Against the Wind

Oh for an hour in my own head! This is my hour. I’m celebrating.

I would not classify my family as disfunctional, but when we all get together, I do feel pulled hither and yon. So I nearly busted my whatchamacallit when #1 daughter told me that I could do some scanning and saving photos, “since I have the most free time.” Uh, please put a label on that as it goes past. At the moment I don’t feel like I have any free time. But family holidays are pleasant in that all the preparation and hustle and bustle, you don’t have time to notice whether SAD (seasonal affective disorder) is bonking you in the head. Furthermore, sleep is never a problem. Give me a horizontal surface, or just some quiet time sitting still, and I’m asleep.

Photos from two months ago… my continuing retrospective. Dunking for apples went the way of the dodo bird this halloween, since snotty noses in a barrel of water with apples floating about just didn’t seem a good idea. So Tara saw somewhere the idea of “dunkin donuts.”

Here’s the result.

Now a bit of politics, just because I can’t help myself. Friday afternoon is a minefield of political shenanigans. So is Christmas Eve it would seem. This was published Christmas Eve. It’s become de rigeur to go after CEO’s pay, and especially banker’s pay. But the first comment on this says it all. And the first comment…

NickM: Pay caps do not apply if your political connections are strong enough.Nick

Movie note. We went to see Sherlock Holmes when it opened on Christmas Day. It is a different sort of Sherlock Holmes… Sherlock meets hollywood action film, with sex siren. But Dickensian London is shown as dark and dirty. And not just the underbelly. So the following day when I found this clip, which looks so sunny I had to save it.

London is gathering to hear the speech Churchill gave in a weekend celebrating VE day. I’ve got the text of the speech below, because it’s hard to hear. Or my ears are getting old. Or both.

God bless you all! This is your victory! It is the victory of the cause of freedom in every land. In all our long history we have never seen a greater day than this. Everyone, man or woman, has done their best. Everyone has tried. Neither the long years, nor the dangers, nor the fierce attacks of the enemy, have in any way weakened the independent resolve of the British nation. God bless you all!

HT:Richard Fernadez who riffs on this speech and its brevity in contrast with “The One.”

And on the same theme, Carlo and I have decided to go to the World War II museum this afternoon. He really wants to go to the Museum of art to the gift shop, but looks like we end up at the WWII and possibly some time at the aquarium. Tania is out looking for homes, and Marianne is off to Trinidad.

Tania found one she really liked, something she could buy and move into later. There are tennants in both halves of the 1800 square foot house, so the income will pay her mortgage until she’s ready to occupy the back part. So far this is the best she’s located in her budget. Great location, tiny house.

This is one of the cutest little girls… I just love this kid.  She is seriosity personified.  And done up as a pirate for Halloween for the kids’ birthday party she’s beyond cute.

This was a weekend of Tara seriously knocking herself out.  Not about to give up on the kids’ birthday festivities, just because she’s booking it about 12 hours a day 7 days a week.

Anyway, Christmas is here 100%.  We’ve had family times, managed the first semi melt down, and there’s more fun times to be had tomorrow.  Carlo wants to go see a movie, and I don’t know of a single movie that’s out that I want to see.  Some sort of video on demand scheme seems like a working deal to me.   But whose equipment where?

Carlo is thinking he’ll go after my bushes and brambles tomorrow, so I’ll be up and dressed and ready to get into the thick of unwanted greenery in the morning.  It’s a good job to get done.

Meanwhile, a quick return to the Proverbs.

Proverbs 10:23

To do evil is like sport to a fool,
But a man of understanding has wisdom.

Have you read about the goings on in Copenhagan? Where have you seen evildoers lately?

Musing today in my journal, I was taken aback to reflect on the last 20 years in the lives of my loved ones. By the grace of God, we’ve come through quite a number of the minefields of modernity, and my children seem unharmed.

Twenty years ago, my marriage was unravelling, and I was trying to find my footing in a new place I did not want to be. Dana took some of Mother’s VHS tape and converted a Christmas scene from 17 years ago or so, and converted it to DVD. The scene is in Dana’s house in Brookside, in Tulsa, with Robert and Ann fairly newly married, no children. My girls are there taken with all the Christmas excitement, no sign of Carlo. I was there, but sleepwalking. That was the winter the marriage totally shattered. I watched it a few years back and wished for time travel. I needed to hear that there was another side of the abyss I was staring into.

Twenty years have made so many changes, changes my oldest daughter puts off to hard work and perserverance. She has worked hard and perservered. Each of us, Tara, Marianne, Tania, Carlo and I have come through trials. In the biblical sense, we’ve reeped the poison fruit of sin, yet the amazing redemptive grace has seen us all through. I cannot get specific without telling other people’s stories, and it’s not my story to share.

My story is that when I was gazing into that abyss, I emotionally withdrew from my children. I poured myself into being the best math teacher I could possibly be, contributing as best I could to the school where I taught. My one friend I could confide in as I walked that path got sicker and sicker and died… I cannot say how I got through, but somehow I managed to avoid the traps of turning my pain into poison which could have destroyed the relationship the girls have with their father. They have always had a father who loved them.

Tania was old enough that the emotional abandonment worked fine for her. She took every advantage of the situation, and tried to work out her path. She took on a full load of debt and attended Boston University. I remember putting her on the plane to Boston by herself, when other folks could take their children and get them set and settled. Tania went alone into a whole new world. She’s tough and a hard worker that one. Married and soon to have a baby, a couple Emmy’s for television production under her belt, and again now facing a lot of unknowns. She sort of reminds me of Cuz Sara, crashing for the glass ceilings. We’ll see how all this plays out, but she’s now hunting for a home in New Orleans while Bartley does a master’s program in Urban planning. Lots of unknowns ahead, but my God she’s a strong one.

Marianne however needed a lot more than I could give her in the way of Mothering. She lost a boyfriend her senior year, and nearly lost her life over it. I was not sympathetic. I was mad! I dragged her reluctant behind with me to the community college where she learned to cook. And has she ever cooked! She’s cooked herself a whole new life. She will finish her Bachelors in Foreign Relations this May, and marry in July. She and Barry have plenty of fun and friends. Marianne is always a party waiting to happen.

Tara always looked like she was ok with whatever life threw her way. She was the one who had to call 911 and get Marianne to the hospital through that bit of drama. She was in middle school at the time. So believeing the facade, I believed she was doing ok, and just ignored her while I tried to find my bearings. Imagine my disappointment when she was unable to graduate with her class (Class of 2000) and dropped out of high school. I dragged her behind to the Community college as well. Our Lady of Second Chances. In her second semester she told me about the pregnancy. But she had Quentin in May and finished her second semester, hung in and got her Associates Degree. Next thing I know, she’s up and taking classes at UNO to get her Bachelor’s in Math and Biology. We celebrated like there was no tomorrow. But the medical schools she’d applied to weren’t all that impressed. But perserverance is the hall mark of the breed. The year off she polished up her application a bit more, and now has the first semester of training to be a doctor under her belt. Have I mentioned that my daughter will be a doctor? I mention it often!

Carlo’s story is his own… I’ll not try to tell the amazing story of his life, but he is building a portfolio as an artist, still finding what God meant him to be.

End of another year. End of the first decade of the millenium. End of twenty tough years, but it’s looking pretty good from here.

Five years ago Katrina passed through and redecorated all our lives. The stress of Katrina contributed to Tara going to toxemia with the second pregancy, but blessedly we have a healthy wonderful four year old boy. Everyone needs a miracle baby.

My parents are both gone, my brothers are doing well. Could I be more blessed? Well, yeah. I could have a lot more energy. I could be loving and loved. But I’ll take the spot I’m in and praise God as I ride out into the sunset.

Tomorrow Christmas begins here in earnest. Carlo will be arriving early afternoon, and the plan is to eat at Mimi’s. She’s still cooking! From there we’ll play it by ear. Two rooms of my house are clean. I’ll do more after he gets here.

My trusty dusty tree from the storage bins is assembled as of a week ago, and still has three, count them, three ornaments on it. I’ve been running doing some Christmas celebrating. Last week I ran fast enough that I managed a 1.4 lb loss in spite of some serious holiday eating.

What is new in my life as I head into the Christmas season is budgetting. Money and food. Limit the outgo of the one and the intake of the other. I won’t get it perfect all the time, but if I can keep a balance in the longish haul, I’ll be ok.

I think today is going to be a “tab dump” from the last few days, a proverb and a picture! Nothing special, but I miss the time writing when I don’t, and I miss the responses, which always make my day.

It’s cold and wet, and the Saints won. Life is good. Time for a couple quilt photos from the Houston Festival. I’m not supposed to post photos of these quilts without names of the maker. Unfortunately I’ve lost the notes on makers. I was kind of hurried and tired. Always a problem at the festival.

The first is a log cabin quilt, kind of the lowliest (because that is the style of quilt I made first) But they can be striking. The quilting on this as well as the overall design are eyepoppers.

Then there is a sampler. I have done several, and enjoy them. Nothing I’ve done compares to this.

Just looking at the quilts makes me long to get going on quilting projects and I will later this week. Almost finished with school work. Then I’m a quilter.

Today’s Proverb? Proverb 10:19

In the multitude of words sin is not lacking,
But he who restrains his lips is wise.

Ok, that’s ironic, when I blather on so profusely! I went to Sunday School praying to up shut. I did fairly well in that context. Forward and onward.

These are some clips from since I last blogged. Some may interest you. I pass them on hoping you see something you like.

Shrinkwrapped considers the unremitting growth of government bureaus.

Here’s the fun fact of the day from USA Today:

When the recession started, the Transportation Department had only one person earning a salary of $170,000 or more. Eighteen months later, 1,690 employees had salaries above $170,000.

Got that? Seventeen hundred employees at DoT make $170,000 per year. Eighteen months ago, there was one.

The AP writes about how the Norwegians chaffed from the big O’s treatment of them and their festivities. An Obama cut out stands in for photos in Norway.

…he skipped several other activities, including lunch with the king, a news conference at Oslo’s Grand Hotel, CNN’s traditional interview with the prize winner and a “Save the Children” benefit concert, where organizers replaced him with an Obama cardboard cutout.

This imagined interview between Steve Jobs and the CEO of AT&T is priceless. Fake Steve nails the conversation that should have happened.

And this link in case anyone wants to buy me a book for Christmas. I’ve read none of them and I’d enjoy any. Actually I saved it for my own Christmas shopping. I’m kidding… I am not begging for presents. Much.

Two major hurdles were between me and my future life as a lady of leisure. I just knocked off the first one. Last year’s round robin top is finished two months late. Now if I get the stack of papers graded I can seriously start on the cooking. Oh, and there is Christmas shopping. I hope to head to a quilt shop in the morning and see what I can rustle up there. I can make another Mandarin orange upside down cake for the Quilt guild. But sometime I’ve got to get a couple batches of cookies done. Maybe I’ll mix up some sugar cookie batter this evening. Don’t know whether I can do all the icing and decorating by myself, but I think I can.

Proverbs 10:18

He that hideth hatred is of lying lips; And he that uttereth a slander is a fool.

Compare with and contrast
Proverbs 26:24

He that hateth dissembleth with his lips; But he layeth up deceit within him.

Both strongly connect hatred and the LIE. Hiding hatred makes your lips lie, in both verses. From chapter 10, hatred is connected to slander, from chapter 26, deceit is the follow on. A “concise commentary” that I read said something about hiding your hatred and lies from God is an exercise in futility. Neither of these verses directly invoke God, but the God who would have us ever striving to be the best person we can be is ill served by hatred and lies. Lies come about in many ways, but Wormwood glows in the warmth of our hatreds.

Last a photo of a quilt that was a winner at Houston, a minor winner… the colors intrigued me. The dark blues and oranges with some lightish greens and lots of applique is very striking here. The contrast makes my eyes sing.

I missed the shop hop this year, because they always push me in new and strange color directions. But I’ll have four shop hop quilts if I just keep mooving on those. Two are finished and given away. Ina May got the first one I finished and Ann and Robert the second one. The third is together but for the last border. I’m piecing the back and it’s about done. The fourth just looks like blocks on my design wall. I’m about to finish up the first round robin quilt hand quilted, and the second will go to a machine quilter so it’ll be done in this next year. So if I do no more writing than the odd evening blog, I’m still stitching. A little something every day….

My resolve was to tell at least one amusing story from the day at hand. Is turning into your parent amusing? I don’t find it so damn funny, actually.

Ahh, yes, I see the internet is out AGAIN. I feel like I’m inhabiting my Mother’s skin and the level of frustration she would exhibit with the internets.

This morning I headed out with C– to go play bridge in Lacombe. Unfortunately, we never got out of the neighborhood because of flooded streets. So when the streets were finally passable at noon, C– headed home to find her house had flooded again. She worked herself silly pulling up carpeting, digging a little ditch so the water would drain, etc.

By the time I had a chance to sit down at the computer, I was goofing about and T– called. She tried to talk me through the internet set up of the Powerbook she passed on to me. Marianne gave me an old Dell. Anyone else what to contribute to my aged computer collection? No go getting the Apple going. So I tried to hook up my ancient Dell. No internet there either. I finally sucked it up and called the really good DSL support desk at AT&T. They couldn’t figure out what the problem was, so they had me buy a new modem, which is to be shipped tomorrow. I know this, because when my internet restarted, I called to cancel the order.

And now I’m out again. So if this gets posted to my blog you’ll know it came back on it’s own goofy sometimes I work, sometimes I don’t plan.

The tree is half put up. I’ve resigned myself to the idea that Christmas is coming whether I’m ready or not. That climb up into the attic seems more and more trecherous every year. Maybe I need to break down and get a better ladder, though the one I have is high enough, it’s just rickety feeling when I’m on it.

I have a photo of the street full of water, but I’d rather show a photo of one of the round robin quilt tops. This is my favorite. I did the outlandish pink areas and the stars at the bottom. I was so tickled to find a couple fabrics in my stash that I didn’t bother to notice that it was a lot too much. But by the time the dust had settled, I think it’s a working element in the design.

Off to put some more dusty branches on that old artificial tree. It’s going out this year. Without fail. But it’ll go one more year for us.

Whaddya know. A couple hours later, and it’s back. And they’re playing Harmonium on the local PBS station. Does it get any better?

Public Choice? Public Choice? What is that? I’ve tried to wade through the Wikipedia explanation, with little success. Sounds like a long winded way to say that organizations are run for the benefit of the folks who run the organization. The best statement of that as relates to government is Thomas Sowell’s column “Solving Whose Problem?”

No one will really understand politics until they understand that politicians are not trying to solve our problems. They are trying to solve their own problems— of which getting elected and re-elected are number one and number two. Whatever is number three is far behind.

So an economist who’s last book was about Public Choice, and how democracy always (or at least often) gets it wrong, sees the explanation of authorship of the Pentateuch as an example of Public Choice, and thinks it odd. What could be more expected than documentary sources of the history of the relationship of God and his people would reflect the prejudices of the priestly class that wrote it? Compilations from various sources will show the different views of the different authors.

What truly shocked me, however, was learning that a bunch of liberal theologians converged on a vulgar Public Choice theory of the evolution of their most sacred book.

Friedman begins by explaining that J and E are the earliest sources. The most obvious difference between the two is that J always calls God “Yahweh,” while E initially calls him “Elohim.” But it’s the non-obvious differences that are telling. He presents strong evidence that the author of J came from Judah, the southern Jewish kingdom, while the author of E came from Israel, the northern Jewish kingdom. J elevates Aaron and slights Moses; E does the opposite.

If you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail? If you’re an economist using “Public Choice” to study the world, everything looks like “Public Choice.” I enjoyed the short lucid explanation of the four sources traced in the Bible.

Last night after bridge a couple friends and I stopped at a local wine bar, and enjoyed the quiet older crowd long enough to drink our martinis.

I looked up and a beautiful girl was standing beside me. When I registered no recognition, she asked, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

It was Erin L–. She was a bit in her cups and a magnificently beautiful woman. I’d not seen her for more than 10 years, since her mother, a dear friend of mine died. Her children are now of an age to be graduating from high school. She’s stayed single after her marriage exploded immediately after her mother died. I went to bed praying for her, and got up praying for her. I saw a fragility that moved me to near tears. I hope I saw something that wasn’t there.

Meanwhile, a camera image. This is the sort of portrait I would like to do a lot of. There are a couple others I took at the same time. The camera doesn’t steal the soul of the person, but a photo taken after the posing is done captures a lot more of the person. JM just exudes the quiet determination that is her hallmark. Even a photo that only shows a small bit of her face, displays the focused attention. We want photos that show us as we wish we were, no signs of aging or wear. But it is the aging that makes people much more interesting to me. A beautiful young person is a gift from God. The aging person is truly becoming the soul that God meant them to be.

I’ve got a half formulated blog/essay coming later. This will have to do for now.

Call this a little blogging Christmas Present. It was found on a blog promoting a biography of Satcho by Treachout, Pops, which if you’re inclined to spend money on me… I’d like for Christmas.

So Satchmo and a photo. This was such a promising shot. I thought I had it nailed. They call these mosquito hawks here. Great name, eh?

I hate it that I cannot achieve a sharp focus using my eyes. I thought I was seeing clearly enough to focus by hand and nail it. But NO.

I had a dream last night of myself as a butterfly with battered wings. I got up thinking of my Uncle Sam. He had a forceps injury at birth, and one arm is foreshortened. I didn’t even know he was “handicapped” until someone described him by his little arm. I’m sure Sam never knew he was “handicapped.” So, if I’ve got battered wings, I just do. I still have to fly on what’s left.

I’m finally up to October Photos. It’s only December. Time flies, which brings me to Janet’s quilt top. I’m tearing apart the last wheat stalk and put half of it together today. I just cannot get myself to commit to finishing that up. I just had idea #3 or #4 for my row for the Row Robin, but it’s a time eater, so I’ve got to get that one out. I’ve made significant progress on a lot of other things while piddling with that. School’s about out.