It seems like a minor miracle, but I made it to Boston, actually Beverly, Massachusetts yesterday for the Provincial Convocation of Third Order Franciscans. Though the trip has been planned for quite a while getting ready on Monday was a series of "unfortunate events."
I had to teach in the middle of the day. This was not a big deal except that my student got hung up at work and did not make it for his lesson. He did try to call me early in the day to let me know he was going to be absent, but I had left my cell phone at home. Except for the fact that I needed some yarn from the yarn shop to bring with me on this trip, it would have been an unnecessary trip to Dallas.
On the way home from school I stopped at the bank to get cash for myself and to leave with BK and the girls. I placed my withdrawal slip in the tube expecting the miracle of money to return. Instead, the teller said, "I am sorry. We cannot process any transactions because our computers just went down." Hmm. I wonder how far I can get on $20? Rather than make a trip to the bank later, we decided to stop on the way to the airport Tuesday morning. This was not a big deal: it just meant we had to leave a few minutes early.
We went to the grocery store on the way home figuring that a home-cooked meal would be nice since there have been so few of those lately because of everyone being involved in the production of The Nerd. We had just finished eating dinner and loading the dishwasher when the daily thunderstorm hit. In a flash of lightening, our power was gone. There was still daylight so seeing to pack was not a huge issue, but the wet load of laundry in the dryer was. I did as much as I could before it got too dark to see. Just as the last hint of daylight faded, the power returned. It was off for about two hours. Once the lights were on, I scrambled to finish packing because the heavens were still rumbling and I feared another round of outage.
All went well with the packing and I got to bed at a reasonable hour only to rise at 5:45, an unreasonable hour by my summer standards. I finished the last few items of packing, which included a batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies that Brooke made. Bk picked me up at 7:15; we headed to the bank and then the airport. Fortunately the bank was back in business. I was supposed to meet two friends from Austin at the airport and then we were to travel to Boston together. As I approached the airport, I received a call from them saying that they were going going to be late departing from Austin so they would not make the connection to Boston. So, I ended up travelling alone. Once at the airport, my trip went forward with no problems. I was even able to get dinner once arriving at Endicotvt College even though I did not get here until after the posted serving hours.
Things did not work out so well for the group from Austin. They were re booked on a 1:40 flight. I received a text message, while my phone was off during the flight, saying that they had boarded. For a brief moment, I thought all was well. Then I got a call saying that they had indeed boarded, but had been sitting on the runway for two hours and had no idea when, or if, they would leave Dallas. As more storms approached, it looked less and less likely that they would depart. Then another miracle - they were rerouted and took off, almost five hours late, in a slight window of clear weather.
I went to bed in the 90 degree airless room listening to my Ipod. (I considered listening to Christmas carols in an effort to convince myself that it was not miserably hot here.) You would think that being literally across the street, it would not be so hot. Wrong! Anyway, the Austin gang stumbled in about midnight having had no lunch or dinner and been travelling for 18 hours. We had a brief chat and settled in for the night knowing that we had to rise in time for morning prayer at 6:30.
On to Day 2 in Beverly, Mass.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Happy New Year!
Okay, Okay. I know it is not January 1st, so it can't be a real new year, but according to my calendar, it is a new year. My life works best around an academic calendar and academic calendars run from July through June. Because the first of July is next Sunday, my new calendar started today. I finally bought "next year's calendar" a few weeks ago. You would not think it that big a deal to go buy a calendar, but a calendar is a personal thing. It has to be just right. Simple, right? Not really.
Over the years, I have had every size and every style of calendar - daily, weekly, monthly, compact, junior, full-sized. Like with most things, they all have positives and drawbacks. I should have bought this year's calendar long before I did but I could not decide what I wanted.
Last year I had a weekly compact calendar. It did the trick but it was the same size (and color) as my checkbook. Every time I reached for it, I grabbed the checkbook instead. It was also hard sometimes to see the big picture because it did not show the whole month except in a little tiny block at the top of the page. It also had no extra pages for notes. Because I waited so long to buy the new one, I have engagements for July and beyond scribbled in less than intuitive places throughout.
I have tried all the fancy organizer systems that are supposed to make your life run smoothly. I like them, but I find that I don't use or need all of their "features". I just need a place to write down where I am supposed to be and when. The writing down part creates its own set of problems. If the calendar is too small, then there is not enough room to write all of the necessary information. Then there are the calendars that have the times already preprinted. What if my appointment is at 10:15? The printed times are 10:00 and 10:30. Some of them have quarter hours printed. The lines are even smaller on these. What about 10:35 or 10:47? My point here is that I do not want any times preprinted. I can write the time myself. And, if I actually write the numbers, I am more likely to remember the information.
I like weekly calendars. I do not have so many obligations most days that I need a calendar with a page for every day. Plus, this makes them much thicker and heavier. I don't want that either. I would love it if the weekly version also had a full page view of the month.
What size do I want? I think I want a bigger calendar than I had last year. I don't really want a full sized page though because it is too big to fit in my bag so I never have it when I need it. Maybe I should go back to the junior (half-sized) pages. Decisions. Decisions.
The first few times I went looking to buy my calendar, nothing seemed to fit the bill. I kept putting it off. Finally came the point of no return. I had to make a decision. I figured I would "just settle" for something. I know. all of you are saying what is the big deal about buying a calendar. This is one of those places where my perfectionism plays hard. I want the perfect calendar.
I think that the Office Supply Store gods heard my plight and responded. I ran in to Staples one Sunday afternoon for something completely unrelated. There, right in the center aisle was the perfect calendar for me. It is a weekly/monthly/calendar, has a movable bookmark to indicate the current week, has phone and address pages, expanded notes section, and a pocket in the back cover. There are no times marked on the days. It is slightly smaller than full page. It has a cheerful striped cover and at the top of every week is a readable monthly calendar for the previous, current and next month. And, best of all, it was only $14.95. What more could a girl want? Okay, what more could a girl want IN A CALENDAR!
I really am thrilled by the simple things in life. So, now I will go relocate all of those stray dates to their permanent home. For another year, I will be organized. The only problem with using an academic calendar is that you can't take advantage of the 50% off sales on calendars that take place in January. Oh well, I don't know what I would do with a new calendar in January. I have enough trouble remembering to change the year when I write checks. Please don't confuse me further by giving me a new calendar too!
Again I say, Happy New Year!
Over the years, I have had every size and every style of calendar - daily, weekly, monthly, compact, junior, full-sized. Like with most things, they all have positives and drawbacks. I should have bought this year's calendar long before I did but I could not decide what I wanted.
Last year I had a weekly compact calendar. It did the trick but it was the same size (and color) as my checkbook. Every time I reached for it, I grabbed the checkbook instead. It was also hard sometimes to see the big picture because it did not show the whole month except in a little tiny block at the top of the page. It also had no extra pages for notes. Because I waited so long to buy the new one, I have engagements for July and beyond scribbled in less than intuitive places throughout.
I have tried all the fancy organizer systems that are supposed to make your life run smoothly. I like them, but I find that I don't use or need all of their "features". I just need a place to write down where I am supposed to be and when. The writing down part creates its own set of problems. If the calendar is too small, then there is not enough room to write all of the necessary information. Then there are the calendars that have the times already preprinted. What if my appointment is at 10:15? The printed times are 10:00 and 10:30. Some of them have quarter hours printed. The lines are even smaller on these. What about 10:35 or 10:47? My point here is that I do not want any times preprinted. I can write the time myself. And, if I actually write the numbers, I am more likely to remember the information.
I like weekly calendars. I do not have so many obligations most days that I need a calendar with a page for every day. Plus, this makes them much thicker and heavier. I don't want that either. I would love it if the weekly version also had a full page view of the month.
What size do I want? I think I want a bigger calendar than I had last year. I don't really want a full sized page though because it is too big to fit in my bag so I never have it when I need it. Maybe I should go back to the junior (half-sized) pages. Decisions. Decisions.
The first few times I went looking to buy my calendar, nothing seemed to fit the bill. I kept putting it off. Finally came the point of no return. I had to make a decision. I figured I would "just settle" for something. I know. all of you are saying what is the big deal about buying a calendar. This is one of those places where my perfectionism plays hard. I want the perfect calendar.
I think that the Office Supply Store gods heard my plight and responded. I ran in to Staples one Sunday afternoon for something completely unrelated. There, right in the center aisle was the perfect calendar for me. It is a weekly/monthly/calendar, has a movable bookmark to indicate the current week, has phone and address pages, expanded notes section, and a pocket in the back cover. There are no times marked on the days. It is slightly smaller than full page. It has a cheerful striped cover and at the top of every week is a readable monthly calendar for the previous, current and next month. And, best of all, it was only $14.95. What more could a girl want? Okay, what more could a girl want IN A CALENDAR!
I really am thrilled by the simple things in life. So, now I will go relocate all of those stray dates to their permanent home. For another year, I will be organized. The only problem with using an academic calendar is that you can't take advantage of the 50% off sales on calendars that take place in January. Oh well, I don't know what I would do with a new calendar in January. I have enough trouble remembering to change the year when I write checks. Please don't confuse me further by giving me a new calendar too!
Again I say, Happy New Year!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Where Is My Blankie?: Part II
My dog definitely needs her blankie to sleep. Friday night, as we were all getting ready for bed, I told her to go get her blankie. To her crate she ran and returned to the side of my bed with her tail wagging and her blankie in her mouth. I lifted them both up on the bed and thus began a good night's sleep! We ALL slept in on Saturday morning. Once we were all coherent, BK and I set out to make the dog another blanket (or two). Because she is so small, we were able to make her two blankets out of the same amount of fabric that it takes to make one for Adidas.
Out comes the sewing machine, the scissors, and a ruler. In relatively little time, the blankets were made. Then the fun began.
"If that mutt thinks that she is getting this blanket, she has another thing coming to her. Doesn't she know that possession is 9/10's of the law?"
Out comes the sewing machine, the scissors, and a ruler. In relatively little time, the blankets were made. Then the fun began.
"If that mutt thinks that she is getting this blanket, she has another thing coming to her. Doesn't she know that possession is 9/10's of the law?"
"I knew I could get that fur ball off of my blanket if I pitched my bark just right."
"I don't want the blanket nearly as much as I want to annoy the canine."
"It's mine, it's mine, it's mine!"
"Okay you two, I am sick of your bickering. I am going to settle this once and for all. It's mine and I am bigger than both of you!"
"Fine. You're the baby; you always get your way. I didn't really want a flowery blanket anyway. What kind of pansy do you think I am?"
And to all a good night.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Where Is My Blankie?
I am long past the days of having the toddler who won't go to bed without "the" stuffed animal or blanket. Really, neither of my kids were so attached to such a thing that they could not function without it. Er in did have a blanket that she was fond of but not obsessive about. It was a blanket that I knitted out of rose colored Sugar and Cream cotton. It was intended to be a shower gift for my college roommate's third child. When I got it off the needles, Erin, about six months old at the time, grabbed it and rolled yourself up in it. I must confess, it did not make it to the intended baby. I think I sent a book or something.
Erin was happy with this blanket for quite a while. When she was six, we were taking a trip to Europe. I was leaving a week before Mike and the girls. So, I packed the girls' things before I left. No telling what would have emerged from the suitcase in France if I had left the packing to Daddy! I said to Erin, "Do you want me to pack your blanket now or will you remember to pack it before you leave?" She decided that she did not want to take it at all because she might "Leave it in a strange hotel somewhere." Not bad logic for a six year old. The consolation was that BK said that she would knit her a new blanket during the week before she got there. That is a whole other story. The deal is, the blanket was a popular item. I think that she still has "the Europe blanket." However, we do not have to be certain of its whereabouts each night at bedtime. It probably resides under her bed with . . .never mind, I think I won't go there.
So, the past two nights I have gotten little to no sleep because Harley (the dog) has not wanted to sleep. When she is on the bed she wants down and when she is on the floor she wants up. I have spent two nights lifting her up and down like a 13 pound dumbbell. I am not sure what her deal is.
I did notice that each morning when I got up, she had dragged her blankie from her crate (which she only spends time in when we are gone) to the side of the bed. This morning, at 6:30, when I realized it was there, I picked her and it up and put them both in bed. She slept until the alarm went off an hour or so later.
Harley has had this blanket since the day we got her and it has always been in her crate or on the couch when she watches TV with the girls. I did send it to the vet with her when she was boarded a few weeks ago, but this fascination with it has just started. Tonight when I go to bed, I will start with the blanket in bed. I hope this makes for a better night's sleep!
I also decided that if she was going to be a blanket baby, she needed to have more than one so that it can occasionally make its way to the wash. "The Blankie" is a fringed polar fleece blanket. Today, while at Joann Fabrics looking at knitting books that were 40% off, I noticed that the fleece was also on sale. I bought a yard each of two colors to make her another blanket. I am not sure when I will get this done. Hopefully I will have an hour or so this weekend to make it.
In the line at Joann's, I was behind a woman who was buying a whole bunch of fabric to make receiving blankets for the babies at Parkland Hospital in Dallas. We make knitted blankets and layettes for these babies, 85% of whom are born into families living at or below the poverty level. When it came my turn to have my fabric cut, the salesperson asked me if I too was making blankets for Parkland. "Ah, no. I am making a blanket for . . my . . .dog." 'What king of dog is it?!", she said expecting some fancy breed or famous name or something other than what I said - 'Brown." 'Brown?", she questioned. "Yeah she is a little brown mutt that we rescued." 'Well, I guess she is a lucky . . .brown . . .dog.", was the best response the woman could muster.
I did feel a little silly after hearing that the woman in front of me was doing good work for babies in need. Well, I was doing something for someone in need as well. It may be a little (or a lot) selfish, but I am a person in need . . .in need of a good night's sleep. If this can be accomplished by making the dog a blankie, I am game. I hope it works.
Does anyone know how long it takes a dog to grow out of the blankie stage?
Erin was happy with this blanket for quite a while. When she was six, we were taking a trip to Europe. I was leaving a week before Mike and the girls. So, I packed the girls' things before I left. No telling what would have emerged from the suitcase in France if I had left the packing to Daddy! I said to Erin, "Do you want me to pack your blanket now or will you remember to pack it before you leave?" She decided that she did not want to take it at all because she might "Leave it in a strange hotel somewhere." Not bad logic for a six year old. The consolation was that BK said that she would knit her a new blanket during the week before she got there. That is a whole other story. The deal is, the blanket was a popular item. I think that she still has "the Europe blanket." However, we do not have to be certain of its whereabouts each night at bedtime. It probably resides under her bed with . . .never mind, I think I won't go there.
So, the past two nights I have gotten little to no sleep because Harley (the dog) has not wanted to sleep. When she is on the bed she wants down and when she is on the floor she wants up. I have spent two nights lifting her up and down like a 13 pound dumbbell. I am not sure what her deal is.
I did notice that each morning when I got up, she had dragged her blankie from her crate (which she only spends time in when we are gone) to the side of the bed. This morning, at 6:30, when I realized it was there, I picked her and it up and put them both in bed. She slept until the alarm went off an hour or so later.
Harley has had this blanket since the day we got her and it has always been in her crate or on the couch when she watches TV with the girls. I did send it to the vet with her when she was boarded a few weeks ago, but this fascination with it has just started. Tonight when I go to bed, I will start with the blanket in bed. I hope this makes for a better night's sleep!
I also decided that if she was going to be a blanket baby, she needed to have more than one so that it can occasionally make its way to the wash. "The Blankie" is a fringed polar fleece blanket. Today, while at Joann Fabrics looking at knitting books that were 40% off, I noticed that the fleece was also on sale. I bought a yard each of two colors to make her another blanket. I am not sure when I will get this done. Hopefully I will have an hour or so this weekend to make it.
In the line at Joann's, I was behind a woman who was buying a whole bunch of fabric to make receiving blankets for the babies at Parkland Hospital in Dallas. We make knitted blankets and layettes for these babies, 85% of whom are born into families living at or below the poverty level. When it came my turn to have my fabric cut, the salesperson asked me if I too was making blankets for Parkland. "Ah, no. I am making a blanket for . . my . . .dog." 'What king of dog is it?!", she said expecting some fancy breed or famous name or something other than what I said - 'Brown." 'Brown?", she questioned. "Yeah she is a little brown mutt that we rescued." 'Well, I guess she is a lucky . . .brown . . .dog.", was the best response the woman could muster.
I did feel a little silly after hearing that the woman in front of me was doing good work for babies in need. Well, I was doing something for someone in need as well. It may be a little (or a lot) selfish, but I am a person in need . . .in need of a good night's sleep. If this can be accomplished by making the dog a blankie, I am game. I hope it works.
Does anyone know how long it takes a dog to grow out of the blankie stage?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I Do What I Do
I love to watch the twists and turns that life takes - especially the funny ones. Before I share my latest observation with you though, it is necessary to begin with a short prelude.
I am not a person who likes to "toot my own horn". No pun intended considering I am a musician. I have a hard time writing resumes, telling about myself in those "group bonding" situations, writing bios for theatre programs - anything that involves trying to make myself look good, or interesting, or qualified. I love to respond to the statement, "Tell me about yourself." by saying, "I am what I am and I do what I do." This puts the burden of someone getting to know me on them rather than on me. Passing the buck; I love it.
Back to this week's twists and turns. On Sunday evening a local photographer who donates his time and expertise was to come and take head shots for the lobby display for The Nerd. He failed to show up. I was asked to do the pictures. I have done many of the action shots for DCT productions, but never the head shots. To be honest, I do not ;like to take this kind of picture. I much prefer candid photography. Nonetheless, the pictures were needed so I took them. They were not bad considering I have no real experience or affinity for photographing heads. The production staff was pleased with the results. I guess that is what is important. They were, however, upset that the original photographer had been given a credit, as well as free advertising, in the playbill. This made me laugh because now he is being credited with the work of an amateur. That will teach him to blow off a gig!
Tonight, three days after the original picture taking session, the director decided that she wanted a group shot of the crew after all. She asked if I would take it; I gladly said yes. The irony of this is that I have one of the bigger crew jobs for this show, prop mistress, and I am not in the crew shot because I was taking it. I know; I could have used the delay feature on my camera but that was too much trouble tonight. The deal is that the only reason this picture was even necessary is because there was an empty space in the lobby display. It had nothing to do with wanting to have a picture of the crew.
So, I have done all of the photography for which someone else is credited. And, I have been a big part of the crew but am not part of the picture. I have melded into the background. Believe it or not, this is the way I like it. I don't feel slighted in any way. In fact, as I said earlier, it makes me laugh and laughing is good.
So as we move toward opening night on Friday, I will continue to lurk backstage in my all black, setting props, making food, covering actors in cottage cheese (you have to see the shoe), cleaning up messes, and remaining happily in the shadows.
I am not a person who likes to "toot my own horn". No pun intended considering I am a musician. I have a hard time writing resumes, telling about myself in those "group bonding" situations, writing bios for theatre programs - anything that involves trying to make myself look good, or interesting, or qualified. I love to respond to the statement, "Tell me about yourself." by saying, "I am what I am and I do what I do." This puts the burden of someone getting to know me on them rather than on me. Passing the buck; I love it.
Back to this week's twists and turns. On Sunday evening a local photographer who donates his time and expertise was to come and take head shots for the lobby display for The Nerd. He failed to show up. I was asked to do the pictures. I have done many of the action shots for DCT productions, but never the head shots. To be honest, I do not ;like to take this kind of picture. I much prefer candid photography. Nonetheless, the pictures were needed so I took them. They were not bad considering I have no real experience or affinity for photographing heads. The production staff was pleased with the results. I guess that is what is important. They were, however, upset that the original photographer had been given a credit, as well as free advertising, in the playbill. This made me laugh because now he is being credited with the work of an amateur. That will teach him to blow off a gig!
Tonight, three days after the original picture taking session, the director decided that she wanted a group shot of the crew after all. She asked if I would take it; I gladly said yes. The irony of this is that I have one of the bigger crew jobs for this show, prop mistress, and I am not in the crew shot because I was taking it. I know; I could have used the delay feature on my camera but that was too much trouble tonight. The deal is that the only reason this picture was even necessary is because there was an empty space in the lobby display. It had nothing to do with wanting to have a picture of the crew.
So, I have done all of the photography for which someone else is credited. And, I have been a big part of the crew but am not part of the picture. I have melded into the background. Believe it or not, this is the way I like it. I don't feel slighted in any way. In fact, as I said earlier, it makes me laugh and laughing is good.
So as we move toward opening night on Friday, I will continue to lurk backstage in my all black, setting props, making food, covering actors in cottage cheese (you have to see the shoe), cleaning up messes, and remaining happily in the shadows.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Contentment Or Apathy
When Erin was in second grade, we taught a unit on folktales to her class. This project culminated in reading Katherine Patterson's The King's Equal. After reading the book, we turned the story into a dramatic presentation. The wisdom of this story knows no boundaries.
Here is a brief synopsis:
"A selfish, conceited prince is tormented by the dying words of his wise father, the benevolent king: "You will not wear my crown until the day you marry a woman who is your equal in beauty, intelligence and wealth." Raphael's vanity prevents him from finding such a bride until an unknown maiden appears at the palace. Sent by a mysterious talking wolf, Rosamund dazzles Raphael with her beauty, her intelligence (she is the first who recognizes his loneliness) and her wealth ("There is nothing I desire that I do not already possess"). However, she refuses his proposal of marriage, pointing out that, by his own admission, she is more than equal to him; his task is to earn her love."
Lately I have been haunted by Rosamund's description of wealth. I think that it is beneficial to have a heart to heart with yourself every now and then and ask the question, "What do I want right now that I do not have?" Interestingly, I don't think that this is a context where the word need can be substituted for want. I suspect that at any given point in life there is always something we need (a root canal, an oil change, to lose a few pounds, a new hair style), but are these things we want? More often than not, an intense want is much more damaging to our soul than an equal need. I recognize that maybe my perspective here is biased by the fact that I believe that God will provide for all of our needs. Wants, at best, are open to negotiation.
My point here is that if you find yourself wanting nothing, is that a sign of apathy or great wealth? My entire life has been a series of setting and meeting, and setting more and achieving more goals. This, for sure, is a means to keeping oneself on the move, but at what cost? When you are constantly reaching for something more, are you ever really aware of what you already have? And, if having "it" is not enough, why did you want it in the first place?
Life is a journey. None of us is stationary. We are constantly moving, constantly changing. Do we need to be constantly acquiring? There is a cliche that says, "he who dies with the most toys wins." Wins what? Maybe he who dies with the one toy that he has truly enjoyed wins. One who understands simplicity, in my book, is the winner. Think about it for a minute (or more if necessary), if you could only have one "toy", what would it be?
I would have to answer this question with "my camera". Pictures can tell the story of our lives. They can also tell the story of the lives we wish we had. They allow us to preserve, assuming we are watching in the first place, all the wonderful moments in this life. From these pictures, thoughts and words flow. When all of these things converge, the story of our self emerges. To reveal our true self and to allow this self to live the life it is destined to live should be our primary goal.
Another reason that i have chosen to answer the above question with "my camera" is that this is a place where my rampant perfectionism does not reveal its ugly head as often as in other places. I want to take good pictures, but good is relative. In many instances, the picture I thought I was taking was not the picture I took. This is God revealing to me what I should be looking for in the world. Maybe the camera lens is a tangible eye of God.
I would love it if those of you who lurk out there would share your "toy" with us by commenting.
I have strayed from the point I thought I was making here. Back to the question of apathy verses contentment. Right now I am at a point where there is nothing I really want. This creates a great sense of peace in me. I think it is peace. I don't think that I am apathetic, but because the question has surfaced, I guess I need to consider it. And so I will, I'll let you know what I figure out.
Here is a brief synopsis:
"A selfish, conceited prince is tormented by the dying words of his wise father, the benevolent king: "You will not wear my crown until the day you marry a woman who is your equal in beauty, intelligence and wealth." Raphael's vanity prevents him from finding such a bride until an unknown maiden appears at the palace. Sent by a mysterious talking wolf, Rosamund dazzles Raphael with her beauty, her intelligence (she is the first who recognizes his loneliness) and her wealth ("There is nothing I desire that I do not already possess"). However, she refuses his proposal of marriage, pointing out that, by his own admission, she is more than equal to him; his task is to earn her love."
Lately I have been haunted by Rosamund's description of wealth. I think that it is beneficial to have a heart to heart with yourself every now and then and ask the question, "What do I want right now that I do not have?" Interestingly, I don't think that this is a context where the word need can be substituted for want. I suspect that at any given point in life there is always something we need (a root canal, an oil change, to lose a few pounds, a new hair style), but are these things we want? More often than not, an intense want is much more damaging to our soul than an equal need. I recognize that maybe my perspective here is biased by the fact that I believe that God will provide for all of our needs. Wants, at best, are open to negotiation.
My point here is that if you find yourself wanting nothing, is that a sign of apathy or great wealth? My entire life has been a series of setting and meeting, and setting more and achieving more goals. This, for sure, is a means to keeping oneself on the move, but at what cost? When you are constantly reaching for something more, are you ever really aware of what you already have? And, if having "it" is not enough, why did you want it in the first place?
Life is a journey. None of us is stationary. We are constantly moving, constantly changing. Do we need to be constantly acquiring? There is a cliche that says, "he who dies with the most toys wins." Wins what? Maybe he who dies with the one toy that he has truly enjoyed wins. One who understands simplicity, in my book, is the winner. Think about it for a minute (or more if necessary), if you could only have one "toy", what would it be?
I would have to answer this question with "my camera". Pictures can tell the story of our lives. They can also tell the story of the lives we wish we had. They allow us to preserve, assuming we are watching in the first place, all the wonderful moments in this life. From these pictures, thoughts and words flow. When all of these things converge, the story of our self emerges. To reveal our true self and to allow this self to live the life it is destined to live should be our primary goal.
Another reason that i have chosen to answer the above question with "my camera" is that this is a place where my rampant perfectionism does not reveal its ugly head as often as in other places. I want to take good pictures, but good is relative. In many instances, the picture I thought I was taking was not the picture I took. This is God revealing to me what I should be looking for in the world. Maybe the camera lens is a tangible eye of God.
I would love it if those of you who lurk out there would share your "toy" with us by commenting.
I have strayed from the point I thought I was making here. Back to the question of apathy verses contentment. Right now I am at a point where there is nothing I really want. This creates a great sense of peace in me. I think it is peace. I don't think that I am apathetic, but because the question has surfaced, I guess I need to consider it. And so I will, I'll let you know what I figure out.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Toys R Not Us
I remeber the first time I stepped foot into a Toys "R" Us store. It was not when I was a child but when I was pregnant with offspring No. 1. Once I had passed the point in the pregnancy where all I did for weeks was sleep and puke, it became obvious that the kid was definetly staying with us and that we had better do something like buy a crib and a few of the other things that a baby requires. (They do not need all the crap that the stores make you think that they do!) We took a trip to Toys "R" Us.
The store was filled with small children screaming because their mommy would not buy them the 10,000 piece Lego set, the kid negotiating for the remote control car for which he was $50.00 short (assuring dad that he would mow the lawn all summer long, "I promise"), and all the pregnant women who looked like they needed to make a quick dash to either the restroom or the hospital. As I stood staring at cribs, strollers, and high chairs, I remeber looking forward to the time when I would be able to shop for real toys.
I was surprised by how little time cildren actually spend playing with toys that come from the toy store. There was the Christmas that Brooke wanted a Tonka fire truck and a Lite Brite, the one where Erin wanted the Little Tykes kitchen, and the year they both wanted pogo sticks. Then there was the summer that Brooke was fascinated with toy horses. She had the stable and a pasture full of horses but no one to ride them. On a summer afternoon we headed to Toys "R" Us to look for an appropriate rider for the horses. We looked with the horse stuff - there were dolls that were too big and dolls that were too small. Unlike with Goldilocks, there was none that was "just right". With a frustrated five year old at my side, I suggested something that I never thought would come out of my mouth, "What about a Barbie? (This still makes me cringe.) At the top of her lungs Brooke screamed, "Barbie won't work; she won't spread her legs!" Shhh. Don't tell Ken. Oh wait, he was more interested in G.I. Joe. Anyway, let's just say that the horses in Brooke's pasture remained free of a rider. I'm not sure we went to this store more than once or twice after this - not because we were banned, but because the girls quickly outgrew these types of toys. They moved on to books, and books, and more books. They also liked (and still do) any type of puzzles, art supplies, and the dreaded video games. The point to all of this is that I have not been to Toys "R" Us in eight or ten years.
One of the props that I am still missing for the show is Cornish game hens. For some reason, Hobby Lobby does not have plastic ones in their section of fake food with which to decorate. Go figure. On the way home from church this morning, I had the bright idea to stop at the dreaded toy store. Surely with all of the play kitchens and dishes they must have a realistic looking plastic game hen. Imagine my surprise when I failed at this mission. I did, however, make some observations while shopping the fake food aisle.
The store was filled with small children screaming because their mommy would not buy them the 10,000 piece Lego set, the kid negotiating for the remote control car for which he was $50.00 short (assuring dad that he would mow the lawn all summer long, "I promise"), and all the pregnant women who looked like they needed to make a quick dash to either the restroom or the hospital. As I stood staring at cribs, strollers, and high chairs, I remeber looking forward to the time when I would be able to shop for real toys.
I was surprised by how little time cildren actually spend playing with toys that come from the toy store. There was the Christmas that Brooke wanted a Tonka fire truck and a Lite Brite, the one where Erin wanted the Little Tykes kitchen, and the year they both wanted pogo sticks. Then there was the summer that Brooke was fascinated with toy horses. She had the stable and a pasture full of horses but no one to ride them. On a summer afternoon we headed to Toys "R" Us to look for an appropriate rider for the horses. We looked with the horse stuff - there were dolls that were too big and dolls that were too small. Unlike with Goldilocks, there was none that was "just right". With a frustrated five year old at my side, I suggested something that I never thought would come out of my mouth, "What about a Barbie? (This still makes me cringe.) At the top of her lungs Brooke screamed, "Barbie won't work; she won't spread her legs!" Shhh. Don't tell Ken. Oh wait, he was more interested in G.I. Joe. Anyway, let's just say that the horses in Brooke's pasture remained free of a rider. I'm not sure we went to this store more than once or twice after this - not because we were banned, but because the girls quickly outgrew these types of toys. They moved on to books, and books, and more books. They also liked (and still do) any type of puzzles, art supplies, and the dreaded video games. The point to all of this is that I have not been to Toys "R" Us in eight or ten years.
One of the props that I am still missing for the show is Cornish game hens. For some reason, Hobby Lobby does not have plastic ones in their section of fake food with which to decorate. Go figure. On the way home from church this morning, I had the bright idea to stop at the dreaded toy store. Surely with all of the play kitchens and dishes they must have a realistic looking plastic game hen. Imagine my surprise when I failed at this mission. I did, however, make some observations while shopping the fake food aisle.
- Green plastic must be rare. In an entire row of plastic food, the only vegetable was an ear of corn.
- Not only does that fast food industry control children's eating habits, it has also infiltrated their playing habits. You can now buy boxes of plastic food to make a Pizza Hut pizza, the complete McDonald's menu right down to the chocolate shake, and a Subway sandwich. (I stand corrected on the green plastic. The Subway box did contain a piece of iceberg lettuce. Whew! I am relieved.)
- The shelves did not have many pots and pans, rolling pins, wooden spoons, cooking utensils, but they did have a toy microwave to reheat your leftover (Pizza Hut) pizza. I guess this is preparing those toddlers for college.
- French fries come with everything.
- Chickens are all legs. I thought for sure they would have a miniature plastic turkey that would read from the audience as a game hen. I guess Fisher Price does not want to traumatize our children by giving them headless birds to play with. It is much more comforting to give them only the ripped off limbs.
I hope that I do not have to venture into these parts again soon. Who really enjoys subjecting themselves to the craziness of Toys "R" us? My actions today were the result of a desperate woman!
Thank goodness for Internet shopping. Should I ever have the need to buy toys again, it will be amazon.com for me. And just so you know, my Google search for "plastic game hens" resulted in "No matches found." I'm sure I would have better luck with Lego or Lincoln Logs.
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