I made it!

Today is November 30, and with this post, I have made it through NaBloPoMo with a post each day. Nothing profound, I'm afraid, but it was an interesting experience for me. mc noted some things she learned by participating in NaBloPoMo, and my experience has been similar. My traffic did increase; my comments less so, although I have noticed a few new commenters. Mostly, I think it was good for me to take on the discipline to write something, anything everyday. Maybe I'll keep it up.

And if I win a prize, so much the better!

I'm just saying....

• Wednesdays are enough to make my head expwode. Too fireplacing many meetings. Meetings all day long. Argh...

• It's awfully warm to be almost December. Not that I'm totally complaining, but still, it's weird. I sort of wish it would get cold and snow.

• Yesterday the Kid was really psyched for school today, but it turned out to be a terrible, horrible, not-so-good day for him. Sigh. Every fall he starts out strong, and every year by about this time he's begun the downhill slide that ends up with him just eeking by. Not because the work is too hard either, but because he forgets assignments, loses assignments, is sloppy and not well organized--despite many efforts to help him be more organized.

• So there's bird flu in South Korea. Lovely Daughter #1 is in South Korea. Yeah.
  

• Blue. It's the color of the season. I'm just saying.

Time

I am usually a punctual person, and I know how to get out of the house fairly quickly in the morning. I've managed 8:00 am classes when it meant getting kids to daycare and commuting 30 minutes beforehand. I can be ready for a 7:00 am communion breakfast, and I 'm often the first one to arrive at social events. So why, if I don't have a definite time to be somewhere, does it take me fireplacing forever to get out of the house?

Like today. I had to drive to City in Smallest State to make a hospital visit, and I thought I would leave early, have lunch with a friend after my visit and still be back by mid afternoon. But for no reason that I can see, (okay I answered one email and read one blog, but that's it!) I couldn't seem to get myself out of the house until 10:15 and then I had to put gas in the car which of course required me to go in the opposite direction of where I was heading. It all worked out fine (had lunch first and then did the visit; got home before 5) but I still found myself wondering about it as I cruised along.

Perhaps this is related to whatever it is that makes me unable to write a sermon until the very last minute. Maybe I need a firm deadline looming to get my act together. And artificial deadlines don't work. I've tried.

Anyone else like this?

NaBloPoMo is almost over....

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

A new way to waste time

On-line trivia quizzes.....

But right now I rank #537 out of 10,000 in my "class".
(edited to add: now #350)

Further update: As requested, trivia quizzes found here

I am a dork.

Short on words

Having spent several hours today writing a sermon, I am feeling somewhat short on words. That can only mean one thing for today's post: random bullets.

• The downside of not cooking Thanksgiving dinner is no leftovers. We did bring home the leftover dressing and cranberry sauce, but the Kid polished those off in no time. I do kind of miss leftovers.

• Of course, the plus side of no leftovers is that I can't overindulge. But pie for breakfast sounds really good!

• With the exception of going to get my hair cut, I've managed to stay away from any and all shopping centers this weekend. Sales or no sales, I cannot imagine the attraction of being at the mall this weekend.
  

• My optimism stemming from the elections is waning with each stupid thing the Democrats manage to do before they ever take control of Congress. Enough with the in-fighting already. The Dems have less than two years to demonstrate that they can accomplish something and they can't afford to squander any of that time.

• Growing up in the south means the when I hear the word 'squash' I think of yellow crookneck squash--you know, summer squash. So all this talk of 'squash soup' and 'baked squash' takes some getting used to--although it all sounds good.

• Growing up in the south also meant that I never tasted pumpkin pie til I was an adult (maybe that was just a peculiarity of my family). We always had sweet potato pie but I prefer pumpkin. I like almost anything made out of pumpkin.
  

• We also had pecan pie and we pronounced it "pea-can"--none of this pe-cahn' stuff for us. I love pecan pie, but I've discovered that it's even better if you substitute some maple syrup for some of the corn syrup.

• Thanksgiving Day 1989 I ran 7 1/2 miles. That was the high point of my short running career, and the high point of my physical fitness--it's been all down hill since then. I don't think my knees or back could take running any more, but it felt good when I did it.
  

• I've been feeling especially lumpish today, which may be why I thought about running. I should walk more, but I haven't been able to motivate myself to do it consistently. Having my friend's dogs here during the summer got me walking more than anything. I've been looking into getting a puppy, but it hasn't worked out yet.
  

• This is getting kind of long, condsidering I said I was short on words. So I'll stop now.

• Except to add that Blogger's spell checker is the lamest ever. Just saying.
  

Black Friday Five

As posted by reverendmother at RevGalBlogPals, this is a "Black Friday" Five (aka Buy Nothing Day) in honor of the busiest shopping day of the year:

1. Would you ever/have you ever stood in line for something--tickets, good deals on electronics, Tickle Me Elmo?

Not stood in line myself, but tried to get something scarce for my kids.

I've never thought it essential for my kids to have whatever all the kids were getting or whatever was the hot item of the year, and I tried to talk to my kids about those things. But there were a few times when the hot item seemed to be something that would be special for my kids. The year that Cabbage Patch dolls were all the rage, even my mother who worked at Big Box Toy Store could not get any for us. (But unbeknownst to me their step-grandmother had managed to acquire two, so the Lovely Daughters didn't do without.)

My father stood in line for me twice: once to get a Transformer that was hot, and once to get Laser Tag, both for Elder Son. But even with lines, things were a little less cutthroat than they seem now.

I might stand in line to get tickets to some very very special event, but I cannot think of any thing I would stand in line to buy these days.

2. Do you enjoy shopping as a recreational activity?

Not really. Sometimes I like browsing, but it's not the same as shopping. I buy as much as possible on-line these days to avoid stores.

3. Your favorite place to browse without necessarily buying anything.

Antique stores, cool craft stores. My mil and I used to browse antique stores together. I like old things with character. And used book stores, where I do also occasionally buy.

4. Gift cards: handy gifts for the loved one who has everything, or cold impersonal symbol of all that is wrong in our culture?

Handy for people who might need/or want something I can't afford to give them, but a gift card would help them get it. Or if my kids want clothes for a gift--no way could I pick them out. Or for nephews whom I rarely see.

5. Discuss the spiritual and theological issues inherent in people coming to blows over a Playstation 3.

A sign of the crass materialism and over commercialization of our world? Honestly, what is important enough to come to blows over?

An Attitude of Gratitude

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

When I get down in the dumps and start feeling sorry for myself, I try to stop and take stock of how lucky I am and how very much I have to be thankful for. I am really a very privileged person, and I don't always recognize that. So I have been trying to develop and attitude of gratitude, and to keep that with me all the time. And what better time than Thanksgiving day to list those things large and small for which I am truly grateful.

The little things that make my life both easier and more pleasant: my icemaker, my dishwasher, my espresso maker and milk frother that allow me to have a maple latte any time I want one.

The technological things that allow me to do things unheard of a generation ago: my laptop, my digital camera, my cellphone.

The guilty pleasures: a cold beer now and then, a glass of wine, CHOCOLATE.

And lest I seem completely shallow, the really important things: my children who are all dear to me, my good health, the ability to pay my bills every month, the beautiful place I live and all the wildlife that grace my yard, my friends both in real life and in the blogosphere, especially D and J, J, S, and S, and the opportunities I've had to go to school, to reinvent myself not once but twice and to be able to follow the desires of my heart.

For all this I am profoundly grateful.

Flashbulb

When I was teaching psychology, I used to talk about the phenomenon known as "flashbulb memory." A flashbulb memory is a very detailed memory, a snapshot if you will, of a specific incident. Flashbulb memories purportedly are frequently formed of what a person is doing when s/he hears the news of some dramatic event, for example, what you were doing when the Challenger blew up, or when the first Gulf War started. or for my generation, what you were doing when you heard that JFK had been assassinated. These memories were supposedly very detailed and very accurate, but last time I looked at the literature, evidence didn't back up these claims--longitudinal studies indicated that they are often quite inaccurate.

Of course, what made me think of this today is my own "flashbulb memory" of what I was doing 43 years ago (omg does that make me feel old; many/most of the bloggers I read weren't even born then!) today when John F. Kennedy was killed. I do have a very vivid memory of that day, even though I realize what I recall may not be what actually happened.

I was in the fifth grade, which in retrospect was one of my favorite years of school. All three of the fifth grade classes were gathered in the auditorium to begin practicing Christmas carols--yes, we sang them in school, and we were practicing to sing at a nursing home, It was a chilly, gray day, much like today is. One of the sixth grade teachers came to the door and called my teacher out. When my teacher came back in the room she had a funny look on her face, and she said that she needed to make an announcement; the president had been shot. We were stunned and returned to our classrooms where my teacher turned on the radio and we listened in silence as the news reports confirmed that yes, JFK had been shot, and then that yes, he had died. Unbelievable.

When I got home my mother was visibly upset. She had heard the news in the grocery store and had hurried home to turn on the TV. It felt like the world was standing still.

But, it was also the day of my best friend's birthday party. And so a gaggle of tween girls trooped off to the movies and then back to her house for pizza--the first pizza I had ever eaten, as unbelievable as that may seem in this day and age. When our parents came to pick us up, the normality of the party shifted; there was distinct pall cast over us as our parents discussed the day's happenings.

JFK's assassination was the first of three that marked my coming of age years. MLK's and RFK's were more traumatic for me, but I will always remember the deep sadness that engulfed all of us that week as we mourned the president's death. As young as I was, I can remember a feeling of optimism about the future that began to evaporate when JFK died, and that continued to seep away over the next years. I know that growing up in those years marked me in some way that I can't completely define.

Didn't you love the things that they stood for?
Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?
And we'll be free
Some day soon, it's gonna be one day

The obligatory food post

If it's Thanksgiving, it must be time to talk about food.

I don't cook much--it's actually pretty ridiculous how little I cook--but Thanksgiving dinner is always one meal I enjoy cooking. I love the traditional Thanksgiving foods but I'm willing to be flexible about the menu. Some years we have turkey, and some we don't. But it just wouldn't feel like Thanksgiving without cornbread dressing (stuffing to some folks, but mine has never seen the inside of a turkey) and homemade cranberry sauce. These two things are non-negotiable, so much so that I will fix them to have at home even if we have Thanksgiving dinner elsewhere.

What foods define Thanksgiving dinner for you?

10,000

That's how many hits I've had on my blog since I installed the site meter, about a year ago.

Now for many of you that is a small number, but for me it is huge! I was crawling along on schedule to hit 10,000 in a couple of months. But I gues there is something to this posting every day...because my numbers have gone way up.

Thanks for stopping by everyone!

Come out, come out, whoever you are!

According to Songbird, it's Thanksgiving Delurking Week. So stop in and say hello, or leave a link, or a blogstone (o) [which I'd seen before but never knew they were called that til today]. And thanks for coming by this way.

Very long answer to a simple question

Chichimama asked me how I happened to become a priest. Anyone who has gone through the process leading to ordination has had to answer variations of this question numerous times, but each time I am asked I find myself reflecting on it myself and reflecting on how to tell the story. Of course there is the short story and the long story, and I think I will tell the long one here, if you will bear with me, because the whole story makes more sense to me set in its context. But if you want the short version, just skip to the last couple of paragraphs.

I am one of an increasingly rare breed, a cradle Episcopalian. Some of my earliest memories involve being at church. I remember the church of my childhood as a comfortable place, a nurturing place, even as a fun place. I remember playing in the pew during services when I was very young, and later Sunday school, Christmas pageants, singing in the children's choir, vacation church school in the summer. For a while my best friend was our priest's daughter. I spent many hours at the rectory and playing on the church play ground. We shared the same first name, and her mother called us Pixie and Dixie....I guess that reference really ages me....but I digress.

We moved from the town of my birth when I was 9--the first of several moves, but we found a new church each place we lived, and being involved in church remained important. I was confirmed when I was 12; at that time one had to be confirmed to receive communion and I wanted that very badly. In retrospect, whatever we were taught at confirmation classes went right over my head, but it was important to me at the time. My family quit going to church when I was in high school, and I was disappointed,actually. When I began dating my high school boyfriend who became tFoMC later, we went to church with his mother right up to the time we got married.

Despite this history of church involvement, I wouldn't have characterized myself as overly religious. I believed in God. I prayed, but mostly self-serving prayer (God, please help me pass this quiz--that type). I would've liked to have been an acolyte, but that wasn't allowed. And because women weren't ordained at the time, it never occurred to me that I might think about being a priest. But there was always some sort of God-connection.

When we were newly married tFoMC and I let church go by the wayside. Like many young couples, we took Sundays as time for ourselves. And because he was in the Navy we didn't settle down in one place. When Elder Son was born we returned to my mother-in-law's church where we were married to have him baptized, and we did the same when LD#1 was born. But about that time, I began thinking about going back to church. Being part of a church had been such a positive experience for me as a child that I wanted that for my children as well. I wanted them raised in a religious tradition even if they didn't choose to embrace it for themselves later. So when we moved to a place where we thought we would be for a few years, we began looking for a church.

And found one, in a most unexpected way. We were living in a place that had many Episcopal churches, and we intended to try several of them. But driving home one day from grocery shopping, I took a wrong turn and ended up on a road that was completely unfamiliar. When I finally found a place to turn around I saw a sign saying "Future home of Saint Somewhere's Episcopal Church" and giving a phone number. Intrigued I wrote the number down and called it when I got home. The congregation was meeting in a local school until its building was completed and we decided to try it. And it was a wonderful experience.

In the five or so years I'd been out of church, a new prayer book had come out. The language was suddenly comprehensible. And women were allowed to have liturgical roles--unimaginable in my childhood. What's more the congregation was welcoming and it quickly became our community. As we got involved I noticed something else. These people took their beliefs seriously. They discussed the Sunday readings. They prayed seriously. They believed all this really mattered in their daily lives.

The time I spent in that parish was life-changing for me. My faith grew. I learned to engage in theological conversations. I thought about what it all meant for my real life. I became friends with J, and her husband W who happened to be the parish priest. I found out that priests were real people like the rest of us. When my life became increasingly stressful I learned what it was like to be part of a supportive community and to have supportive friends.

During those years LD#2 was born, I had an identity crisis and went back to school to earn my BS and I was divorced from tFoMC. Life was complicated but my faith and my community held me in good stead. As I began to find my own voice I took on new roles in church--I read lessons and administered the chalice. I taught an adult Sunday School class. Once or twice I wondered what it would be like to be a priest, but I wasn't ready to let those thoughts go anywhere.

When I finished my BS I moved away to attend grad school. Friends had suggested a church we might like in Gradschool City, and I dutifully took us there as soon as I had all the boxes unpacked. It was without a doubt the most unfriendly church I have ever attended. And I was overloaded with class reading, having naively signed up for five classes my first semester when most of my classmates took only three. So we stopped going to church. It didn't help matters that my grad program had a distinct anti-religion bias. I never meant to give up church entirely, but that is what happened. Oh, I went to a Sunday night folk mass sometimes, but the routine was gone. I rationalized to myself that I didn't really need to go to church every Sunday. When I met and married the Kid's father, we talked about going to church but we never made it. The lovely daughters began to attend the local Baptist church because that's what kids in our small town did (something I really regret, but that is subject of another post perhaps) but I could not go there.

I still thought about God though. One of my office mates in grad school was a vocal atheist. She always maintained that it was just easier NOT to believe in God, any god. We had lots of long thoughtful discussions about God-related and religion-related things. I came to realize that unlike my friend, believing that God is was my default position--easier for me that conceiving of a world without God.

Fast forward a few years. The Kid was born, I finally finished my Ph.D. and took an academic job in Vermont. It was a good move for me, and for my kids, but it was the straw the broke the back of a very weak marriage, and a year later I found myself single-parenting a three-year old and a couple of teenagers. I was working to get out of the financial pit we'd gotten into during that brief marriage and working to get tenure. I was exhausted and stressed out. Having failed at marriage for a second time was very hard for me. It was a very dark period in my life. By this time I had been mostly out of church for 10 years. And for the very first time in my life the doubts about God, about religion, about faith that were sown in my grad school years began to sprout. I didn't question my belief in God, but I certainly questioned the relevance of religion, the validity of what I thought I had believed in.

Lovely Daughter #2 met someone who had a house church and agitated to be allowed to go; something about it set off my alarms, and as she continued to challenge me I thought about finding a church. And I thought about wanting the Kid to have that in his life, too. But I was so full of doubts that it was very very hard to actually do anything about it. Finally we made it to the local Episcopal church on Christmas Eve and I really enjoyed it. But I continued to struggle with what I believed, and it took me until the next summer to get back.

I don't know what finally made me decide to go, but one warm July Sunday the Kid, LD#2 and I went. To my great surprise the priest was a woman--the first time I had ever encountered a woman priest. And I still knew all the words. And the music was great, and people were friendly. We went back the next Sunday. And the next. Inside, however, I was still kicking and screaming. It felt good, in many ways it felt like I had come home, but at the same time I was engaged in an extremely critical inner dialogue.

I've long loved Madeleine L'Engle's writing, both fiction and non-fiction, and I was reading a lot of it at this point. She has a very cosmic theology that really speaks to me. In one of her books she talks specifically about finding God in the world around her, and that really spoke to me. Coincidentally, the first Sunday I went back, the young woman priest preached on finding God in the world around us. Gradually I began to think about God in new ways and to feel God in my life again.

Here's the part that could sound hokey to some people I guess. But it was very real for me. I found myself enfolded in a congregation the could handle my doubts. And gradually almost every one of those doubts was addressed in some way, usually in a way that took me by surprise. I began reading about theology and spirituality. I began to feel like that deep dark hole that had eaten its way through my soul might actually be filled. I felt like I had come home. I was in a congregation that was both politically and and theologically progressive and as I became involved with outreach and social justice ministries I realized how deeply my values were rooted in the social gospel. I felt God acting in my life and I began wondering what I was supposed to do with all this.

This all happened over a fairly short period of time, and it took me by surprise. I was getting ready to go up for tenure, and I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. But gradually I began to feel like there was something else I was called to do. I never had a dramatic moment, a bolt from heaven that said, "you should become a priest" but as I tried to figure out what all this meant for my life, that was the dawning awareness that came to me. It started to feel like something I couldn't not pursue.

My parish priest was on sabbatical which gave me time to mull over this for a while. But as soon as he returned I made an appointment to talk to him. I wasn't sure I could say the words "I think I am called to become a priest" out loud, and I was sure that if I did he would laugh. But in fact, I did and he didn't. He took me quite seriously.

In the Episcopal church one cannot just decide to become a priest. There is a long period of discernment during which one must elaborate on one's sense of call with the parish priest, with fellow parishioners, with a diocesan committee and with the bishop. It's a long and sometimes painful process. Mine took place at the same time I was preparing and submitting my tenure file and that felt a bit schizophrenic. I received tenure before I was approved to go forward towards priesthood. People asked me how I could give that up, and it did give me pause because it had been the focus of my life for so long. But when the time came, it wasn't actually all that hard.

I was approved as a postulant for Holy Orders in September 2001--just days after the attack on the World Trade Center. I started seminary in September 2002. When I started grad school 15 years earlier, someone had told me that those would be the best years of my life and I often thought about how much that was NOT so. But seminary was different. I so felt like I was in the right place doing what I was supposed to be doing. I sometimes wish that all this would've happened when I was a bit younger, but I really think that I needed to go through everything I went through to be ready to do what I am doing now. And I feel really lucky, really blessed to able to do what I am doing now.

A Crass Political Ploy

The lame duck governor of this fair state has decided to press forward on a controversial issue to advance his own political agenda. Mitt Romney is asking the state supreme court to order a referendum on same-sex marriage (a constitutional amendment prohibiting it) on the ballot because the legislature failed to vote on the measure before adjourning until January. This is in a state where same-sex marriage is already legal--because the courts ruled that it was a justice issue, that it was discriminatory to deny marriage rights to same-sex couples.

I don't know whether such an amendment would pass in MA after several years of legal same-sex marriage. But really, matters of justice shouldn't be put to a popular vote. If the southern states had been given the opportunity to vote on civil rights in the sixties I hate to think where we'd be now.

Moreover, Romney is doing this just to garner attention from conservative Republicans as he tests the waters for a presidential run. Gack. I don't know how he was elected governor of this liberal state (I wasn't living here then), and certainly hope his presidential ambitions are thwarted.

I might as well get it out of my system now....

Arghhh....it's starting already. Tonight driving home from some errands I spotted the first Christmas decorations on houses in the neighborhood. Before Thanksgiving. Bah!

I'm a bit of a Scrooge about Christmas. On several levels. I hate the commercialization of the holiday. I hate the materialism. I hate that things have to start earlier and earlier each year. I hate that what was a religious holiday has been co-opted and then foisted on the world in a way the makes it devoid of its original meaning. I hate the way a Christian feast day (and not the most important one at that) is promoted as THE HOLIDAY OF THE YEAR for everyone regardless of their religious tradition. I hate pseudo-Christmas music (Jingle Bells is NOT a Christmas song. I'm just saying) and Christmas carols played non-stop beginning at Halloween.

All that is the macro level of my Scroogishness...

On the micro-level, the personal level, I have a history of stressful Christmases...Christmases where tFoMC was at sea (three in a row) and I had to do it all on my own. Christmases after we separated when I wasn't sure how I was going to afford even modest presents for the kids, and I still had to do it on my own--it always worked out, but it was always stressful. Christmases when I had to share the kids with their dad, including the Christmas I spent all alone all day because my car needed an unexpected repair the day I was supposed to go away, and there was an ice storm (in Florida!) the next day. And there were the Christmases I spent with my parents (because isn't Christmas the quintessential family time?) each marked by at least one huge blow up with my mom that left me feeling awful.

I'm trying to get over my Christmas baggage, to adopt a new model of Christmas. I don't go "home" for Christmas any more, even though staying away just adds to my status as the blacksheep in my family. I've minimized the whole gift giving routine--I enjoy buying gifts when there is less pressure about doing so. I try to embrace Advent as a season--I have Advent calendars and an Advent wreath, and I continue my tradition of not putting up tree until Dec. 22 or so. I enjoy the memories involved with our large collection of Christmas ornaments--one bought for each child for each year, perhaps my favorite family tradition. This year for the first time in a while I will have a large family gathering at my house, and because Christmas Eve is on Sunday (the worst possible day for clergy), some of them will take over the cooking chores. I'm looking forward to it.

Nonetheless this time of year, when all the hoopla starts I get cranky. The stores are full of Christmas stuff, the decorations are sprouting, the bad music has started, and it's not Thanksgiving yet. Sigh.....

Draft??

The news today is reporting that Rep. Charles Rangel D-NY will introduce a bill to reinstate the draft when Congress reconvenes next year. Not everyone would have to serve in the military--there would be options for community service as well. But Rangel believes that having a draft would deter politicians going to war. He argues that Bush would never have invaded Iraq had a draft been in place.

I am adamantly opposed to the draft, and I think this notion that it would be a deterrent to war is based on specious reasoning. Rangel says that no one in Congress would vote to support a war if there wasa chance that constituents or children of constituents might be killed. That certainly hasn't been the case in previous wars.

I wrote my high-school senior term paper on why we shouldn't have a draft (at the time we did). For a while I thought that a universal draft in which the military was just one option among many might be okay. When I was teaching I met many first year students who might have benefited from a year or two off before starting college. A year of community service of some sort might provide an opportunity for growth, a time off from studying for a while, a time to gain some perspective and to think more about the future.

But I'm not sure the draft is the answer. I don't think ANYONE should be forced to serve in the military against their will. And I'm not sure I trust our government at this time to set up a system that would make military service truly optional, truly one choice among many.

What think you, readers? Should we have a draft of any sort? Why?

Convocation

I spent yesterday and today at the annual Convocation of the Episcopal Church's Province I, which is comprised of the dioceses of Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, Western Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. These gatherings are theme based, and this year's theme was "Our Story, God's Story." Unlike many big church meetings, this one was designed to be completely intergenerational, with activities appropriate for all ages, and with children completely incorporated into the liturgy. Our time together was filled with greeting of friends (including at least one blogger on my blogroll), provocative talks about how to make the church a place that truly welcomes children and youth, browsing displays and the bookstore and sharing joy-filled worship, complete with gifted story-tellers, toddling babies, drumming and song.

It was really wonderful to spend time with a group of Episcopalians who are positive about the church, who are focused on the mission of the church rather than all the controversies the church is embroiled in. The Episcopal Church in New England is small compared to others--especially the UCC and Roman Catholics. But it is remarkably energetic and progressive. The seven New England dioceses have elected five women bishops since 1988 (including +Barbara Harris, Bishop Suffragan of MA and the first woman bishop in the Anglican Communion ever, and +Mary Adelia McLeod of Vermont, the first woman diocesan bishop).

I enjoyed hearing some of the bishops talk about how they see teaching as part of their vocation--and was I ever impressed with Bp. Knudsen of Maine; I've heard good things about her before, but never met her until this weekend--and hearing teens talk about how we can help them feel more a part of the church. But perhaps the most fun session I went to was one about how to put on a U2 eucharist (U2charist). Given the age of my congregation, I'm not sure we'll ever be able to do, but I hope I can attend one sometime.

And the Episcopal Church really is a small world. It is impossible to go to an event like this without making all sorts of six degrees (or less) of separation connections between people you know--always fun.

Now I'm going to peruse the books I bought there...

Happy Birthday...

to the Kid, who turns 15 today....

who celebrated by seeing the new James Bond flick last night with his friends....

who spent the afternoon playing poker with said friends....

who is now IMing said friends while working out new guitar riffs.

My little boy has grown up.

Because I Don't Have Time for a Real Post

and this is kinda funny.....as seen at Quaker Pastor's

What is your inner musical instrument?

You're an Oboe. Girl power?
Take this quiz!








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Random Bits of November

• It's been unbelievably warm here the last couple of days; it makes it hard to realize that it is the middle of November. Shouldn't it be frosty out, with snowflakes threatening?
  

• The big windstorm we had a couple of weeks ago knocked most of the rest of the leaves off the trees, but there is one tree in my side yard that still has the most incredible red leaves. I should try to get a picture before they all fall off. I think it is a Japanese Maple; during the spring and summer the leaves are a dark burgundy, but now they are a brilliant crimson.

• Last night just after dark I was driving down my driveway when a deer ran right in front of me. We've had lots of wildllife here, but that is the first deer I've seen.
  

• I know that Thanksgiving is next week, but I'm still in denial about Christmas being right around the corner. I had to run in the mall tonight (Gah!) though and all the decorations reminded me again.

• Teh mall decorations, they are ugly. Really ugly. In their effort to be generic holiday they are just dumb. And ugly

• The days are really really short. I'm not so bothered by the darkness, but it is always a shock to look at my watch and see that it is only 4:00 and then notice that is nightfall is approaching.

• One of my Christmas cacti is blooming. The other one probably won't bloom til February or March if previous years are any indication. So why the heck do we call them "Christmas cactuese? (cacti???)