Past Times

My husband discovered my blog last week.  (waves at hubby who is certainly reading this)  This space wasn't exactly a secret from him, being in a public forum, but I certainly didn't tell him about it.  I wrote things here that are embarrassing to me and to him, and dear, I apologize for that.  I love you very much.  I've deleted some of those entries and I'll be deleting others soon.

I wrote here month after month as a way to work through problems, have some fun, share with friends, and just to keep my writing skills limber.  I enjoy putting electronic pen to paper and unfortunately those close to us are the subject of much writing...both biography and fiction.  So dear, know that I love you and that you are the crucial part in my world....and know that I love you more than anyone or anything. 

When we talked, he told me, ""I'm glad I'm not married to an author....I don't think I could take that."  This is rough enough for him, reading thoughts that were never meant for his eyes.  Dear one, you are always welcome here, when you enter this forum you will be my honored guest.  Always feel at home in my thoughts and in my heart.  What will be splayed out in this blog is for all to see, but most of all you.  Please read, enjoy, and comment.  I hope I never make you cringe with this blog again.

Gandalf warned me....he said that if entered Second Life I could be sucked down the rabbit hole never to return.  Yes I have been sucked down that rabbit hole, and yes I spend way to much time on Second Life, but this blog entry is proof that there is life after Second Life. 

My real life continues: raising daughters, giving sermons, working for the dreaded law office.  I still go to operas, symphony, and chamber music, and I still find time to read books (the novel 2066) right now.  But I have missed my daily blogging and my MSN friends.  It seems that my fingers can still tap a keyboard and my mind can still put together a coherent sentence.  Hopefully I will find the inspiration to return here again and again to explore and share the goings on in my life.

It's late August...back to school time.  I'm waking up earlier to wake up daughter Ashley and to make her lunch.  The dreaded, "Do you have any homework?" has crept back into my conversations.  My morning drive to work is peppered by yellow buses and I find myself paying more and more attention to the fashion ads in the newspapers.

My inner soccer mom is awakening, stirred by the pull of orchestra committees and school registrations.  Yesterday I attended an all day church retreat. (I'm a member of my church's board *curtsey*)  On Wednesday I'll be sitting in on orchestra auditions and on Thursday Ashley has her first concert.  It's less relaxing to sit under the sun by the pool when one is followed by a cloud of duties and a storm of commitments.  I'm tempted to retire my bikinis for the season....just tempted.

But after yesterday's church meeting I was ready to move poolside permanently.  The morning session was scheduled to run from 8:30 until noon.  The final prayer and hymn were said and sung closer to one.  In between we were treated discussions on building use policy, tax exempt letters (make sure they're up to date),  team building, and whether the thermostat should be set at 76 or 78 degrees.  Here are selected quotes from my notes:  "Suggested agenda.....Checkin....get meeting over ASAP...check out."  "Interminable discussion of building use.  10:15...20 mins. into building usage....UGH!  Poster child for nightmare meeting.  People upset about the FORM!  Give me a gun!  GAK."  At about 12:30, as the meeting should have been winding down or over already for god sake, a board member started the thermostat discussion.   76 or 78....68 or 70....turn up or down during services....I don't even know how to work the thermostat.  That's when I got up, went to the bathroom, and failed to return.  Nature called....the nature that I couldn't take this anymore.  It's terribly bad form to swear at other church leaders in the sanctuary.

So I survived...even survived the afternoon session.  And this morning I'm going to services.  I am a glutton for committee work.  I am Soccer Mom
So if you see me in my Town and Country Van....please don't ask me where my thermostat is set.







 

It's a rainy day and it's Monday.  I should be down, but not today.  I'll be giving another sermon this Sunday and today is a research day.  My topic will be "home." 

It seems to me that everybody has a different conception of home.  For some its their dwelling, others feel more home at work.  Some people feel at home at the golf course or at a neighborhood bar.  Others feel at home at a certain store or spa.  Church is a home to many and the ancestral home may be as repellent to some as it is attractive to others.

The common thread is that each of us feels a yearning for a place we can call home.  This is a place where we feel safe and connected.  Where we can be ourselves without fear of judgment or expectations that push us to be someone else.  Thus the ancestral home that is anything but a haven.

Heaven may be a yearned for home for many, but I wonder how many would feel comfortable living in what is the popular conception of that place?  Harps and clouds and bliss all day all the time.  For who would that be home?  I suspect even Mother Theresa would soon chafe at the lack of variety.  No, I think more people would agree with Max Tucker's's conception of a spiritual home.  Mr. Tucker is a self confessed hedonist and is the author of, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell."

I'd love to know what place others see as "home."  Is it where you grew up, a favorite concert hall, a college, your house, or workplace?  Please let me know.

It's the weekend, about time.  My husband and I are fighting over the television.  I want to watch the Tour de France, he wants to watch the British Open.  He's watching other men chase a white ball right now, freeing me up to blog.  Pretty soon I'll push him off the couch so that I can watch Chrstian Vande Velde climb an Alp.

I'm even more excited about Le Tour since learned that Vande Velde is from the Chicago suburb of Lemont.   I'm sure I've driven over the same roads he has used to train.  Hurray--a local boy to root for.  Go Christian!

I've been biking more lately.  My typical ride is 20 miles, two or three times per week.  I finally broke down and bought myself a pair of those tight and padded bike pants.  The kind that make you feel like you're wearing about four sanitary napkins.  I may feel like the Michilin Woman down there, but my  ride is so much more comfortable.  I even  bought one of those colorful jerseys with the pockets in the back.  I only wish I were an adept enough biker to use those pockets.  That reach behind while pedaling still throws me off. 

It's raining like crazy today, so probably no biking.  Even after the rain stops the water thrown up by my tires from puddles would give me a wet stripe up my back.  Definitely not a good look.  It looks like more indoor exercise today, probably the stair climb with arms full of laundry.  And yes I have avoided Lifetime Fitness.  The last time I went there I almost didn't come out.