can we go back to handwriting letters and sending them through snailmail?

The following thoughts were inspired by this, which I discovered by way of my new friend Carlos, whom I met through my former-acquaintance-turned-friend Aaron.

And that there, my dearies, is what we call 'networking.' But that's not what I'm writing about in this blopgost. What I'm writing about is communication overload.

How much is too much? How many is too many? Every day, most of us receive at least one electronic message--be it email, text message, or something relating to Facebook--that requires some sort of written follow-up. Some sort of written response. And some of us take an inordinate amount of time to make that necessary (I'm not saying 'required') response.

Why? Why is it so hard to hit 'reply' and type something? Why do we take so long to answer? One message per day isn't a lot, right?

What about 365 messages per year?

Some of you--and here I'm talking to my fellow old folks--will recall the days before email. No, really, such days did exist. They're dim and foggy in my memory, but I swear they really happened. In those days, the riotous heydays of my youth, I received about...oh, let's take a guess on the high side...20 hand- or type-written letters per year that required a hand- or type-written reply. Add to that various greeting cards for holidays and birthday, etc etc, and that number goes up to maybe 50. Maybe. Per year.

So, flash forward (and no, I'm not making a TV reference) to today. If I get one response-required message per day, I'm no longer at 50 per year, I'm at 365.

But I don't get one response-required message per day.

I get an average of 5.

That's 1825 messages per year. And each one requires a response. If I spend only half an hour answering each one, I will spend 38 twenty-four-hour days (24! Count dem! 24 hours! Ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhh!) out of every year doing nothing but answer messages. That's more than one month per year.

In the inbox of the email account Ed and I use jointly, there are currently 7576 emails. Of these, 667 are unread. I have no idea how many are unanswered. Most times, I feel like closing that account completely and starting from scratch. Except I know that eventually, the new account will look exactly the same, and I'll end up exactly where I am now with all this, which is:

frustrated
overwhelmed
angry with myself
and disappointed in myself, because I know some of those unanswered messages came from people who are disappointed in me for not answering.

I also have this continual, grand plan to answer all the comments I've received on this blog. Haven't been able to get that done, either--and every time I think about it, I feel a painful twinge in the center of my brain.

That twinge is one part irritation and three parts guilt.

At what point is it too much?

I'm so tired of communications-inspired guilt that I'm just tired.

I know 100% for sugar-torting certain I'm not alone in this. How do *you* handle the odious monster guilt blob masquerading as your inbox?

book comments 24, or: hey look, a non-fiction title

"Pagan Christianity?" by Frank Viola and George Barna
This book really deserves a full review, but I don't feel like writing one right now. Yes, I'm being mentally and emotionally lazy. So shoot me. ;o) But this book has changed a lot about my thinking and my way of life, so it *will* come up all on its own in future blopgosts. I guar-on-TEE it.

In short:
--analysis of contemporary practices and paradigms of non-Catholic churches
--examination of the historical origins of these practices
--sources include secular history, church history, and scripture
The authors question whether or not a church that is run like a business can ever function as the living organism (read: body) God means it to be. Their answer is that it cannot, and I agree with them. They ask a lot of the questions I (and others I know) have been asking for years. Viola and Barna don't claim to know all the answers...but they at least challenge the pat traditional answers that so many of us have been offered for such a very long time.
I appreciate the authors' attitude throughout the book. They are blunt and unafraid to critique what they consider error--but they also caution that no one should feel free to use the information to bludgeon anybody. They encourage truth without fomenting rebellion, and I think that is priceless.

I highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone. If you're a believer, you'll benefit from some education in church history and from a challenge to your preconceived ideas. If you're not a believer, this book will answer some of the questions you've always had about why churches have maintained (and still maintain) certain questionable practices.

BUT.

Don't read this if you don't want your beliefs challenged. Don't read this if you don't want to have doubts. Don't read this if you don't want to get out of your comfort zone.

Don't read this if you're afraid to pass a point of no return.

2010 Book Count To-Date: 8.

this wasn't supposed to be my first blopgost of the year

...but it's just kinda happening, because I had this thought, and I wanted to record it.

In public.

Sheesh.

I am sick and tired of not saying what I really think.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really feel.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really believe.

I am tired of worrying about what other people will think of me.
Oh, I talk a great game of not caring, not letting others' opinions determine the course of my actions, blah de blah blah blah.

But really, in my secret heart, I want you all to like me.
I hate being the recipient of criticism, disapproval, and--o, the horror--rejection.

If I speak the truth about something, and someone responds by chastising me, my heartrate shoots through the roof, and my desire to make it all okay again shoots through the stratosphere.

This is not a healthy reaction on my part.
I have boundary problems.

And I'm sick and tired of it.

I don't want to be the gutless one.
I don't want to cower when a stronger personality tells me I Have No Right To Say _____________.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

In the religious denomination I grew up in, I was taught to keep my mouth shut about _____________--because expressing my rock-the-boat opinions might lead another person to trip over something and get hurt.

But what if that something isn't even really there?
What about the other person learning to take responsibility for looking at where they're putting their feet?
What if the thing they need most, in order to learn to walk better, is someone (like me?) who will holler at the top of their (my?) voice about the discrepancies and the dis-integrity?

I've been told that a lot of people in this world look up to me.
If that's true, I don't really know why they do that. I'm a continual screw-up--didn't you know?

And one of the ways in which I screw up is by keeping my mouth shut out of cowardice.

Yes, there is a time and a place for expressing my thoughts/feelings/beliefs about certain things. I need to choose wisely ( --> discern) when and in whose company to verbalize these things.

But if I'm staying quiet simply because I ***fear*** others' reactions...then that right there, O Friends and Neighbors, is Screwing Up In Grand Fashion.

So.

Maybe this was the right blopgost to start the New Year with, after all.

crazy english redux

Originally blogged April 9, 2006; decided to unearth it for entertainment purposes.

No languages were harmed in the making of this blopgost. CAVEAT EMPTOR: The use of adverbs abounded.

The following bits of great literature came into being on the Oklahoma Christian University "Singing Campaign" of June 2001. Several of us were playing a language game in which each player contributes a part of a sentence without knowing what the other players are contributing. As in:

Player A contributes a subject ("The handcuffs"),
Player B contributes a verb ("gargled"),
Player C contributes an object ("pimentos"),
and Player D contributes an adverb ("symbiotically").

Players may add other adverbs, adverbial phrases, adjectives, and so forth, as long as the structure of the sentence remains intact. Here are some sentences that came together in strange ways on that starlit night so long ago:

A blunt elephant awakens delicately.

4,000,362 slimy heifers bebop coke repeatedly.

The juicy squirrels rang manure radically.

Some magical Martians snorted river cautiously.

Your mama’s shrunken sludge dances vomit lovingly.

The Saran-wrapped amoeba strangled fever blisters.

Its unwilling dough wore pimples authoritatively.

Mike’s infected Thumbelina impaled puppies slowly.

My swollen blue suede shoes defecated coconuts.

April’s peanut butter jar beheld toxic waste creepingly.

With blackest moss, the other Deutschmark stabbed Romanoffs with ease.

Thy radical snot gulped hamsters alluringly.

Rupert’s clairvoyant slug plucked tongues boldly.

Satan’s slutty cheese cake slurped turtles on the highest rooftops.

Surprisingly enough, our milky busts curtsied pustules right on task.

Tomorrow, flamboyant lace will flatulate kabobs happily.

Russia’s flat hairballs created toilet tingling.

The parole violators’ amazed horny toad blew rafters with great linguistic skill.

On the poop deck, our objective booty crushed dried linguini like a goose in heat.

Eight crunchy handkerchiefs serenade egg drop soup like redneck Olympics.

With the absolute possibility, spoonlike cowboys cut snot rockets while smelling like a stinky tube sock.

Unbeknownst to us, many underground headless horsemen slammed bellybutton lint so well, it would’ve made you cry.

Like sands in the hour glass, strikingly handsome mold slaughtered jazz hands while dancing like a 5-year-old on purple crack.

--April Wooldridge Everhart, Courtney Cantrell, Matt Barger, Mike Antwine, and others, June 2001.

another episode in stream-of-c

Dear Blog,

I had the feeling I've been neglecting you, so I decided to come post something on you. Kind of like writing on a Post-It Note and sticking it to someone's back without their knowledge. But then I checked, and I saw that I actually posted a few things recently. So I guess the neglecting was all in my imagination. Do carry on with whatever blogginess you were engaged in before I so rudely interrupted.

Sincerely,
C.

In other news, apparently I've had fund-raising on the brain of late. Last week, I participated in the Wishing Well Walk. Amy and I walked 2.5 miles, carrying 2 gallons of dirty water apiece, helping raise awareness of the well shortage in Africa. Lest you be overly impressed with our feat, there were many, many people who carried more water than we did. They rocked the Walk, so to speak.
Then, this evening, I drove up to Edmond to attend Heartbeat for Hope's fundraiser at Adora. It was fun, I bought two cute shirts (15% of the proceeds from Adora's sales tonight will go toward Heartbeat for Hope), and I got to hear a really good band named Countdown for Reno, if I recall correctly.

So, yay for helping people. ;o)

Furthermore, I'd just like to state for the record that it's not my fault my cat has a flabby tummy. We throw away about half the food we give her because she won't eat. And we're already giving her half the recommended amount. So I don't know why her tummy sags, unless it's from getting spayed and no longer having taut tummy muscles. But she has a lot of fur--how'm I s'posed to figure out what happened to her six-pack?!

Also, I think there has got to be a more efficient way of picking jurors for trials. A friend of mine got called in for jury duty and is looking at Day 3 of sitting in a courtroom, waiting to get called in for an interview. They might pick him for the jury, or they might not. Nobody knows. So far, two days of sitting, maybe reading, maybe texting, but mostly just sitting. Why can't they just give people appointments so that not all 160 potential jurors have to come in at the same time and sit? Somehow, I doubt it's stimulating the economy very much to have all these people missing work.

In addition, whoever made the decision to cancel "Firefly" is an annoying person.

Not only that, but I've finally started getting my pomegranate obsession out into the open. Oh yes. There has been a quiet pomegranate obsession of late. A quiet, mental, internalized pomegranate obsession. I don't know why. I only know that I've finally drawn a picture of one, and I like it, and I'm going to add pomegranates to the painting that's been in-progress since January. Themes of Hades and Persephone have been drifting in and out of my awareness. It's all very ethereal and amusing. Now that I've started drawing/painting pomegranates, though, it's about to get concrete and amusing. Bam.

And I wrote two poems during the past week. One for slightly-public consumption (meaning I've shared it with a few people), and one not (meaning nobody gets to see it--yet).

Finally, lest I forget--no, no, no, not Gethsemane, whaddaya think this is, a hymn? ;o) --I've also been working on Deren's Story. And I've decided that Deren's Story is definitely for the boys. Except Deren keeps insisting on having all these romantic thoughts about the girl. I know that romantic thoughts and "for the boys" aren't mutually exclusive--but the oy-vey-potential is there, and I've got my work cut out for me in not turning my poor hero into a feminine shadow of his former self. ;oD Just kidding. Deren and I are not that bad off, I'm just acknowledging some potential here. Maybe blogging about it will help my subconscious mind stay where it's supposed to be. Namely on Heinlein-esque perkiness. And that's all I'm gonna say 'bout that, 'cause that's just how I roll.

;oD

Please forgive the crudity of this blopgost. I didn't have the mental energy to write it to scale.

ghosts of blopgosts past

Whilst happily imbibing my coffee this morning, I herumgestöbert (there has got to be a good English word for that!) in my blog and found the following gems for your potential perusing pleasure:


Monday, November 21, 2005

When I should be writing, I'm procrastinating and finding fun things on other people's blogs, like this fun thing I found on Patricia's blog:

___________________________

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few.
But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky.

Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski
___________________________

Of those three movies, I've only seen "Office Space," and though it's funny, it's not one of my favorites. I guess my life is a cult classic with all the profanity bleeped out of it.

Actually, that's pretty accurate. ;o)


Tuesday, December 27, 2005

....At the end of October, Ed, Clint, April, and I were driving to Dresden (this was back B.C.S.--Before Car Selling), and we started talking about what a movie of our lives would be like.

First, we decided that nobody would go see it. Then, we decided it would be a blockbuster. (Anybody remember what title we decided on?) And finally, talk turned to which actors would portray us. We came up with the following:

Clint: Jack Black
April: Courteney Cox
Ed: Adam Sandler
Me: Drew Berrymore

What do you think???

thoughts about the writing of stephenie meyer

I don't really have time to be sitting here today, blogging any ruminations whatsoever...but as you can see, I'm gonna do it anyway. What? Linear timeline constraints? Pshaw.

What I'm thinking about right now are the published works of Stephenie Meyer. If you don't know who Stephenie Meyer is, does the title "Twilight" tell you anything? If not, you probably won't care much about the rest of this blopgost. ;o)

I attended a Writers Conference last weekend (and I know I've been promising details--I will deliver ASAP, I promise!), and Meyer's name came up several times in various conversations. I noted two extreme reactions:

TwilightOMWilovethosebookshaveyoureadmidnightsunyet? and

... (insert cricket noises here, paired with skeptical lift of single eyebrow).

The Twilight series. It seems that if you've read the books, you either love 'em or you hate 'em. I've heard very few people speak of a lukewarm reaction. Many folks have read part of the first book and given up, not bothering to tackle the rest. Many more folks, it seems, have inhaled every Twilit word like an army of heavy-duty, industrial, bipedal vacuum cleaners.

From my above-it-all vantage point, I am amused at the bizarrity of these disparate reactions.

Okay, okay, I'll 'fess up. I'm not as above-it-all as I'd like to pretend, and I think many of you know that already. ;o) I myself went into bipedal-vacuum-cleaner mode when reading the series--both the first and the second time I read it. ;o) However--and I think I mentioned this in book comments at some point--I wasn't so enamored that I couldn't take a step back (okay, maybe just half a step) and identify some problems in Meyer's writing style. But I kept in mind that:

(a) the books are young adult fiction (YA) and therefore (possibly) not subject to quite as many rules as adult literary fiction (Caveat emptor, however: YA is no excuse for substandard writing!);
(b) Meyer is a new author; and
(c) Meyer shows growth as a writer over the course of the four books. Her sci-fi novel, "The Host," evinces that process of writerly maturing, as well.

But I guess, when it comes down to it, the final point is this: Whether people like Meyer's writings or not, whether she breaks "rules for good writing" or not, her writings are popular. The lady is making oodles of money because enough people love her books. The lady is making oodles of money because she has been smart enough to cross the line of printed media and branch out into movies, music, and powerful Internet presence (poke around her site and you'll see what I mean).

So what do you think? Does it matter that there are things to criticize about her writing? Or does the popularity of her works cancel out any stylistic or character problems? She has made a huge dent in the business--so does the quality of the books still signify?

telling it like it is--a side effect of mission work

Frankly, when you do mission work, a lot of people put you up on a pedestal, and that's a really bad place to be.

Because it's easy to fall off.

I'm not going to go into the every-Christian-is-by-definition-a-missionary, because that is another story and shall be told another time. My point for this particular blopgost is that many people (1) seem to think that only a "special few" have what it takes to tell others about Jesus in a "foreign" (also a topic for another time) country; (2) these same people make a big fuss over those who tell others about Jesus in a foreign country; and (3) these same people continue to put the "missionaries" up on a pedestal even 1.4 years after said "missionaries" are no longer working in a foreign country.

Please note that I am not trying to mock anyone or infuse my post with contempt for the well-intentioned folks who "fuss" over me.

I just wish there were a brief yet polite way to communicate that...

..."I'm proud of you" is not a phrase that makes me feel good.
I am not the one who did the work--*God* did it--so there's no reason for me to be proud. The other person is not the one who did the work--so why should they be proud? I am glad I did the work; I wouldn't trade my time as a "missionary" for anything; I am pleased that God used me to encourage others. But pride is a dangerous thing for me, and I'd like to avoid even the appearance of it, even if it's well-meant.

...I appreciate the encouragement, but I do not want to be elevated in anyone's eyes.
The pedestal thing really doesn't work for me. Actually, it scares me--because pedestals are high; and I've been up there before; and I have liked it; and I have fallen. I really don't want to be up there again and face the possibility of liking the lofty heights again. There's only one way off, and it's fast, and it really hurts when you hit the bottom.

...it's an honor for people to be in the presence of God.
It is not an honor for people to be in the presence of me. I am no different, no better, no higher, no purer, nor more admirable than any other human being. Save the honor and the praise for God, because he is the only one who has done something to deserve it. He is the only one who *is* something to deserve it.

...I love to feel appreciated, and I love to hear that I'm appreciated.
Encourage me, yes. Be my friend, yes. Tell me you love me, yes. Ask me for my stories, yes. That is the way to let me know that I have encouraged you, that I mean something to you. But don't feed my ego. It's big enough already.

What is the way to say this in ten words or fewer? :o) I try really hard to give credit where it's due (--> GOD), but it's hard to find the right words without hurting the feelings of the well-intentioned. And I just don't want to hurt anybody. I've done enough of that, too.

*sigh* Life is hard, and then you do the potato wave.

I don't know exactly what that means, but I think it's the truth. ;o)

le fou, i'm afraid i've been thinking...

...but not about wacky old men.

Well, maybe I have. But I don't want to embarrass them by mentioning any names.

Anyway, another thing I've been thinking about (and at this point, I could use the word "pondering," which invites reminiscing on Pinky and the Brain) is the fact that I am not the prolific blogger I once was.

I've now been blogging for 4 & 1/2 years, and it's been an interesting experience. A predominantly positive experience. A good enough experience that I have kept up with it, posting at least once per month for 54 months, minus October and November 2004, when I inexplicably and temporarily lost interest, and October 2006, when Ed's dad had three heart attacks and we were in the States for a month.

Sure, I've never blogged multiple times per day, so I guess I'm not prolific at all, compared with some people. But I'm not comparing myself with some people, I'm comaring myself with me, and me says that I've blopgosted consistently for 4.5 years now, and that makes me prolific. So there.

However, I don't blog nearly as much as I used to, and I think that's a direct result of my novel-writing. I'll let you in on a little secret: I am not witty. You know those people who come up with the perfect puns and terrific turns-of-phrase on the spot, so much so that others tell them, "Hey, you should be writing this stuff down!"? I'm not one of those people. I have only so much brain power to go around. So when I stumble upon one of those literary gems that sparkle in the dark recesses of my brain's Spare Oom, my first thought is not "blog this."

Actually and unfortunately, my first thought usually is, "How can I turn this into a Facebook status update?" But then I take that impulse and beat it into submission so that I might use that sparkly gem not for the evils of FB-status-updating...

...but for the good of The Story.

When you're a writer and you're writing (which is what you should be doing, if you are a writer), everything is for the good of The Story. Snatches of overheard conversation are for the good of The Story. Every weird dream is for the good of The Story. Every attractive fellow human who has an asymmetrical facial feature is for the good of The Story. Every interesting way of saying something is for the good of The Story.

I think that's why I haven't been blogging as much. I've been pouring all my creative energy into The Story--which, of course, is exactly where it should go!--and letting the blog catch whatever happens to be left, which generally isn't much. I'm not bemoaning or bewailing or becomplaining. Just stating facts--and getting out the thoughts that aren't related to wacky old men.

Another pondering has been what will happen to the blog once I start publishing books. Not that I expect to be overrun by rabid fans scouring the intarwebz for snippets of info about me. However, I do keep in mind that there is enough personal information on this blog that someone could find me if they really wanted to--and connect my name on a book with all the personal info on this blog. So, writer that I am, as I ponder this, I begin having visions of stalkers, and weirdos showing up at my door at 11pm, and identity theft, and manic car chases down I-35, and is there Another Story in here somewhere?

Seriously, I could really scare myself with all these potentialities if I carried on. It wouldn't take much. Not much at all.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'm having thoughts about encryptions and passworded blogs and high-tech security and other fun what-ifs. I guess if I had to, I could delete the blog. All I would lose would be the comments; I back up everything else. But I wouldn't want to lose the comments. I like the comments. I adore the comments. If I were the obsessive type, I would print out the comments and wallpaper my bathroom with them.

Comments?

;o)

other people's shopping lists

Is it weird for my first blopgost of the year to be a sample of other people's writing? Hmmm.....maybe not weird. For my standards. But hopefully not telling, either. ;o)

Anyway....

In the space of about three weeks, in the course of my own shopping adventures (which are often fraught with danger, adventure, and frustration), I found several grocery lists belonging to fellow shoppers. Said lists lay forgotten in the bottom of shopping carts or, gasp and egad, on the floor. I picked them up, tucked them away, and re-discovered them last week whilst cleaning and re-organizing my desk.

I don't know why--maybe it's the voyeur in me--but I am amused to see what these unknown folks had on their lists. And, so that you can be as weirdly amused as I am, I am going to share these lists with you. Now.

The Lined-Yellow-Paper List
Toothpicks
miLK
Bananas for UBall
**Spraystarch

I'll not venture to analyze the random capitalizations of letters, nor why spraystarch might have been so important as to merit two stars. I will, however, note that "toothpicks" looks a lot more like "toonpicks," which makes me giggle.

UBall. University Ball? Underground Ball? Undiscovered Ball? Unctuous Ball? Ubiquitous Ball? Unabashed Ball? It is a mystery....but not a Mystery Ball, silly, or it would've been noted as "MBall." Duh.

;o)


The I-Love-My-Home List
barnuits -
muffins
flour -

shredded wheat -
oatmeal

milk
heavy cream



- toothpaste -
Hiland cottage cheese 24 oz 2.00


1 can solid pack pumpkin

fruit

The author of the I-Love-My-Home list was apparently rather unconcerned with saving space. A wasteful individual? Or one simply trusting in the abundant supply of notepad paper with "I Love My Home" emblazoned across the bottom of the sheet? We shall never know.

Oh, and whatever "barnuits" might have been, I guess the shopper decided they (a) weren't to be found, (b) weren't necessary after all, (c) were the only thing to be found, or (d) didn't exist, because they are crossed out.


The Upside-Down-Apples List
tortilas [sic]
mayo
p bitter
chicken breast
cottage cheese
strawberries
peppers gr. + red
cereal
syrup
tartar sauce

At the top of this list is a row of sliced apples, and they are upside down. There is an arrow pointing from "chicken" to "tortilas" [sic], leading me to believe that something Mexican might have been on the menu for supper that night. Also, I am sure that "p bitter" is actually "p butter" = peanut butter, but that sure isn't what it looks like.

And thus ends my first blopgost of 2009. I suspect it might be bloppier than usual. Tah-dah. ;o)

celebrating my 500th blopgost

Title is self-explanatory. ;o)

To celebrate said self-explanatoriness, as well as to celebrate my return to blogging after a long (for me) hiatus, I give you the following--and, I think, rather appropriate--quote:

"Younger people, one could point out, are the only ones for whom it seems to have sunk in that the idea of a truly private life is already an illusion. Every street in New York has a surveillance camera. Each time you swipe your debit card at Duane Reade or use your MetroCard, that transaction is tracked. Your employer owns your e-mails. The NSA owns your phone calls. Your life is being lived in public whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.

"So it may be time to consider the possibility that young people who behave as if privacy doesn’t exist are actually the sane people, not the insane ones. For someone like me, who grew up sealing my diary with a literal lock, this may be tough to accept. But under current circumstances, a defiant belief in holding things close to your chest might not be high-minded. It might be an artifact—quaint and naïve, like a determined faith that virginity keeps ladies pure. Or at least that might be true for someone who has grown up 'putting themselves out there' and found that the benefits of being transparent make the risks worth it.

"Shirky describes this generational shift in terms of pidgin versus Creole. 'Do you know that distinction? Pidgin is what gets spoken when people patch things together from different languages, so it serves well enough to communicate. But Creole is what the children speak, the children of pidgin speakers. They impose rules and structure, which makes the Creole language completely coherent and expressive, on par with any language. What we are witnessing is the Creolization of media.'

"That’s a cool metaphor, I respond. 'I actually don’t think it’s a metaphor,' he says. 'I think there may actually be real neurological changes involved'..."

--from "Say Everything" by Emily Nussbaum"
(long article, but very worth the read, if you'll give it about 15 minutes)


Things that make ya go "hmmmmm...." That, or oo-ee-oo-ah-ah.

writing about writing

I can't promise that the following ruminations (I originally typed "rumniations," which I find rather amusing) will in any way segue (can I use that as a verb? Rule #152. Verbify anything.) into each other in a coherent fashion, but I'm not writing for publication here, so frankly, my dear, I don't give an unmentionable.

I've been wanting to write about my writing for quite some time, but, as other literati have said before me, when one is engaged in active storywriting, one finds oneself reluctant to channel much of that creative energy into blogging. I dunno know why, I just know that's how it works.

Whatever. I do know why. It's because the act of storywriting is such an intense process, there's simply no energy left for other writables (or, sometimes, anything else at all). Weekly, if not daily, I am stocking my creative pond (the pool where we all go down to drink, a la Stephen King, an image I wholly embrace) with creativity for my story, and I am intensely jealous of that creative energy. I want to channel it into the story, not into blopgosts that are, frankly again, not as valuable to me as the story itself.

Which is not to say that I don't care about my blog. Because I do. I'm only setting priorities here. Work with me, people! Gah.

;o)

That said, I give you the following: an excerpt from my journal, in which I expound upon my current noveling status. Please forgive the abbreviations and ellipses--I want to give you the journal excerpt without giving away parts of the story. So, without much ado about anything, an excerpt for your reading pleasure (or not, whichever the case might be):

September 4, 2008

While I ran this morning, I let my mind go over some possibilities for "Triad." Part of me is tempted to scrap the first half and re-write it, simply because the style of writing and the pace of the story are so different from what and how I wrote the second half. [Note: I know this sentence is grammatically horrid, but in my journal, I free-associate without editing, so there ya go.] This is what happens when one spend four years on the first half and four months on the second. ;o)

However, I'm putting the scrap-temptation on hold for now. First, I want to see what I can do with that first half in my second-draft edit, which I'm working on now. I've gone through eleven chapters--all in the second half. I'm reserving final judgment on the first half until I've worked through it again.

But back to the possibilities I was permutating on my run. Liz "Engstrom" Cratty, my Writer's Digest Novel Writing Workshop mentor [three? years ago], suggested I start the story with R.'s and Ch.'s capture... I don't believe that's the best starting point, as so much of the backstory would get lost, and explaining everything later would bog down the rest of it.

However, I wonder if the *argument* between R. and Ch. *would* be a good starting point...

I think I'm coming to the conclusion that my current Chapter One, in which D. and the guys break into the belltower and R. thwarts them, does not a good Chapter One make. *Prologue*, maybe. But for a first chapter, it doesn't get things moving quickly enough. I need a start with more tension...

...and the argument between R. and Ch. might just be it.

Of course, then I'll have to decide whether to make the break-in scene a prologue (in which case, it'll have to be *way* shorter) or toss it. I like the shorter prologue idea. If I toss it [current Chapter One], then Ill have the backstory bogdown again.

So, let's say the break-in is a prologue, and Chapter One begins with the argument. '"_______________!" ___________________________' might be a good opening line. [Hee hee.] Then what? I'd send R. directly to the T.s' (after the argument, of course), which would bypass N.H. entirely; if I didn't bypass her, I'd get into a bog again, interrupting R.'s storming out of the tower. (And what if R. failed to secure the lift before leaving? This could add some tension, because she'd worry about Ch. all the way to the T.s'...)

I've wondered for a long time whether or not I. needs a greater role, and if so, how to give it to her? Well, what if I combined I. and N.H. into one character? Perhaps I.'s mother was from the H. family....Hmmm.....

I'm getting ahead of myself, because these are all things to consider *after* I go through the text and finish my second draft. But it's good to get these ideas on paper. They've been in my subconscious for awhile, so this has helped me gain some clarity. My concentration on the second half will be better now...

< /journal entry >

Since I wrote that, I have gone through several more chapters and have finished a total of seventeen! That means eighteen more to go. When I say "finished," I mean that I have gone through the hard copy pages, marking with colored ink anything that needs changing/improving. When I'm through with this manuscript, every single page will be bleeding pink, purple, blue, or green, depending on which gel pen I used.

Have I mentioned I'm having a blast with this? Please to be noting my quote from a few days ago: "One of the best things about being a writer is that I get to go to work in nothing but my underwear, if I want to." I wrote that. You can quote me on it.

After I've gone through the hard copy pages, I will enter all the changes into the computer document and print it all out--that will be my second draft. Then, I'll begin re-structuring the parts of the story that don't work. *That* will be the hard part....because, as Mr. King teaches (in "On Writing"--a writer's bible, I swear), in order to create a working story, you must "kill your darlings." Meaning: I gotta cut out parts of the story I love but that don't fit.

That's where the other quote from a few days ago comes into play: "Psychologically speaking, writing a book is like getting into a knife fight with yourself in a phone booth" (The Waiter). When I "kill my darlings," I'm going to be fighting myself, and it's not going to be pretty.

You've been warned.

That's all for now. I hope you've enjoyed this look into One Writer's Mind. Metaphors be with you.

thoughts on a bible translation

So once again, I'm trying to make daily Bible study part of my lifestyle. Over the last 2 years, I had made daily study a priority. Yeah, I had "backslides" or "relapses" or whatchacallits, times when I forgot or put it off or just didn't do it because I was feeling recalcitrant. (There's that word again!) But still, I was generally moving in the right direction, knew myself a spiritually stronger person, and knew myself as becoming ever more vulnerable to and intimate with God.

Since Ed and I moved back to Oklahoma, my daily Bible study has been nil.

There have been lots of reasons for this, but I don't want to get into all of that now. It's cultural-transition-related, so perhaps I'll write about that some other time. The point of this blopgost is to say that I am once more reading daily ( --> spending time with God daily), and I would like to share some thoughts about the Bible translation I have been using.

I'm not sure what the official name of this translation is. The cover reads as follows:

The Everlasting Gospel
New Testament with Psalms, Proverbs, and more
Hugo McCord, Th.D.
FHU Press

What I have is the 4th edition. Its foreword refers to the translation as the Freed-Hardeman Version (FHV). For simplicity's sake, that's how I will refer to it, as well.

I'm no Greek scholar, but I'm working on it. ;o) I've been studying N.T. Greek (Koine) for over a year and am pleased to be able to say that I now have a rudimentary understanding of the language which can certainly get me into a lot of trouble. ;o) That said (and I hope, by the tongue-in-cheek, you realize that I am considering myself anything but learnéd), in what little FHV reading I've done, I've identified a few problems in the New Testament translation. (I can say nothing of the Old Testament translation, as I've not yet dared to tackle Hebrew.)

So far, these seem to be little things. Most recently, I noticed that the FHV calls the Jewish 7th hour "7 o'clock" (John 4:52), which is incorrect. The Jewish 7th hour was equivalent to our 1:00pm. A minor detail...but it begs the question what other things have been overlooked. There's more to be said on this subject, I'm sure, but let me digress into what I actually wanted to write about when I set about writing this blopgost...

...which is this: The FHV translates several passages in such a manner as to clear up some major theological issues of our day. I won't name the issues, and I won't point out the particulars of why I'm quoting the verses I quote below. Suffice it to say that the translation of certain words and phrases in the N.T. scriptures concurs with what I've been taught, so far, by three different Greek scholars. Not that this makes me an authority or in any way reliable--I am simply giving my opinion. Given another 40 years of Greek study, I might change that opinion. But for now, the scriptures:

John 3:16
God so loved the world that he gave his unique Son, so that no one who believes in him will perish, but he will have eternal life.

Acts 2:38
...Change your hearts and be immersed, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ into the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Titus 3:5
...he saved us, not by works of righteousness which we had done, but according to his mercy, through the bath of the new birth and the renewal of the Holy Spirit...

Matthew 3:8
Bring forth fruit as evidence of a change of heart.

Matthew 5:48
You therefore shall be mature, as your heavenly Father is mature.

1. Corinthians 10:13
...God is trustworthy, and he will not allow you to be tried beyond your ability. With the trial he will provide an escape, so that you can bear up under it.

Acts 2:4
All [the apostles] were filled with the Holy Spirit, and began speaking in other languages as the Spirit empowered them.

Acts 10:46
They were hearing the Gentiles speak in languages and praising God.

1. Corinthians 14:5
...He who prophecies is greater than he who speaks in languages, unless he interprets, that the assembly might be edified.


And so forth.

A note on the foreword: McCord definitely had a sense of humor. (I say "had" because I heard that he's dead.) He writes, "...the KJV uses words such as 'grisled,' 'holpen,' 'sith,' 'unicorns,' 'strawed,' 'bewrayeth,' 'wist,' 'wit,' 'wot,' and 'trow'...while advising readers to use 'sound speech that cannot be condemned' (Titus 2:8)." ;o)

And a general note on various translations: I'm a strong advocate of perusing multiple translations at once. When I'm studying or preparing a lesson, I usually use at least 5 or 6. It keeps my mind open and helps me to see nuances. So no one should take this post as my recommendation of the FHV above all other translations. It is one of many I use; but it just happens to be one I'm currently very interested in, and one that translates a few things in a way I haven't seen in other translations.

migraine

Well, based on the title above, perhaps you can guess what it is that currently ails me. :o/ It started yesterday evening. I'm not sure what brought it on (I don't get these very frequently, so I'm never sure of exactly what brings them on), but it could've been too much coffee, not enough food, too much cinnamon, or a combination of any or all of those. Or something of which I've not yet become aware.

I thought that nine hours of sleep would take care of this, but it didn't. I woke up with it, and in spite of two Excedrin, I still have it. I'm hoping the Excedrin will still kick in; in the meantime, I am very frustrated and trying to stay as still as possible. My parents brought over three large bookshelves yesterday, and I was looking forward to organizing all our books today. So much for that idea. If the Excedrin does its job, perhaps I'll still be able to pursue that quest. I hope.

Perhaps you're wondering what I'm doing, blopgosting when I have a migraine. Well, I shouldn't be blopgosting, but I wanted to make note of my migrainal impressions while they're current, just for future reference:

--What pain I have is centered in my forehead, radiating out toward my temples.

--My face also hurts a bit, but this is painful pressure related to chronic sinusitis.

--There might be a connection between the sinus pain and the migraine; using nose spray seemed to lessen the pain a little bit yesterday evening.

--I don't actually have a lot of migraine pain. The migraine manifests itself more as a nearly unbearable tension behind my forehead and my eyes, as though everything behind forehead and eyes were slowly solidifying. Or like a screw being over-tightened, millimeter by millimeter.

--When I'm lying flat, I slowly start to feel better. Getting up and moving around causes me to start feeling weak and shaky and elicits an ominous churning in my stomach.

--My eyes are light-sensitive right now. They don't like direct sunlight, and they prefer not being in indirect sunlight, either. However, the indirect light doesn't cause an increase in pain, just a slight increase in that funny tense feeling.

--Speaking of stomach, I was hungry when I got up, but my appetite didn't survive past a few bites of cereal with walnuts and banana (my usual breakfast). I forced myself to eat more, so that I'd have food in my stomach when taking the Excedrin.

--Yesterday evening, I first knew the migraine was coming on when I started seeing these faint, snaky, shimmering lines around the lower edges of my vision. (I have seen these often before, but they're not always connected with pain/weird tension.)

--My sinusitis always flares up when the weather changes (whether it's changing from cold to warm or from warm to cold). I'm wondering if this migraine might also be a reaction to the radical weather changes of the last five days.

That's all for now. I'm gonna close my eyes for awhile.

UK Trip--a few preliminary remarks

So. Due to popular demand (voiced to me by multiple people in person, if not on this blog), I'm gonna start "reporting" on the mid-August vacation Ed and I took to the United Kingdom. We'd been planning this trip for over a year, and it was my Christmas present from Ed last year. So by the time we actually got to go, I was as excited as Snickers when it's time to leave for her Sunday walk and the dumb humans can't find the leash. Getting to go to London and Scotland really swung my verge, if you will. ;o)

A few preliminary remarks about the vacation, or "holiday," as they say in the UK: This was the first real vacation that Ed and I have had since my parents took us to Ireland five years ago. Yeah, we've had a few trips to Oklahoma since then, and we've taken "mini-vays" (mini-vacations = day trips or weekend trips) to various places, but nothing like a real, frolicking, get-away-from-everything, see-something-totally-new, get-into-another-world kind of vacation. The trips to the States are never vacations because they're more "business" than pleasure. And four of my trips to the States have been for family medical emergencies or deaths. All in all, it would be nice to take a trip to the States that actually involved anything like a vacation!

Also, this was the very first vacation Ed and I have been on together, just the two of us, since our honeymoon (almost nine years ago!). So we've been rather overdue for something like this!

And a few prelims about my vacation "blopgost": It's gonna be a lot, it's gonna take me some time to finish writing it, and I seriously doubt that most of you will want to read all of it. However, I'll be posting it piece by piece, so maybe that'll keep it from being too overwhelming. ;o)

this has *not* been one of those weeks...

...and even so, *twice* in the last five days, I have had to stick my hand down a toilet to retrieve an object that shouldn't be flushed. I wish I could turn this into an amusing blopgost about how everything that could go wrong *has* gone wrong...but other than unexpected double-WC-retrieval, I'm having a good week.

So...sorry for the lack of amusing material. Just picture me standing in the bathroom of the church building, wearing nice clothes, while pitching a fit about having to stick my hand down the toilet to retrieve a hapless toilet bowl freshener. For those who know me personally, this should strike you as rather funny.

(The other incident involved a 1 Euro coin. Just FYI.)

TWICE.

*sigh*

ruminations of the sleep-deprived

As I write, it is Saturday morning, 5:04 a.m. Even if you don't know me well, you probably do know that I am rarely awake this early in the day. Even as a new intrepid jogger, I do not get up this early. Just on general principle. Please note that this is 'principle' not 'principal.'

Anyway...so there I was, fast asleep and minding my own business, when I suddenly realized that I was wide awake. Instead of fighting it like I usually do, I decided to give in and get up.

Hear that wailing? That's night owls everywhere screaming, "Noooooooooooooooo!"

;o)

So here I am, blogging just after five in the morning. And rather slowly, too, as I'm sitting at Ed's desk, using his Mac and his Mac keyboard. (Would that be a MacKeyboard?) Just for the record, I love the Mac, but I hate its keyboard. I have to pound each key with something like vehement fury in order to get it to produce anything. I fIjust tyoe the wayI usually do, i get something like this. Oh,a nd didi mention that the keys are space somewhtdifferently than on my laptop?

In case you haven't already noticed, I have no particular reason for blogging at this time. Meaning, I have no particular subject in mind. I am simply awake at 5 a.m. and needed something to do but didn't feel like doing anything that actually needs to be done. Besides, it's Saturday.

I have a zit on my chin, and it hurts. When I was a teenager, I thought that adulthood was supposed to be free of such things. (Zits, that is, not chins.) Well into adulthood now, I have discovered, to my dismay and disappointment, that this is not the case. I feel somewhat hoodwinked by this.

My parents, who are living with us for the month of July, are currently in Greece. Part of their trip is a cruise, and I guess they must be on it now, because yesterday evening, Mama called and left a voicemail: "Hi, we just wanted to call and let you know that we're having fun," etc. I was amused, even through my envy. ;o)

Although I suppose that I shouldn't be too envious......considering that I get to go to Scotland in less than a month! Wahooooooo!!!! I am so excited about this! We were supposed to go with Clint and April when they went last year, but it didn't work out. So Ed gave me this Scotland trip as my Christmas present. Brief and very vague itinerary: One day in London/Corby with our friend Patrick; one day of fellwalking with Patrick in the Lake District (and maybe with Kevin, too???); then head to the Dundee area and see Dundee, Stirling, Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Glasgow?, and hopefully drive to the highlands for a day. And we hope to see our friends Tristan and Leslie in Stirling! I have no clue if this is all possible in a 9-day trip (5-day, if you don't count London/Lake District/travel), but that's our current inkling of a conceptual hypothesis. I haven't had the time or the brains, so far, to study all the travel materials we've collected and look into specifics. However, Ed and I are going to sit down together sometime this coming week and figure it all out, so I'll keep you posted.

Yaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy, we're going to Scotland!!!!!!

Oh yeah, speaking of voicemail messages... Over the last month or so, Ed and I have received two phone calls to our Skype number in the middle of the night. Both times, neither of us woke up in time to get to the phone--although we *were* woken up--so both calls left messages:

Call #1: 4 a.m. Rustling, music somewhere in the background, then talking as though from a distance. No words distinguishable. More rustling. Then, a new voice talking, but this one sounds like a toy. And it sounds like several toys talking at once, overlapping each other: "I need a hug!" "What are we going to do today?" "(something-something-indistinguishable) hooray!" "I need a hug!" "What are we going to do today?" "(something-something-indistinguishable) hooray!" "I need a hug!" And so forth. More rustling. Then the toy voices start up again. The voicemail message continues in this vein for five minutes before stopping abruptly.

Call #2: 1 a.m. Rustling. Talking in the background. A kid's voice (real, not a toy), or maybe a toddler's. More rustling. An adult's voice, words indistinguishable. Then the adult says what sounds like "No, no, no!" More rustling. End.

Ed and I can't figure out who in the world is leaving these weird messages! The voicemails sound as though the person didn't know they had called, like they'd accidentally dialed the number or something. It's gotta be someone we know, but we can't figure out who it could be. Both times, the computer has been off (which is why our regular phone rang), so we haven't been able to see the number that was calling. It's just all very weird.

The first message reminds me of the time Ed and I (before we were married) used his talking Alf toy to leave a message on my roommate Tamara's voicemail, and she thought she was getting an obscene phone call. ;o)

Okay, it's now 5:45, and I think that's enough for one blopgost. If you read all of this ramblingness, you get a cookie. Enjoy.

Me, I'm gonna give the keyboard a rest from my vehement fury.

Q & A

Q & A Procedure:

1. Leave me a comment saying anything random, like your favorite lyric to your current favorite song. Or your favorite kind of sandwich. Something random. Whatever you like.

2. I respond by asking you five personal questions (in response to your comment, so check back!) so I can get to know you better.

3. You WILL update your LJ (aka blog) with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and offer to ask someone else in the post.

5. When others comment asking to be asked, you will ask them five questions.


My answers to Patricia's Qs:

1. If you were to have the chance to adopt a sibling, would you pick a brother or a sister?

Oooh, that's a hard one! I've always liked the idea of having a big brother to stick up for me, and there have been a couple of guys in my life who have been like brothers.... Not to mention most of my guy cousins who are definitely like my brothers....and girl cousins who are like sisters......and girl friends who are definitely like sisters..... As you can see, I definitely have trouble pinning myself down to a concise answer here! I guess I'd probably have to choose a sister, just for all the late-night girltalk. ;o)

2. What is your favorite memory of us from college?

Do I have to pick just one?!?!??!!!? ;o) Okay, here goes, in random order:

(a) All the time we spent in Honors together. You made it fun and interesting and lively during the times my attention started to drift. All the craziness we had together just really made that time something special to me!
(b) The note you wrote me at the end of our freshman year, in which you told me how much you appreciated my friendship. At the time, I had no idea that my friendship meant so much to you, and it was good to hear that in spite of all my difficulties that year, you still liked me and accepted me.
(c) Doing artsy stuff together! I know we didn't get to sit down and draw together as much as both of us wanted to, but at least we had a few times of getting to do stuff as "art buddies."
(d) Getting to go home with you at the end of freshman year. As an only child, I was pleasantly amazed at how such a large family could actually work! ;o) You all made me feel more welcome than I thought I had a right to be. Even though I wasn't there very long, it's a time I'll never forget. (Don't tell Bec and Bradley this, but I still think of them as being the age they were when I visited!) ;oD
(e) Can we say 'Medieval Fairs'?! :oD

3. What book heroine do you relate to the most?

You do know how to ask the tough ones, don't you. ;o) Okay, the one I think of off the top of my head is Kit from "The Witch of Blackbird Pond" by Elizabeth George Speare. Kit grows up in Barbados and moves to Puritan New England to live with her conservative aunt and uncle. The book chronicles her adjustment from one culture to another. She even seeks out the other 'misfits' in Puritan society to try to find her niche. Classic TCK behavior! Since that has basically been the story of my life, I can relate to Kit quite well, even though the book is written for a young reading level. (I've read this book every few years since I was 9 or 10.)

4. What Honors quote will stick in your memory forever?

Again, it's impossible to choose just one!

"Don't ask stupid questions!"
"She was all bust absent from history."
"Moses' Little Bake Shop."
"Nietzsche is bad for you anyway. Nietzsche will rot your teeth."
The essence of scarfness.
Dead Peasants Aren't Much Fun.
"Did I date your mother?"

Hmm...I might just have to do an all-Honors blopgost! ;oD

5. What is the funniest thing you've heard or read recently?

(a) Three-year-old Velony telling her parents in all seriousness: "Ich hab' geschwitzt wie Sau!" ("I was sweating like a hog!")
(b) Once again, I amused myself by watching the guy who webcammed himself dancing to "Dragostea Din Tei". In my opinion, this is one of the greatest videos ever made.
(c)Honors quotes. ;o)

signs of life

Yo. I thought I'd give a quick run-down of the goings-on around here.

Last week, finished up our yearly 6-week Let’s Start Talking campaign.
Had a great team this year: Bekah, Erin, and Greta, who are/were students at Pepperdine.
Lemme tell ya, they rock the LST world.
They really swing the LST verge, if you will.
Or even if you won’t.
;o)
I won’t say too much here about the positive, encouraging effect the three of them had on me while they were here.
They already know. :o)
But they were part of helping me through a rough spot a few weeks ago.
God showed himself to me through them, right at a time when I needed it.

During the last five days, toured Chemnitz schools and marketplace with singing campaign from Oklahoma Christian.
This is the campaign that led Ed and me to Chemnitz.
And April and Clint.
And Karen.
And Stoltes and Carrolls and Martins to Dresden.
And a plethora of other people to other places in Europe.
And a whole kit ‘n’ caboodle of other people on short-term missions worldwide.
All thanks to two amazing people, Clyde and Gwen Antwine, just serving God where and when and as they can.
I can’t describe how much these two people mean to me.

Anyway, Clyde and Gwen (aka Dad and Mom/Queenie) are in Dresden for a few weeks, and they came to hear the campaign group (with us Chemnitzers) sing last night.
155 in the audience.
80 guests.
Clyde and Gwen led a standing ovation and made me cry.
We had two encores.
It was great.
People told us that they could see our love for God in our faces when we sang.
He definitely had the hearts and voices of our whole group in his hand.

Trying to keep up with the campaigners has shown me I am no longer 20.
This is a rather disturbing realization.
But I wasn’t too bright when I was 20.
So I still think 30 is pretty cool.

I’d like to write more, because a lot has been going on in my head/heart, but I don’t have time.
This is a weird blopgost.
But it was fun to write.
Gret’s “staccato” email inspired it.
I’m looking forward to some downtime this coming week.
But I’m also enjoying all the hullabaloo of late.
:o)

lotsa update-type-stuff

Did you know that on a 4-year-old laptop, it takes more than three hours to zip-compress 5.1 GB of digital pictures? I didn't know that until I started the process more than three hours ago. I store every current year's digital pics on my external hard drive. At the end of every year, I move the pics from the hard drive to a DVD, thereby freeing up hard drive space. This year, I'm a bit behind. I only just got around to working with year 2006 pics this morning. And now the eternal wait for compression. I can't believe that in one year, I took more digital pictures than can fit onto a 4.7 GB DVD-R. Good grief.

By the way, the laptop's name is Frodo. The external hard drive's name is Andromeda.

I really don't have much of a purpose in writing this current blogpost (or "blopgost" as I like to call them), except for the fact that I know I haven't blogged anything in a few weeks, and I'm waiting waiting waiting for Andromeda to do her thing.

Here's something funny: My mom brought me a box of old letters that I had saved. In it was a card from Susan Morris, who worked with the Chemnitz church with the Sullivans in the mid '90s. This was before I'd ever even heard of Chemnitz, and I certainly had no clue who the Sullivans were. Susan came to visit the church in Frankfurt in late 1994 or early 1995, when I was 17 years old. I met her briefly, and I vaguely remember speaking with her. Now, twelve years later, I re-read a card she sent to my mom. I never even suspected that one day, I would be living and working where she lived and worked. When I first saw the card again, I was amused by it but decided to toss it with the rest of the old letters. But now I've changed my mind. I'm going to stick it in my journal and keep it as a reminder of how God's plans are so much different from and so much more fulfilling than my own. It's funny and fascinating how he works out my life.

Pippin is lying next me, asleep, curled up into a ball, and snoring.

I am currently possessed of a grand sense of accomplishment. For four years, I have been working on a series of Bible lessons on some of the basics of Christian life and faith. (These are lessons that my friend James asked me to write once-upon-a-time. So even though I doubt I'll ever have the opportunity to study them with him, I at least have him to thank for putting the idea into my head.) The lessons themselves, barring revisions, have been finished for a long time. But for over a year now (or two years? can't remember), I've been working on a Teacher's Guide for these lessons. Yesterday, in a thrilling flurry of hunt-and-peck typing, I finally finished the Teacher's Guide! The lessons themselves cover more than 100 pages, and the Teacher's Guide is 178 pages long. I still want to write intros to the Lessons and to the Guide, but other than that and minor revisions, I am done!!! YAY!!!!!! Several people have shown interest in using the lessons as material for their own one-on-one Bible studies, so I'm glad that something I've written can be of service to someone. If even one person can make use of the lessons, then all my time and effort was well worth it. :o)

In other news, I know I'm severely behind in answering comments. I'll get to that as soon as I reasonably can. Dear Commenting Readers, I haven't forgotten you!

And just FYI, in the time it has taken me to write this post, the zip-compression still hasn't finished. The wait continues...