When in doubt... sleep.

Blogging is hard work. This coming from a woman who couldn't pull it together enough this evening to make anything more than a bowl of cereal for dinner. Still, knowing how I feel might lend some insight into why we haven't been updating folks on our news. Over the past few months I graduated, we vacationed in Australia, Jason played Cornerstone, and I got Netflix. Every time I sit down to update our lives my mind swirls with so many events and memories that I latch onto the easiest idea and let it take me away. It usually involves the couch, which means the idea not only takes me away, it also takes me away from the computer. That is a positive in all things, but this--it means no blogging. It's 7pm and the sun is still relatively high in the sky--enough to make it hot outside. I am in the middle of 3 books and two loads of laundry. The yard has been mowed, the dishes done, and all my email accounts checked. I wander blissfully through boredom and potential activities, checking off the things I've already decided I don't feel like doing. Go to Target? Nah. Clean the office? Not tonight. Go to bed ridiculously early? Hmmm...

My friends think I'm crazy because I saw the Invisible Children...

In an effort to further procrastinate the complete demolition of my bathroom I will tell you about the past week and how great and wonderful it was...a bit crazy and hectic, but wonderful. I'll talk about the bathroom some other time, when we are getting along better. I think I'll even go so far as to talk about the past few weeks....

Brad & April Weekend
For the first time since we've lived in Wilmington Brad Daniels came for visit. It was great fun as we caught up on old and new times, played Loaded Questions (not for the timid or faint of heart), made delicious herbal teas, AWC fresh roasted Costa Rican Herbazu, and bountiful breakfasts for out friends. For some reason I have always loved making big breakfasts...We had a great time making fun of the fact that Brad works for Pat Robertson. Having April is always a delight as she brings a good humor to our home.

the many faces of Bradalicious...and Jordan's fiance was out of town so he spent the day with us too...he was like a puppy from a broken home...it was sad.


April like to cut strawberries...


Cooking fun with chef Jada...




Performance Weekend

The Mid-Atlantic Invisible Children Road crew came to Wilmington last Thursday, showed some media, and spoke with college students at Kenan Auditorium on the UNCW campus. They had a great turnout and I finally got to meet and talk face to face with the voice behind the phone. I'd been trying to help Jennifer Welsh set up premieres on campus and at the Connection Cafe for this two day period since around December I think. Turned out a bunch of other people were doing the same thing which was good but no one bothered to tell me until the last minute. So feeling a bit nervous I let it go and everything turned out great.

I'm learning to let go of things though it is difficult...like my hair...




...Anyways, they entered into some good dialog at their two showings and shared their hearts and passion for getting motivated and getting involved. Friday was the busy day though. I got off of work early thanks to my wonderful boss Bill at AValive and met up with the IC crew, my good friend Evan Vetter (who I've been working with to provide music and showings of his Congocast documentary), and Braddigan (who just happened to be in town for a show as well). We stuffed ourselves silly at Flaming Amy's Burrito Barn and had a great time exchanging stories, visions, hearts, directions, and life in general. It was a really uplifting and encouraging moment now that I think back on it. Getting to see so many people that I've gotten involved with coming together and meeting one another with similar hearts and visions was pretty rad. After lunch I took Brad and the guys down to Wrightsville with every wetsuit I could dig up and my friend James Connolley's softtop collection from his surfcamp. It was really funny watching Rey and Tiago try and squeeze into my old suits. They got them on though, and we eventually got in the water. They were so stoked to be in the ocean!! One could tell they were focusing pretty hard on just staying on their boards, but regardless of the wind and current they all caught a couple waves and had fun. I gave my friends in the lineup a little heads up and "keep an eye on these guys for me," type of gesture. They all kind of chuckled but let Paul, Rey, and Tiago drift harmlessly by. Thirty minuted later I saw them again dragging their oversized boards up the beach against the wind. Brad, unfortunately never made it as he worked on his itinerary for Nicaragua leaving the next day.

Later that night after showers and such we congregated back at Kenan Auditorium for sound check. A new friend and brother, Josh Eddings, is heading up a chapter of the Manna Project here at UNCW, and is who put the whole Braddigan show together. Brad and I had discussed possibly collaborating on a few of his songs and so I had my whole barrage of instruments with me. As we set up and ran through of few, I was honored when he asked me to open with a few of my own songs. Of course I left my guitar at home...I had every other bizarre instrument...but not my guitar...Jada came to my rescue as always and dropped it off with a beautiful smile and peck on the lips, then left and went to some sort of craft party. We had a great time playing that night! I only played about 3 or 4 tunes and then Brad and the guys freaking rocked out then gave a captivating slideshow of La Chureca. Brad had some pretty moving words for all of us that night challenging our worldly way of thinking. I think everyone there had a great time and got a lot of love and motivation out of it.

Some shots my buddy Theo Milosevich took...






The IC Crew showed up towards the end and we all hung out for awhile and talked after the show. They ended up staying at our house that night because Jenn was feeling a bit sick. I made tea, we prayed and had a wonderful breakfast together the next morning. We prayed again and sent them west to Raleigh to check Jenn into the doctor and do some more screenings. They were a great group of kids living out their faith in a totally real way. It was really refreshing to see that.


Occy and the Invisible Children...Oi mate!!

They are such great kids!!!

I guess it's back to the bathroom for me while Jada babysits her cousin's daughters and his wife births their first son. I hope I didn't spoil the surprise. I'm never the first to know anything so it's kinda weird not being able to tell anyone. Oh well...looks like bagpipes and birthdays on the horizon...


Jada debates with Lizzy whether it will be a boy or a girl while Ava could care less because regardless she will be the middle child and she's pissed!

Spring Rising

It's the day before Easter and due to be the most gorgeous day of the week. J is still in bed and I am finishing up my first bowl-sized cup of tea for the morning. We are continuing our Easter tradition of fasting from sun up today until sun up tomorrow when we will celebrate the risen Christ and the true meaning of breakfast in ways that IHOP cannot imagine. I suppose telling folks about our new tradition is technically a scriptural no-no, but I am frequently torn because I would love to invite others to join us. Last year we fasted with D and April and D's friend Jamie and the feeling of solidarity and shared meaning was lovely in my mind. I enjoyed the thought that we were all experiencing the day together and yet in our own unique ways--a mini God analogy right there. And since, between J's evangelical background and my amalgamation of Catholicism and hippie-like Spiritualism we are technically in a multi-religious relationship, forming new traditions has become an important bonding/coping mechanism. I threw coping in there because I am the nostalgic one that still craves my annual fix of incense and palm fronds.

Alas.

All that being said, staying busy today is the name of the game and it's a perfect day for playing in the garden. I'd like to hunt down some pink camellias having satisfied myself that the camellias in the college boys' yard didn't die after the past year's drought and confirmed neglect. J did start a rain barrel project which I am excited about, but I plan on using that for my vegetable garden and continuing with my personal conviction not to water landscaping. Right now that works perfectly because we have no landscaping to speak of. Our master plan goes as far as camellias.

Speaking of a master plan, J and I attended the home expo a few weeks back and managed to win $1000 in free flooring from (insert shameless plug here). Who knew something as fun as flooring could be such a disaster to agree upon? What will add resale value, feel good, be sustainable, add warmth, eliminate cleaning, fit our budget, and match anything we decide to do in the future? Considering it is a wonder that I can even coordinate enough to dress myself in the morning (Can I hear an "Amen!" for 12 years of school uniforms?), I'm not sure how to satisfy all of the issues that need to be considered in this suddenly earth-shaking decision. At the root of it J and I are yuppie snobs with a miniature budget who shudder at the thought of laminate but can't afford bamboo. The worst kind, really. Right now it looks like Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with chocolate grout, and sand colored tile. I'm sure we'll keep you posted with all the scintillating details.

In the meantime, there is a bluebird couple expressing interest in the available real estate recently installed in our front yard. From the sound of their conversation I think he likes the fact that the roof is new, but she is unsure about the neighborhood. Perhaps some bright annuals and a few pink camellias will change her mind. I'm off to the greenhouse.

Steward of a House

I spent this afternoon mostly on my roof. Not because it's got a nice view of our surrounding neighbors backyards, which it does...but because I finally deemed it time to fix the shingles. It's an old house with a not sooo old roof, but I suppose it's old enough. You can watch some of the shingles flutter up when the wind gusts hard enough out of the west. Some of them you can't, because they're not there anymore hence today's home stewardship endeavor. I'm not entirely familiar with roofing, but I've seen some of the people who make a living at it and figured I could easily pick it up in a day thanks to google, and Home Depot. So aside from enjoying the passing clouds and occasional rooftop warmth when the sun peeked through...with aching ankles and knees...

















I replaced some weathered, worn and tattered pieces of shingles with new, solid, dependable ones. Now when I picked them out I knew they weren't the color of my roof...
...but my roof no longer looks as it did when it was brand new. They did not however look like the spots that had recently been patched right before purchasing the house, which could have been the original color. I had brought Jada along for the Home Depot trip which though I love and respect her opinions, I sometimes find more humor and/or frustration in them than seriousness. So when she said go with the Weathered Gray I thought "yeah that's great it'll look just like our old gray weathered roof does now after years of southern climatic forces..."

So up I went with 50 pounds of shingles on my shoulder, a hammer, some roofing nails and a chisel (I don't apparently own a pry bar). It's a pretty easy process really for anyone who hasn't had the pleasure of grating their knuckles like mozzarella, scratching fiberglass splinters in between their fingers all day, and cleaning asphalt out from under your fingernails. You gently lift the shingles, pry up eight nails, remove the old, clean out the debris, replace with the new, and renail the eight nails. After my first patch I stood up carefully, inspected my handiwork, and like all good artists, began critiquing my work as well as the new color scheme I had unleashed on my roof.

Now I've always been a fan of plaid...


but something here just didn't seem right...I guess I just never thought of it as a style for my roof.

I'm still not convinced about the resale value as far as the house goes, but as long as it's still under my care, I will love it and care for it and repair damaged shingles with weathered gray ones until I run out. After that maybe I'll go pick out another color to add further to the shingle vomit that will cover my house in an effort to prevent replacing the whole thing. You could say I have a 20 year old, 2 year old, 1 day old roof...kinda like that Johnny Cash song about his car...

...at least I won't get water damage...right?

Ohio: The heart of my all

I can't claim the Derita family as blood, but since we've shared so much over the years neither can I deny how much my family loves them. Photography wunderkind Stephanie Derita was always a fun, smart, and beautiful little girl so it comes as no surprise that she is now a talented, gorgeous woman with an eye for the story behind the picture. The following are a few pictures she shot while visiting my family home in Ohio in the summer of 2007. I appreciate how she captured the corners of the place that make it dear to me and how each picture is both interesting in its appearance and weighty with story. Keep it up, Steph!

A journal Jason made (and signed) for my dad...



The type of thoughts you'll find on my parents' kitchen window sill...

















good food...










My godparents: Chip and Felicia



















Home, sweet home...

Mind the Gap!

As the MBA class of 2008 barrels towards graduation in May some of us have elected to take a negotiations class with Dr. Lucian "Skip" Jones; a choice I confessed was made in fear. For many the word negotiation may conjure images of long mahogany tables, business suits, and set, square jaws or perhaps the smell of tar on a humid car lot while an earnest salesman sweats and grins and tries to keep his mental calculations a step ahead.

I think of the prairie.

Connor Prairie to be exact, a perfect family day trip and Indiana's answer to Williamsburg (this is a guess because I've never actually been to Williamsburg). In talking about the differences we might encounter there, my parents told us about the general store where people didn't use money but bartered for supplies and wouldn't it be a great idea if we could bring items to barter with the folks at the General Store?

Let me be honest here. I am somewhat of a romantic, which means only that my heart is often fully invested in my imagination and this was even more true when I was younger. So the idea of bartering at a General Store in much the same way as Laura Ingalls might have was near and dear to my heart. Still, I was at that tender age when one begins to see flashes of the world through adult eyes-- one moment eager to go out on a limb and the next moment comprehending embarrassment and fear. A delicate balance.

When the day came I was armed with some pretty calico fabric and my brother, Jude, with some scrap wood, both of us feeling bold, knowledgeable, and well-prepared. My memory of the general store was that it was dark and largely empty. One man stood at the counter and our parents encouraged us to go forward and "barter" although for what I'm not sure. Jude, who by now has embraced his Hueber birthright and is a stellar negotiator, was so young that my recollection is that I had to do the talking, which, it turned out, was very little. We brought our goods to the store clerk and he asked, "What do you want me to do with those?" proving that even in the 1800s rudeness was a job requirement. At that point, I realized how silly we looked with less than a yard of curtain fabric and a foot of scrap 2x4. What were our parents thinking? To a real store clerk it would have been insulting, but to a historical actor it should have been his cue to begin old fashioned negotiations with the Suburbanite children and thus delight his customers. Perhaps this man's dedication to historical realism was too great, however, because he refused to even consider our paltry offerings and, in my memory, we left having been laughed at and were then forced to carry our rejected items like scarlet letters for the rest of the day, or at least until we got back to the car. My first memory of a failed negotiation left me with a dread in my gut whenever the opportunity to haggle came up again.
Herb Cohen, author of "You Can Negotiate Anything" points out that people negotiate all the time, especially in families, so it's likely that the Connor Prairie experience wasn't truly my first taste of failure at the negotiation table (attempts at both wearing make-up and joining the Boy Scouts were summarily put to rest despite my best efforts). George Hollen, friend and MBA president (Get to know him!), recently asked how the negotiations go when Jason announces he will be going on yet another surf trip. Ah, how indeed. The more I think about my husband's unquenchable need for travel and my white-knuckled grip on foundation and security the more I am reminded of the Story of the Orange (or potato or banana, etc) in which it is discovered that the different needs of both parties can be addressed by divvying up the spoils creatively. That is to say, one person wants the fruit and the other wants the peel. While Jason and I have made attempts at addressing the satisfaction gap that exists we have not viewed our negotiations in terms of the ZOPA that exists. Most days, especially these past few years in school, my view is that if Jason has the fun money for trips to the Canary Islands, J-Bay, or (insert name of latest and greatest surf location here) then bon voyage! as long as he comes home safely. The empty house gives me ample quiet time to finish homework or get myself into trouble at craft parties. But sometimes I feel like the poor sucker who got stuck with the peel, not realizing that they wanted a slice of the orange until they watched the other negotiating party with juice dripping down their chin. Inarguably the peel owner got what they wanted even though in retrospect the stories they can tell about their side of the Win-Win won't be as exciting. I guess I need to decide what it is I really want and then come up with an equally satisfactory BATNA before the issues comes up again. True, I could use the orange peel, but does that make me practical and boring?

Poor Jason.

While he is exploring Madrid his studious wife is arming herself with lofty acronyms and fruity metaphors for the next time someone utters those immortal words, "Honey, I've been thinking...let's chat!". He's not going to know what hit him. ;)

Home is where the Depot is...

The wise Connollys warned us that upon buying a house we would change so that the idea of spending our weekends in the aisles of a big box home improvement store wouldn't seem so silly anymore. As with most things, they were right. Even pulling into the parking lot of a Home Depot or Lowes gives me butterflies these days (although 1) we don't really have the money to buy anything and 2) my conscious knows I should be shopping locally. Sorry, Ace!). This Saturday is a beautiful anomaly for February-- warm, sunny, and, well, warm. I had set the day aside for studying, but when Jason called from Home Depot early this morning to ask if we needed anything, I knew my Professional Services notes would have to wait. By the way, that's foreshadowing...
Suddenly various gardening tasks became very important and so I asked Jason to look for something natural that would kill the bugs in my dwarf lemon tree in unnatural ways. As usual, he did not disappoint. When we opened the bottle, however, we saw that the silver foil top had been mostly peeled back already and the liquid had spilled out and dried all around the top and in the lid. Just as I would have done if it were something I'd purchased at the grocery, I got the receipt from Jason and hopped in the car to take it back.
There were balloons in the parking lot of Home Depot. Balloons and a man selling popcorn, and another man setting up a hot dog stand. All this combined with the sweet warm air and racks and racks of blooming annuals made for a veritable festival of domestic improvement. They should consider making it a one-stop shop and put in an office for couple's counseling in the same way that Costco now has an optometrist. Couples would be there anyway, why not spend 30 more minutes to work on marital bliss? My joy was compounded when I walked through the door and saw there was no line at the returns desk. Glory! The chorus of heavenly hosts was cut short, however, when the young man at the counter (yes, I referred to him as a young man. Later on I will refer to myself as a young lady just to make myself feel better) began the process for returning Jason's purchase. Not wanting the bottle to go back on the shelf for some other poor shopper, I explained that my husband had just purchased the item, but when we opened it we found it was already open and that apparently some of it had spilled out. His response was, "Okay, go get me another one."

I'm sorry. "Go get me another one?"

So I explained that I didn't know where to find it as my husband had been the one to purchase it. He gestured towards the lawn and garden section. "It's over in that area somewhere."

Ah. Over there somewhere. Of course.

"Can I just get my money back and then I'll go find something else to buy?" Well, no, he explained to me, because it was open and well, you can't open something and then return it, and it looks like it's been used and all I can do is give you a new one.

Let me stop here to say that folks that work in the returns department must be faced with this issue all the time. Someone comes in, eats a steak dinner, and then complains that it tasted funny and they'd like it taken off their bill. This is sadly common and unfair to businesses trying both please you and make a buck.

But I did not appreciate having my Home Depot High ruined by someone who wasn't even polite about it, so I pressed on where I usually would not. I explained again that my husband had bought the item less than an hour earlier and that, as he could see, the spillage on the top was dried which indicated that it was old, which means maybe whoever returned it the first time was not as honest as I was. Okay, I didn't say that last part. That would have been really rude, but I did my best to convince him of my honesty with deductions Holmes might have been proud of. Thankfully, the young man made it clear that this one time he would do me a favor and return my money to me, but really they're not supposed to do that. Please refer back to the earlier part where I explain that on some level I empathized with the guy. I imagined myself at the counter at the Loveland Greenhouse when folks would bring dead plants in and complain that it didn't survive the summer in the trunk of their car.

The other side of that is that I am the all-holy, all-knowing Customer, darn it, and I want to return this $20 bottle of product so that I can take the $20 I get back and move further into the belly of the beast so I can purchase more Stuff. Obey my whims, minion!

This was an uncommon opportunity for Home Depot. In one day they got not one, but two shoppers from the same household to cruise their store at different times. If we had been together we may have shopped in our favorite sections, but upon meeting at the register would have weeded out the items the other didn't think we needed or couldn't afford. Twenty dollars here and there is much more palatable than one large expense. This was a chance for Home Depot to set me loose in the lawn and garden section with 20 bucks burning a hole in my pocket so that I might spend an extra $40 on camellias without Jason there to talk me down. Instead, I felt like I had narrowly escaped with my $20, so I sought out a cheaper item, browsed without interest, and then left. Once home I told Jason my story, and now, hours later I am still so flustered by it that I am blogging about it.

Home Depot's servicescape was impeccable - remember the balloons? The store layout fit my needs exactly as the returns desk was less than 5 feet from the entrance. But the moment of truth was when the employee at the desk spoke to me so rudely and then insinuated that I was less than honest. I would have been mollified if he had offered store credit, so perhaps the true failure was that of Home Depot in training/empowering their employees. Regardless, I experienced and survived (and then blogged about) a true Professional Services failure on the part of a mammoth corporation. Perhaps all this could be called studying for my exam after all.

Fear and Loathing in Milwaukee?

It's true. Only 4 days after I graduate from UNCW's MBA program we will be on our way to the Land of Oz -- a trip we've been trying to take since 2002. We're excited in our own ways and I'm sure as the date gets closer that will only grow. At the same time I have heard so much about Australia and seen so many pictures and spent so many hours daydreaming about what it must be like that in some ways I feel like this will only be a trip around the corner to another neighborhood, or Milwaukee. Somewhere new, but not foreign. This is good for me. I am not afraid of Milwaukee. I am however afraid of the following things:

1. Spiders
   
2. Sharks
3. Snakes
   
4. Friendly, Outgoing People

All of these things Australia has in abundance. Jason has chided me for googling "scary things in Australia" and "things to fear in Australia" (neither yielded anything interesting), and then the following conversation ensued:

Jada: I'm not sure that I'm really afraid of snakes, except if they are very close and dangerous.
Jason: It's likely that we'll see at least one brown snake in Australia.
Jada: Yeah, but are they venomous?
Jason: Yeah! They're only the most venomous snake in the world or something! They could easily kill you.

Ah, it's a thin line men walk, reluctantly shouldering the fears of the more delicate sex and then inviting us to the cinema to see Cloverfield. Sounds like a self-perpetuating cycle to me, which means I will no longer feel guilty about leaving the creepy-crawly killing and clean up to the man of this house.

My original point, I suppose, was to observe that the world is much smaller these days with all the information and easy access we have to it. This Knowing opens the possibility of adventure up to calculating and timid risk-takers like myself, while also informing me of all the possible things that could go wrong. Is that better then? Bother.

"It's a dangerous business, stepping out your front door, if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you'll be swept off." - Bilbo Baggins

Waiting For Paradise in an Irresistible Revolution

Living in the "Big City" by the river has it's cultural advantages and a larger population among whom I may be able to find others who share the same feelings and beliefs that I do. When found they make the anxiety of being alive in a confusing world of religions, politics, theologies, life goals, and dreams a little less anxious. And even when blessed with the ability to to travel the globe more often than I deserve I still only live in the present and when it's knee to waist high and I cringe because I know back home it's overhead and barreling. But being the artist and collaborator that I am, I try to focus on and emphasize the optomistic side of things. Thanks to my friend Ryan Curtis we found beautiful way to make a semi dull day into a portrait of flawless beauty and fun. Getting to surf NC's only reef break by myself with a couple pelicans doing finger drags across the fluid panes of glass brought a much needed peace and tranquility that the average picturesque brown over head barrel doesn't always grant you. One wave every twenty minutes doesn't leave room for error so you carefully exact every movement with surgical precision. Thank you Lord for every blessing!

A near perfect day!

Day and Frank Smith came into town last night and saw our house for the very first time. We chatted, had tea, and generally congratulated each other on looking great and making exciting plans for the new year. In the morning The Smiths treated us to breakfast at IHOP, which was a treat for me as chain breakfast dives hold a special place in my heart. I had hot tea, eggs (sunny side up), hash browns, double blueberry pancakes, and (later) a bit of a stomachache. It was lovely. Day and Frank were in town to buy a dog, so we went to the pet store for necessities. Jason and I window shopped all the pets from fish to finches, imaging ourselves owning each one and then feeling glad that we didn't. We saw the Smiths off and ran some errands which included buying new dishes for me, perusing the Linens'N'Things sale aisles for me, hunting for new coasters for me, and buying a chocolate bar for Jason. In World Market we found coasters that looked like little pebbles with epoxy poured over them and a pleather backing glued on. Therefore, the craft store was our next stop for epoxy and molds and ideas. Since the weather hit the 50s today we spent the entire afternoon outside mixing epoxy resin under the bamboo pergola and burning dead branches in the burn barrel. At one point we made a youthful and dangerous decision involving glass bottles and old perfume, but the result was fantastic. I only wish the perfume we used had actually smelled nice. We also had the great idea to take the top of the chicken coop down with nothing but a sawed off Sassafras log and a ladder. All-in-all it was a successful day full of hard work done with improvised tools and task-oriented focus--really the most satisfying day one can have. As the afternoon dragged on I heated up some soup and April's Chai tea recipe and we ate Linner on the back porch and watched the fire. No mosquitoes, no humidity, and I still managed to get a pink sunburn on my face (the only skin showing on a chilly January day). After an unsuccessful attempt to find coverage of the presidential debates tonight, it is time to go to bed.
Goodnight!

My favorite Christmas present!

Though I was overjoyed that some people in faraway lands received water from our friends the Prauses in our name, I really must confess that my favorite Christmas present this year was toy that you can throw as hard and fast and far as you want and instead of shattering into a million pices causing me to cry...it comes back to me....an authentic Boomerang...from Colorado. My brother in law, Jude, knows me well and always comes up with the simplest most thoughtful gifts. Being that I was in Ohio dreaming of all the barrels I was missing on the east coast, I decided to go for a walk in the woods, find a field and master the art of throwing a boomerang. After several failed attempts, a sore right side of my body, and a couple dives into a hedgehogs lair, I caught a few throws in the failing midwest sunlight. It was a great Christmas indeed.



Jada came along and gave me some tips...


Look close and you can see a little blur...that's my favorite new toy...


Sunset over the prairie

Happy New Year!

I frequently forget great swaths of time, so it's important for me to make the new year as memorable as possible. I celebrated this year by falling asleep in Jason's lap while he caught up reading Prince Caspian. We finished reading it out loud New Year's Day. Jason does all the best voices.