Pro Tree Published

Exciting news in the household this week--my husband's iPhone/iTouch application was released for sale on Thursday at the Apple App Store.  For months we've been sharing time on the computer: some nights I write and edit my stuff, some nights he programs and edits his projects.

Finally, the fruit of his labors went to Apple and his app was approved.

It's called Pro Tree and it's a reaction time game that simulates the "Christmas Tree" that drag racers use at the start of a race. Racers want to hit the gas pedal at the same time as the lights go green. Leave the starting line too early and you get a red foul light. Leave too late and you get left behind.

Pro Tree measures reaction time using fingers instead of a gas pedal. So we've been tapping (or shaking) our iTouches, testing his game for months.  I finally got to where I could beat him--causing all manner of testosterone-fueled disbelief. (Due to 2 very active boys, I have a fast reaction time--and excellent peripheral vision.)

My contribution was to help write the description and directions, which I treated like a job. I researched drag racing competition rules and categories. I struggled with editing my husband's notes so that even a novice (me) could follow the directions. I tweaked the final product with a smattering of alliteration, deliberate hard consonants, and a touch of psychology. 

This was a fascinating process, frustrating for him at times, but I'm so proud of him for persevering.

A Date with a Calendar

Now that school’s out, we don’t have the thrice weekly routine of getting ready and heading out to preschool. My boys are feeling a little lost.  Regular activities defined their days during the school year.  They felt secure knowing that Monday meant school and gymnastics and Wednesday meant library and church. Summer is a little more freewheeling and I’m not one for scheduling every minute of the day. So we needed something to help us keep track of our time.

Enter the kids’ calendar.

DLTK is a fantastic website, with printable coloring sheets and activities for young children, including some excellent Bible activities.  DLTK’s calendar page  allows us to customize a monthly calendar by theme and language. It’s simple. Choose the month, year, title image and click create.   We’re using the summer calendar theme and selected a sand castle for June.

Each morning we look at the calendar and place a sticker in the square for the day.  We talk about the name of the month, the day of the week and what we’re going to do.  I added in our regular weekly activities with color-coded symbols (cross for church, wavy blue line for swim).  We’re using our calendar to count down to much anticipated events like Vacation Bible School and family vacation.

As a bonus, we’re reviewing math skills by counting to 30 (or 31) and repeating the names of the days of the week. By the end of August, we’ll all be ready for preschool to begin again.

Like Hot Fudge on a Cool Day

And I thought yesterday couldn't get any better. 

I got to exercise.  My children calmly entertained themselves and let me get a little housework done. And we visited the most delightful playground I've ever seen. (Honestly, it would take days to go on all the slides and climbers, not to mention the new "splash pad" with motion-activated water jets. I love this town.)

To top it all off--Pat, from Pat's Porch--gave me the "Your Blog is Fabulous" award.  Many thanks, Pat.

What a wonderful way to kick off the summer! 

Shiny New Coin

I'm continually surprised and delighted when I read or hear a passage of Rabbinic writing that illuminates scripture for me.  Pastor Miller paraphrased a saying from the Talmud in today's sermon and it shed some light on a passage I wrote about for Monday Manna awhile back.

"For if a man mints many coins from one mould, they are all alike, but the Holy One, blessed be He, fashioned all men in the mould of the first man, and not one resembles the other..."  (Babylonian Talmud: Sanhedrin 38a)

Every Roman emperor minted coins bearing his own image.  During the minting process, each coin was stamped so that the resulting coins would all look alike. 

God created Adam in His image and has been minting new men and women ever since.  Though there may be some close resemblances between family members, no two of us are exactly alike.  There are no limits to the number and diversity of "coins" that God can create.  Thus God displayed his supremacy over the rulers of the earth.

So when Jesus pointed at the coin and said "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's" (Mark 12:17), his audience might have been familiar with some other rabbi's teachings. Every coin belonged to Caesar, but God put his own divine stamp on us.

I like the thought of God minting me like a shiny new coin, stamping me with his hand, and assigning me value.

Shalom, y'all.

Remembering Today

Remembering those who died in service to our country...

In Flanders Fields 

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) 

Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields. 

Writing in the Margins

Every once in awhile I pay a visit to Pat's Porch--a peaceful place maintained by fabulous, fellow Floridian Pat Guy.

The other day she posted about writers who try to keep up a "writing schedule" with children in the house.  She spoke of such mysteries as a "writing zone" and "mommy me-time".

I find that, with a 2-year-old and 4-year-old in the house, I'm often writing in the margins of life. For instance, they're currently in a post-Chuck E. Cheese-party coma right now. So, after putting in a load of laundry and loading the dishwasher, I have time to make a quick blog entry.

Or--after everyone's been fed, bathed, brushed, and put to bed--I might have time to do some work on Ruth. If I'm not too tired.

Some days I wish I could go to a writer's conference or even an 8-hour workshop in town.  But I'm in a season of life where I can't get away for one reason or another.  So it will have to wait. They're growing up fast.

For now I consider myself fortunate to have any time to write at all.  It exercises my brain and brings me joy. And, when I start to feel a little sorry for myself, I am reminded that I've written 2 books in the last 4 years. Not published, not polished, but written.  Then there are the few articles and winners in the FaithWriters challenges. Not too shabby for a busy mom.

I am writing. I am learning. I'm making notes.  I'm building muscle. I'm laying foundation for whatever God has in store. I'm where He's called me to be.

So I'll publish this post, grab my laundry basket, and wait for the next bit of free time to open up.

Shalom, y'all.

Full Heart

Today I’m participating in "Monday Manna," hosted by Joanne Sher at An Open Book.  Visit her blog for links to more discussion on 1 John 2:15.

Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. 1 John 2:15

I have a bag that I pack for swimming lessons. Since the kids are starving after they get out of the pool, I load one center compartment with drinks and snacks.  Another compartment carries my diaper changing kit. The zippered pocket secures items that I don’t want to fall out: wallet, cell phone, swim tickets for lessons.  Outside pockets store easy-access items: keys, sunglasses, sunscreen. But other items sink into corners of the bag: toy cars, paper towels, discarded ads from the mailbox, empty snack wrappers.

Sometimes my bag is so full of non-essential items that I barely have room for towels and swimsuits.

If I’m not careful, I’ll fill my heart with the desires of the world: possessions in one pocket, relationships in another, my to-do list stuffed around the outside. Pile in the empty wrappers of chatter and worry and soon I realize that I’m filled with the world--not the Word. I’ve made no room for the love of the Father.

I cleaned out my swim bag and discarded all the garbage. Now it’s packed with our main goal in mind--swimming.  First in--towels, clothes, and goggles.  They fill the bag, but since I’ve thrown out the garbage, there’s plenty of room left over for the things a mom needs to carry. 

When I ask God to clean out my heart and throw out the garbage--the desires of the world--and put Him in first, I find that He fills my heart. But there’s also room for family and fellowship, a purposeful life and peace.

Shalom, y’all.

3-2-1 Liftoff

We were treated to a perfect shuttle launch on Monday afternoon.   Space Shuttle Atlantis roared into space around 2:00 p.m.  I watched the launch on HDNet (recorded it for the guys) then ran outside to see the trail in the sky--a white plume that traced Atlantis's path upward through the atmosphere. A few minutes later high altitude winds made the trail look like a giant piece of rick-rack in the sky.  Their mission is to intercept the Hubble telescope and do some repairs.

It's still amazing to watch the launches--and we're all the way across the state on the opposite coast.  The last night launch--in March--brought everyone outside and the air was so clear we could even see the solid rocket boosters fall away--twin stars that rose for a few seconds before plunging to earth.

It only takes them about 8 minutes to reach outer space--less time than it took me to complete this post.  Amazing.

Happy Mother's Day

Fevers, fall-downs, and funny odors--this was one of those weeks when I was waist deep in momminess.  

What I've learned this week:

Potty training videos are useful, but the songs are a bit too catchy.  Hope I don't start singing "No more diapers for me" in the grocery store checkout line.

JW doesn't want to be a "big kid". He did ask to drive the car.  Not until you're potty trained, young man. 

Mommy kisses heal boo-boos, especially the invisible ones.

Children can run a 102.5 fever, complain of chills and tummy ache--and be up running around like a maniac 2 hours later.

Children can run a low grade fever and need to visit the pediatrician--ear infection

Love is the best Mother's Day gift.  At bedtime tonight, DW thanked God for his mommy. It doesn't get any better than that.

Happy Mother's Day.

Run the Good Race

Cheating a bit by posting this on Sunday, but I’ll not have time in the morning.  "Monday Manna," is hosted by Joanne Sher at An Open Book.  Visit her blog for links to more discussion on Mark 12:17.

Then Jesus said to them, "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's." And they were amazed at him. Mark 12:17

Chariots of Fire has long been one of my favorite movies.  During the 1924 Olympics in Paris, Eric Liddell, the “Flying Scotsman,” withdrew from his best event--the 100 meters. Although the movie portrays his withdrawal in dramatic fashion, the race schedule was actually published months in advance of the Games. Liddell, a devout Christian, refused to race on Sunday and trained instead for the 400 meter event.

As Liddell approached the starting blocks, a man slipped a small piece of paper into his hand. The note contained a passage from 1 Samuel 2:30: “Those who honor me, I will honor.”  Clutching the paper in his fist, Liddell won the 400m, shattering the existing world record.

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. (1 Cor. 9:24)

Eric Liddell brought pride and glory to Scotland--winning their first Olympic gold medal. He steadfastly represented Britain--King and country--running with excellence and bringing home two Olympic medals.  But he acknowledged that his speed and ability came from his true King. 

“I believe that God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast. When I run it is in His pleasure."

Eric Liddell raced for Cesar. Eric Liddell ran the good race for God.

Researching Ruth

Been working on my "Ruth" Bible study tonight.  I'm all set to teach chapter two on Sunday and I began working on the text of the introduction for the study--no more bullet points and "who's who" table on a handout.  I need to get the intro pulled together so I can start looking toward publication possibilities.

It's getting to be less of a stretch to go from "scholarese" to easy-to-read.  I'm greatly encouraged by classmates who have been giving me feedback and cheering me on.

I got off on a bit of a research tangent again at Aish.com between the book of Ruth, Shavuot (when Ruth is read in the synagogues), and the study of Torah which is done on Shavuot.  All the time I'm reading I have Acts 2:1 in mind.  Thousands of Jews gathered in Jerusalem for Shavuot when Jesus' followers received the Holy Spirit. Pentecost forever tied to Ruth.  

Just can't help but think that Ruth was on the disciples' minds when the Holy Spirit came rushing in.

Play it Again, Mom

The chocolate Easter bunnies are a happy memory.  Empty plastic eggs appear to have multiplied and hidden themselves in various corners of my house. The baskets are holding other treasures now, but one of their Easter goodies still retains its luster.

I bought the boys personalized CDs from Christianbook.com.  #1 son received "Jesus Loves You" which rocks like a praise band.  #2 son has "Fun Time Bible Stories" which giggles and marches and hums along at a toddler tempo.  They've been in steady rotation ever since Easter Sunday.  The guys are fascinated by hearing their names spoken and sung aloud.

"I love to spend time with you. It's my favorite thing.

J--- you make me want to sing.

Today is going to be great fun

Spending time with you." (From Fun Time Bible Stories)

One day, when I picked up DW from school, his teacher said she had a touching story to share.  At lunchtime he'd turned to one of his buddies and said, "I got a CD for Easter. It says 'I'm precious in God's sight.'"

Worth every penny.

Witness to Truth

Today I am participating in "Monday Manna," hosted by Joanne Sher at An Open Book. Visit her blog for links to more discussion on Acts 22:15.

You will be his witnesses to all men of what you have seen and heard.  Acts 22:15

The courtroom gallery is silent. The judge adjusts his glasses.  The jurors sit in various attitudes of interest. An attorney approaches a lone woman, who has just sworn to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”  

“Tell the court what you saw the night of April 18, 2009.”

The witness’s duty is to provide evidence in a trial, to tell her story in her own words before the court. The judge may ask her questions. She may be cross-examined.  Above all, the witness’s primary duty is to tell the truth.

God instructed Ananias, a devout observer of Torah and a believer in Jesus the Messiah, to go to a man named Saul of Tarsus and restore his sight.   By faith, Ananias delivered God’s mission for Saul--bring His name and His truth before the Gentiles and before the people of Israel. (Acts 9:11-19)

God had chosen Saul, also known as Paul, to be His witness.  A witness is more than one who sees what happened; he has to be able and willing to affirm the truth of his testimony.

After his encounter with Jesus, whom Ananias calls “the Righteous One”, Paul was more than willing. He testified to God’s grace, God’s providence, God’s sovereignty, God’s love.  He told his story in his own words before more than one court. He was put on trial, cross-examined, accused, and imprisoned.

Paul never wavered in his witness.

Your testimony may not contain the drama of Paul’s, the heartache of Peter’s, or the blessed relief of Mary Magdalene’s. But you are also called to be His witness. Speak the truth. Tell your story. In your own words.  

When the Pharisees investigated Jesus’ healing of the blind man at the Pool of Siloam, they grilled him mercilessly. He couldn’t answer all their questions, but he told them the truth: “One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!” (John 9:25b)

Banana-Bran Muffins

Don't touch those bananas--I mean for them to turn brown.  Today we made "Banana Bran Muffins", one of our favorite snacks.  The basic recipe is from Mommy Made*and Daddy too!  Home Cooking for a Healthy Baby & Toddler, but I've tweaked it over the years.

It's a big ol' plate of happy....

Banana-Bran Muffins

Makes approx. 12 full size or 24 mini muffins

Dry ingredients:

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour, sifted

1/2 cup wheat bran (I've also used wheat germ)

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

Wet ingredients:

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

1/3 cup light brown sugar

1 1/4 cups pureed ripe banana (about 3-4 medium-large bananas)

2 eggs

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Add ins (optional)

Semi-sweet chocolate chips

Nuts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and prepare muffin tins (lightly grease or line with paper baking cups).

Stir dry ingredients together in one bowl.  Use a larger bowl to mix the wet ingredients together.  Pour the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. Add your add-in(s) and stir until just blended. 

Fill muffin tins about 2/3 full.  Bake 15-20 minutes--until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.  

My recipe says they'll keep for a few days.  We've never had any stay around that long!

Negatives

My name is Karen and I’m a perfectionist.  I like to think of myself as a recovering perfectionist. Never quite over it, but always learning to laugh at this personal foible.

Perfectionism is a craving.  I think “just one more edit” or “one more attempt” and I’ll have it.  It’s a form of idolatry. My mind creates an ideal and I think I can achieve it--but it always eludes me, morphing into something slightly different each time I think I’m close. I have trouble letting go of a project. I crave that next attempt at improvement.

It’s a form of pride. Close enough is just not good enough. Others compliment. I question whether they’ve looked closely enough at the subject at hand.  I believe I can do better because---well, because it’s me. I can do it.

Like I said, I’m recovering. 

I’ve been fortunate in my writing to have some good teachers.  One high school English teacher wrote comments on our papers that would probably get her in trouble nowadays for “damaging our self esteem.”  On the contrary, she was usually right and we knew it.  She chiseled away at my writing until I was forced to uncover the gemstone in the middle of all the dirt and rock.

I’ve learned to take comments in stride--even the negative ones.  When I taught workshops on customer service, I occasionally received biting comments on my positive attitude.  The first one hurt. I was new at the job and didn’t want my supervisor to think ill of me.  Never mind that I had 75 good reviews from the same class.  Months later I began to laugh at that review.  It was so over the top, it gradually became funny.

Then there are the comments that offer constructive criticism. Criticism from someone I respect is a gift. Some criticisms have to do with opinion, which I may or may not agree with. Those force me to think about why or how I wrote on a subject.  One comment on a FaithWriters contest entry led to an online friendship with a dear lady who pointed out a glaring error.

So I was caught off guard when a Good Friday piece I wrote for a website received a rating of -2. Negative two?  This online newspaper allows readers to click a green “up” or red “down” arrow to rate articles.  I’ve had articles receive a 1 rating, maybe a 2, and sometimes a 0.  But this I had to investigate.  Scrolling down to the comments section I found....nothing.  No complaint. No idea where I didn’t connect with the readers--2 of them, obviously. Nada. Zip. Zero. Uh, make that -2.

I’ve mulled this over since Easter and found that what I feel most is embarrassment. Among the articles with 4’s and 6’s and even 0’s there stands my -2. It’s the big fat C- on the page.

No one is going to read my article again, I thought.  It’s been brushed away.  Branded.  Nothing to see here....move along.  That’s what annoys me.  I want one more edit. One more attempt.  The courtesy of one comment I can wrap this rating around.

Then I move on and laugh at myself as I shake my fist at invisible critics.

Like I said, I’m recovering. 

Bunny Munch Baskets

The preschool Easter party was this week and I signed up to bring a “fruit/vegetable” snack.  Great.  Now all I needed was an idea.

An Internet search revealed that most of the featured snacks for Easter involved eggs or some sort of carbo-sweet. Wrong food groups.  So I invented this basket of bunny food to add some fun nutrition to our festivities.

The basket is simple: a paper cupcake liner.  I put coconut in a baggie with a few drops of green food coloring. A few shakes later I had edible grass to line the baskets.

I filled the baskets with colorful fruits and veggies that a bunny might eat. I like the contrast between orange and green and we all know that bunnies like carrots, so matchstick carrots went in first.  Grapes, apples, and cantaloupes are on sale this week, but there’s no end to what can be included: strawberries, thin celery sticks, blueberries. Slice the larger fruits into bite sized pieces.  I cut and prepared everything in advance, so assembly only took a few minutes.

There was a little something for everyone.  Some kids passed on the coconut, but eyes sparkled at the colorful array of goodies.

Some Kind of Initiation

Been subbing as an assistant in one of the classes at DW's preschool. Delightful.  The preschool teachers are amazing women who answer tough questions, wipe noses, fill glue bottles, and read stories all at the same time. One of the best things about teaching is that you never stop learning and you're steeped in the environment of the inquisitive.  I would never have thought to ask, as one child did, "What time of day do lizards hatch out of their eggs?"

At my age I take lizard eggs for granted.  Actually, I don't think about them at all.

Day 1 went rather smoothly.  I managed to learn all of the names, not too hard since half the girls have the same name. 

Day 2 was interesting.  They taught me a new song, a silly song, with extremely silly motions. The kind of song most adults would not be caught dead performing.  Halfway through the song I looked around and realized that I was being watched closely.  Would this woman actually follow along and do every single crazy thing the song called for?

They don't know me.   I can Hokey Pokey with the best of them.

So I gave it everything I had: thumbs up, arms back, feet apart, knees together, bottom up, tongue out, eyes closed, and turn around.

Afterward half the class wanted to sit next to me.  I'd passed some kind of initiation.

One Little Palm Branch

Today is Palm Sunday. We've been talking about Easter for weeks, mostly learning the story and building vocabulary.  Passion Week is noisy and confusing. There's talk of death and crucifixion.  People are waving palm branches and shouting. There's a "last" supper and betrayal with a kiss.  Heady stuff for a 4-year-old, but he wants to hear it again and again.

Yesterday he cried because he fell asleep before his Bible story CD was finished.  "I wanted to get to Easter!"  He'd listened patiently through creation, the flood, Joseph, Moses, Daniel, and Jonah. Just about the time that 12-year-old Jesus was left at the Temple, my guy fell sound asleep.  So he missed Easter.

Today he carried one little palm branch around the sanctuary as the choir and congregation sang Hosannas.  It was noisy, a little confusing, and he needed to follow the big girl who carried the cross.  But he got to be part of the story--waving his palm branch for Jesus.

Plenty to do this week: Easter parties, egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, baskets, even a birthday celebration.  Through it all we'll try to stay awake for the big moment, so we don't miss what we've been waiting for.  We'll not miss Easter.

Painted Toast

Today's rainy day activity was Painted Toast.  It's simple, inexpensive, and easy to clean up--three things that make it popular with this mom.

Here's how: 

1. Put 2 Tbs. milk into bowls--one bowl for each color
   
2. Add 5 drops food coloring into each bowl
   
3. Stir
   

We made blue, yellow, green, and red (pink, actually).  The paint is a deliciously creamy color and completely edible. We used small paint brushes that I keep aside for food use.

Once the paint is mixed--the sky's the limit.  My 2-year-old enjoyed applying paint, mostly in one spot. My 4-year-old made rainbows, a face, and one piece that blended colors to make purple and orange. Even mom got into the act with a butterfly and a self-portrait.

Then it's off to the toaster.  We like our bread lightly toasted and the colors stayed bright.  The bread was so pretty that they passed on the jelly and enjoyed it plain.  

Their verdict?  "Yummy!"

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping...

Time flies when you're having fun.  Time also flies when you're raising children.  I'd fallen off the Blogger wagon for awhile--not that there weren't any deep thoughts or things happening, but simply because time was in short supply.

I've missed the time to ruminate at the keyboard, but have not been idle in my writing.

My second draft of "Ruth" appears to be in the finishing stages.  I taught it to the Becomers I class in January and they learned, enjoyed, and assisted me in finding the weak points in my written study.  After Easter I'll teach the Becomers II class with the "new and improved" version.  I confess that I'm excited that my Sunday School class is anticipating this study.  I'm praying that it continues to touch lives.

I've been writing a bit for The Cypress Times. I wish I had a bit more time to devote to this site, but I feel blessed to be even a small part.

I only entered one Writing Challenge last quarter. I'd peek at the topic each week, but if an idea didn't spring to mind, I let the week slip away.  This quarter started with "Up and Down" so we'll see where that leads.

2009 is marching on....

Fay Fay Go Away

Fay was supposed to have been long gone by now.  Instead she stuck around off the coast of east central Florida and dumped 25 inches in the Melbourne area. She finally ambled onshore near Flagler Beach sometime this afternoon. At the 8 p.m. advisory she was moving west at 2 (yes two) miles per hour. The winds are at 60 mph.

Video from the St. Augustine area is just as discouraging as the Melbourne area pictures. Plenty of beach erosion from the pounding surf.  Two people have died: one surfer who ignored a lifeguard's warning and one swimmer.  NE Florida has some terrible rip currents that lifeguards know to watch out for during stormy weather.

The slow moving storms are sometimes worse than the fast ones.  They linger and dump heavy rains in the same location. Since Fay came across from west Florida, the residents of the Atlantic coast thought they'd receive a weakened storm.  This makes sense, based on what usually happens. Fay just kept getting stronger. 

Here in the Tampa Bay area we're having the inevitable second-guessing that comes after a storm. Today's "Letter of the Day" in the Tampa Tribune slammed local media for the "hullabaloo" surrounding Fay.  Instead of complaining she should be thrilled. I suppose the editors ran her letter as the opposing view for their own editorial. 

I happen to agree with the Trib editors in their editorial. Governor Crist, the local governments, and the media made good decisions to declare a state of emergency, close schools (etc.) and keep us up-to-date on coverage and tracking models. If the letter writer had lived in Florida longer--she'd just moved here in 2004 when the big 4 hit--she'd know that the media have to keep the message going because not everyone is tuned in to the news all the time. If she got hysterical, it's her own fault.

Best line in the Trib's editorial?  "Don't be tempted to personify Fay or scoff at its deficiency as a cyclone. The only thing certain about these storms is that they don't care and never lose. All the losses come entirely on the human side of the match-up, and our only defense is intelligent anticipation."

Fay Decides to Stay

Enough already.  TS Fay came ashore at Key West, then hit the mainland near Naples (Jim Cantore was there). She's started tracking a strange path NE across Florida where she's affecting the Space Coast (Melbourne, Cocoa Beach, Kennedy Space Center). The current forecast takes her out into the Atlantic to strengthen into a hurricane before coming ashore again (!) somewhere on the First Coast (Daytona, Jacksonville).  Then she may track across the Panhandle, hopefully not entering the Gulf of Mexico again.

Lots of flooding in SE and east central Florida today.  They needed the rain and this will help with a deficit in Lake Okeechobee. But everyone expected Fay to weaken, dump a whole lot of rain, and go away.  However, she's sticking around like an unwanted guest. Fay is defying conventional wisdom, but apparently behaving the way a storm should under the current atmospheric conditions.  Nothing outside the way God designed the atmosphere to function.

'Round Tampa Bay we had typical tropical storm cloud patterns: white puffies scudding across a gray sky.  We had swells and a few small whitecaps in the canal, which means the Bay was extremely choppy.  They don't quite show up in the picture, but the palm fronds are moving. Very little rain, because it's all gathered around Fay.  So weather-wise it was a magnificent day where we could work outside and not sweat as much. We were able to play outside quite a bit (except for one brief shower).  I trimmed. I pulled weeds. I tidied up our yard and it looks much better. Bruce continued cleaning the garage and both cars are parked inside tonight. Wow.

There's a certain giddiness I feel when we have a near miss.  It's like finding out that you don't have to take the pop quiz.  Except for the part where we did yard and garage work, this felt a little like a vacation day.

...And Now We Wait

Hurricane preparations have slowed considerably this evening. We're just beat.  The winds remain calm in our backyard.  When I went downtown late this afternoon Tampa Bay was choppy, but nothing you wouldn't see on a day with a thunderstorm moving in. The top photo was taken from North Shore looking toward the St. Petersburg Pier.  Choppy, but there were some boats out.

Schools are closed. City government is closed. No trash pickup tomorrow. Both Busch Gardens and Lowry Park Zoo are closed.

We're under a voluntary evacuation, but, if Fay's center stays inland, there won't be much storm surge.  I'd much rather be home if we lose power. At least all our toys are here.  

As of now, Fay is forecast to remain a tropical storm.  She'll dump some much-needed rain on SE Florida and, hopefully, Georgia. The outer bands should begin arriving in the morning.  That's when we like to go outside and smell the tangy air and watch the wild and windy clouds. 

Fay Watch

Are you evacuating?  That was the question up and down our street this morning.  I took the boys out for a bike ride down the cul-de-sac and ran into a couple of neighbors.  One family has a dog and they’ve already made hotel reservations on higher ground.  Another couple is elderly and they’ve already decided to go. 

We went to the mall.

If there’s one thing I knew this morning, I knew that I had to wear the boys out if I was going to get anything done this afternoon.  They had a good time. Now they’re napping.  I just finished cleaning off the lanai, cleaning part of the garage, and securing bikes, toys, and garden decorations.

Who got the better end of the deal?

The 2 p.m. advisory shows Fay’s track heading into Ft. Myers or Charlotte Harbor, well south of us.  That can change. Local media says that we might feel winds on Tuesday afternoon/evening approaching 70 mph with 4 to 8 inches of rain.  Most of the wind and rain is on the eastern side, so Pinellas County might just escape the brunt of the storm.

Right now we have fluffy clouds and thunderheads building.  I took a photo from our back yard (those swings have to be taken down).  It’s of the NE toward Tampa and not part of Fay, but we should start to have some outer rain bands this evening.

Anyway, my garage is almost clean enough to park both cars in it.  My laundry is almost done. The lanai is swept and the toys are picked up.  First a break, then I’ll tidy the house.

Bruce reminded me of a verse that’s been running through his mind the last couple of days.  It was the key verse from a sermon 2 weeks ago.  A good thought for today.

The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. (Deut. 33:27a)

The Calm Before the Storm

Beautiful day today: white puffy clouds against a baby blue sky. I stocked up on a few groceries and water after church, then took DW outside to play. All the neighborhood kids were out riding bikes and playing. It was hot, but we had to get them out today because we may start feeling some effects of TS Fay Monday afternoon.

Tonight there's hardly a breeze. The palms are still; just a few ripples in the canal. Bruce went out after dinner to put coverings over the windows. Our neighbors secured their boats. Everyone is talking about where they'll go if we have to leave. The 8 p.m. advisory shows Fay tracking past us on up to Cedar Key and north central Florida. The forecast if for Fay to pass by us on Tuesday afternoon around high tide time. So evacuation for us low-grounders is still a strong possibility.

Another evening in paradise. I took a few pictures.

I wonder what Jim Cantore is doing?

Jim Cantore, stay off our beach

Tropical Storm Fay's track is swinging like a pendulum.  The 11 a.m. advisory showed it coming ashore south of us.  The 5 p.m. advisory shows it coming ashore to the north.

A southern landfall means we stay home. The wind will push water out of Tampa Bay. A northern landfall means we leave (or seriously think about leaving).  In this case, the wind will push water into Tampa Bay. It all depends on the strength of the storm. 

Last night we were wondering where Jim Cantore was flying to; I'm sure the Weather Channel is making his travel arrangements.

Tropical Storm Fay: what's in a name

Flashlight. Check.

Batteries. Check.

Bottled water. Check.

Heavy duty window coverings. Check.

It's that time of year again.  I've been insisting that we watch the weather news every morning before switching to any of DW's shows. The Disney channel is notoriously lax in warning about tropical systems.

Our local forecasters have been observing several areas of "interest" during August, the kickoff of our main hurricane season.  Friday night, as we were watching the Olympics and waiting to cheer for Michael Phelps, Bruce read a report that a tropical storm had developed around Puerto Rico.

This sixth named storm is called "Fay" and is predicted to develop into a Category 1 (possibly 2) hurricane before making landfall in Florida sometime Tuesday. Always curious about names, I looked up Fay and it means "fairy" or "elf". Well OK, then. That doesn't sound too bad.

Word nerd that I am, I also looked up the word "fey" in my online dictionary.  I've always thought fey to mean "whimsical." It does. That's nice. It can also mean "having a magical or fairylike quality."  Very sweet. Then there's "Fare thee well my fairy fay" from the song Polly Wolly Doodle.

And let's not forget Tina Fey. Funny lady. Really looking forward to the upcoming season of 30 Rock.

Wait a minute. Back up.  What was that first definition in the list?  Fey (adj) British dialect: fated, doomed to die.  Chiefly Scottish: appearing to be under a spell, marked by an apprehension of death, calamity, or evil.  

That won't do at all.

Then there's--"Fey (adj) being in unnaturally high spirits."  That's good. "...as were formerly thought to precede death"  Ooooo, not good.

Apparently the definitions are related back in their Latin and Old English roots to words that have to do with "fate". I don't have to worry about "fate".  God's sovereignty over the world means that nothing happens by chance. But I do need to get ready for a possible evacuation in a couple of days.

Of course, the names aren't picked to be descriptive of the storms. Really, who's afraid of "Hurricane Dolly".  But I'm praying that Fay will be more on the whimsical side than doom-filled. 

And now I'm off to find that hand-crank radio. 

This Little Light of Mine

“Can I use the flashlight, mommy?”

We were playing our usual afternoon game of dinosaur race. The rules are simple: each of us has a dinosaur, the dinosaurs race, DW’s dinosaur wins.  From there it gets complicated, but we usually get “trophies” which, for some reason, are kept in the crawl space beneath my bed.  The trophies themselves are invisible, but are described to me in detail as DW hands them to me.

After opening the door at the foot of our captain’s bed, DW prepared to crawl through to fetch whatever trophies his imagination devised.  I gave him the small flashlight to use and off he went in search of prizes.

“Mommy, come and see.”

I crawled around to the head of the bed to peek underneath.  In the illuminated space behind my bed, I saw dust bunnies. No, not bunnies. These were dust dinosaurs.  Our cats also like the cozy hiding places between the underbed drawers. I could have knitted a small cat from all the fur.

The flashlight illuminated everything.  All the fur, dust, fluff, and fuzz from, well who knows how long, clumped in piles beneath the bed.  I’m a good housekeeper, but I’m certain I haven’t vacuumed behind the bed since I had the kids.

Out came the vacuum and all the attachments.  DW enthusiastically held the flashlight while we sucked up dust tyrannosaurs and dust velociraptors by the dozen.  

On JW’s last visit to the pediatrician I was asked if he mimicked what we said or did, a normal milestone for an 18-month-old.  I looked at my little 30 lb sumo wrestler of a toddler and remembered all the ways he imitates his brother, dad, and me.

Big brother has taught JW a few wrestling moves which he now uses to pin his slightly heavier brother to the ground.  JW can pull a serious face, eyebrows cocked at odd angles, that looks so much like his daddy it’s funny. His baby voice chirps along when I sing and he throws in a familiar word or two right on cue.

That’s all well and good, but I know they’re also catching us at our bad moments. We’re not a four-letter-word family, but we have plenty to say about the bad drivers we encounter on the road.  I’m waiting for the day one of them rolls his eyes at me.  I already hear my “no” reflected back, usually by JW. (Although it’s really cute and dramatic. Nooooooo.) I need to erase the word “stupid” from my vocabulary for awhile. (oops, there’s that eye roll again)

Nothing throws a light on our words and actions like our children do.  They grasp their flashlights with their little hands and shine them everywhere, even on the dust bunnies...er, dinosaurs.

I’d better get out the vacuum.

Didn’t I Just Clean This House?

We had a rite of passage in the library for new pages, the folks who put away all the returned books.  They truly became part of the family of staff when they made the observation, “Didn’t I just clear this cart?”  After we finished laughing we assured them that yes, they had just put all those books away. In the meantime, thirty more people had come in and returned books, filling the cart once more.

Library work is not for those who like closure.  New employees who thought they’d actually finish their work in a day, a week, a month were quickly disappointed.  Our job was to keep one step ahead of chaos.  Like Mickey, the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, in Disney’s Fantasia, the circulation desk staff bravely tried to maintain order as our patrons passed through our doors carrying armloads of books like so many pail-toting brooms.

Now my pail-toting brooms are toy-toting boys who manage to create endless piles of dishes and cups to clean, laundry to do, and messes to straighten. Like our library’s patrons they ask interesting questions, have a boundless curiosity, and love to read.  There’s no closure, only the change of seasons and the growth and deepening of lives. 

So here I sit, having just cleaned the house. Again.  I’ll do it again and again, trying to keep one step ahead of chaos. I know better than to ask, “didn’t I just clean this?”

While I cleaned I plugged in the iTouch and listened to the album at the top of the list.  As I scrubbed, Charlie Peacock sang 

I have got to clean house


Gotta make my bed


Gotta clear my head


It's gettin' kinda stuffy in here


Smells sorta funky too


Like monkeys at the zoo;

...

Spirit come flush the lies out

One of the things I love about Sunday morning worship is the chance to sit quietly and clean house, especially on communion Sunday.  The weekly grind fills my mind and soul with gunk as surely as those brooms filled Mickey’s master’s workshop with water.  I treasure one entire hour (!) of reflection, confession, and praise as my Master puts things back in order. He never asks “didn’t I just clean this?”  He welcomes my confession and strengthens me as I confess my weaknesses to him. I know that one day there will be closure, for there won’t be any housework in heaven.  But for now I’m thankful for the one in whom there is no chaos, the one who washes me white as snow.  

A magic eraser, indeed.

The Write Thing

Two hours.  I knew I'd have two whole hours to myself to work on Ruth.

Daddy took DW to his first baseball game.  Baby J and I would have dinner, playtime, then bath and bed. The balance of the evening (until the guys got home) belonged to me.  I'd even watched the Tour in the afternoon so that tonight would be distraction free.  I planned to spend two hours writing.

But unfinished tasks got in the way.  My eBay auction was doing well.  Very well. I needed to pull together clothing for the next auction. But what's this?  More summer clothes the baby's outgrown. I realized I had another mixed lot of toddler clothes. Hmm. I need the cash and summer's half over. Better get this lot online now.

Task #1 - get a box of items listed, photographed, weighed and ready to go on the auction block

Then there's Sunday dinner.  I could leave the preparation until Sunday afternoon, but DW has a birthday party to attend after church.  Our neighbor is turning three. The party will be a blast. And my spinach cheese manicotti tastes much better if it's prepped the night before it's cooked.

Task #2 - make ahead spinach manicotti so I can play (not cook) on Sunday

Task #3 - wrap presents so that I'm not a hurried, crabby Mommy on Sunday afternoon

There goes my two free hours.

But, as I stood in my kitchen stuffing manicotti, I realized that tonight's tasks were best done tonight. What took me two (well, 3) hours to do by myself would take much longer if I had to work around my family.  My auction ended well.  Hopefully the next batch of clothes will exceed expectations.  Dinner tomorrow will be delicious. Best of all, I can focus on worship and family on the Sabbath instead of unfinished tasks.

Tonight's jobs weren't the write thing to do. But they were the right thing to do.

The Arsenic Hour

Ahhh, it’s that transitional time in the afternoon lovingly dubbed “The Arsenic Hour”.  This is not an original term, but one borrowed from The Mother’s Almanac and brought into our family vocabulary by my sister.

Between the nap and the twilight

When blood sugar is becoming lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

That is known as Arsenic Hour.

—Marguerite Kelly and Elia Parsons, The Mother's Almanac I, 1975

Kelly and Parsons appear to have taken a page from Longfellow’s poem “The Children’s Hour” (1863)

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

No amount of naps or high quality snacks can stave off this phenomenon in our house.  This is the time that tests Mom’s soul. I have yet to figure out how to prepare dinner with one wailing child on each leg. So I reach for the remote control.  Today’s child-calming feature is the movie Cars. Thank you, Lightning McQueen.

Interestingly enough, there’s another type of late afternoon meltdown experienced by Alzheimer’s and dementia patients--Sundowning.  Lengthening shadows and end-of-day fatigue trigger a type of confusion that leads to inappropriate behaviors and increasing agitation.

It appears that God created our bodies to need a time of rest, no matter what age. Just like we need a good night’s sleep and possibly even a daily nap, we also need to take a break from our busy lives and refuel. Otherwise, let the cranky times begin.

So a quick prayer for Mommy and a kiss for the kids.  Daddy’s coming home soon.

Let the Madness Begin

It's July again and time for the Tour de France. Three weeks of cycling, thrills, spills, but, hopefully, no doping disqualifications.  There's a wonderful (but painful) commercial featuring past champions being defrocked of their titles by running the tape backwards.  An official removes Landis's jersey, stripping him of the yellow. Rasmussen rides backwards into the starting gate.  Hopefully we're in a new era and we can just enjoy the race.  

Can't explain why we like the Tour so much. We're not cyclists. We don't even know who tuned in first to (then) OLN in 2002.  But there we were one evening, BW watching racing and me watching French countryside. We were hooked. Then we got into the Lance Armstrong drama the following year. We watched him win #5, #6, and #7.  

There's a Spaniard in the yellow jersey today.  Valverde won the 1st stage.  

Only 20 more to go. 

Among the Righteous

Did any Arabs save any Jews during the Holocaust?

A.  Arabs were not involved in the Holocaust

B.  Some Arabs aided Vichy France, Italy, and Nazi Germany in persecuting Jews

C.  Some Arabs risked their lives to save Jews

Robert Satloff asks this question at the beginning of his fascinating account of the Holocaust in the Arab lands of North Africa. During his 4 years of research, Satloff discovered a trail of Nazi and Vichy labor and punishment camps as well as a current, collective amnesia amongst both Arabs and Jews.

It’s hard to be ignorant of the reality of the Holocaust in the west, given the accessibility of museums, books, and films such as Schindler’s List. However, the official position of many schools, media, and governments in the Middle East and North Africa is that Arabs played no role in the Holocaust, either good or bad.  An entire generation of men and women believe that the Holocaust was a European problem and a small one at that. Israel exists purely as a guilt offering to the Jews, torn from Arab hands.

This book is a necessary witness to one of the greatest acts of evil in our age. Even before their troops secure borders, even as they are being attacked and pushed back by the Allies, the Nazis are busy building “Buchenwald in the Sahara.” 

This book matters. It matters because Satloff provides accounts that, if not captured and documented, will be lost to history as the witnesses die.  It matters because Satloff, the executive director of The Washington Institute for Near East Policy, provides context for why the families of these righteous Arab are keeping silent today. It matters because Satloff, a Jew and an expert on Arab and Islamic politics, provides insight into why the peace process is so difficult for western Christians to understand.

By the way, the answer is “B & C”.

Among the Righteous: Lost Stories from the Holocaust’s Long Reach into Arab Lands by Robert Satloff, 2006.

Seeds

A few weeks ago DW brought home a small pot, full of potting soil, wrapped in the verse “I am the vine.”  While we adults listened to the sermon series on the “I AM’s” in the gospel of John, DW’s teachers were busy teaching the preschoolers this verse.  

I’m a little fuzzy on what they did in church that day.  DW mostly reports on who he played with and what they played. But he was excited about planting seeds.

We watered them (not too much) and watched them and one day 2 sprouts appeared.  Soon they needed better soil so we carefully transplanted them into a larger pot.  They’re growing slowly, teaching us patience, and rewarding our work with each additional leaf.

It’s not much of a leap to see that this is what I’m doing with my boys: planting seeds and watching them grow.  I nurture them, watch over them, then back away to let them grow. Periodically they surprise me with new understanding.

And just like our plant, they’re still growing.

Housework Thought

At what point in the day does the bed go from being unmade to being turned down?

The Good Shepherd

Last Sunday's lesson was on John 7-10. The sermon was based on the text of John 10, specifically John 10:11 "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

Pastor asked the question - "What does it mean to call Jesus the 'Good Shepherd'?"

1.  I have to acknowledge that I'm a sheep

2. I need to listen for his voice

3. When I know the shepherd, I lack nothing

Apparently I should be a song writer

Took an online test.  Here are the results:

***You Should Be a Song Writer***

 You have the ability to evoke emotion, tell a story, and hook someone... In a very small amount of words, perhaps with some deft rhyming. Even if you can't write music, you can sure write compelling lyrics. Lyrics so good, people will have them stuck in their heads!  

What Type of Writer Should You Be? http://www.blogthings.com/whattypeofwritershouldyoubequiz/

Who are these brilliant people...

...who've left positive comments on my Writing Challenge entry this week.  I must confess a touch of pride.  I'll need to lift that up in prayer.

Last week's entry "The God I Believe In" placed 8th in the Editor's Choice. So it will also be featured in an anthology to be published sometime in the future.

I received my copy of the Christian Writer's Market on Thursday. I need to start branching out, but the most important thing I must do is dedicate my writing to God and let him speak. It's all to easy for this to become about me.

Member Showcase!

My poem Come Home is going to be featured in the FaithWriters Member Showcase beginning February 4th.  This is a huge honor. But the best part was having someone, whose writing I admire, tell me that I'm one of the finest new writers.

If that doesn't inspire me.....what will?

I plunged into the Regular Article Submission area with a piece called Gray Hair and Cradle Cap. I've received some encouraging comments and am now motivated to add some other articles.  Somewhere there's a paper I wrote for a class that might be reworked.  Must start digging around.

The Year of Living Smaller

An article I wrote, "A Mustard Seed House", is going to be published in the March/April issue of MomSense magazine.  In the article I talk about living in a small space, how to make the most of your space.

In 2008 I'm really going to get tough on our possessions. I've already given away most of the infant clothes to Alpha House or people in need.  Now I'm working on getting rid of linens I don't use.  I weeded my Christmas decorations and took some to Salvation Army today.  There's a pile of stuff from my closet that's going in the trash tonight.

Little Mess Cleans Up

My story "Little Mess" placed 10th in EC at FaithWriters.com this week.  The theme was "A Stitch in Time Saves Nine". Entries had to illustrate the proverb without specifically mentioning it or writing about it literally.

I'd love to turn this into a children's book.

This week's entry is based on "A Bird in the Hand".  I don't think this will make it as high on EC, but I'm excited about this entry because of the subject and what I did with it.

Eagle Poop

Well, DW is always saying that there's eagle poop on our car. We just laughed. Turns out he may be right.

There was a beautiful American Bald Eagle enjoying a breakfast bird on a piling in our canal this morning. We watched him pluck the feathers from his prize (which I mistakenly thought was a fish until the feathers started flying). Then he began eating with gusto. I made some coffee and got DW a chair and we watched him through the kitchen window.

I knew he'd fly away if I snapped a picture, but I couldn't resist. I did wait until he had finished most of his meal. Then he looked at me, grabbed his breakfast in his talons, and took flight across the canal and over the trees.

I wonder where he lives?

Write Now

I have a few articles waiting to be published. 2008 is going to be a good year!

"A Mustard Seed House" will be in the March/April issue of MomSense.
"Sanctuary", "The Parable of the Gardens" and "Smell Like a Church" will be in a FaithWriters anthology.
"Hear, O Children" will be in the Women of Passions book.

The story of "Little Mess" has lots of favorable comments so far. I'll find out Thursday how it did with the judges.

It was a good day today

After a year I'm finally feeling like I have a handle on the 2 children thing. I managed to do some chores while watching kids. Took breaks for snacks. Updated the NEPC website. Did some writing for the Weekly Challenge. Took #1 son to his first gymnastics class.

Everybody's bathed, dressed and in bed, and I'm not exhausted.

Nice.