a significant theme beginning in Book 1 and continuing.
These are important for ideas for people to consider, and it would be easy for parents to parallel these issues with things their children deal with in real life, thus helping them learn how to digest and personally apply, even to discern positives and negatives, in their own lives.
Thus, READ, I say. And read good literature, the stuff that fortifies your soul and encourages your imagination. This is one example, but there are many books out there. Read things that challenge you (both your intellect and your perceptions), not just the things that make you feel good.
Here she is in all her glory!
Yay for me!