Ah, felicity

So as I was driving to my parents' house yesterday for my sister's birthday party, I saw three of these:

It was such a pleasant surprise. Are the little lambs being born already? That must mean spring is on the way! Okay, I know it probably won't come for at least another month, but it's definitely something to look forward to. And really, have you ever seen anything as cute as a newborn lamb frolicking around the field? I doubt it.

Bump it up!

I just saw a commercial for Bumpits. You know, from BigHappieHair.com. I saw the commercial on real TV; not just the Internet. Doesn't everyone want this hair?


Now you can have big happie hair too! Just check out the video:

Christmas Gift Guide

I know, I know. Between the GRE and moving, I seemed to have fallen into a black hole the past couple of months, but in an effort to make contact with the world (or the void, as the case may be), I present to you, this year's official Christmas Gift Guide--to spur new life into the last-minute shopping frenzy that's upon us. This list is made up of many fabulous gift ideas that come from my own findings and those around me (thanks Mom for the ultimate gift idea this year! See number 5). So without further ado, here's the 2008 gift guide!
1. Retainer necklace from Kiel Mead. No gift is as thoughtful as one that reminds the receiver of a past memory. Of course, I don't know if "awkward teenage years with braces" is the memory they prefer, but hey, it might be!

2. Daedalus Lamp from Tord Boontje. I think the visual explains it all on this one.

3. Station Organizer from Paper Source. There's nothing quite like a little plastic man sitting on your paper clips.

4. Recycled magazine mirror from Urban Outfitters. This mirror allows the recipient to not only check their appearance before leaving the house, but they have the satisfaction of knowing the mirror materials once graced the newsstand with details of Brad Pitt's life.

5. A Heifer from Heifer International. That's right. For just $500 you can give a cow to someone in a foreign country. After all, this gift comes from "the most important gift catalog in the world." If that isn't the "epitome of hyperbole," I don't know what is. (Thank you Brian Regan.)


That's all for now, but if I come across some other fantastic gift ideas, I'll be sure to keep you posted. If you have any gifts to include on the list, please feel free to share.

I don't get it

So, every morning I get an email from the HR department with a list of people who are out of the office for the day. They also include a "tidbit of the day." Today's was a quote from Stephen Nachmanovitch. I don't even know who that is. Anyway, here's the quote: "The noun of self becomes a verb. This flashpoint of creation in the present moment is where work and play merge." I read the quote, and then I read it again . . . and again . . . and again. It makes absolutely no sense to me. Then I googled it. It seems there are plenty of people out there who think it means something because it's listed on many quote sites and blogs as an inspiring quote. Maybe I'm missing something, or maybe I've already wasted enough of my life pondering, and even blogging, about such nonsense.

Stranger in a Strange Land

I was recently reading a design blog at work for some inspiration, and I came across this post. The author talks about moving to Germany for the first time, and her adventures of not speaking German very well and not knowing the culture. I was intrigued by what she had to say, and it has me thinking about new places and new situations. Often exploring new places and cultures is the reason we give for traveling to far-off lands or cities (even within our own country). I've never been a daredevil in any sense of the word, but I think there's something to be said for adventure and exploration of this sort. (I don't really think jumping out of a plane qualifies as adventure. That falls more into the "insanity" category.)

I love that she conveys the uneasiness of being the odd one out. There's a certain power that comes from conquering the unknown--knowing you can do it and seeing the hand of God in your life in the process. But there is a lingering uneasiness that gradually fades until you don't realize that it's gone, but you suddenly feel comfortable in your surroundings. The new surroundings can be as simple as a new job or home, or it can be as major as a move across the country or world. At what point do you switch from yearning for the "home" that is far away to being glad when after a long journey you are, at last, "home"?

And then there is the aspect of leaving where you are comfortable, or you are in the majority (whatever majority that may be), to a place where you are suddenly in the minority--the odd one out--and discovering what sort of mettle you truly possess, and how who you are or what you stand for suddenly comes to the forefront as the defining piece of your personality.

I've only really been in that situation a couple of times--where I've been completely out of place and there isn't much familiar around me. I think of those times and realize those were some of the greatest growing experiences I have ever had. There is also the external factor--of going from merely enduring what or who is around you, because they are all so unfamiliar, to embracing your surroundings, or your surroundings embracing you.

Not that this is a particularly significant thought, but it's what's on my mind. So that's what gets posted today.

Famous Last Words

I recently read the last words to Stephanie Meyer's latest book (thanks for pointing these out, Sam). No, I haven't read any of those books, so I can't really judge them based on this phrase. So if you love those books, please don't take offense; I'm not attacking the books; just the last phrase of the last book. The last phrase of Breaking Dawn reads "And then we continued blissfully into this small but perfect piece of our forever." Okay, you have to admit that's pretty laughable. I'm not sure how that one slipped passed her editor.

This has me pondering the last phrases of many movies and books, and I realize that there are many horrible last words. Why is that? It's the readers/viewers last impression of the story. It ought to weigh more than the opening scene. I think of the last words in Spiderman 2: "Go get 'em, tiger." Seriously? Who wrote that? I laughed out loud in the theater when I saw the end of that movie. Another favorite was from King Kong. That was a long, laughable experience all the way through, but when Jack Black said stoically, "It wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast," I just had to shake my head. I understand it was a shout-out to the original film, but seriously, if there's a really bad last line in the original, for heaven's sakes, cut it in the remake.

What happened to fantastic endings like "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known," from A Tale of Two Cities? It's those lines which leave you thinking about the story and feeling edified. Or this last line from the timeless King Lear: "The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say: The oldest hath borne most; we that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long." As far as movies, what about the awesome last line of Casablanca: "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." There's a line worth remembering!

So, what really bad or really good last lines have you come across?

To Go Green

I don't know about all of you, but I'm sure sick of hearing how we can "go green" in our daily lives. (In case you're worried, this is not about global warming or our effects on it.) Don't get me wrong--I believe quite strongly in being a good steward over this earth. We need to be careful of what resources we take and how they are replaced. I personally recycle, and I try to combine trips to save on gas (admittedly, there is a financial incentive there). However, I am tired of this frenzied effort to save every tree we see, and conserve so much energy that we use no energy. I have heard of recent "green" efforts such as hanging up clothes lines to dry all of your clothes instead of using your dryer (saving energy!), washing clothes with cold water instead of warm or hot water, using energy-efficient (albeit dim) lightbulbs, setting your thermostat higher in the summer and lower in the winter, or riding your bike to work.

While all of these are good efforts, and I don't condemn anyone for these practices, it seems that the norm is becoming more extreme. I feel like we're going backward and not forward as far as technology and innovation go. In my opinion, inventions such as hot water heaters, clothes dryers, indoor heating, and cars were invented for our benefit. I hate to see the day come when we have gone back to horse-drawn wagons, wash boards, candles and potbelly stoves (oh wait, those use wood for fire--so not green).

All of this reminds me of the Mannerism movement in art. It was a reaction to the Renaissance, particularly High Renaissance. The Renaissance was literally a rebirth of skill, idea, and talent. It is thought that this was the era when art finally reached, and even surpassed, the perfection found before the Middle Ages. It included artists such as Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. Instead of continuing the traditions of perfection, the Mannerist artists exaggerated forms and began to make them imperfect and almost not real. In many views, this was a step backward, not forward. Compare "Madonna with the Long Neck" to the anything by da Vinci, such as his sketch "Head of a Woman." There's no comparison.

What does Mannerism have to do with going green? I don't think we've reached technological perfection, but it seems the extremes of going green include moving backward instead of forward, just like Mannerism. It seems with all of the intelligence and information at our immediate disposal, we would have greater and more innovative ways of solving the world's problems other than taking away the innovation that has been the hallmark of our world for the last few hundred years.

I wonder how often in our lives we continuously look backward for solutions to our greatest problems, when what we need is the foresight that will give us that next innovation, and then harness that ingenuity into solving instead of avoiding our problems.

I may completely off on this one, but it was just a thought. But I'll be forming a protest for the day they take away the printing press in favor of handwritten, illuminated manuscripts. That's where I draw the line.

MIA

It has been a good long time since I posted anything, and I'm afraid it isn't going to get much better until August, probably. I mostly blame this class I'm taking. It's really taking up all my spare time (which isn't much in the first place), so please excuse the absence. We'll (or "I" if you're opposed to me using the majestic plural "we") be back to normal shortly. Just a couple of notes: yes, Steve, the backgrounds totally give away whose shoes belong to whom. Apparently it took a few people a while to catch on to that, and you know I'm up for a trip to the city any time. It has been way too long! Hooray for Annie for getting the correct shoe answer!

I do have a couple musings I'm mulling over, but until I fully understand Statistics and its cosmic importance, I can't fully flesh the musings out enough to post. However, I will tell you this: they have to do with Mannerism, the fad of "going green" and other sundry items. Interesting, huh? It's okay to just pretend you're interested. I won't be offended.

Some Pics to Enjoy & a Musing

So, here it is--the long-awaited photo.

Now you understand about the funny face. Anyway, this was based on The Shoe Project, which is kind-of a cool photo project done in San Francisco of random people and their shoes. If you can guess which shoes are mine, I'll give you a nickel. At least, I'll think about giving you a nickel.

This past weekend, I went down with the fam to Spring City to tour some of the historic homes in town. It's such a cool place. This is a picture of the home of my great-great-great Grandfather, Wiley Payne Allred. There's something about seeing a place where your ancestor lived. He suddenly seems real, and there is such a connection there.

There's also something to be said for eking out a living in the middle of nowhere and surviving in this desert country. I often wonder what made them stay, especially after he moved over to Emery. I think a bit of my heart is in each place. In fact, during the one time of my life when I spent significant time in a large city, I often thought of the wide open land and beautiful sunsets. When what I saw everyday was this:

I saw in my mind's eye and yearned for this:

I guess as much as I love the city, I'm not really a city girl at heart.

Another random musing for the day--first of all, isn't this just the most adorable Mother's Day card you've ever seen?

It's from my nephew, Will. I know, I'm not a mother, but hey, are we not all mothers? Something about watching a child discover language just melts my heart. Along those lines, may I just say that all mothers who work tirelessly night and day for their children's welfare are amazing? I was reading a co-worker's blog today, and she linked her "one of those days" stories to this talk she gave on Mother's Day. I absolutely loved it, and highly recommend it for your own reading pleasure. I love how honest she is--it's hard work, and she admits it, but at the same time, there is no other work that's quite as rewarding. I loved her comparison to a mission. How differently would we all act if we constantly saw our current position in life as a mission? Interesting.

Look Ma, I'm in a magazine!

First things first: the spring bulbs bloomed! Here's a photo of a couple daffodils (taken at night--excuse the quality).

Okay, so it's not exactly the ten thousand at a glance, but it's good enough.
Second, I must apologize for my lengthy absence. I'm not sure where April went. I think it got lost in this pile of boxes somewhere, since I spent a lot of April working out details for the Women's Conference school kits Humanitarian project I helped out with.

My last excuse is that I have recently started taking a statistics class. Before you yell for all to hear "Are you crazy?" Let me explain. After much deliberation, I have, indeed decided to go to graduate school, if anyone will take me. Part of that process for one program I will be applying for is taking an undergraduate-level statistics class. The professor in charge of that program suggested I take it before I take the GRE, since it will help with the math portion of the test. Considering I haven't cracked a math book in 10 years (and my last experience involved getting a big fat 1 on the AP Calculus test--yep, they actually give out 1s on AP tests), I took his advice. The only problem is, instead of enjoying sandy beaches this summer, I'll be calculating standard deviations. I'm not sure what I was thinking.

However, I did try to take Wordsworth's advice this weekend and let Nature be my teacher. I went to the park for a couple of hours while I did my stats homework yesterday. The weather was beautiful and really one of the first outside-weather days I've seen all year. Nature was indeed my teacher, but instead of teaching "truth breathed by cheerfulness," it taught me, once again, that fair-skinned people should stay away from exposure to the sun at all costs. A nice, uneven sunburn is always a good way to start off the season of hotness. Enough on that tangent.

I must say that part of my problem is that one of the last things I want to do when I come home from work is write more. I'm a writer, for heaven's sake. What's my problem? After thinking about this, I've decided that it's because I write or deal with words all day long in my profession, and to be a good, creative, and successful writer, I need to not be a writer 40 hours a week writing something else. I need to be a writer 40 hours a week writing the great American novel (ha). I can't really help that situation right now, so I guess the Pulitzer (or Newberry) will have to wait (more of a loud, raucous burst of laughter this time) until I'm independently wealthy and retired.

Oh, and one more random thought for the day: my face--and shoes--officially made it into the June issue of the magazine. I'm sorry to disappoint you all, but I don't actually have a copy of the magazine just yet, but I've seen it out there. I'll post a picture when I get it for you all to enjoy. I say "enjoy" because the photo they used of me was one I begged the designers not to use, but for some odd reason they loved it. After seeing it, the editor-in-chief came over to my cube and said, "I just saw your photo for the shoe shoot. I've never seen that side of you before." Yeah. I know you're all curious now, but you'll just have to wait for the photo, or you'll have to pick up a copy of the magazine from the newsstand.

So little time . . .

A little while ago, my sister sent this quote: "Everything was busy making signs of spring, and one could become tired of ice and snow after a while, and so hungry for summer that those first days which were just hints of what was coming were almost better than the real thing when it arrived."
It's from what is probably my favorite children's book of all time--Laddie by Gene Stratton Porter. This is SO how I have felt since January. I'm glad spring is finally showing itself around here. The other day, my roommate and I planted the spring blubs that have been sitting in the garage all winter. Since they started sprouting without dirt, we figured we ought to give them some dirt and light to see what they would do. I'll keep you posted on that one.

Another random note for today: have you ever felt that there is so much you want to do and you just don't have the time or energy to accomplish it? I'm absolutely certain that if I were independently wealthy, I would have no problem quitting my full-time job (as much as I enjoy it) and filling my time at home with other pursuits. Here's my current list of things I'd love to do but don't have enough time for:
- write a children's novel
- change the world by writing societal commentary (in published form)
- be a museum curator--preferably over history
- do my family's genealogy and become an expert genealogist
- learn to sew well
- get a masters degree (one I'm actually pursuing--I'm leaning toward Communications)
- study at one of the great British universities
- read, read, read (the more I read, the longer my book list gets)
- start a magazine
- increase violin skills to be good enough to be in a good symphony

So, what about you, my blog friends (all 3 or 4 of you), what's on your list these days?

Peace of Mind

So, I've been flat in bed or watching daytime television for nearly a week now with some horrible illness. After I had suffered three days of burning fever, aches to keep me awake all night, and delirious dreams when I could sleep, I finally decided to go to the doctor on Monday. I called the nurse before I went to make sure she thought it would be worth it. I didn't want the doctor to say, "Yup, you're sick with something. Now go home and rest." I don't need a doctor to tell me that. I barely managed telling the nurse anything because I had no voice to speak of, so she thought it best I come in possibly for a strep test.

After I managed to get myself there (thank goodness for moms when you're not coherent enough to drive yourself), I finally got in to see the doctor. She asked me a series of questions and said, "Well, would you like to be tested for the flu or for strep? It's possible it's one of those." I had never been presented with options like that. I was kind-of hoping she would just tell me what tests she was going to do. Rather that answer, I deflected and said, "Well, there's not much you can do if it's the flu, right?"

She said there wasn't but then proceeded to convince me that I needed to be tested for the flu. Her argument went something like this, "Well, doing the test will give you the peace of mind of knowing that you've got the flu, and giving everyone else the peace of mind that that's what you've been exposing them to and what they have exposed you to." I wasn't really in the mood, or presence of mind, to argue with her on that. And, hey, who doesn't need a little peace of mind? Besides, I thought maybe she'd do a strep test too, which I would consider beneficial. No one wants to end up with rheumatic fever two weeks down the road.

A few minutes after some guy stuck a Q-tip up my nose, she came back and said, "Congratulations, you have type A influenza. The good news is, it's the more mild version, and you get to be an official flu statistic at the state health department." I felt so privileged--I was official. I celebrated by going straight to the pharmacy to stock up on Sudafed and NyQuil. I'm not sure the knowledge that I had the flu brought the peace of mind she expected to me or my group of fellow sickies, but that NyQuil brought 13 hours of sound sleep that night. That's what I call peace of mind.

So, to all you who feel there may be something keeping you from finding peace, let me suggest being tested for the flu. The doctor says it brings peace of mind, and hey, she's the expert.

All hail the mighty semicolon

I think it quite appropriate here to send out an alert to all unassuming readers: "word snob alert!" as Annie so deftly warned in a comment a few posts back (and Annie, you know you're just as much of a word snob as I). While this isn't about any particular word, it is in the same vein, since it's about what punctuates those words. So, if the scintillating dramas of semicolons doesn't excite you, move on. Read elsewhere. This is no place for you today.

I came across a wonderful article in the New York Times today entitled "Celebrating a Semicolon in a Most Unlikely Location." I'm amazed the writer could fit the mention of a serial killer, the No Child Left Behind act, a New York Times bestseller, and Kurt Vonnegut all in an article on semicolons. That's quite a feat, but I digress.

I am quite happy to see people being recognized for good punctuation, and I think it should be done more frequently. Perhaps we ought to have an annual award that recognizes one person's quest to use the semicolon in a felicitous manner, and maybe we can give extra points or the Miss Congeniality award to the person who uses it in the most amusing manner. Imagine where some of the Bulwer-Lytton contest entries could go with the correct usage of a semicolon!

In fact, in celebration of this semi-colon recognition and general literary amusement, perhaps we ought to all enter the Bulwer-Lytton writing contest this year (the official deadline is April 15), and make sure you include plenty of well-used semicolons!

Pews of Distinction

As I was traveling home this evening, I saw a large truck drive into our neighborhood. This wasn't out of the ordinary by any means, particularly in a neighborhood that is fairly new and has a lot of construction going on. What caught my eye was the writing on the side of the truck as it passed in front of me: "Church Furniture of Distinction." Sure enough, there was a large picture of church pews next to the verbiage. Okay, it isn't a sight you see every day, but it isn't that unusual considering they are building a couple of new chapels in the area as well. What triggered the irony radar was that today is Sunday. Isn't it a little strange that a company serving the religious population doesn't follow the law of the Sabbath?

I can just see the scene now:
Phil: "Hey, Bob--looks like we've got another fireside going on this evening."
Bob: "Yup. I think we're gonna have to kick people out of church again."

The ensuing scene consists of people standing (if they are deacons, they are running instead of standing) in the snow consuming their punch and cookies after the youth fireside ends 30 minutes early. Good times.

Superfluous

Have you ever noticed that the word "superfluous" is, well, superfluous? It's a rather ironic situation, but it has me pondering this evening. I realize that on the eve of so-called "Super Tuesday" I could be pondering on the political significance of this cosmopolitan election year, or on whether the large amount of snow we received yesterday in this colder-than-normal winter is some strange sign of global warming, or whether, in fact, there is enough scientific evidence to suggest that anything we do contributes to global warming. But my mind goes back to my initial query--why are there so many words that have another word that means the exact same thing? I realize this cries heresy, considering my training in the English language and its literature, but let me explain.

I can understand words of similar meaning existing. "Assassination" and "murder," for example both have a legitimate place in our vocabulary (although, it does make one wonder how famous a person must be in order to be assassinated instead of murdered). But why must we use both "large" and "huge," not to mention the recent ghastly edition to our lexical canon, "ginormous"? A "tome" is really no more than a "book." And then there are the words that are longer than their definition: Triskaidekaphobia=fear of 13. Let's not even mention words that are in common usage but aren't used correctly or don't really exist (think of business-ese and education-ese, and their need for the word "metadiscourse" to exist).

I am not suggesting we remove these words from our dictionary (except maybe "ginormous")--poor Mr. Johnson would never approve of such things--but merely look at the words we use. Are we using them because they are the best word for the purpose, or are we spouting them merely because they are there, floating in some undefinable nebula waiting to be utilized (or, ahem, used). Do they truly enhance communication or do they detract because they muddle meaning instead of clarify? What are words but a venue for communication, and if they don't add meaning, they ought not to be used.

Perhaps it was the poets who encouraged this extensive language--in order to fit their meter and rhyme, but I doubt it. Or perhaps this entire musing is superfluous; not just the word "superfluous."

5 things

First of all, wow. Just wow. I'm amazed at the number of comments on my last post. I'd like to continue the discussion, but right now, my mind isn't coming up with anything brilliant to say. Stay tuned . . . In the meantime, here's a lil' "5 things" tag from Caron.

Five things I was doing 10 years ago
1. Smiling broadly (it was about this time of year I received by acceptance letter to BYU. I had perma-grin for about 2 months after that, I'm sure.)
2. Spending lots of time with various orchestral groups. Those were the days.
3. Wasting time that should have been spent on homework (wheely chair races in AP Research, Bread and Jam club, etc.)
4. Planning my future life as an engineer (ha, good one. Glad I came to my senses.)
5. Suffering through AP Chemistry. (What was I thinking?)

Five things on my to do list today
1. Go to the grocery store
2. Get my hair cut (hooray for hair cuts!)
3. Go to the temple
4. Finish my laundry
5. Clean my room
**Exciting stuff, huh?

Five things I will do when I'm a millionaire
1. Quit full-time employment and pursue writing the great American novel.
2. Buy a house. And a subaru.
3. Get an advanced degree from Oxford
4. Become an art collector
5. Travel to exotic places, like Britain

Five things I'll never wear again
1. Skinny jeans (sorry, very few people look good in those monstrosities)
2. Those elastic bands with the big plastic balls on the end
3. That blue dress I wore as a uniform in the Granite Youth Symphony
4. Socks over my pegged pants
5. Pegged pants

My favorite toys
1. Rainbow Brite (as a child)
2. Baby Brite (as a child)
3. Strawberry Shortcake (as a child)
4. The illustrious iPod (now--it often keeps me sane at work)
5. That pink-flowered, banana seat bike with the white basket (as a child. Does a bike count as a toy?)

Banes of my existence
1. The subjunctive form. Seriously, I will never master that.
2. The different forms of "lay" and "lie."
3. Neil Diamond. "There are two kinds of people in this world . . ."
4. Badly written New York Times bestsellers
5. Plurals expressed with an apostrophe (as in "my sister's went to the store")

Five people to tag
1. Jill
2. Heather
3. Ron (come on, do it)
4. Michelle
5. Marissa

Just Call Me June

So, rather than write the obligatory "new year" post, I've decided to post about something I've been thinking about a lot lately. I've decided I was born many years too late. In fact, I would have loved to be June Cleaver. Now, before anyone who reads this makes some comment on the oppressive gender politics of the 1950s, let me clarify, that I would love it from what it appears to be on the surface (and I think a few people are a little out of control when it comes to assuming the life of a 1950s housewife was always terrible). Besides June Cleaver's ability to solve any problem in 30 minutes or less (remember when Beaver discovered he actually liked Brussel sprouts?)--no comments on my inability to grasp reality--there is a lot to be desired. From a fashion perspective, it would be fantastic--wearing "everyday" dresses and "Sunday" dresses. How wonderful to not only wear hats because it was socially acceptable but to wear them because they were expected. And then there are the aprons. Just look at this!


Oh, to have an excuse to have more than one of these in bright, colorful patterns. (More cute aprons of this variety can be found here.)
Now, before I proceed, I understand that the grass is always greener, but there's something quite appealing about the domestic arts--the feeling that you have something to show for your efforts: a clean home, a handmade quilt, etc. Perhaps it's just that I think it would be wonderful to actually go grocery shopping at 10:00 in the morning instead of 10:00 at night, or to go to the bank before it closes, (I never understood why they couldn't stay open until at least 6:30 or 7:00.) or to have the time and energy to actually cook dinner in the evening. Or perhaps it's that I really was born 50 years too late.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

It's a little late, but here are a few pictures of those favors I put together for Thanksgiving. What great times. I love getting together with the family and eating to your heart's content. Of course, that tends to be every holiday in my family.


On the back of each place card, this is what it said:

So, over the past couple of weeks, we've had a couple of good snow storms. After the first one, this is what I saw Saturday afternoon above our front door. Poor little bird! He was probably so shocked by the sudden cold storm.

Here's a not-so-good picture of our street at night after another small amount of snow fell.

Last night, I went to the Mormon Tabernacle Christmas concert with the King Singers, and it was wonderful! I think one of my favorite things to do during the holidays it go to Christmas concerts. I love imagining the heavenly hosts singing praises at the most significant event to ever happen on this earth. The Choir's version of The First Nowell is exactly what I envision the angels singing.
I also love Christina Rossetti's setting of that first Christmas night. It's a song that often heard this time of year, but often, my favorite part of the poem isn't sung (the middle stanzas). Here's the full version:
In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

I love the subtlety of the event--that the world at that moment didn't know or understand the significance (except for a few shepherd and wise men from the East). But the angels of heaven couldn't hold back their exuberance. They sang "glory to God on high." What must that have been like? To be a prophet who has prophesied of Christ's birth or to be one of the people that knew this is the event that has been anticipated for thousands of years. And here is the event that proves to the world that God keeps his promises to His children. He did indeed provide a Savior for the world, and this was the beginning of his earthly ministry--a humble birth where angels rejoiced, a star showed the way, and only the humble and faithful worshipped him.

It's November!!

And that means we are long over due for some pics from the illustrious family and work Halloween parties. Here is one of the CK staff in their Halloween costumes. I'm the witch in the back.

This one is of Janice and I in our matching black and white stripes.

This is one of the Holland family. Too bad Lee didn't dress up this year. (ha)

Here is one of H and G. Nice guys, seriously.

This is Sam sacrificing himself in order to win the peanut game (played without peanuts since Will is allergic).

And here's a close-up of my green makeup.

Also check out the fam's blog for a sweet one of Mom in her orange glory. The socks are a special touch on that one.

And I have to say, I absolutely love November. I love Thanksgiving and the feeling of reflection. For some reason, it hits in November more than any other time of year. Maybe it's just the thought of family getting together for the big feast and the great food preparations beforehand. Anyway, I'm pretty excited for it this year. I've been put in charge of the favors/place cards this year. Maybe that's because everyone knows I've been stockpiling scrapbooking supplies that I will never use up. Check back later for a picture of the complete projects. In the meantime, if you have any really great (and fairly short) gratitude or Thanksgiving quotes that would come in handy, let me know.

Anticipation

Well, I'm afraid it's been a busy couple of weeks, hence no post. We officially have a functioning stove again. (woo hoo!) I have used it once since it started working again, and all's well so far, but I couldn't help but flinch just a little bit when I turned that burner on, hoping no infernal flames would come shooting out.

Heather, Graham, Sammy, and I spent one heck of a cold afternoon in P-town last weekend watching our dear Cougs oust the opponent amidst a lot of snow (particularly in the 3rd and 4th quarters). I love the anticipation of the snow and the upcoming holidays, but I'll admit, standing in the wet cold for that long wasn't very pleasant. I'll remember to be inside when the next storm hits, maybe.

It seems I'm embarking on that sentimental journey a little early this year. Perhaps it's because working for a magazine forces you to think six months ahead. Do you remember as a kid the crazy anticipation that led to any holiday? It didn't matter what it was, you were always excited. But you were doubly so when it came to holidays like Halloween and Christmas. We used to have really great extended family Halloween parties when I was a kid, and everyone dressed up in really great costumes. All of the kids would go trick-or-treating together and then come back to the party where we were on a sugar high for the next two weeks, depending on how long the candy would last.

And then there was the supreme magic that surrounded the entire Christmas season. You just never thought Christmas would ever come. Honestly, I hope some of that magic still exists in me somewhere--that hope of good things to come. I heard this broadcast from the Tabernacle Choir last year and have never forgotten it. On a more general scope in life, anticipation is that longing for good things. How interesting. Perhaps we ought to more frequently sense that feeling of anticipation, anxiously waiting, for those good things yet to come.