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Church and Such

Believe in me,
'Cause I don't believe in anything,
And I want to be someone who believes.
Who believes.
~Counting Crows


Children. Everywhere.

I volunteered again this year to help out at my church's week-long summer camp. It's one of those experiences that when you are in the middle of it, holding one kid and wiping the nose of another, you make a breathy, quiet pact with yourself that goes something like this. "Self, don't ever do this again. OK?? I know you mean well, but remember this moment of complete bedlam, and when she asks you to help again next year. BE STRONG. OK? Are we good? OK."

Then something happens. By Friday, everybody finds a groove, a routine emerges. You look back on the week and remember their little faces during snack time peeking over the table and licking the icing off their cookie. Their gleeful smiles as you gave them wagon rides on a beach towel down the hallway. The adorable little things they say and do. Their little shy smiles when they see you, open up to the experience, or sing that song. The loud, abrasive exuberance reverberating through the room. Oh wait, that was Bee. The decibel level she reached even made the teenagers wince. Anyway, like most things in life, the kinks get worked out, everybody relaxes a bit, and I am weepy with sentiment on the last day.

The highlight of each day for me was when the whole camp would meet in the room with all the pews and sing songs with hand motions. Toddler Law states that they must love songs with hand motions, and no one loves them more than Bee. One morning early in the week, voices rising through the air, "Our Goooooood is an awesome Goooooood. He reeeeeeeigns from heaven aboooooooove!" Then, out of nowhere and into my visual frame comes Bee. She spaz dances across the front row, arms flaying, toddler sing/screeching, and rips one of the display posters off the music stand with triumphant joy. In front of everyone. Apparently she wanted to add a little punk rock to the revival. I think I heard her say, "Hello Cleveland!!!! Do you want to rock!!!"

Everybody stared at me, but it didn't make me feel any more squeamish than I already feel at church. The whole church thing is new to me. Well, kind of new. I have been attending an earthy little Lutheran church for three years, but given I spent the first thirty four years sleeping in on Sundays, it all still feels strange. And I mean a strange most people don't comprehend. My family didn't go to church (heathens!!) and honestly, I never really noticed. Consequently, I am blissfully free of Catholic guilt, Christian paranoia, or religious judgment. As Forest Gump said, "One less thing."

But, being raised heathen, I also had no spiritual guidance to take me through the tricky parts of life. Things like forgiveness, hope, peace, love, and I mean when all these things are difficult. My parents did their best, and they did an awesome job, but let's face it, we can't expect to get everything from our parents. Most people learn these things in some spiritual community. In America, that means Christianity.

Now, being raised heathen, those church people can definitely talk them some crazy sometimes. Resurrections, miracles, burning bushes. It all seems a tad over the top for someone who doesn't know their Judas from their priest. BUT, I like the parts about forgiveness, peace, hope, love, compassion, service, helping the weak, serving the poor, not being materialistic, accepting the seasons of life, etc, etc. It's 'big as the sky' humbling to delve into these things.

So, I walk the church tightrope, being hypervigilant against the whole 'judging others' thing. But honestly, there isn't much, if any, of that at my church. And I hope my kids get something that, frankly, is not my strong point -- how to be balanced, forgiving, peaceful, hopeful. If they want to continue when they are older, fine. If not, fine. That's not my motive here, and I love 'em no matter what they do. I just want to do my best with them, and get some guidance for myself along the way.

My secret hope is that they can explain it all to me some day. Hmm, faith and hope? Maybe I'm starting to get it.

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Some fun pics from this week:)


Road trip!


Love the round little shoulders -- sigh.


Summer glee!


Beer Thirty.



Shades of green.


Boxey's Buffet (Mmmm . . .cat food and strawberries:)

BSM

What would you do for a Klondike Bar??




This was a quickie post, we are way off of our routine and just getting back in the swing today.

"Step back, kids! If the laundry pile falls, it will kill us all!!"

For more Best Monday Shots, go here. Then check it out again for Thursday's Theme -- Glee! Jump in and post your own . . . it's fun:)

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Anyblogy know why Blogger deleted all my Father's Day pics?!?!?!

Happy Father's Day!

For frogs, turtles, snakes, and the thrill of the hunt. For too much ice cream and nachos for breakfast. For dancing with us when you get home, and wanting to wake us up before you leave. For the zillions of trips to the rodeo, the zoo, and the pool. For starting our college savings fund instead of buying that sports car. For showing us what a real man is, so we don't grow up and hook up with a loser. Thanks, Daddy! You are our hero . . . every single day.












































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And to my sweet daddy. Words could never express, but I try. For giving me a poet's soul with a strong will. For showing me the rewards of integrity and hard work. Then, the fun of spontaneity and decadence. It's nice to have someone out there who 'gets' me. I love you more than the sun and the moon . . .
Happy Father's Day!

BSM

There was something I really liked about the expression in this picture. Bee had just managed to take off the two jackets she was wearing (Yes, it's pushing 90 degrees here . . . She's two, she wears what she wants to wear!:)

There was lots of "No mine!!" when I tried to help her with the zipper, and she finally managed all by herself. This is her proud expression.






Here she is in early stages of heat stroke.



See more Best Shot Mondays at Picture This. Lots of fun stuff!

Sweet Dreams

I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation!
You're livin' in the past, it's a new generation!
~Joan Jett







Bee spent her first night in her 'big girl bed'!!!

Well, more of a 'big girl mattress.' The look on her face when she saw it all set up in her room said, "Yeah!! Rock on!!" After she broke it in with a complete spaz out, she laid down and slept her first full night in a long time. All a girl wants, aparently, is to be treated with a little respect. Cribs are so yesterday.

Rebel Yell!

I turn my camera on,
I cut my fingers on the way.
~Spoon

Yum.



Flowers. The most cooperative photo subjects ever.
"Please hold still while I take 58 shots of you with 23 different settings, monkeying with my camera between each picture. Thanks!"



Wow. What a fun camera! I shall terrorize my family this weekend, and hopefully get one or two of them that are post worthy.

I'm supposed to get one that 'tells a story' for my homework assignment. Hmmmm . . . These are my favorite kinds of pictures, but I'm a little stumped on having to take one for myself. Suggestions are (as usual) welcome.

Thanks for indulging me:)

The Devil is in the Details

Spare parts,
And broken hearts,
Keep a dirty world turnin',
Around. And around.
~Bruce Springsteen

Like a child that finally awakens on her birthday and gets to open her totally awesome, super cool toy of which she's been dreaming, presses the button to experience the magic, and . . . there aren't any batteries. Only, the batteries are $30 cheaper online! So the little girl has to wait two more days for the batteries and, subsequently, the toy! Well, you get the picture. Actually I can't get the picture.

My beloved Rebel Xti arrived yesterday (I almost ravaged the UPS man), and after tearing it open with visions of awesome Depth of Field dancing in my head, I found I had failed to read the fine print.

CompactFlash card slot supports CompactFlash Type I/II cards (media not included).

No memory card. Emphasis mine. Cruel destiny.

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On a brighter note, I began the Great Clean Out yesterday, an epic project that began in the attic, and will move to the office soon. After moving a zillion times, we have finally landed somewhere, and little roots have taken. So, since we're going to stay awhile, the goal is to get every room . . . well, like a room and not a hodge podge storage facility. Makes me happy:)

BSM

Here's my best shot -- but I admit not from this week:) Wasn't a great picture taking week. I DID mess with this one in PS this week . . . that counts! Isn't she cute:)




Check out more Best Shot Monday pics here.

Death by Lunges

OK, I started 'back' to my workouts last week. It's the 'back' part that gets me. Going 'back' means I have taken a leave of absence, which means I'm on a path that moves not forward, but in a circle. Kind of like the end of the Blair Witch Project, 'Didn't we pass that tree already?!?!' And just as scary.

I like the classes at the YMCA, except for one thing of which I will scribble on a comment card very soon. They put a FULL LENGTH mirror up that covers BOTH sides of the room! You cannot escape. Into the fantasy. That you look anything like the instructor. So, as I waltzed into said room for my favorite Body Pump class, feeling good, healthy, even proud, I caught a glance at what my hiatus-plus-Blue Bell had done to my mid section. I spent the rest of the class trying to think of similes about my feelings. Never got a good one. Here's a few.

"Her stomach followed her into the room like an obnoxious friend."
"Her stomach stared back at her like the judgmental priest in the confessional."
"Her stomach drew unwelcome attention like prison time during the job interview."

These are awful, I know.

Then, during biceps, I was staring at the instructor. Her arms were pure rope, her stomach ripped, her encouraging words clear of any huffing and puffing. Then, an amazing thing happened, as I realized I will NEVER look ANYTHING like her. I started to see each person in the room, and go with me here, as a different kind of dog (Yes, I need help. Please see last blog for more evidence.)

Why haven't humans been categorized this way?? I, for example, would be a Labrador Retriever. Friendly, loyal, family oriented, slightly chubby with a love of naps. The instructor, on the other hand, is clearly something like, say, a Jack Russell Terrier. Wiry, busy, not that into eating, and impossibly devoid of body fat. Me, Lab, her, terrier. Labs will never be terriers. And vice versa. This realization actually made me feel good . . . free. As I mentioned earlier, forty is coming sooner than later, and I am more and more comfortable just being me. As we moved onto abs, and I 'pulsed for three', I knew that all I had to do was be the best Lab I could be. Oh happy day! (wag, wag:)

On a more negative note, the person who invented the lunge must die. Die a slow death. Perhaps by doing the tortuous move they created. Yes, death by lunges. The person would be dragged into a ring, Coliseum style, and made to perform lunges until they died, or lost consciousness, while all us fat bottomed girls watched. Eating Blue Bell.

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Mom, this is for you. I know it will make you 'big as the sky' happy:)

I had nothing to do with it. I will never remove wallpaper again since my Albany experience when I stripped the first layer of skin off my hands -- eek! Joe and his mini-me did it. So cute! (Mini-me was sad. She liked the giant flowers:)

Downstairs bathroom.






Upstairs bathroom.



Home improvement with a tiara.

The Breakup

Scene 1 (of 1):
I approach Powershot, my faithful point and shoot, with a heavy expression. (Soap opera organ music plays in the background.)


Me: Powershot, I have decided to move on.


: What?!!?


Me: I . . . I haven't been happy for some time. I've been corresponding with another.


: After all we've been through!?! I thought we were so happy!


Me: I was at first . . . but I need more now.


: What more could you want?? I'm small, I zoom, I have accessories for god's sake!


Me: (exasperated) I need DEPTH!! I need RAW passion!! I need more sensitivity! Your sensor is so . . .so. . . small!!


: (Gasp!!) You bitch!


Me: I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. You will always be my first. And I DO want to stay friends.


: I taught you everything you know. And now this. You ungrateful . . .


Me: Don't say it! No more name calling. I do love you. But Rebel Xti has stolen my heart.


: That cad! He thinks he's all that. You just wait. He won't hold your hand through it all like I did.


Me: I know. But what I used to think of as help, I now find . . . controlling.


: Are you calling me controlling!


Me: You're a point and shoot! It's just who you are! Don't blame yourself. Please try to understand. Plus, I will always need you during those risky times where Rebel might get hurt, or stolen. Like the pool! You can still come to the pool with us!


: You have a cold, cold heart.


Me: Be that as it may, Rebel arrives Tuesday. With a 50 mm f/1.8 lens. We have until then. Let' s make the most of it.


: Very well, then. I guess you have made up your mind. We've had a lot of fun. I think I'll miss the birthday parties the most.


Me: Well, we'll still do some stuff together (not). Like the pool. And videos. C'mon, let's go take pictures of Bee sleeping . . . even though you're awful in low light.


: (Gasp!) Kick me when I'm down, why don't you! What you need is . . .


End Scene 1 (of 1)

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Yes, I need help.