We have arrived. We are at the Holy Mountain. Sewanee. And it's not too bad! I wasn't sure how I would manage out in the woods. We are in a house on Rattlesnake Road. The day we got here a girl was bitten by a snake. It isn't as hot as home,but it's pretty darn hot.Our hike the first morning was ...hot. Considering the fact that I attended Bikram Yoga (an hour and a half in a 105 degree room) with Esther the day before, I had something to compare it to.I wasn't THAT hot, but the humidity was thick. We got to our destination--Bridal Veil Falls--and turned around and hiked back. PriestHusband carried a spider stick to catch cobwebs. Looked like a genuine verger. We got caught in a lovely rainstorm on the way back. We took cover under a limestone cliff (rock?ledge? precipice? I don't know what you call it, but it kept us dry.) lt was a lovely place to be, but I kept a wary eye out for Mr No-Shoulders.
Yesterday, I got PH settled at the library, (truly what I said to BrideGirl when she called as we arrived--just like a little child!) He is in heaven. He and the archivists are new BFF's. He has read Dubose's original account of his capture in The War (complete with bumbling pistols caught in capes) and is now deep into his memoirs. And I think he touched the originals. Not supposed to do that. I spent yesterday trying to catch up on some work, and browsing through Sewanee. My theme seems to be mothers and daughters and women "of a certain age". As I hotflash through my days, without looking for it (the hot flashes or the books) I have stumbled on book after book pertaining to us midlife women. I am relishing being drawn back into Greek mythology with Sue Monk Kidd's Traveling with Pomegranates. I have sort of a love /hate relationship with her books, but it is drawing me back to a place I have missed nourishing. Several quotes I'd like to take note of-later. And she writes with her daughter who is about to get married. It is definitely a story of privileged women.With problems only privileged women have time to think about. Guilty as charged. But don't throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Thistleberry Farms (Magdalen Project, I think?)--I bought their soap yesterday. And Blue Monarch. I bought their granola today. Connected to Blue Chair Restaurant. I'm about to go buy a cupcake. Two nearby organizations that help women get out of bad situations. Both have websites.
Now I am sitting in the cemetery. I've been painting and now I'm blogging. What a fabulous office! I have a picture, but I'm not sure I can get it on here.
Last night we had dinner with my best friend since 9th grade. I am so grateful for our friendship .We lost touch for years and years. We've kept up the last 10 a little and more in the last 5. We will spend the weekend with them.
A hummingbird visited us on the porch this morning. He just came by to say hello. We had nothing to offer him. and a deer was munching out our window.
BUT--lest I sound like a true nature lover, let me tell you about our hike. I turned around .WAY too much nature for me. Too overgrown. I like my nature a bit groomed.
Okay. Gotta go. Dinner with the priest who celebrated Nathanael and Carrie's wedding. Then a reading by Beth Henley (Crimes of the Heart).I haven't even told you about the Sewanee Writer's Conference....
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Blogging 101
I don't really know how to do this blogging thing. I don't have much to say that seems important enough to write down. I have plenty to say, but it falls into one of two categories:
1. It 's VERY colorful, fascinating and interesting, but it's someone else's story. Like the wonderful encounters I had at the wedding in Eureka Springs last weekend. One was a conversation with a mother of a college age student whose friendboy is from another culture. To hear this mom express how much she was learning, how she was growing, how her eyes were opened through HER relationship with this young man was refreshing. But it's not my story to tell. Likewise, the woman who told me of her adventures flying around the world (literally--it was a PanAm ticket-you couldn't go backwards) in the late 60's? or maybe it was early 70's. I'd really love to tell that one. It's not mine.
2. It IS my story. Then it feels exceedingly egocentric to write about it and put it out there to be read. And it is not bright and colorful.
Here it is anyway.
We've had a good week at home. PriestHusband is getting into the Sabbatical Swing. He has only threatened to go to the monastery once when I listed too many "you need to's". Mostly, he studies in the morning. We've done a little yard work, he's repaired a door, he's pulled the refrigerator out into the middle of the room and left it and his giant tool thingy on the kitchen table, (still there-part won't be in for a week I'll bet.)Meanwhile I've started and not finished some of my own cleanouts spurred on by the Big CleanOut at my mother's house.
So I am leaving. I'm going tomorrow to Colorado for 3 days. It will be 73 degrees .You may hate me. It is appropriate.
BUT-----while you are hot and hating me, watch a movie. A Man Named Pearl. It is a documentary about a 68 year old African American SC man who has created a Dr Suess yard of topiaries using his electric hedge shears. On top of ladders. It is wonderful .Every single character--except maybe the Chamber of Commerce guy, and he is comic relief--is good, kind, genuine, godly and Southern. On Netflix instant. Watch it. It will make you smile.
ALSO---go sometime to Christ Church Compline on Sunday evenings at 6:45. Look for a posting on my facebook page.
The Priest's Wife
1. It 's VERY colorful, fascinating and interesting, but it's someone else's story. Like the wonderful encounters I had at the wedding in Eureka Springs last weekend. One was a conversation with a mother of a college age student whose friendboy is from another culture. To hear this mom express how much she was learning, how she was growing, how her eyes were opened through HER relationship with this young man was refreshing. But it's not my story to tell. Likewise, the woman who told me of her adventures flying around the world (literally--it was a PanAm ticket-you couldn't go backwards) in the late 60's? or maybe it was early 70's. I'd really love to tell that one. It's not mine.
2. It IS my story. Then it feels exceedingly egocentric to write about it and put it out there to be read. And it is not bright and colorful.
Here it is anyway.
We've had a good week at home. PriestHusband is getting into the Sabbatical Swing. He has only threatened to go to the monastery once when I listed too many "you need to's". Mostly, he studies in the morning. We've done a little yard work, he's repaired a door, he's pulled the refrigerator out into the middle of the room and left it and his giant tool thingy on the kitchen table, (still there-part won't be in for a week I'll bet.)Meanwhile I've started and not finished some of my own cleanouts spurred on by the Big CleanOut at my mother's house.So I am leaving. I'm going tomorrow to Colorado for 3 days. It will be 73 degrees .You may hate me. It is appropriate.
BUT-----while you are hot and hating me, watch a movie. A Man Named Pearl. It is a documentary about a 68 year old African American SC man who has created a Dr Suess yard of topiaries using his electric hedge shears. On top of ladders. It is wonderful .Every single character--except maybe the Chamber of Commerce guy, and he is comic relief--is good, kind, genuine, godly and Southern. On Netflix instant. Watch it. It will make you smile.
ALSO---go sometime to Christ Church Compline on Sunday evenings at 6:45. Look for a posting on my facebook page.
The Priest's Wife
Monday, July 4, 2011
PVSD-Post Vacation Stress Disorder
(Note: This was written before the last post. There isn't a linear bone in Priest'sWife's body.)
So much for vacation! Towards the end of our beach time we got a call that my mother's house had sold--Yea!! Good news!!---And it needed to be completely emptied very soon--Boo! Not a fun job. AND this happened to converge with BabyGirl's move from apartment to house in the same city.
But first, there was Jackson.
We drove into town and headed straight to drinks at the Yacht Club with EG, our former next door neighbor. EG and I share a birthday as do my oldest and her youngest daughters. She was the first to welcome us to Jackson back in 1992. We were there for a weekend working on the house before moving in. She showed up on a Sunday evening with pimiento cheese sandwiches and box wine, grousing all the same because The Dean hadn't given her fair warning to get us anything better. They tasted great! And that marked the beginning of a true friendship. Through the years we had some lovely times with EG. FarmerBoy called her gatherings "cheese straw and sprite" parties. Children were always welcome and present, but most of the fare was more "adult". BrideGirl chose EG to be her substitute Grandparent on Granparents' Day. She also interviewed her for a biography writing assignment.
EG and`I share a similar view of life. When the travel invitation comes, we accept with pleasure! She is maybe a half generation older than I---not my mother's age, but also not my contemporary. Widowed early, she raised two amazing daughters with grace and style. Like me, she has had various and sundry careers, one bleeding into another. One of the belles of Belzonia, she has an accent from heaven. I mean the south. Same thing, right? Her charming lilting drawl makes me happy .I've been known to save her voice messages for months. She is a shining example to me of the Way to Live. We swapped stories sitting out over the Reservoir while sailboats "raced"??? by. She will be at the wedding in October. Meet her, if for no other reason than to hear her speak.
Next we headed to la D's house. Her husband had to be out of town, but she stuck to her generous offer of dinner (always delicious from la D's kitchen) and housing. We gathered with two other couples, our dearest friends for all these years, for dinner on la D's beautiful plant laden deck. Conversation went from the continued troublesome issues of race relations and desegregation in our schools to, well, wallabies. It was just plain fun. We've always had fun with this group. 4 couples, 30 plus years of marriage each of us.
But all good things, in my experience,blend into the next episode of life. We headed to Memphis on Thursday morning, and began what BBG called our Glass Castle episode. If you haven't read the book, it begins with the author describing an experience of seeing someone digging through a dumpster as the author is on her way to a "respectable" event. The dumpster diver is her mother. Now we didn't do any dumpster diving, and my mother most certainly did not, but we did sleep on the floor in my mother's partially empty house for four nights while we had yard sales, sifted through old papers, ( I found all of my old grades, SAT scores, etc. Gladly, trashed them until I realized they had social security numbers on them. Moved to the shredder pile.) It seemed to have no end. At the yard sale, a woman asked how much for the TV stand. "$10," we replied. "But you have to take the TV, too." "Oh, my," she said."This is unlike any sale I've ever been to." I was just so happy for things to be used. I could have sent it all to the dump in one fell swoop, but that just goes against everything in my being. My siblings all had very legitimate reasons for not being there, but it was a difficult and lonely task. PriestHusband won in-law of the century award (sorry sisters-in-law, tis true). If not for PH, BBG and my niece who came one afternoon before heading to some LONG work hours at new job, I think I'd be in the Looney Bin right now. And in between getting rid of Mama's stuff, we were loading up and moving BBG's stuff to her new digs. I am currently curled up on her bed while her DADDY is putting in a dishwasher and garbage disposal. Lordamercy. When was that vacation? I do feel better now, but I can't remember when I hurt this much and and was this tired.
Time for a new episode. Home for a day, on to a wedding of one of FarmerBoy's very best friends from middle/high school days. Fun times ahead.
So much for vacation! Towards the end of our beach time we got a call that my mother's house had sold--Yea!! Good news!!---And it needed to be completely emptied very soon--Boo! Not a fun job. AND this happened to converge with BabyGirl's move from apartment to house in the same city.
But first, there was Jackson.
We drove into town and headed straight to drinks at the Yacht Club with EG, our former next door neighbor. EG and I share a birthday as do my oldest and her youngest daughters. She was the first to welcome us to Jackson back in 1992. We were there for a weekend working on the house before moving in. She showed up on a Sunday evening with pimiento cheese sandwiches and box wine, grousing all the same because The Dean hadn't given her fair warning to get us anything better. They tasted great! And that marked the beginning of a true friendship. Through the years we had some lovely times with EG. FarmerBoy called her gatherings "cheese straw and sprite" parties. Children were always welcome and present, but most of the fare was more "adult". BrideGirl chose EG to be her substitute Grandparent on Granparents' Day. She also interviewed her for a biography writing assignment.
EG and`I share a similar view of life. When the travel invitation comes, we accept with pleasure! She is maybe a half generation older than I---not my mother's age, but also not my contemporary. Widowed early, she raised two amazing daughters with grace and style. Like me, she has had various and sundry careers, one bleeding into another. One of the belles of Belzonia, she has an accent from heaven. I mean the south. Same thing, right? Her charming lilting drawl makes me happy .I've been known to save her voice messages for months. She is a shining example to me of the Way to Live. We swapped stories sitting out over the Reservoir while sailboats "raced"??? by. She will be at the wedding in October. Meet her, if for no other reason than to hear her speak.
Next we headed to la D's house. Her husband had to be out of town, but she stuck to her generous offer of dinner (always delicious from la D's kitchen) and housing. We gathered with two other couples, our dearest friends for all these years, for dinner on la D's beautiful plant laden deck. Conversation went from the continued troublesome issues of race relations and desegregation in our schools to, well, wallabies. It was just plain fun. We've always had fun with this group. 4 couples, 30 plus years of marriage each of us.
But all good things, in my experience,blend into the next episode of life. We headed to Memphis on Thursday morning, and began what BBG called our Glass Castle episode. If you haven't read the book, it begins with the author describing an experience of seeing someone digging through a dumpster as the author is on her way to a "respectable" event. The dumpster diver is her mother. Now we didn't do any dumpster diving, and my mother most certainly did not, but we did sleep on the floor in my mother's partially empty house for four nights while we had yard sales, sifted through old papers, ( I found all of my old grades, SAT scores, etc. Gladly, trashed them until I realized they had social security numbers on them. Moved to the shredder pile.) It seemed to have no end. At the yard sale, a woman asked how much for the TV stand. "$10," we replied. "But you have to take the TV, too." "Oh, my," she said."This is unlike any sale I've ever been to." I was just so happy for things to be used. I could have sent it all to the dump in one fell swoop, but that just goes against everything in my being. My siblings all had very legitimate reasons for not being there, but it was a difficult and lonely task. PriestHusband won in-law of the century award (sorry sisters-in-law, tis true). If not for PH, BBG and my niece who came one afternoon before heading to some LONG work hours at new job, I think I'd be in the Looney Bin right now. And in between getting rid of Mama's stuff, we were loading up and moving BBG's stuff to her new digs. I am currently curled up on her bed while her DADDY is putting in a dishwasher and garbage disposal. Lordamercy. When was that vacation? I do feel better now, but I can't remember when I hurt this much and and was this tired.
Time for a new episode. Home for a day, on to a wedding of one of FarmerBoy's very best friends from middle/high school days. Fun times ahead.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
About that title...
Each day has enough trouble of its own. "We're gonna have to work on that title," says a friend. Well, let me explain. It's from my bible verse memorizin' days. Here goes. From memory:
Consider the lilies of the field. They neither toil nor spin. And yet even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as one of these. Don't worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
So, see? In context, it's sort of a Scarlet thing to say. Tomorrow's gonna be anuthah day. I'm not really a worrier, but I do "get on up in" things. One of my favorite lines from City Slickers:
We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it.
Sometimes I need to be reminded not to borrow trouble.
It's a perspective thing. Telling me to "Whoa, Nellie!" Let's just stay in this little area right here. Today.
When I was first married, I started with my daymares. Like nightmares but wide awake. Sitting at a stoplight. Rough looking man crosses the street. Suddenly he bolts towards my door, reaches for...a gun? I stomp on the gas, through the red light, swerve past cars, a quick left turn,oh wait. He crossed the street. He's sitting at the bus stop.
Or...
We pull up to the gate at St Columba where we lived first ten years of marriage. Ed gets out to unlock the gate. Ruffians jump out from the trees and begin to argue with him. I lay on the horn as I move into the driver's seat and slam the car into gear. Their startled faces turn my way. Oh, wait. That's Ed trying to get in car.
See? Each day has enough trouble of its own. I don't need to add to it! About the time of these daymares, I saw a movie about Corrie Ten Boom. (I actually got to meet her when I was in high school) if you don't know who she is, look her up. She spent time in a concentration camp for hiding Jews during the war. Her book and the movie I saw was called The Hiding Place. I don't remember what she was worrying about, (this was way before the war) but whatever it was,her father told her something like this:
Corrie, when we are going on the train, when do I give you your ticket?
When I'm about to board, Papa.
Well, that's when God will give you your ticket. When it's time.
Of course, that's not really all that reassuring to my children. BOARDING PASSES! WHO HAS THE BOARDING PASSES???
Anyway. Each blogpost has enough trouble of its own.
Now I've just got to figure out what to wear to a wedding in Eureka Springs tonight.
PS Ed just looked up my Bible verse. Apparently I conveniently forgot the part about therefore do not worry about what you will eat or drink or WEAR. Oh, well. The way I see it, that's the great thing about Bible verses. I can take them out of context and use them to mean whatever I want!
I've narrowed it down to 3 dresses....
Consider the lilies of the field. They neither toil nor spin. And yet even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as one of these. Don't worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
So, see? In context, it's sort of a Scarlet thing to say. Tomorrow's gonna be anuthah day. I'm not really a worrier, but I do "get on up in" things. One of my favorite lines from City Slickers:
We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it.
Sometimes I need to be reminded not to borrow trouble.
It's a perspective thing. Telling me to "Whoa, Nellie!" Let's just stay in this little area right here. Today.
When I was first married, I started with my daymares. Like nightmares but wide awake. Sitting at a stoplight. Rough looking man crosses the street. Suddenly he bolts towards my door, reaches for...a gun? I stomp on the gas, through the red light, swerve past cars, a quick left turn,oh wait. He crossed the street. He's sitting at the bus stop.
Or...
We pull up to the gate at St Columba where we lived first ten years of marriage. Ed gets out to unlock the gate. Ruffians jump out from the trees and begin to argue with him. I lay on the horn as I move into the driver's seat and slam the car into gear. Their startled faces turn my way. Oh, wait. That's Ed trying to get in car.
See? Each day has enough trouble of its own. I don't need to add to it! About the time of these daymares, I saw a movie about Corrie Ten Boom. (I actually got to meet her when I was in high school) if you don't know who she is, look her up. She spent time in a concentration camp for hiding Jews during the war. Her book and the movie I saw was called The Hiding Place. I don't remember what she was worrying about, (this was way before the war) but whatever it was,her father told her something like this:
Corrie, when we are going on the train, when do I give you your ticket?
When I'm about to board, Papa.
Well, that's when God will give you your ticket. When it's time.
Of course, that's not really all that reassuring to my children. BOARDING PASSES! WHO HAS THE BOARDING PASSES???
Anyway. Each blogpost has enough trouble of its own.
Now I've just got to figure out what to wear to a wedding in Eureka Springs tonight.
PS Ed just looked up my Bible verse. Apparently I conveniently forgot the part about therefore do not worry about what you will eat or drink or WEAR. Oh, well. The way I see it, that's the great thing about Bible verses. I can take them out of context and use them to mean whatever I want!
I've narrowed it down to 3 dresses....
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