a few words on words

Man, I don't ever get tired of this photograph by Sam Plant, do I? I mean, it's even my current Facebook profile pic. It says something about me right now. What? I'm not sure. But it's more than just the fact that I love birds . . .

I'm also sharing the photo again because I published three new articles on the Art House America Blog today: by me, Justin McRoberts, and Charlie Peacock and Emma Sleeth. My Curator reprint article features that beautiful bird photograph, see?

But I'll tell you a little secret: For the first time — next Thursday (9/30) — I will publish a new article to tide you over in between our biweekly issues. I hope y'all enjoy it; it's about one of my favorite bands.

And oh, abundant joy, I hired my first editorial intern! She is Barbara Lane, a good friend I first met on Facebook, then at The Glen Workshop in August. We talked on Skype today, she agreed to be my intern much to my astonishment, and now I might have a chance to keep my sanity as I juggle running and editing a web site, and writing (and editing) for more than one publication.

In addition, I'd be sorely remiss if I didn't mention another good friend I met at the Glen (it really does happen): Jennifer Strange, who has brilliantly proofread recent Art House Blog articles. Any editor always needs extra sets of eyes, so I'm grateful for these amazing women — talented writers in their own right — who are willing to help the likes of me. Did I mention I'm most likely hiring a second editorial intern tomorrow, too? I am blessed, I tell you.

I proofread articles today, too — for The Curator, that is — and I have a gazillion e-mails to answer. But most prominently, I must finish a review copy of A.S. Peterson's forthcoming novel, Fiddler's Green, like the wind that billows the sails of Fin Button's ship. My life is so hard, I know. Y'all are in for a real treat in December. And if you haven't read the wonderful Fiddler's Gun, you better read that first. You won't be sorry; it's one of my favorite books.

In other news, you may or may not have noticed my new tabs up there. First Coffee is a very silly podcast that Johnny and I record together while we drink our first cup of coffee in the morning. Ever wonder what our marriage dynamic is like? (I'm SURE you do.) Well then, there you go. In my opinion, our most current episode is the best so far.

Well, I better g-o. My Rabbit Room "Hannah" mug is full of smoky Morning Thunder tea ready for the drinking, to complement the reading.

Words, words, words. They're all around me and part of all my work. I couldn't be happier. Somehow, they are tiring, though, so I'm looking forward to our medical drama stories on TV tonight, homemade pizza, white wine, and sleep. I'm trying to get more sleep and train myself to be a morning person. I'll letcha know how it goes.

evening prayer surprises

Johnny kindly vacuumed, mopped, cleaned the kitchen, and we both dusted. He left for his regular Sunday night drum gig; he'll be back at 8:00 pm.

I'm burning soft, Japanese incense on a window sill in the living room. I often do this 1-2 hours before we have guests over, to freshen up the air. I'm listening to good cleaning music; actually, great music period. Rain is barely falling outside, yet the sun is shining as it settles down for the night. Thunder mumbles every so often. The wind chime is singing to itself. Sweet Thai Delight tea is brewing (for me). Maroon plastic cups, Coke, Sprite, and a box of organic microwave popcorn packets are sitting on the counter. A jug of Arizona iced tea is chilling in the fridge. The coffee maker is ready to go with freshly ground dark roast coffee; sugar, Truvia, and spoons are nearby. Half & half is in the fridge, too — a staple 'round here.

This casual hospitality setup is for Evening Prayer in our house tonight. Our Church is kind of a hub for people who live all over Houston, but prefer how we worship. So Evening Prayer is held in different homes around the city, and tonight, we're hosting friends that live on the west side of Houston, or in Katy where we live (a suburb). They will bring a snack of some sort, we'll do Evening Prayer, then sit around and chat, drink red wine, cocktails, or coffee and tea. Three of my favorite kids from our Church will be joining us, so I'm bound to laugh a lot — they crack me up.

The last time Johnny and I hosted Evening Prayer a few months ago, a small, very malnourished cat kept trying to come in our front door every time a guest arrived, and every time a guest left. She was skin and bones, quite literally. I think y'all know the story pretty well by now via my Facebook and Twitter photographs. She is deaf, and we couldn't find an indoor-only home for her, and honestly, we didn't pursue many shelters. The little lady stole our hearts. We call her "sweet old girl," as the vet said she is older than we thought — probably 10-12 years.

Lily Belle looks much, much healthier now. She is filling out. She is eating, drinking, and well, pooping a lot. I only mention that because it's astounding what such a little body can do, and boy, does it reek. Sorry if that's TMI. Surely you parents (and/or pet owners) are not phased by such information. I can only imagine the diapers of our future . . .

But as you can see below, Lily has made herself at home. We're learning how to communicate with her, mostly by lots of eye contact, hand motions, and cuddling and scratching under her chin. She purrs a lot. She sleeps a lot, too, but every once in awhile, she hops in and out of a cardboard box-house we made for all the cats, so there's play left in her yet.

As for tonight, cute stray kittens, cats, puppies, dogs or otherwise better not come near our property. We love Harley, Milo, and Lily, but we're ready for little humans now. Then maybe a puppy.

Happy Sabbath, y'all. It's been a good one for us. In Sunday school, Aaron is teaching the book of Job, which I'm actually excited about. In Church this morning, we sang a hymn by my husband ("Arise, O Lord"), another by Sandra McCracken ("Thy Mercy, My God"), and Deacon Lawrence quoted an entire Bob Dylan song at the beginning of his sermon ("Gotta Serve Somebody"). It was a great sermon, too.

[Bob at Onion Creek, in our Church's neighborhood.]

[My second favorite stained glass window at Church.]

I talk to myself

[St. John's College, Santa Fe, NM via my iPhone]

Well, well, well. What to write? I feel as if I have blogger's block, but I can almost literally hear my friend Alissa's voice in my head, "There's no such thing as writer's block." She believes you can usually chalk it up to fear, pride, or both, which in my case, all three are very likely. I'd also like to add that sometimes, it may be sheer exhaustion, but whichever of these blocks I'm up against, I must push forward like a football player tackling his rival. ("Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose!")

I haven't really known what to write here after such a long narrative-blogging absence. But today I figured out one thing I want to say: I am filled with peace and hope. Sure, I fall prey to my old foes of worry and fear . . .

What if the endometriosis comes back?

Will it take us forever to get pregnant? Will Johnny and I literally be as old as Sarah and Abraham (vs. our little joke)?

Will I have an ectopic pregnancy?

Will I ever lose this surgery weight? (Not much to lose, but some.)

Will I be able to transform my raw Glen manuscript into something beautifully well-written?

Will I be able to get into the SPU MFA in Creative Writing program in 1-2 years without a college degree? (I REALLY want to.) My writing will have to grow by impressive leaps and bounds if so, and my acceptance letter would be a "God thing."

Will I ever write great essays and books? (Again, I really want to. What writer doesn't?)

Will I ever be a great editor?

Yet a few Sundays ago, a friend at Church remarked, "You seem so peaceful and happy." You know what? I am, generally speaking. Also, the consensus amongst my peers near and far is that I'm no longer shy. Perhaps I'm reserved at times and definitely still an introvert, but not shy. No one is more surprised by this new development than I am.

It's as if suffering for three years shaved off some of my inhibitions and fears. Not only was I in bug-eyed discomfort, but my eyes were opened anew to what is important and true. To all that poison listed above, I say, "Googly, googly, googly — go away!"

Do not worry about endometriosis. It is gone, hallelujah! Besides, I survived it, didn't I? With God, there is nothing to fear.

God is our Maker, the Maker, my Maker. He made time. He is the giver of life. Do not worry about the babies. They will come, and Johnny, myself, family, and friends will rejoice in epic style.

As far as this ectopic business, don't even go there, my amazing surgeon's required/worrisome statistics or not. Again, God gives life and health and a hospitable womb. Trust Him. Remember the promises, the dreams.

I am beautiful, even with a few extra pounds. I will walk more and more, eventually try yoga again, and heck, maybe get back into the gym when my body is ready, but my identity and self-worth are not dependent on a scale-reading or how my clothes fit. God made me. He loves me. Johnny loves me, and curves. That's the end of that age-old female whine session.

God gave me the gift to write. So I must write, write, write. Every day. And pray for His inspiration. I mean, where else does "the muse" come from? I have a hunch I'll improve if I ignore so-called writer's block, read well, and write, write, write.

As for the MFA? I just lived through a 3-year "God thing," so I wouldn't put it past Him. We shall see what is meant to be.

Yes, I do have to talk to myself like this, or maybe it's more like speaking against the lies to erase their power, which freeze my brain and stop me from trying, writing, and hoping. I've come this far, so I can't stop now.

In this new time of waiting (I've come to believe we will always be waiting on something as creation groans) I drink strong coffee every morning, grateful. I drink good beer or wine, even a little bourbon at night, and eat squares of dark chocolate here and there. I marvel at these miracles I prayed for.

We take long walks when the day's weather cools off. I watch the light change and spy on birds in the 'hood. I listen to the free cicada choir. I talk to family and friends, laugh, and listen (or sometimes ramble on); I wish I could hear a loved one's voice every single day. I work hard and become weary. I rest. I read good books and listen to good music. I want to see a great movie ASAP. I sing around the house. I make travel plans in my head. I kiss our three cats behind their ears, which I know they love even when they wriggle to get down. I love my husband more than he knows, and ponder how to be a better wife as much as I ponder how to be a better writer. Actually, I want to be a better wife a lot more.

I am peaceful, and I am human. I fail and I get back up again. I am happy, thankful, and wait to see what I cannot see. And I am blogging again.

What will I write next? God only knows.

a week changed my life

[near Abiqui, NM via my iPhone]

I have a new article up on The Curator today:

"A Week Changed My Life" — my reflections on a week at the IMAGE journal's Glen Workshop. I can hardly wait for next year!

Did I mention my amazing writing teacher was a favorite author, Lauren Winner? I learned so, so much.

[Lauren Winner]

You'll never believe it, but now I'm gonna start writing a "real" blog entry, though it may not post 'til tomorrow.

Oh, and I finally tried Agave Wheat beer at Antidote last night. Yes, it is as good as it sounds.

things of beauty and importance

I wasn't lying about writing more blog entries — they are a-comin' — but I just want to point y'all to some beauty and phenomenal writing over on the Art House America Blog today: articles by Charlie Peacock, Kierstin Casella, and Andi Ashworth. Andi's article even features a printable pdf recipe card for “Pasta Shells with Bacon, Peas, and Ricotta." Y-U-M.

[photo by Kierstin Casella]

Angel hair pasta is currently boiling on the stove for lunch, then I must get ready for the Randall Goodgame concert tonight! If you're in Houston, you should totally join us:

Church of the Holy Trinity
211 Byrne St.
Houston, TX 77009
7:30 pm, $10 at the door.
Antidote's coffee beforehand . . .

See y'all there!

[Randall Goodgame, writer of GREAT songs]

I'm a bit rusty . . .

Well, first of all, my blog got a facelift, as you can see. Whaddya think? I've been wanting to blog again so badly, and I thought new colors and such would inspire me. They have, but I'm in an intense reading mood right this minute, then I have to shower, get dressed, and visit my brother at work tonight — he manages Baker St. Pub & Grill in Rice Village. I've missed his face. So let's just start with a list, shall we?

[An oldie but a goodie (and slightly funny) pic of me and my Dad at my wedding rehearsal. Photo by YiMay Yang.]

* Today is my Dad's birthday! I called to wish him a happy birthday, and typically, he was in a coach's meeting. Unfortunately, his high school football team lost pretty badly last night. Whenever I get such updates from him, I truly feel like I'm living in Friday Night Lights. My Dad knows the coach that inspired the character "Coach Taylor," by the way.

* These are my current beverage habits:
-Morning: two mugs of French pressed-coffee.
-Afternoon: one mug of chai.
-Evening: 1-3 servings of Grand Marnier straight. It probably should be 1-2 servings.

* I really love handmade, stoneware mugs, such as ones from Eighth Day Books and The Rabbit Room (Uh oh, the latter might be sold out . . . ).

* I'm learning how to juggle being the editor of the Art House America Blog, and meet more than one writing deadline at a time. I'm not doing it all that gracefully yet, but I'll get there. I'm just grateful to be doing what I always wanted to do.
(Shameless plug: Check out our forthcoming Art House America events!)

* I spied a purty red cardinal on our backyard fence today.

* I am so happy that TeuxDeux.com now has an iPhone app that I can't even tell you.

* I have suddenly become a phone person. This is definitely a post-op development. I guess I felt isolated during all of that perplexing illness, so now I crave the human voice. (I Skype now, too.)

* The other night I dreamt that I climbed Mt. Everest in Seattle with The Shins and my grandfather, Papaw. Yes, I realize the geographical error, but it was a dream, folks.

* The progress of Lily Belle, our newest, oldest, sweet deaf cat:
-She and Harley are golden.
-She and Milo are getting there. Or I should say, Milo is getting there. Baby steps, people.
-Also, Lily is acting much more like a healthy cat, hallelujah! She is filling out — much less bony — and walking around and looking out windows much more often. She loves her senior vitamins (with glucosamine), and ahem, people food (we do not feed it to her).

* I am WAY, way behind on work and personal e-mails. I repent. I'm trying to remedy this one day at a time. I used to be a kick-ass e-mailer when I worked at an independent music company. What happened to me?

* I am reading three great books PLUS a review copy of another great book, which I must keep a secret. Y'all hate that I won't tell, I bet. Don't hate, people — love! And I finally ordered this book, which I first heard about when the author spoke on the Mars Hill Audio Journal. Then I gave into peer pressure. Thank you, peers.

* I really want to see Inception, even if just for the visuals.

* Music I am currently digging:
-The Suburbs, Arcade Fire.
-Cee Lo's song, "F**K YOU." I dare you not to dance. The video on his Facebook wall is genius.
-John Lennon's cover of "Stand by Me." (iTunes)
-Mitch McVicker's song, "New Mexico," co-written with Rich Mullins.

* Johnny got an iPad for his birthday (July) from me + friends and family. Did I mention this already? iPads ARE cool after all. Dang.

* I am loving praying from a small green Orthodox Psalter I purchased from Eighth Day Books at The Glen Workshop in Santa Fe, NM in August. I love how at the end of some Psalms it says, "Glory. Both now. Alleluia." Oh, and look for my article about The Glen for The Curator next Friday, 9/10. I needed many, many more words . . .

* It was gray, cloudy, and gloomy just minutes ago, but now the sun is out!

Happy Labor Day weekend, y'all. More blogs are a comin'; they're great writing practice, after all.