2000 Miles

So that last post was written on the road. I made it home in one piece, and even enjoyed the rest of the drive. Not too bad. I could probably be a truck driver, even.

I got home at 330 on Wednesday, and bathed and clothed myself, and then I rode my bike to work because I didn't have the cash to take the bus. It was gorgeous out, and I couldn't help smiling on the way to work, happy to be out and that I didn't even need a jacket. Wonderful, unpredictable Denver weather.

So then I got off work at 1030 and went back out to the street to get my bike, which I had carefully locked up and taken the seat inside. And it was gone. Nothing remained but the little velcro tie that wound my masterlock up and stowed it away in the pouch under my bike seat, which I clutched to my breast as I sat down on the dirty street corner and just cried. I know it could have been worse, I know I could have gotten mugged, or raped, or killed, but I loved that bike. And I won't be able to afford to replace it for a long time.

So! If any of you silent readers are in the Denver area, or happen to check out ebay a lot or anything/anywhere else anyone would pawn a bike, here is the description, and I'd love the help looking.

4-5 year old Trek 4300, in near perfect condition. Cobalt blue/silver/red, shimano components, missing a seat. 19.5" frame. Lamp on the handlebars, no water bottle. It has a sticker on the body, just under where the water bottle would be, from a bike shop in Mishawaka, Indiana, where it was purchased by the original owner I bought it off of two years ago.

So, thanks for your help, everybody. Hope everyone has a good new year.

Singing Songs About Myself

I find that I stay awake much better on the road if I work on stories. So, I flesh out characters, think up surprising plot twists, and arrange marriages and murders in my head. Not only is it incredibly satisfying to get all this pseudo-work done, it also makes the miles melt in nothing flat.

So we had Swart Christmas today, and Jericho came over for it. Tami and my mom guffawed again about big ass ham, a joke that never gets old; a dog the size of a horse came and galloped around and around on my grandparents wood floors. Money was literally thrown at me, and I ate some of the best cheesecake of my life. My aunt and uncle invited me up to live with them in Grand Haven this year, which honestly is incredibly tempting. My four hours in the mitten was incredibly involved.

And the best part of my whole day is right now. I am sitting in a Steak and Shake off of I-80, just over the Iowa state line. And I am eating a frisco melt, and having a vanilla malt, and I am dangerous. I forgot how great this tasted. Steak and Shake is my husband. And new rule for life- don’t stop at the gas station and ask the little attendant from India where the Steak and Shake is. They’re vegetarian, they never eat here, and they probably give you wrong directions on purpose.

VIVA FRISCO!

1001 Nights

Idea #21 (Not Too Late)
words and music: Detweiler
recording: OHIO

Till we lay these weapons at your feet, Lord
How long, how long
Till we call all hatred obsolete, Lord
How long, how long

Till we walk like lovers thru Bethlehem
How long, how long
Till the lion lies down with the lamb, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To wrestle with this angel
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

Till we wash the blood from the hands of our fathers
How long
We're all sisters and brothers, sons and daughters
How long, how long
Our eyes all shine in different colors we cry, Lord
How long
Our dreams our tears are all the same by and by, Lord
How long, how long

Too late
I know it's not too late
To climb up Jacob's ladder
Higher and higher
Don't let go
Higher and higher
Before we know
How does it end
How does it end
We're all riding on the last train
Trying to find our way home again

It's not too late
****

Christmastime is here, happiness and cheer...
And I find myself in the midwest again, with more than my mindset. The last few days have been spent in balmy Indianapolis, and good grief it is different from Denver. I arrived on the 22nd, after 15.25 hours in the troops (support!), via I-70. And let me say, it was a short day, solstice buddies. The longest night of the year, even.

Tomorrow I will go to the mitten, as McDavid refers to it now. Dan and I bought cheap gifts today, and I gave a massage to Eunice. I've been playing video games, and laughing with my bro, and eating a lot. And attending extended family Christmas parties, where I get pelted in the neck by John Hay Jr.'s wrapping paper attacks. There are lots of children, and fudge, and divinity, and loud people yelling and being way too close to each other. My family doesn't know how to interact in any other way. And there are entirely too many of us. And oddly enough, there was no caroling this year.

I had this whole thing planned up about Gene Autry and Elvis and how ridiculous some things are, but what it comes down to is that I just want Christ to come. In the same way that he came in a manger, almost 2010 years ago now. I want him to come in this moment, then again tomorrow and finally at the end of all things, the beginning of all things. Perhaps, like the greek epics, even en media res. The creation, the advent, the consummation and the eschaton thundering together in mighty chorus, telling the old old story. Telling my story, where trees grow on both sides of the river, and hold forbidden fruit. The story that starts in a garden and ends in a city. And I am there, and God is there, and he is the only light. The light of the world.

Young Astronauts

So, if you'll remember a while back in my post about Xena and Gabrielle, which can be found here, I was talking about planets and names and such. I made a vague threat about what might happen if the next object was named Buffy, in an allusion to the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Well, it has happened, my friends. Don't believe? CHECK IT OUT.

http://www.usatoday.com/tech/science/space/2005-12-19-strange-solar-system_x.htm

And, for the piece of resistance, the inconclusive evidence to end all inconclusive evidence, the man behind the mayhem, Caltech's Dr. Mike Brown, is a Creationist. Hats off to you, sir! Hoist that Bible and pop in the 10th Anniversary Collector's Edition DVD set of Xena: Warrior Princess. I'm right behind you with the chips and my plastic chakram.

let me share you with myself

I just discovered, via my other blog that I share with a lot of friends (Midwest Mindset) that two dear friends of mine from college are now engaged. If you are interested in the Fox-Coon adventure, you can check it out here, complete with a photojournal of the event.

In other news, my friend McDavid kills me. Really. To see the greatest picture of all time, go here.

And finally, for a bit of my own sharing...

I applied to graduate school this week. How do I feel? Excited, well, excited and scared, to quote little red. But most of all happy. I have to believe I am capable of more than low end jobs for major corporations. Not that I am complaining currently, I in fact really enjoy B&N so far. I love being downtown, and watching people on the bus, and working with the people I work with. Micheal and I are planning a wedding (for tax purposes only) and I make sculptures with the dried milk on the steam wands in the morning and I like looking at Julia's ears after she comes in from the cold with all of her 28 piercings hanging from them. I'm happy. But I believe that there is more than this.

Also, as many of you frequently ask about this arena of my life (no, I don't have a boyfriend, not that arena) I played the guitar last night. And I liked it.

friends near and far

As I move about in life, I make friends, and then they move about. I've been corresponding lately with my very dear friend Emily, whom I had the pleasure of getting to know while I lived in Indy. She is part of a unit that has been mobilized in Iraq; as a member of the National Guard, her job is to send up little weather balloons that tell ballistics people how far to aim their weapons. I am grateful for the time in which I live- even though this war wouldn't be possible in this capacity 200 years ago, I also wouldn't be able to keep in touch on a daily basis like I can now, either.

More than ever, I am convinced of the journey, and not the destination. Though we should try to learn from mistakes, I'm quickly seeing that regrets are pretty much useless. That I may be appreciative of whatever time I have left is all I desire, and that I shall keep my wick trimmed and my lamp full of oil is all that I hope for myself. This is but a blink of an eye, and in an instant we shall all be changed.

business checking accounts make me want to barf

ok, so I was about to start this off differently, but there is a tall, skinny blond chick with a maroon suede jacket and a leather satchel standing 2 feet away from me, swaying/jerking her hips to the trashy 80's music. Only in capitol hill...

Speaking of which, I'm down at Diedrich, looking like sporty spice, sippin' the mate, and until about 20 minutes ago I was the only lady in the joint. About 15 men, ranging in age from kinderqueer to uncle fag, were scattered about, a few in couples but mostly solitary. But apparently 9 pm on Friday is go time down here.

I'm trying to study for my business class but blah blah business. That's all I have to say about that.

I pretty much got my portfolio compiled tonight for fuller, though, and buddy burned my discs so the tunes are all ready as well. Now I just have to go down to office max and pay 20 bucks to print off a jillion bits of my creative life thus far. Looking at in en masse, I realize how much I've really written. And question it, and feel a tiny bit good about it all. Some of it is bad, but some I honestly can't believe I did, because I like it.

So do I have what it takes to be a grad girl? Only time will tell. I was thinking tonight about why people are bigger now than ever. I mean, maybe we're programming ourselves to be bigger. All of our food is packed with chemicals to make it bigger, so we will buy it instead of some other food. Now we are bigger, and who will buy us?

Every va-halley shall be exah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ahlted

So I've been listening to Handel's Messiah all day, reminiscing about my performances (3 years worth) of the masterpiece at good old HC. Here are some of the highlights, as I remember them:

1. Ben Kendall singing the tenor solo; the subject line for this posting will always be burned into my memory with his clear tone.
2. Dr. Fulbright directing my freshman year and throwing the baton during the performance- twice- over her shoulder into the audience when things moved into the allegro stage of the game.
3. The year Dr. Killian directed, because he would speed up "Refiner's Fire" until Janice K. turned purple and almost passed out. The smile on his lips and the gleam in his eye was priceless.
4. Remembering, even now, our cues to stand- "the glory of the Loo-(stand)-oord, is risen upon thee" booming from the contralto.
5. The fact that I still remember about 98 percent of the words and melody lines.
6. Realizing in that sacred, dark space, as the chamber orchestra coaxed the Pastoral Symphony from their wood and strings, how lucky I was to be in this company of people, singing this music to end all music, preparing for the arrival to end all arrivals.

RVHS Drama Club Presents....

I've been thinking about my theatrics lately. High school and college stage events, on and off- somewhat sparked by my late observance of the current film adaptation of the Broadway hit "Rent," but further encouraged by my friend Jericho's blog.

I highly recommend you read some of the highlights of my HS theatre career, courtesy of one who knew it best, here.

Other mishaps that weren't included, but are equally priceless, would be my attempts at assisting direction on middle school productions the latter three years of high school. All I have to say is, "Tok, tok, tok..." followed by hasty shoving, flipping of lots of fire-hazardous fuses, and cursing when the 5000 year old curtains got caught on some piece of set and ripped further.

And never let Sully behind stage during the production. Micah camp almost broke his neck in Seven Brides, and my kneecap is the one mentioned in the above link. She moves things.

it felt like Christmastime

Hello. Welcome to December.

Today I found myself in Manitou, walking Flower in the chill of the early morning, talking to Elahav and Zaccai over the creek as they leaned out the window. Some moments capture rightness so much that it's downright blasphemous to talk about them.

I loved this town. I still do. Being in Manitou fills me with the best of the bittersweet, at the close of one chapter and start of another. I just hope I always have this place to come back to, this dog to fall asleep on my feet, this trust of walking home after dark.

I hope this Advent that I'm really ready for everything that is born.