Thursday, January 24, 2008

It seems to me / That yet we sleep, we dream.

So, we all have them from time to time, those bizarre and often surreal dreams that involve our co-workers and colleagues. Now, I'm not going to talk about mine, but let's just say, they are sufficiently surreal.

It appears that in order for us to have these dreams, we must star in other people's Apollinaire-esque night landscapes, too.

There is a young lady who works with me at the library. She came in on Monday, and I think it had been preying on her mind, so as soon as she saw me she blurted out that she had had a strange dream that I had been in.
Amused and a little intrigued, I encouraged her to divulge the details.

It would seem that in this dream I was studying the monkeys and, when she came to ask me a question (as she does in real life), I informed her that I was too busy caring for and watching the monkeys to be bothered and that she should go away. I then turned back to the monkeys and preceded to take notes.

Monkeys
.

I don't really think I need to editorialize that any more. Talk amongst yourselves.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Something's Different ... Wait, Wait; Don't Tell Me!

After months of waiting for a lock that could be clipped to the side, I just couldn't take it anymore;
100_6817


100_6818

100_6823

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100_6833

so I cut it.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

A Whole New Interface

In the Study at home, we have our computer desktop. This is where the rather tantalizing (at least, to Baby Girl) infrared, wireless keyboard lives that was Mom's Christmas present last year. In order to help curb her enthusiasm for hitting the space bar and the extra little button that closes whatever window you are currently working in, we drug out of the closet one of our old keyboards. It sits on the floor, not plugged in, so she can bang away any old time she wants.
Apparently this afternoon she spent a good solid ten minutes with the end of the cord trying to plug it into her belly button.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Hey, I Think Someone Took Out The Batteries

Yesterday morning there was a box of chocolates open on the coffee table in the living room. I walked into the room to discover Baby Girl, who has never encountered a box of chocolates before, diligently trying to push one of the nougats to find out what this array of buttons would do.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

This is the Part that Sucks

This morning I had to go do one of the things that will be a feature of the rest of my life: I went to a funeral for one of Jason's congregation members.
For the rest of this time I am on this earth, I will know people that Jason has served as their minister, people who I regard as friends and have come to think of as family, and they will pass on and I will be confronted with this incredible sense of missing. It is infinitely rewarding and meaningful to be taken into the hearts and families of so many people when you're part of the family of the minister, but it is such a cruel reality to have a sense of their loss when one of their member's dies.
Pray for us all; there is such need for healing in the world. May the Peace that passes all understanding be yours.

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Everything's Up To Date in Kansas City

We got back from our trip after another 9+ hours in the car on Friday.

We opened presents, visited family, had big meals, ran around like crazy people, enjoyed some free babysitting, caught colds, gave each other conjunctivitis (Baby Girl was first), got prescriptions, served raw meat to family (which no one saw as being a subtle message with an edge to it ... hmmm, ;) ), made amends with crème brûlée, and had one good night of sleep for everyone, at the same time, the entire time we were there . . . the first night.

That being said, it was a great trip.

Now, before I go any further, I should warn our families that I am just expostulating here and by no means should any of you get in any way excited.

While Jason and I were out on our anniversary--enjoying some of that free babysitting--we had an excursion to the Nelson-Atkins Art Museum to see the new addition. As the Nelson was my first experience with a fine art museum, it holds a lot of sentimental value for me, in particular because there are aspects of the collection that I know so well, and also because they own my favorite Impressionist piece of all-time (which, of course, was in storage). The new addition has allowed them to open up their modern and post-modern collections, and they are re-vamping the Asian collections and, while the new addition is open, renovation will continue into 2010.
As we strolled, very excited at everything we were seeing, and then meandered on down to the Plaza for a late lunch at one of our all-time favorites, it kept occurring to me how absolutely comfortable Kansas City feels. It is, as Jason so succinctly put it, a very human-sized city. In preparation for our anniversary date, I had patrolled several theatre company websites in the city to see what was going on (nothing spectacular, everyone was in post-Christmas lull), and saw several new companies and spaces and, I will admit, spent some time scheming about how I could fit myself back into it all.
And did I mention all of the free babysitting?
But, that would mean leaving here: here where we have friends, where Jason and I both have jobs, where we like the seasons, where I have painted walls in this house, where life just doesn't feel quite done yet.
So, as I was saying to my mother-in-law, Jason and I feel like the next place is one of four locales, and Kansas City was in that list with no particular order or preference. I think it may have just found a little bit of preference this last week.
*Sigh*, it would all be so simple if we could just pick up this part of the world (at least, the bits I like) and move them all to that part of the world; the only problem is, I think I want the summers here, too. I have had enough of 85% humidity to last me a lifetime.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Reflecting

Ten years ago today, Jason and I were married in front of our friends, our church, God, and society.

Today, ten years later, we are sneaking out to see the new addition to the Nelson-Atkins museum and having a bit of dinner at one of our favorite restaurants while Baby Girl is entertained and adored by her family.


On this day, it is appropriate to remember some things:

I remember walking into the church that morning to get ready to see one of the congregants with a mop and a bucket of water; she had gotten up that morning to make sure the church was super-clean for our wedding day.

I remember, after a tumultuous rehearsal dinner and final preparation of the sanctuary, having Rev. Keith Harris walk into church, stop in to see how I was, ask me how I was, and when I replied just as relaxed as if I had had a valium (which I hadn't), Keith said, "you're ok? You're ok!? Ok, you're ok."

I remember Jason calling me the morning of the wedding, after I was at church, and asking me to go see if his coat was in the narthex; I later found out this was because my wedding band was in the pocket.

I remember the woman who came in to do our flowers (a very modest proposition); she had also picked up flowers from the City Market that morning and, once our cake arrived, preceded to decorate the buttercream frosting with white chocolate shavings with fresh flowers in my wedding color of burgundy.

I remember all of us joking that Dennis would play "Son of a Preacher Man" while I walked down the aisle; then I discovered that he had played it, during the prelude music, along with a real schmaltzed up version of "The Old Grey Mare". I also remember that he played "Greensleeves" for me, because that was what I wanted to walk in with (thank you, Dennis); and I also remember the husband of my Matron of Honor being really confused that we had played "What Child Is This" as my entry music.

I remember hoping Tom's hair wouldn't be purple; and then not caring.

I remember the delight of recognition as the congregation figured out what we were recessing out to; I also remember how hard all of Jason's friends worked to getting it to play on the church's sound system.

I remember watching my bridesmaids walk into the sanctuary and having the realization that my train needed to be fluffed; I remember my Dad coming to the rescue and very diligently following my directions in the nanosecond that we had while the doors were closed.

I remember the Groom's cakes: a spice cake Bart Simpson and a chocolate Darth Vader.

I remember my sister-in-law, perched behind me with billows of satin over her head, diligently trying to find the hooks to bustle my train.

I remember my father-in-law, greeting me in the narthex, before the congregation came out, hugging me and saying, "welcome to the family."

I remember marrying my best friend. I love you, Jason; it is a good life.