In the Course of Time

The other day at breakfast, I flipped to 1st Samuel. I read the first two chapters. Then I started from the beginning and read the same two chapters again. I read them that afternoon and before bed. The next day I read them as soon as I woke up. I read them over tea, in the airport, and at my desk. A week went by and I was still reading those chapters practically every moment I had a chance.

Here’s a recap: A guy named Elk (nickname) is married to two women. One of his wives is popping out kids left and right, but his other wife, Hannah, has none. She prays in her heart, asking God to grant her a child. Later, God remembers her prayer and “in the course of the time” Hannah conceives. She rejoices.

I love that line…in the course of time. I’ve been hanging onto it. In the course of time I may or may not conceive. In the course of time I may or may not adopt. In the course of time I may or may not be a mother. But either way, in the course of time, the answer will be made known.

Photo Blog

Welcome...to my first photo blog. Here's a few shots of my time in Colorado.

Mom and Dad in thier Indians hats

I didn't get a shot of the squash-colored leaves on the Aspens...so how about roses

Rip-roarin' fire - built by yours truly

Got bugs?

Me and my dad working on a project

My writing spot (also known as the kitchen table)

Sneak Peak

Michelle suggested displaying a Wasa picture on this site with a link to my other blog. Whaddya think?

Speaking of pictures, I'm learning how to use my camera (the last time I snapped photos I was on my honeymoon four years ago). It'll be nice to add some color to the words on this page. I'll post a photo blog of my time in the mountains next week, but here's a sneak peak of my wood chopping skills. I kept tapping the wood gingerly . . . my mom on the other hand smacked right into it with no fear.

Beyond Leo

When I had my miscarriage last January, I mentioned I'd share the whole story one day.

Today is the day.

My piece "Beyond Leo" is running as a feature on Mothering.com.

It's raw.
It's honest.
It's graphic.
It's personal.
It's sad.

It's miscarriage.

Okay, I don't mean to be too dramatic . . . but don't say I didn't warn you! Here's the direct link: http://www.mothering.com/articles/pregnancy_birth/miscarriage/beyond-leo.html

Fun Game

Picture this: A bar in Colorado. One television. 25 people. Everybody – guys and gals – are dolled up in cowboy hats, jean jackets, etc. Except for three people at a small table: me and my parents. My parents are both wearing their Cleveland Indians baseball hats.

The Indians had to win last night in order to make it to the World Series. We drove an hour so we could see the game. (We’re in a very remote part of Colorado). But Denver was also playing Pittsburg in football and the Rockies had already advanced safely to the World Series.

The men at the bar said, “Turn on the football game!”

My mom cried, “No! We drove an hour to watch the Indians!”

The bartender stood there with the remote in her hand, glancing nervously back and forth between the men and my parents.

The bartender left the baseball game on. I think she couldn’t resist how cute my parents looked in their little outfits (I’ll post pictures next week).

The Indians would make a double-play or score a run, and my mom would clap and cheer. All by herself. At least, that’s how it started out. By the end of the night the entire place was rooting for the Indians on behalf of my mom, even as the team got further and further behind.

It was a great fun even though the Indians lost.

M'ON

Michelle O'Neil (a.k.a. M'ON) is one of my all time favorite writers. I'm not sure what I'd do without her blog and our bi-monthly phonecalls to hash out writing (and life) issues. She's the new Ask a Blogger columnist and makes her debut today on this site: http://www.madashellclub.net. I know she'd appreciate a warm welcome . . . and, if you have some, a few questions about blogging.

A Writing Meme

Kari tagged me to write about me and my writing. Even though that topic comes up a lot on this blog, I can’t resist. So here goes…

I love the word write, writer, writing…pretty much any variation of it.

I wrote my first book when I was 7 using one of my dad’s yellow legal pads.

I’m happy with the pace at which I’ve built my writing career, but at times I still feel like an untapped resource.

You know that movie Searching for Bobby Fischer? And how the little boy Josh loved to play the fast-paced chess games in the city? But the adults wanted to keep him from it and instead prodded him to stick with “proper” training with a formal coach? And how he ended up doing both? And how in the end he won the tournament because of that? Well. I sort of see blogging as my “city chess” and writing offline (i.e., the articles that are eventually published in print mags) as my “proper training” and in the end I think they work together to bring the best out in my writing.

Once I looked at a list of all the blog posts I’ve written and realized I could’ve finished a book in the amount of time I’ve put into Roughly Speaking.

I tag Susan and Beth.

Just the Two of Us

Ron left yesterday, so this morning I woke to . . . me.

(And God.)

Just the two of us for a few days.

I adore alone time (maybe too much, but that’s an issue for another day).

Now, I wait for stillness.

I watch.

Snow: wild and big and white.

Fire: yellow and warm and full of emotion.

The mountain air is clean and Mother Earth just keeps on giving and loving.

Somehow in some way I know this place will be special to others. Maybe I’ll hold writing workshops out here one day, or offer it for retreat, or fill it with a houseful of kids. Time will tell. I’m in no hurry.

Not here.

Not now.

~

In other news, I still haven’t thought of a name for the retreat, but Ron came up with a name for another part of it. The lagoon where the sewage drains? Affectionately dubbed “Lake Poop.”

Sunday Drive

As we begin the trip down the winding mountain roads, I sit back to enjoy the views. After a few miles, we pass a steamroller. The man inside is moving along in an attempt to keep the dirt roads flat and smooth.

“Hi, Allan,” Ron and I yell out the window.

A few more miles and we pass a man shoveling gravel.

“Hi, Ken,” Ron and I yell out the window.

They’re the only two people we see for the 30-minute drive.

Ron turns to me when we reach the main road.

“Busy day in the neighborhood,” he says.

Indeed it is.

~

And on the writing front, here’s a little tidbit I came across this week while reading A.J. Jacobs' book The Know-it-All: the 16th Century French writer Montaigne “coined the term ‘essay,’ which translates to ‘attempt,’ or a little ‘project of trial and error.’”

Love that.

Speaking of, I hope to share an essay with you next week. Each one I write is meaningful to me, but this upcoming one is particularly close to my heart. In the meantime, you can find me blogging over at EatWasaFeelGood.com.

Morning Visitor

Mornings in the mountains of Colorado are always fun. We often wake to chipmunks, deer, and turkey that squeak, prance, and gobble their way through the land to drink from the wildlife pond.

But this morning it's been light for at least an hour and we haven't seen anything but a few jay birds. It's cold and damp. The wind is still.

"How do blueberry muffins sound for breakfast?" I ask Ron. "And tea. Do you want tea?"

"Sure," Ron says.

"But before I put the kettle on I'm going pee," I announce as I pad off to the bathroom in my fluffy slippers.

"Jenny! Don't move!" Ron is whispering but kind of screaming at the same time. I stop dead in my tracks. "Look," he says.

I turn and peer out the window.

A wildcat is creeping around the pine trees. He has tufted ears, long hair, and huge paws. He flops on his stomach then rolls on his back and stretches.

"No wonder the chipmunks left," Ron says.

"Wow, a mountain lion," I say.

"It's a bobcat," Ron says.

"A bobcat? No way. It's huge. It's twice the size of our dog," I say.

"Maybe it's a lynx," Ron says.

Regardless, it's gorgeous. We watch in silence as the morning visitor casually stands back up and trots off past our woodshed, dashing off into the thick oak brush.

Later, we conclude it probably was a bobcat. But an "exceptionally large" one, if I may add my two cents. This afternoon we saw a porcupine (albeit a dead one), and I'm on the lookout for bear.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Writing Up a Storm

Come visit over here where I blogged about chanting Om during yoga.

I'm heading west this afternoon to enjoy autumn in Colorado. Or maybe winter. Last October it snowed when I was out there.

My hubby's sneaking out for a few days. Then my parents. The rest of the time, I envision building a fire in the wood stove, sipping hot tea (I've officially weaned myself off coffee -- again), and writing up a storm. I'm bringing my camera and will try to post current pictures rather than old ones. See ya soon . . .

Meds

Vitamins.

Bitter herbs.

Kan “Dynamic Warrior” dietary supplements.

I’m taking more “pills” on my eastern medicine regime than I do with western medicine practices.

What’s up with that?

~

While we’re on the topic, friends have been asking: Any baby news?

“Not yet,” I said to one a few weeks ago. “I’m going to acupuncture, tracking days, sending up prayers, overloading on organic vegetables.”

“Have you tried the ‘get drunk’ method?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“Maybe you should,” she suggested.

“Maybe we should try the get drunk method,” I told Ron later that night.

“We have,” he said.

"We have?” I gave him a “when-did-we-do-that” look.

“Yeah. Why do you think I opened the bottle of white last week?”

“I thought you were being romantic…you were trying to get me toasted?”

“I thought it would help you relax,” he said.

Huh. I do remember that night. I was sort of surprised because the man never opens wine. We have these lovely bottles we’ve accumulated over the years as Christmas gifts or trips to wineries or whatever and they sit in our wine rack where they are, I’m sure, exposed to way too much heat and sunlight. If I mention opening one, Ron always says something like, “That’s such a nice bottle! Jeff and Gail gave it to us. Or we bought that at the Mt. Vernon wine festival. Or [insert excuse here]. We should save it for a special occasion.”

“Hello. Remember Sideways?” I’ll say. Miles practically ruined his best bottle of wine because he waited so long to drink it.

Given this history, you think I would’ve known something was up when he whipped out the chardonnay, especially because he actually chilled it first and in addition to not being the type of guy that opens our wine, he’s also not much of a planner.

Anyway…it didn’t work. Any other ideas?

Write Them on the Doorframes

For awhile now I’ve been looking into taking a course in Judaism (or a class to learn how to speak Hebrew) to further understand my Christian roots.

Then I decided I would create my own “course” and self study.

Then I came across this book: The Year of Living Biblically. It’s being released Oct 9 and is written by a man who tried to follow all the rules in the Bible for one year.

Brilliant. What a great idea. Talk about self study. Still, after reading a few author interviews I was confused.

“How could he follow all the commands?” I asked my husband. “The greatest one is ‘Love* the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.’ How can he do that if he’s agnostic?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure,” Ron said.

“Even before Jesus added ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’ God gave this command. I mean, it's the whole point. All other commands fall underneath it,” I said.

I guess I’ll have to read the book. Looks like a fascinating read.

~

*Love how the first word of the greatest commandment is LOVE.

Thinking

“YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING . . .”

Name that character (hint: John Irving novel).

Anyway, as I was saying, I haven’t been blogging as much lately (except over here) because I’ve been thinking.

Hmm.

I’ve been thinking I don’t know the purpose of this blog anymore.

They (whoever “they” are) say that a blog should have a niche. When I blog for Wasa my focus is yoga and mindful eating. I’m never stumped for a topic. What’s my niche for Roughly Speaking? The writing life? Fertility? Glimpses into marriage? All of the above?

I thought some more. Not just about this blog, but about a bunch of articles I’ve been writing. In fact, I’ve been thinking so much lately that suddenly the work day is over and I have nothing to show for it. Because it’s all in my head. Writing always starts in my mind before hitting the page. Today I sat down and finished three articles -- thanks to my busy brain. Thinking is not a waste of time. In writing, it’s essential.

(I'm still trying to "think" about the purpose of this blog though.)

My Friend E

My friend Elizabeth . . .

the one who came with me to my acupuncture appointment . . . the one who had the rockin’ Build a Library baby shower . . . the one who took a road trip with me to buy art and brought me magazines and frozen custard after my surgery . . . the one who has been a great friend as I’ve adjusted to my east coast move . . .

(Gosh Elizabeth, I didn’t realize I blogged about you so much – hope you don't mind?)

Has started a blog!!!

It’s called 4amfeeding – rather fitting since she’s due to give birth in nine days (well, eight days in about 45 more minutes).

Click over here and give her a warm, bloggy welcome.

And Kari, just cuz I’m no longer in LA doesn’t mean I’ve given up on converting you to the blogosphere too!