My type of book

This is a photo from Guyana.  I'm sure you're jumping wildly about with excitement thinking, "Hot dog!  She's going to tell a story from that trip she took where she didn't tell us any stories?  She's finally thought of one?  And she's going to share it and show us that she loves her blog readers just as much/more than she loves her facebook friends, even though she usually dislikes facebook and loves Google, thereby we infer that she should love her (Google-powered) blog readers extra-much and eschew her facebook friends?  This is that time?"

Uh, no.  You should probably stop over-thinking things.  I still don't have Guyana stories.  And why would you use the expression "hot dog"?  That seems a little outdated.  Not like I'm judging you, I'm just pointing that out.

Now that it's established that this story doesn't actually relate to Guyana (except to say: this picture was taken in Guyana), allow me to continue.

This is a photograph of my brother and I, reading.  Is this unusual?  Indeed, it is not.  We tend to read all the time.  Stop light?  Time to read!  Family gathering gone long?  Book!  Airport?  Bound and printed is how I like my material, thanks.

So anyhow, we read.  The whole family, really.  My younger sister has a love/hate relationship with reading (I know, WHAT?  I just stop at the love/ and pretend that the slash is part of the word.  Oh me?  I have a loveslash relationship with reading.  You?) but recently I got her hooked on The Mysterious Benedict Society books, and she's nearly done with the four books (three plus the prequel) and she only started the series on Friday.  It makes me so proud.

Anyhow, the book she was reading in Guyana was some book published by Reader's Digest a while ago about the human body.  Seemed like a book I'd probably not rather read, though my brother and I both read books of my choosing while in Guyana, and they weren't exactly a laugh a minute.  I thought her book seemed sort of boring, she thought my books were boring.  Figure that.  You can't really see in the photo (see?  the picture actually has a purpose) but we're both reading books that you may not have perused yet.  Mine is called Just My Type, and his is called The Elegant Universe.

I have to go on record as saying that Just My Type was a quicker read than The Elegant Universe.  Just My Type was a book about fonts, and it was very well written.  The author went through the history of fonts ever since Gutenberg made them popular, and it even has a section on the interrobang.  My favorite ever.  The Elegant Universe is about the string theory, which I find quite interesting, however... it gets a little long.

Confession time.  I'm still not finished reading The Elegant Universe.  I got it out from the library around Easter time, but didn't have time to read it, so I returned it and got it out again before Guyana.  Seeing as my brother didn't think to bring a book (WHAT?) on the trip, I lent him mine, and I read my other book--the font book--and he read the string theory one.  He didn't finish it either.  But I still intend to finish it.  It really is a good book.  Honestly.  I actually laughed out loud in one part.

I'm such a nerd.

But anyhow, that's sort of my whole point in this story.  I sometimes weird myself out.  Here's the thing:  I (sadly) fall prey to reading Karen Kingsbury/Beverly Lewis/pick a Christian author and I've probably read a book by him/her thing.  But I've been trying to read more informative books and less pointlessness recently.  Not that I think there's something wrong with Christian fiction (I'm... not one of those people.  I understand that Philippians 4:8 says "whatsoever things are true," but I still read fiction, even in light of that), but sometimes I take stock of my life and think, "Hm.  I don't have a lot of education, but I do read.  So I should educate myself via words.  That much I can do."  So I read things like The Elegant Universe.

But I don't always like reading books like The Elegant Universe.  I get halfway through and think, "Brian.  Oh, Brian.  WHY ARE YOU ONLY NOW GETTING TO THE PART ABOUT STRING THEORY!?"  (May I just interject that this would be a perfect place for an interrobang?  Do you see why I miss it so much?  Seriously, I cannot believe that it didn't take!  It sorrows me!)  Because seriously, the author (Brian, in case you somehow missed that, and thought I fondly gave the actual book a name) spends the whole first half of the book discussing either the theory of general relativity or quantum mechanics.  I understand why he had to lay so much groundwork, but after a while it got to the point where I just wished he'd, well, get to the point.  So anyhow, when I'm halfway through such books, and furrowing my brow and making solemn promises to myself that no child of mine will ever have the name Brian I think what am I doing?

And then I get all guilty.  Am I reading nerdy books because I actually am tired of Karen Kingsbury and cohorts?  Or do I just like to read smart books because it's a nifty conversation starter?  Or do I just really like to learn things?  Am I being pretentious?  Does Brian Greene really have to go into so much detail?

Sorry.  That last question clearly isn't in relation to most books.

I just have to evaluate my motives every once in a while.  I've pretty much decided that I actually want to read the books, and I'm not just being pretentious.  Because I've tried having conversations about nerdy things, and it never works, and then I just feel awkward.  Actually, I take that back.  I have a cousin who actually understands the string theory.  I was talking to him about it, and I was like, "Sweet!  Give me the condensed version!  It'll save me from finishing the book I started!"  And... as it turns out, he doesn't have a condensed version.  It was rather lengthy, and just as we got to the actual string theory part (which is to say, he laid the groundwork, the part I've actually gotten through in the book I'm reading)... our conversation got cut off.

And he lives many hours away from me.

So now I have to finish my book.

Ugh.

Thing is, technically I could just read the wikipedia article about it and call it a day.  But... I'm obsessive.  I can't not finish a book I've started.  Actually, I've actually been able to not finish books in recent years, which I count as being a very grown-up thing to do, but it sort of hurts me.  And at this point I think I'll probably go crazy if I don't finish this book.  I've been working hard on it.

How did I start this topic?  Oh yes.  I saw the book on my dresser (conveniently under my stack of Bible, Kindle, and journal) and furrowed my eyebrows at it.  And figured that I would talk about it (a lot) in my blog, and maybe that would count as reading a few pages or something.

Doesn't usually work that way.  Sorrow.

In other news, I must disclaimer this message.  Thing is, these books are interesting.  I have learned a lot thus far in The Elegant Universe, and I learned a lot while reading Just My Type (the author is from England, so he talks a lot about the fonts they use on signs around London and stuff, and he would have photos of said signs in the book, and I would feel well-traveled because I'd seen those very signs.  Even though every person who's been to London or traveled even a few miles on the M1 has seen those signs, which technically makes it way less cool that I've seen them.  Though let's be honest.  It was cool that I'd seen those signs), but I must admit that neither author is a Christian.  The science book teaches evolution like it's a fact.  Scientists.  Pfft.  The font book casually references typographers traveling about with girlfriends.  Sinners.  Pfft.

Problems I didn't have with Karen Kingsbury, bless her heart.  (And I'm really not trying to pick on her.  She's just well known, thereby an easy reference point.)

Maybe the moral of the story is that I should finally buckle down and read Darby's synopsis.  My mother had read it by the time she was my age.  Virtuous woman.

Food for thought.

Suddenly I realize that I didn't have a point with this rather lengthy post.  So I'll make a point.

.

Haha, get it?  Periods are points.

I... need more sleep.

It's about time

I've sort of been procrastinating recently about getting caught up here.  Not because I don't want to talk about Guyana and how wonderful it was, but because I've pretty much explained how wonderful it was to pretty much everyone I know.  It's one of those things where after a while you dread hearing, "How was it?"  I just picked random stories and would tell like one story to each person who asked, so people now know random little things about it.

Also, not only did I spend a lot of time telling everyone about it, but I also spent a long time captioning my facebook album so as to cut down on the explanations.  So I wasted all of my residual Must-Tell-Everything! feelings on facebook.

Crazy social networking.  (PS, I apologize to everyone I ever scoffed at for being addicted to Pinterest.  You were right.  It's addicting and awesome.)

Anyhow, so what happens to my blog readers?  Basically you got the raw end of the deal.  I'm not going to copiously go into details of everything.  I'll say some things (still thinking of what stories I'm not tired of telling, give me a minute) and show you some pictures and then move on to my regularly scheduled rambles (well, as regularly scheduled as I know how to be).

So, we'll start with a family photo of, well, our family.  We're standing on a savanna.  Randomly.  In Guyana.  So... yeah.

Next is a photo of me standing in front of St. George's Cathedral.  It's a really tall wooden building.  The only of it's kind, which being interpreted is to say, the tallest wooden freestanding structure.  I'm not really sure what the significance of that is, but anyhow, it's white and wooden.  That much I could see with my own two eyes. 

 Finally, some palm trees.  We were technically (I think?) in the jungle or something, so there were a lot of palm trees.  Also, coconuts.  Also, pineapples.  The pineapples (they call them "pines," though why they can't say the apple, I'm not sure) were literally the best I've ever had.  We cry when we see pineapples in the States now, because they just aren't as good.  Sob.

So you know how I said I was going to think of a story to tell?  Still nothing.  If anybody is interested in my facebook album (complete with rather lengthy captions) please let me know, and I can send it to you.  If we're not already friends on facebook.  Otherwise... I'll think of something more inspiring to say next time I deign to update this blog.  Sigh.

So many countries, so little time

I haven't posted in a while, but it's because I've been busy.  Besides the usual things of life, we are also preparing for a trip to Guyana.  We're going next week, staying for almost a week.  Our whole house has been consumed with Guyana-related stuff.  When I go to our weather homepage, Guyana is on top, because apparently we search the weather down there more than the weather where we actually live.  But things are coming together, the Pepto-Bismol is purchased (not by me.  I don't believe in the stuff.), the mental preparations for their rainy season (which is to say, rain rain and more rain) slash regular weather (which is to say, 95-100% humidity) is sorted, and we all picked shoes we don't mind wearing in the rain and/or using for a lot of walking.  Everyone worried about this, but I fetched my trusty Nike flip-flops.  People, I am ready to go!

Anyhow, do pray for us, if you like.  We plan to sort of... missionary about, I suppose.  Meet the locals, hand out candy/gospel tracts.  That sort of thing.  We shall see what comes of it.  No matter, I trust the Lord uses this trip for blessing.  For those we meet, as well as us.  This is, incidentally, our family vacation for the year, so I'm sure much happy bonding will ensue.  Good times.

Also, this is my first official Third World country.  That's kind of cool.  When I went to Romania the first them I was sitting at the breakfast table at the house where I was staying and the man of the house leaned back and said, "So, how does it feel to be in a third-world country?"  I had no idea what to say, because Romania's not actually a third world country (these days it's based on the average annual income, if I have my story straight, and there is discussion as to whether or not there is such a thing as a second-world country.  If there is such a thing, Romania is that.  And not to get too wordy in this parenthetical phrase, but going by that classification, technically we have fourth world countries these days.  My sister informed me the other day that Malawi is such a country).  So anyhow, Guyana is the winner of this round of travel in terms of new experiences (sorry, Romania.  You're not poor enough).  Kudos, Guyana.  I look forward to many happy times on your fair coasts!

And when I say fair coasts I really mean it.  Apparently it's a beautiful country.  Maybe tourists would actually go there, were it not for the rampant pick pocketing, malaria, and yellow fever.  I guess every silver cloud has to have some dark lining.  Or, um, something... Cough.  Anyhow, Guyana will be beautiful, I'm sure.

I'll let you know when I come back.  Lord willing.  : )

Traveling dreams...

Do you ever just think it would be awesome to officially have a bohemian (wanderer?  adventurer?  vagabond?  sign me up) lifestyle and just travel hither and yon?  Honestly, that's basically what I do already (I mean, I DO travel kind of a lot, let's be honest), but sometimes I see signs like this and think, "Shanghai?  I've never been there!  I must go!"

Which only reminds me, of course, that there are places I could be going to help people instead of for my own enjoyment.  And people at home who need help.  And all kinds of things I could be doing in between that wouldn't cost so much money.

Of buckets and lists

I don't really have a bucket list. Mind you, when one of my friends from LA was last at my house, and we stayed up until about 3:00 am simply because we didn't want the fun to end, we sort of came up with a bucket list. It went along the lines of, "And then we're going to go see Disney on Ice, and then HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA we're going to learn to skate it and pretend that we can actually skate and  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I don't even know!!!! It'll be hilarious!!!!!!" and then basically we made up a bunch of stuff about doing shows on ice because we are both not the best of ice skaters. I think that's why we were talking about it, anyhow. Honestly, I don't even remember.  Anything that happens after about 11:00 pm isn't exactly going to stick too well in my head.

But I do sort of have things in mind that I'd kind of be super excited about, should they ever for some reason come to pass. Isn't that what Bucket Lists are all about? Stuff you've always wanted to do? My actual bucket list, were I to make one, would be fairly simple.  Besides learning to knit (how have I still never learned to knit? I learned how to crochet, and knitting seemed way harder, so I didn't even try. One day I shall), and having a passport with stamps on every page (how AWESOME would that be?) I'd also like to *dun dun dun* ride in a blimp.

I've taken a lot of forms of transportation--bus, train, plane, subway, water taxi, etc.--but they've all been kind of regular-type. I want to ride in a blimp. I've heard it's kind of boring, but hey, I'm a boring person. And that's okay. But seriously, even more than a hot air balloon (also never been up in one), I would choose a blimp. So if I ever get cancer or something, and they confuse me for a child and let me do the Make-a-Wish thing, now you all know what I'd wish for. A blimp ride. Just because it sounds pretty swell.



Oh, and that blue house contains those neighbors you're supposed to be praying for.



I got to thinking about this the other night when a blimp flew over our house. We get a lot of blimps--hullo, Goodyear--but not usually directly over our back porch. We were sitting at supper and it approached and we were like hey hey, a blimp. And then it flew right over us, and we acted like tourists who'd never seen blimps before, instead of a family who has had blimps flying by for years. So I snapped a few photos and I'm sorry to say that there's no way to capture the size of the things. I mean seriously, blimps are gianty creatures. In the photos they look small here, but trust me, they are big.



It was getting a bit dark, so it's not the best picture ever.  Also, it's so large that when it flies over your head you don't really have a lot of options as far as swell photo-taking goes.



Anyhow, if any of you know someone who can hook me up with a ride in a blimp, please let me know. Thanks. : )

PS, I'm not discontent with such things as I don't have, but I just sometimes like to potentially dream about adventures I may or may not have down the road.  But please, don't think I'm being snobbish or something, just because I think a blimp would be a cool way to travel.

The Princess Complex

I love fairy tales.  Worlds where girls grow up to be princesses, have some sort of adventure, and live happily ever after.  I'm sure a lot could be said about the happily ever after, but I'm not going into that right now.  Also, I wan to go on record as saying that when I was a kid I never had any interest in being a princess.  I just liked to read about them.  Anyhow, I just read an interesting article on Christianity Today's website (well, I want to be clear that it was actually on the blog Her.meneutics, which I like a lot better than CT itself, because CT has issues and I have issues with CT, but anyhow, yes, I read the Her.meneutics blog from time to time) about Karen Kingsbury's book The Princess and the Three Knights.

Now.  I know I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, but I don't think Karen has the most... varied imagination ever.  Most of her books have the same plot, and they usually center around stories of her family. Thinly veiled, of course, but since I read her dedications (all eight pages of them) I can follow her family enough to see through the veil.  I'm on to you, Karen.  Anyhow, I've solved that by not reading her books any more, so I'm over it.

But anyhow, I've read the book in question, and... I didn't think it was terrible.  I thought the story wasn't that creative (a young girl stands aside as young men vie for her hand, and one shows that his love for the Princess would never endanger her, thereby gaining the approval of kingdom and king and winning her hand), but I had nothing against it.  Does it lean towards arranged marriages?  I suppose, though let's be honest, which country has the least divorces?  India?  I thought so.

As a side note:  On my way home from California in January I sat by a couple in the plane who LifeStory'd (TM) me, and they asked a few times if I was married, and when I was getting married, and why wasn't I getting married?  I tried to explain that marriage was going to involve some young man who hasn't shown up and, quite frankly, isn't showing up very swiftly, as far as I can see.  We tried some other topics, but eventually they again shifted the subject back to marriage (we'd been talking about the Lord, actually.  They were Hindu, and so we discussed the Bible and virgin Mary and various related topics) by asking, "Haven't your parents heard of arranged marriages?"

I said that they had, but such things aren't so much done these days.  Then I heard further their LifeStory (TM) and their saga of their own arranged marriage, and how they ish-arranged marriages for their children, though with a way out if the kid thought the spouse was unsuitable.  They told me I could pass that along to my parents.  Which I did.  We all got a good laugh over their dismay at me being more than two decades old minus a husband.  Anyhow, they were a nice couple.  I gave them a calendar with some Bible verses on it, but they explained that they appreciated the gesture but weren't interested in converting.  We talked about it for a while, and Salvation, and what it means according to the Bible, but they seemed less than impressed.  So.  I hope they get saved.  The end.

Anyhow, the Her.meneutics article has a problem with the Karen Kingsbury story.  More than one, actually, but basically the author of the article is worried that girls will read the tale and become a wallflower who cannot think for herself.  Or speak for herself.  Perhaps a valid point (though really?  a little girl will grow up unable to think for herself because she one time read a picture book wherein the princess did nothing other than gasp and be happy that a husband had been found?), but what I thought was funny were the comments on the article.  Most people seemed to agree with the author, stating their reasons as to why such princess books were bad for children, and something about a funny scene in Shrek 3.  Never seen it, but apparently all the regular princesses (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella) think that help will come if only they act accordingly (act sleepingly, and scrub floors, for instace).  Anyhow, I have three things to say, both in response to the article, and also to the Shrek thing (which I haven't seen so I probably shouldn't be discussing, haha, but I'm only speaking for the scene in which the princesses do their sleeping/floor scrubbing).

1)  Uh, the man's job is to protect.  There are still some girls who assume that there is some guy who will act as her protector.  Not naming any names, for fear of being branded as, you know, having a Princess Complex, but I'm just putting that out there.

2)  While I agree that girls shouldn't sit about doing nothing, and dreamily saying that someday their prince will come, I have to say, is it so bad to be just doing your thing whilst you wait?  I mean, maybe you excel at mopping floors (a la Cinderella) and help out a lot of people by doing such... did that make Cinderella hopelessly inept because all she knew was cooking and cleaning?  Okay, so she'd never had to [fight/get out of tricky situations/whatever else may have happened in Shrek] but she was doing what she knew how to do. While I doubt she was doing it heartily as unto the Lord, I'd like to think it's kind of the same concept.

3)  My final point is that many of the comments in response to the article centered around the fact that the readers were upset that the book seemed to make marriage be the happily ever after.  "We are going to teach our daughter differently," the comments seem to say.  Uh, so you're worried that your daughter will read this book and then get the terrible idea that marriage is a great career choice (to borrow from my sister's phraseology)?  You and your husband are married, ma'am.  Do you worry that your daughter will see that you and your husband are (hopefully) contentedly married and then get the frightful idea that *gasp* she might want that, too?  I'd just like to point out that most people who are married with children will probably give their children the idea that marriage is often what you do with your life.  So... there's that.

Anyhow, I didn't mean to wax so eloquent.  I just read the article whilst I was reading up on things (that's another thing--I sort of didn't look at any blogs or anything while I was away, so now I'm looking back to see what I may have missed over the last three months) and thought I would share it.  The actual point of this entire long-winded point was mostly to say that if you do want a good picture book about Princesses, I HIGHLY recommend the book The Princess and the Kiss.  As far a picture books about princesses go, it's pretty much my favorite.  So.  You should all read it.  And your children should read it.  It focuses less on the happily ever after and more on purity.  Which I guess leads to the happily ever after, in this case.  But anyhow, as far as storybook lessons go, it's a good one.

PS, if any of this has offended you, as not being empowering enough to women, I'm... sorry?

Also...

I sort of forgot.  I went to the Rose Parade this year--

--I say this year like it's something I've always meant to go to and just didn't get a chance until this year.  False.  I didn't even know what it was until I was informed the people we were staying with were going, and that meant that I was going, too.  I had to have it explained to me.  Yeah.  That's how much I know about things related to sports.--

--and took some photos.  As you can see, it is a parade.  Called the Rose Parade.  People carried around those letters stating such.  So... that was exciting.  Actually, it was very interesting.  All of the floats were made from natural things, such as, you know, roses or whatever.

The actual interesting part was that we camped out on the sidewalk before the parade.  And when I say, "before the parade," what I mean is "for the entire NIGHT before the parade."  Not my idea.  But anyhow, one of those blue lumps is me, sleeping soundly.  I slept pretty much all night, because I have magical sleeping abilities, pretty much.  I'm sorry for everyone else who apparently can't sleep on sidewalks, but when I'm tired, I sleep.  It's awesome.

This last photo was me waking up in the morning.  I don't know if you can tell, but I look... like I just woke up.  I literally rolled out of bed and ta-da! there was the parade.  We were right on the street, so when all the police cars came by and stuff started happening, I woke up and got a front row seat.

I... will probably never do that again.  Even though I did sleep fairly soundly for six hours, I didn't think it was worth the six hours.  Then again, I was the girl at the parade who was saying, "Wait, the Rose Bowl is today? I've heard about that!  Football, right?"  I had no idea who was playing in the Rose Bowl or even that the Rose Parade was somehow related to the Rose Bowl.  Truth be told, I probably didn't deserve to be there.  Other, more worthy sports fans will cry at this account.  I'm sorry, sports fans.  It just sort of... happened.

Remember me?

So... I've been avoiding this blog for a while.  I went on a trip in December, and then in January I was busy literally all the time, and then in February, well, I was gone all month, and now that it's March I kept thinking that I should update this, but then I thought, well, it's not vital, besides, I have nothing to say, and so finally I put it on my to-do list.  I love to-do lists, and I hate to have items unfinished.  So, apparently, I should have put it on my to-do list long ago.  Perhaps you would have heard from me sooner.

Back to the trips I took.  One might think, me being a reasonably smart girl, I would have brought my camera with me on my various trips.  You would be correct.  One might assume, being that I went to (I think) 21 states and one Canadian province, that I might have actually used my camera.

In that, my friends, you would be wrong.  I took some pictures in Texas.  And... that was all.  And the only reason I took pictures in Texas was because I saw a sign stating that the area was under CCTV surveillance.  Anyone who has been to England will laugh, because if there's one thing England knows how to do, it's now to surveil its people.  True story.  The average Briton, they say, it photographed 300 times a day.  You'd believe it, if you saw how many camera they have over there.

Anyhow, all that to say, I laughed, and had to take a picture of the sign.  Some random rest stop in Texas is allowed to keep tabs on me, I don't care, but I thought it was a good timey throwback to days in England.

Anyhow, other than that, I have no interesting pictures to share.  Oh, except I did take a picture of some art of Texas at the same rest stop, simply because I was, you know, taking pictures.  So please, accept this last picture of Texas and accept my apology for not updating this for the past three months or so.

Start at Square 0

While in England, we went to the Prime Meridian.  Cool place, for people who like standing on Line Zero of the Lines of Longitude.  Personally, I like to stand on line zero.  Anyhow, we sort of raced through the park, and didn't pay to go to the museum (which was super sad, because I once read a fascinating book about John Harrison, who was a brilliant man who is apparently heavily featured in Greenwich attractions), but went to where the line was and stood about, taking photos.

Exhibit B.  Our feet.  Mine are the second ones back.  Running shoes are the only shoes for tourists (sorry, friend in front who took the time to pack cute purple boots.  I eschew cute shoes on vacation).  The end.  That or Nike flip-flops, which of course I could not wear.  But that's another story.  Anyhoo, sometimes I just like to think "remember that time I was in two hemispheres at once?  Good times.

Just realized: the shoes I wore?  Nike.  The flip-flops I love?  Nike.  I sometimes scare myself with all the unintentional brand loyalty I show.  Weird.

For the sake of variety

I was switching some things around with my comments, because there have been some issues, and I decided to change my template to... pretty much white.  Could I get any more boring?  I guess not.  Regardless, that's what I decided I liked best.

For those of you who haven't heard about my trip, which would actually officially be all of you, it went mostly as follows: From Wednesday the 1st through Wednesday the 9th we were in England.  We mostly bummed around in London, however, we took a trip to Oxford on Lord's Day, and a day trip to Paris on Tuesday.  There were five of us, which ended out working well, only minus the fact that most of the train cars have the four-chairs-facing-each-other thing, so we'd have to split up a bit on the trains.  What worked really well is that we were loud enough so that in the evenings, as we took the train back to our kindly hosts' house, we would sort of scare off the other passengers from our train car, so we'd have the whole car to ourselves.  That was pretty nifty.

Also, while in Oxford one of the girls bought a New Oxford Dictionary of Slang or some such thing and we happened upon the definition of "crusty," which meant a group of unwashed young people with very little money and no fixed place to stay, which we decided was pretty much us.  We had a place to stay, and we were fairly faithful with the showering, but we were sort of a pack of young people who had very little money, so it only made sense.   The picture you see is one of us counting our change one night on the train.  We were all very economical and would pinch pennies.  Literally, pennies.  Only, they're pence in England, and centime or something weird in France.

And that's all I have for you tonight.  Mostly: we had fun.  Also: we were kind of hobo-like at times.  Also: I miss foreign countries.  Also: I really like to be at home, too.

So pretty!

I'm back from England and loving this picture of St. Paul's that probably won't turn out because, well, it's a dark photo and weird. But it was so gorgeous!
Dear England, please have me back any time. Sincerely, a devoted fan.

Blame it on September

September started out very, very warm.  Like, 90s warm, plus 90 per cent humidity.  True story.  But then we all complained, and so September went all March on us, and right now it's low 60s and sort of rainy all the time. 

Weather is so confusing.  On the plus side, my dad always taught us that the first rule of driving was to leave the windows up, so we're pretty good at making sure we don't inadvertently let rain in the car as the weather turns odd for the fiftieth time.

Also, I'm planning on a cross-country road trip with my aunt and grandma come December, Lord willing, and while I'm sure a lot of folks wouldn't prefer to travel across country with their aunt and grandma, I think it'll be hilarious.  We tease my grandma that we're going to hit up every casino across country, just to get her all riled up about it.  At this point I think we have to lay off the jokes, because now she's getting worried that we'll be inveterate gamblers in no time.  Oops.  Either way, it should be fun.

Raindrops on Roses

Some of my favorite things, in no order, and certainly not a complete listing:

Puddles
Pineapple
Bibles.  I'd probably have 50 if it didn't seem excessive.
Pciture books
Libraries
Bookstores
Actually, anything having to do with books
Appropriately swift internet connections
Bags.  I'm not an accesory girl, but I love purses/bags.
Upbeat music
Also, melencholy music
But only if the music is good.  I super dislike naughty music.
Friends
Bibleing with my friends (you know who you are)
Mail.  When it's for me!  and... not a bill.
Nieces and nephews
Come to think of it, pretty much all family.
Fuzzy things
Speedlimits that are reasonably high.  For instance, not 55 mph.
When the doctor's office has cool magazines (aka, not celebrity gossip, but Bloomberg Buisnessweek or something)
Babies
Fairy tales
Couples who are happily married
Well-behaved children
Traveling
Also, traveling buddies
Also, road trips
Fryingpans (who knew, right?)
And, obviously, the upcoming Rapture.  Yay!

There's something about Heritage

I loved Rome. I loved everywhere I went, actually (my layover in Poland made me wish I could live there.... it was amazing), but there was something about Rome. Knowing that Paul used to hang out there, that Nero used to burn it down for fun (well, that was once, but still!), that the Christians in Romans huddled together to read Paul's letter to them... I don't know, it was pretty cool.

Not to mention: the Colosseum. I loved it. There was something about standing in that expansive structure, looking across at the floor (which wasn't as big as maybe I thought it would be), and knowing that the blood of hundreds of thousands of people had been mingled with the sand under the sound of a cheering mob... it was rather moving. Then to think of how many of those were Christians, killed for sport. I wanted to stand there and cry, but there were a bunch of people hanging around, so I didn't.

Also, we went to the catacombs. I mentioned those a few weeks ago, and I must admit, I thought it was well worth the admission price. Standing in the dark tunnels, running my hand across the uneven walls, wondering how many people used to call it home... Again, moving.

The weirdest thing, though, is how unimportant that seemed to the other tourists. Obviously, if you don't care about Christ, you're not going to care about the Christians who lived and died in His name, but I kept on looking around that great city and thinking: why are these crazy people here? It was crowded and full of other irritating tourists (and 55,000 German kids, thanks to our poor timing) and besides, they're just old buildings. I just couldn't imagine going there just for the sake of going. I was there to see one of the places the Bible happened! And it was totally worth it.

It also made me want to run home and read every book I'd ever read about Rome. I've read dozens of historical novels set in Rome over the years, and now that I've been there I figure I'll appreciate them even more. I haven't taken the time yet, but I have enjoyed reading those New Testament Pauline epistles since I returned. While I have no idea where Paul was under his house arrest, I know that he was there long enough to write some pretty swell parts of the Bible! I just keep thinking, "I was there, where the early Church was when they were still considered early! And where they used to hide out in fear, but sing out in boldness, in the face of all that went on."

I walked some of those streets. They've doubtlessly been re-cobbled, but fact is, it was the same part of the world. That was enough for me.

I'm back!

Tired, but back. I had an amazing two weeks, and now I just want to nap for two weeks. Alas, not so fast, thanks to work and life.

Anyhow, it was a whirlwind of awesome, truth be told. I'll outline the trip later, but essentially I flew out after work on the 30th, was in Italy for a week, and then was in Romania from the 6th up until the 13th, after which point I flew home to a wedding on Saturday, and made it home in time for work yesterday morning!

Like I said: nap needed. At work today I actually spent some time napping on the floor of one of the offices. It was refreshing.

Like they always say, though, there's no place like home!

Happy Travels to me!

As soon as I wrap up at work today, I'm off to ITALY! I've already mentioned this, I know, but I'm pretty excited. I just have to a) not miss my flight b) sucessfully meet up with my friends at the Milan airport c) pray that if I've forgotten something, it's nothing major.

Like it says in Psalm 121, though, He will preserve my going out and coming in. I do a lot of coming and going, so this is a nice passage, but even in general, I love the thought that the Lord watches our every step and guides our ways. He never fails!

I'll hopefully have a chance to let you know once I've come back!

Hasta la vista!

Finding home

I rarely ever hear songs by The Afters, but I happened to hear one this week that struck me as kind of up my alley. I don't actually remember much of what the song sounded like, but I looked up the lyrics when I got home because I was pretty sure that the words intrigued me. Either that, or I'd heard them totally wrong. But no, I'd heard them right.

"The World's got me tied on a string/Wanderlust has overcome me/Like Lewis and Clark I'll dream/There's a million different ways to go/Only God can know where I will call my home."

I actually have no idea what the point of this song is. I sort of get the impression that perhaps they wanted a few filler songs for a CD and just decided this one was good enough. Not that I dislike it, but I literally have no idea what the point of it is. It's called "Love Lead Me On" and the entirety of the chorus goes as follows: "Love lead me on/Where no one else has gone/Faith keep me strong/Love lead me on."

It also rambles about finding home, and love, and picture perfect sunsets, so I'm pretty sure it's just a feel-good song about finding home, but I mostly liked the lines about wanderlust and Lewis and Clark. One of my friends and I used to play Lewis and Clark (I'm pretty sure I was Lewis) and we were masterful waterfall jumpers. It was pretty swell.

I have a friend who is going to school to be a guidance counselor, and he's already pretty good at it. We'll be having a conversation and suddenly I'll realize that I'm just rambling about all sorts of stuff I normally wouldn't. It's rather unsettling, actually. That being said, I was talking about traveling the other day, and he asked me, "Do you get antsy if you stay in one place for too long?"

I had no idea what to tell him. I don't even remember the last time I stayed in one place for a long time. At least one weekend a month I'm somewhere else--anywhere else! And it's not that I don't love my family, or my home (because I love both, very much), but I'm just always doing other things on the weekends. It was odd for me to take a step back and look at myself the way others must see me. I know there are some people who think I'm out and about too much, that I should be home more.

But... I am pretty tight with my family. We eat two meals a day together, we discuss anything and everything whenever we have spare minutes, we travel places together when we get the chance, I ask my parents for advice about most things (even crazy-sounding things, so they can talk me out of it), and my siblings and I are incredibly close.

So, does my traveling a lot mean I'm escaping from something? Because I can't think of what I'd be running from, or what I'd be trying to run toward. My home is just that: Home. I wouldn't want to think I'm out trying to find another place to belong. I'm just out to find that perfect sunset, to play Lewis and Clark and make discoveries worth discussing at the dinner table.

I like to think of it like T. S. Eliot always said: "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

London

I've been listening to Brandon Heath's song, "London," pretty much non-stop this week, and now I miss London. It's silly, because it's not like I've been there a billion times (in fact, unless you count camping out in the airport, I've only been there once), but there's something about listening to that (somewhat sappy) song about snapping pictures of Parliament and Big Ben ringing and standing by the River Thames that makes me reminisce about the amazing time I had there one year with my two best friends.

It wouldn't be the same if I went back, I'm sure, but it was one of those trips that I won't ever forget. Unless I get dementia, or maybe Alzheimer's.

Other than that, though, I pretty much expect to remember it!

Road trippage

I simultaneously love and dislike road trips. I dislike them because they mean you're not there yet (yes, I'm about six), and also because road trips indicate a need to come back home again when the fun is over.

I love, them, however, because they have the immense potential to be hilarious. I've had some good road trips in my day, I'm telling you. There were road trips I had "back in the day" when I used to travel with a certain pack of people, and we generally chose to drive through the night, for some reason. I was usually voted co-pilot, due to my never having anything pressing the following day, so I got very good at keeping drivers awake.

There were road trips I used to take with my best friends down to Florida every year. For some reason they were never hilarious (though full of the Lord's mercies, due to weather and me not knowing how to drive very well) but they were just... nice. I remember one year we left North Carolina in the morning to head down to Florida and talked non-stop almost the entire way. Ooh, and once we went to Savannah, in honor of Savannah from Savannah. We took pictures with the books and everything.

There's one road trip I took with my best friend wherein we drove all through the night in time to arrive for a morning funeral. We pretty much just drove in our pajamas and did whatever we wanted. Again, it was of the Lord's mercies that we arrived in one piece, due to no gas stations being open (New York is retarded....), but He provided.

And there was the time when we had a van full (too full, actually, we had about three more people than seat belts) of people and were trying to get across the Canadian border. The Lord ended up sending along someone we knew to the gas station we were stopped at before the border (have I mentioned anything about the Lord's mercies?) and we shuffled around and it was fine, but we brought our binoculars so we could scope out a nice-looking border guard whose booth we wanted to hit, and we "spied" at the border, which was hilarious. Same trip, we were coming home and managed to joke around with our border guard. He thought we were pretty funny.

And the time I famously told the border guard (another trip, by the way) that we didn't have any food to declare, only some "samiches." He thought I was either crazy or hilarious, I'm not sure which.

I could have a lot of border crossing stories, but that's not what I'm getting at.

What I'm actually getting at is that I took a road trip with my brother and cousin this weekend, and it was awesome. Some road trips are nice, you know, where there's some talking, some sleeping, some reading, and it's all cool. This one had some sleeping and reading, but the talking was just brilliant.

We were traveling normally until I decided that we just had to play "Hey Cows" from the highway.

Interjection: Hey Cows is a game where you yell "Hey, cows" at a field of cattle, and if any of them look at you (or look like they're looking at you), then you "win." Of course, you don't win anything, and it's not really a game, but it's sort of hilarious if you're in the right mindset.

Anyhow, we Hey Cow'd for a while (and Hey Horse'd, and some other Heys, I forget what) and then started waving at truck drivers, so as to hear them honk. Then we transferred to waving at just regular-type drivers. And then we started making up stories about the drivers we were passing. Then we started talking in accents, and then it was all down-hill from there.

The stories we concocted were over the top. We were suddenly all really old for some reason (I'm not talking 103, I'm talking alive-during the civil war, had a crush on John Quincy Adams, used to live in England when they didn't have cars type of old), and my cousin was a school teacher who rode crocodiles to work every day (you know, the first version of crocs), and taught children nothing but how to dodge the things she threw at them. I had the crush on John Quincy Adams, and when I went to school, I learned useless words like effulgence and erroneous. I'd never been married, but my cousin had been married about seven times (I guess when you're as old as we were, your husbands are liable to die), most of whom she didn't like. Elgin was one of her favorites, and Elgin was pretty famous, apparently, since there was a whole town named after him.

Anyhow, the car was filled with this nonsense for at least two hours, until we arrived (I think my brother was extra-thankful to get there) and had to converse with polity society again. Both of us were talking with a vaguely old-timey accent for sort of a while, but it wore off.

Times like that remind me, though, that even if you don't make the journey about the stopping points (we get gas. And that's all), you can enjoy it none the less. Granted, I'd still prefer to break through the time/space continuum and get there (there meaning everywhere) in about .7 seconds, but I think I'm fine with the journey.

Plus, I'm used to it. I mean, I did travel with Lewis and Clark, after all.

Summer couldn't last forever...

Well, I had a great summer. I was away from home from May to the end of August, basically, and it was swell. So why is it the end of September and I'm only just now writing? In short, I'm slothful. And sluggardly, actually. A friend and I were discussing the other day whether or not it was a sluggardly sloth, or a slothful sluggard. Suffice it to say, I usually put off until tomorrow what I could have done today. Of course, since I'm actually doing this now, and it's within the first hour of today, I think it's only fair to say that in this case, at least, I've very decidedly NOT put this off.

All that aside, it's good to be back.

If I were a good blogger, I'd write all about my multitudinous summer adventures (and they were many, my friend) but... well, I just don't feel inspired to do so. Which is terrible! I was just looking through some old journals of mine, and I actually feel vaguely cheated out of all the events I didn't bother writing about because of sheer laziness (what was I just saying about the sluggardly sloth? Yeah, I wasn't joking). For instance, one summer I traveled extensively out West, and forgot my journal. So when I got home I wrote a list of the places I went, and that was that, no funny stories, no anything. There's a whole summer of my teenage years I'll never remember. I run across stuff all the time in my journals that I'd totally forgotten about. Sometimes I wish I could have forgotten them forever (read: anything I ever wrote about the male species, ever), but in general, I like to have at least some sort of documentation of my life.

But... like I said, I won't be able to blog all the time. Also, I have a bunch of blog entries I wrote back in the day (uh, earlier this summer...) that are now vastly outdated, but I figure one day I'll just post a bunch, with the appropriate notes stating that these are old and maybe even boring, but words for those starving for copious amounts of verbiage. Ooh, for instance, I wrote a blog post about a book at my grandma's house that I LOVED, and then she died, and I inherited it. Talk about a swell deal: she's in Heaven (!!) and I got a sweet book. Clearly she came out the victor in this situation, but hey, I'm making the best of still being here on Earth. Which is fine, living is Christ, after all...

So, all this was to say, I'm back. For today, anyhow. We'll see how I do as time ticks by. I trust the Lord is coming soon enough to make this post superfluous, but if He tarries, and you happen to read then, well, welcome, and feel free to smack me if I forget to prepare wordy snacks for your eyes every once in a while. Well, maybe minus some actual smacking. I sure do sound violent. I don't try, I promise!

That's actually something I've been meaning to work on, but that's a whole separate story for a separate post...