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What if God doesn’t answer my prayers? (Love God. Love People.)

Wed, 22 May 2013 15:06:32 +0200

Wrestling with the sovereignty of God is never an easy task, even in the abstract. Doing it in the real, everyday, muddy details of life is like trying to thread a needle while riding a bull. Recently, I've been wrestling with this idea, once again. It seems to be a theme of my life this […]

Wrestling with the sovereignty of God is never an easy task, even in the abstract. Doing it in the real, everyday, muddy details of life is like trying to thread a needle while riding a bull. Recently, I've been wrestling with this idea, once again. It seems to be a theme of my life this year.


For those who might not know, next year I've taken a position as an intern with Cru at OU, a Christian organization with a focus on sharing the Gospel, disciple-making, and world missions. It's literally a dream job, and I'm so excited to get to go back to the campus I love and share the love of Jesus, full-time.
But, before I go, I face a pretty big challenge. Cru staff, like a lot of other missionary organizations, raise their own financial support, by partnering with individuals and churches. I have to raise my own between now and August 1st. If I don't raise it, I don't go.
This is what's been really tough for me. I can put up post-it's with verses of God's promises of provision. I can memorize passages of Scripture that tell me of how He will not forsake those who seek Him. I can fall on my knees everyday, acknowledging my very real dependance on Him to provide the means for me to fill my mouth with food. All of those things, I am doing. But what's been hard, is acknowledging that He may choose not to.
I haven't even let myself think along these lines. But He could. He could choose not to bring the support in. He could choose, come August 1st, to keep me off staff. (Just writing those words was so hard, I started to cry.)
This is where faith gets real. Yes, it requires real faith to believe that God will provide me the financial support for an entire year. But I think it requires even more to believe that He is good, kind, and loving, even if He chooses to not allow the support to come in.
What will I do, if that happens? Will I hate him, and curse him, like Jonah? Or will I stand with Job, and say, "The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."?
As of now, I'm fairly certain I would curse Him, just to be honest. It would be so excruciating to see yet another dream die, another hope deferred.
But I must, I must, believe that He is in control of ALL things, good and bad. I must believe that He works all things for my ultimate good. I must believe that if He did not spare His own son for me, then neither will He withhold any other sort of good from me, (no matter what I think good looks like.)
Oh, God, change my heart that I might be able to say, no matter what happens this summer, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."



Celebrations, Collaborations, & Creations (Consider the Thought)
Sun, 19 May 2013 01:13:00 +0200

Walking from a bar to a table carrying two beers, I’m all happy with myself for finally being able to have an adult beverage in a place where I’ve mostly had meals (with kids). As I approach the table I realize it is full of really smart women with advanced degrees, and I’m excited. It occurred to me later that I miss brainy women who drink brews and chat because I haven’t gotten to do it so much particularly since children arrived in our lives and in Japan my Japanese wasn’t so great so I missed out on some of the conversational stuff, ok most everything, but I was grateful that the mama friends kept me around anyway.

Have you ever considered that Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is an interpretation of creating and childbearing? I’ve got to hang out with more English professors!

Later walking with my neighbor and our children to the elementary school ice cream social, I reflected on my experience on the PTO. I asked for ideas for communicating with other parents to get the word out that we needed to raise funds for portable computers. The teachers want more computers than the PTO can buy along with some playground equipment this summer. The neighbor, also a professor at a nearby university, had a great suggestion. I had to laugh at myself for the answer which amounted to, “Let’s ask!” By the end of the ice cream social fifteen names were on paper committed to buying fifteen of the wanted twenty-five computers. Old fashioned face to face time.

Have I mentioned that I love this town lately? Ideas and action everywhere I go.

Meanwhile, I’ve been working on a few bead projects. I also helped a friend set up her website as part of my, "Your customers need to know what you are up too!" discussion. It surprised me that she was happy to have someone just do it. I'm sure it will change and morph over time as she finds her way, vision, and time to express her business on the web, but in the meantime, it felt great to be part of putting her out there. Take a look and feel free to make, politely phrased suggestions, please! If you are lucky enough to arrive at the Athens Farmers Market at ten on a Saturday morning before she departs for Paris, you can eat one of her creations. Feel free to like her Facebook page and check out her blog which I also tinkered with for her. I did not make it to the market in time this morning for her yummy creations, but you can look at some of mine.





What I'm going to do today. (person on the street)
Tue, 14 May 2013 18:18:00 +0200
Welp, Erin ya graduated college. It's about time you started writing your people observations again.

I'm a busy body, a busy bee. I like to go, and I like to be going. And when all the GO GO GO turns into SIT SIT SIT around and watch Kitchen Cousins and Curb Appeal for seven hours straight, two things happen: one, I have really beautiful and memorable intense workouts (thank you!) and two, I start thinking. I have been going for four years straight and I thought I would take a week to let myself rest before I let myself fix my portfolio or post in my blog or apply to ten jobs a day or unpack all of the boxes now sitting in my parent's garage.

But there's a problem with trying to let myself rest: I'm a thinker. And when I get thinking, I get really thinking. First, I replayed my last semester in Athens. (Yes, It was a great one, but this blogpost isn't about Athens... I think there are enough nostalgic manifestos that I'm afraid to even read because I'll cry let alone write my own cookie-cutter version of.) Then I replayed my own experiences over the last four years.

So, yeah, I'm going to talk about me. Suck it.

I thought of the four principles, two academic and two personal, that I lived by in college and I'm going to feature them over the next four days.

The first academic principle: I took extra classes that challenged me and had absolutely no importance towards my graduation.

The second academic principle: I did not let myself be a selfish student. 

The first personal principle: I never said no to adventure or good conversation.

The second personal principle: I let myself become an artist. 


Be free, my heart (Thus Far)
Thu, 09 May 2013 08:11:00 +0200
      

The world said to me:
"Daughter, it’s not good to wear 
your heart on your sleeve
where anyone can see it, 
In all its vulnerability.
Instead, stow it safely in
A chest of nails and iron, 
Where nobody will mind it
Or dare to hurt or touch it.
Yes, lock it away and go
About your day like everything 
is fine. Throw away the key.
Even though it’s darker 
and you’re hurting inside,
it’s better nobody sees
for it will cause a scene."

“But I’m dying,” said I,
“in this cage made out of iron.”

“Oh nonsense, I can’t see it,”
said she with a heart of stone.
It was then that I realized
I was cold, afraid, and alone.
With nobody to see my heart,
there was nobody there to know.

So there I sat, with my iron 
guard around me. What once
was meant to protect became
my prison cell. I sat in there 
and slowly turned to stone.

But then he came who I’d never
dared hoped for. He saw past my 
façade and broke down my
iron door. He drug me out
into the sun, and oh, how it glared!
It’d been so dark where I was
that presently I became scared. 

But he took me by the hand,
and helped me stand with him
he whispered “be free my heart,”
and turned to go.

My heart still wasn’t pumping though, 
It was exposed, rotting, dead 
and far too long neglected. 
“But wait!” I said, “I’m still sick, 
don’t leave me all alone!”
“never,” he replied as he struck the 
final blow: he showed me his
heart on his sleeve and I
saw it beat for me. There
I was, dead and broken at his feet.
That such a noble heart
could beat for such as me!

He picked me up and brought 
me to a place dark and grim
where they took him from me
and broke his heart on such
a cruel device. He’d looked
at me and shuddered off
the pain. With each small breath, 
I saw his heartbeat slowly fade away.
“Don’t leave me!” I shouted and I
heard him whisper then,
“Never, my love - be free, my heart,”
and then it was his end.

The hope I had felt had died
as I sat in unbelief.
How long I sat, I’ll never know,
but then my hope relieved-
he’s alive and well! and down I fell
at his feet and felt release.
thump. I heard it first: thump 
thump. I felt it. Just like him, I too,
was alive once again.
I looked down at
my heart and there it was to see:
my once cold, lonely, and dead heart
was clean, alive and happy!
He took me as I was
and died to set me free!
My heart now beats for him
as I wear it proudly on my sleeve.





Taco Rice Salad (Consider the Thought)
Fri, 03 May 2013 04:10:00 +0200
I admit it. I lived in Japan too long. I can no longer eat a taco salad without wanting rice in it! My friend Kendo Mama, introduced me to it, and it's a keeper.

Taco Rice Salad
The problem is that it is not on any local menus, although Casa did accommodate my request with their vegan chili taco salad so it included beans, rice, and tofu. The original is lighter and so I kept thinking about it.

The taco seasoning was the rate limiting step. Finally, I decided to do a Google search and found a recipe (homemade taco seasoning). I had to try it. I, ah, made a lot.

I wanted to send some to Kendo Mama to try, plus a few Kodomo no ni Children's Day packages have arrived from Japan. I have some thank-yous to send out and a little homemade taco seasoning is just the thing to spice it up.

The best part about the homemade taco seasoning? Taste is great and there are no preservatives nor any other unnecessary gunk in it. This is great. I had to ride my bike twice to the Farmacy to get enough chili powder which just means that this batch is half organic, one of the quirks of living in the hills of Ohio.

This is the recipe for the Taco Rice Salad I ate at my friend's house in Japan. Vegetarians could try the seasoning with tempeh or tofu. I did use salsa instead of tomatoes-- it's not quite tomato season yet. I had forgotten how pleasant it is to have the warm rice and ground beef with the cool crunchy lettuce.

I served each layer separately so that the kiddos could make dinner their way. It was a win all the way around the table. My husband was absent, but he'll eat my worst mistakes and say, "I'm just happy there's food on the table." I love cooking for him, it's the two kids who wrack my brains. Try this at your table. Use the link to make the seasoning-- I can vouch for the recipe.

Idatakimasu I humbly receive,
Kim


Homemade Taco Seasoning0
Ground Beef cooked with taco seasoning and water

Taco Rice Salad
Adapted from Aya Tambata

Ingredients
Hot Cooked Japanese Rice
Cooked Ground Beef + Taco seasoning + Water-- cook until water evaporates
Mexican Mix or Monterrey Jack Cheese, grated
Lettuce, shredded
Salsa or Diced Tomato
Avocado, sliced
Corn Chips, crushed
Fresh Cilantro, 1 to 2 springs, for garnish
Hot Sauce, for garnish

What to do
Cook the rice. 
Saute the ground beef until browned. Add taco seasoning and water. Cook until the water is evaporated, stir often. Set aside.
Prep vegetables: lettuce, tomato if using, avocado, and cilantro.
Layer lettuce, rice, beef, cheese, avocado slices, corn chips, tomato or salsa, and garnish with a spring of cilantro and hot sauce to taste.




Sunday Morning (Michael Dibari)
Sun, 28 Apr 2013 17:44:46 +0200
Sunday mornings have always been peaceful and reflective. Most Sundays, we just relax and watch CBS Sunday Mornings on the television. When I was younger I used to like to go exploring, either by bike or by scooter (a couple times in my life I had a scooter which was great for just driving around [...]Sunday mornings have always been peaceful and reflective. Most Sundays, we just relax and watch CBS Sunday Mornings on the television. When I was younger I used to like to go exploring, either by bike or by scooter (a couple times in my life I had a scooter which was great for just driving around the neighborhood). More recently, I used to go out with my camera and take photographs. Then kids, work, more work and life made it more difficult. This morning I was able to go out for a little ride and find a few images. Sometimes that’s all you need.
  

   


Spring Bling (Consider the Thought)
Sun, 28 Apr 2013 14:18:00 +0200

The shorn blades of grass along roadsides herald a change of season. The hills are no longer barren but daily greener with bursts of color like the purple haze of the red bud and the surprising patch of white from a random dogwood. The flower beds around our house are popping with tulips. A friend points out that the deer won’t likely chomp my soon to be planted garden if they haven’t eaten their favorite snack, tulips.

Birds call and tweet their sweet tunes before the sun rises. Their gentle conversations accompany me as I string, restring, and string again beads. I am ever closer to the pattern I want but cannot visualize without seeing it manifest. I end close, but in need of one last bead. The bead shop owner has offered to help me with the math to calculate the number of beads needed based on length. I have to play with the beads to find how they want to be arranged. I had declined the help and return for one last bead.

The necklace is sparkly and a tad heavy on my chest. The weight is from the large clear crystals as if from a chandelier that contrast with smaller black crystals. They are divided with crackled quartz tubes and smaller black crystals. The design was inspired my great grandmother's necklace made of graduated clear round balls with contrasting black dividers. Like nature around me, I too am ready to show off. It is my version of spring bling.

The hills of Ohio offers many perks, but shopping is not one of them. I have a reputation for selecting nice ties likely due to a willingness to spend money on nice silk. With the recent transition to civilian life, there is a tie deficit in my husband’s wardrobe. A birthday gift search led me to an Etsy shop in London. The morning of my husband’s birthday, I pulled a brown paper wrapped package out from hiding and asked him to open it as he was dressing for work. The tie popped with color and the silk shimmered. I left a note of appreciation for feedback.

The next day, avoiding the dreaded task of finishing off my continuing education hours for my nursing license, I do everything I like to do first. I scan the email inbox. I spot a note of interest. It reads:

Thank you ever so much! Your kind words couldn't have come at a better time...I went over to the silk mill today to place my very first order for silks woven exactly to my specifications, so I felt the confidence boost when I made the final decisions on the bus ride over.

With no more excuses and a happy spot brightening my heart, I shlep seedling containers outside to harden them for the upcoming garden transfer, water the newly planted ume tree, hang a load of laundry in the sun on the deck, and begin sorting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, clearing the way to my dreaded task. The doorbell chimes unexpectedly.

I invite my neighbor inside. She asks, “What are you doing?” I respond, “Cleaning my kitchen.” Though scullery maid is a necessary part of having fresh real food on the table, I do momentarily wish I was able to say, “Working on my continuing education credits for my nursing license.”

Five miles later, I stumble along a trail sucking wind and lifting my feet just enough to skim over the top of sticks and rocks. My neighbor calls out the names of flowers and trees and gives me the lay of the land conversing with a steady even breathing pattern. I’m not oblivious to the signs of spring, but concentrating on the physical demands for which I am suddenly engaged.

When we return home, I tell her about the email in my morning inbox. I’m a grateful she chose to ask me along exactly when I needed it. I finish half of the necessary license requirements and think, I can do this.





(Give the 'Net credit)
Mon, 22 Apr 2013 19:10:52 +0200
usafa_vs_ivy_league

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Spring Lit Fest Compost & Thrum (Consider the Thought)
Sat, 20 Apr 2013 16:24:00 +0200
The experience of attending even one day of the Ohio University’s Spring Literary Festival is one of those wow moments that needs to be shared. If you love books, writing, and words, put it on your calendar for next year. It’s free, fabulous, and fun!

The afternoon lectures by Robert Olen Butler and Bonnie Jo Campbell, the ones I was able to attend, used the analogy of composting and thrumming in writing and reading.

Feeding the compost pile (Butler) or the black box (Campbell) in your head and then letting it heat up and invade one’s writing life is about getting away from technique and getting into the creative zone. Campbell focused on what keeps us up at night and made a bid for the anecdotes or tiny narratives that capture personality in the shortest amount of space. She used the example of, “Where’s my goddamn leg?” as a starting point for story about rending the ugly and the terrible into something beautiful. I was pleased with myself for having her book in my bag. You know she is going to tell an awesome story with an example like that.

I loved Butler’s word for what resonates and creates works to pursue, thrum. Writing done from the unconscious, built of technique, vocabulary, and the senses, is scary, but is where a writer evokes a cinema of the mind. He encouraged writers to get away from analysis as art. He surprised me by starting with the genius, Jesus Christ and his parables which avoid telling a point directly. His talk also reminded me of Anton Chekhov’s, “Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” Readers were encouraged by both to read slowly and for joy.

I purchased several books to add to my bedside pile and managed to get them all signed. I’ve noticed that the signed books function as a portal and return me to the reflections of the event in my head. Of course, I’m reading something else, The Paris Wife to be exact.

My favorite takeaways from the Spring Lit Fest, skewed toward the parts attended, were:

Never avert your eyes.
Robert Olen Butler

Feet, balls, heart. Eat the whole chicken.
Bonnie Jo Campbell



thrum  
/THrəm/
Verb
Make a continuous rhythmic humming sound.
Cover or adorn (cloth or clothing) with ends of thread.
Noun
A continuous rhythmic humming sound: "the steady thrum of rain on the windows".
(in weaving) An unwoven end of a warp thread, or a fringe of such ends, left in the loom when the finished cloth is cut away.
Synonyms
verb.   strum
noun.   fringe







A Toast (Consider the Thought)
Mon, 15 Apr 2013 14:45:00 +0200

His beard, white and as long as my uncle’s, is an indicator that I am outside my frame of reference. My cousin had asked this man one of the hardest questions of his life, “Do I have your permission to date your daughter?” I haven’t lived among these men who work with their hands and brawn long enough to know intimately the codes, phrases, and ways operating below the surface which guide the everyday interactions of these men. I am here to attend my cousin’s wedding.

The day is bright, crisp. The sky is blue. We drive past pine trees for a long while. We turn down an unfamiliar tree lined drive toward a rambling house that sits atop a gentle slope, rented for the occasion. Green grass sets the house off like a jewel and ends at the water’s edge. An arbor stands at attention off to the side of six chairs under a lone oak tree’s shade. My cousin has built the arbor with the bride’s brothers. He tells us, “It’s not going nowhere. It weighs six hundred pounds.” The names of the bride and groom have been burnt into the wood along the top arch. It is adorned with a bouquet of roses on each side. Between the light, the lake’s sparkle, the setting’s starkness lends a solemnity to the day.

The boys have smoked meat all night. The bride’s mother plays flute, the only music beyond the whistles and calls of the birds. I offer my hand with the a few finishing decorating touches. We roll the white fabric for the aisle down to the arbor and pin it with tent stakes. The minister arrives with crisp robes and a green collar. Eventually he calls us all to start. We guests scramble to bring folding chairs from the patio down to the lawn, most of us opting for the shade.

In their black suits the groom and four groomsmen span to one side. They have all known the bride since childhood, they are my cousin and her brothers. The bridesmaids have been hidden away to dress and primp all morning, emerge with striking black and white chevron designed dresses, coifed hair, and more roses. The bride’s father walks her down the aisle wearing a white embroidered shirt, like a Greek fisherman’s, and jeans. He chats with her as they pass. Afterward he walks back down the aisle to take a chair at the very back, but dead center, and sips a beer from the table, quiet now.

The ceremony finishes with the official, “you may kiss the bride,” and we all return to the patio’s protective grape arbor covering with views of the lake. It is time to eat, talk, and celebrate.

At last it is time for a toast. The best man glosses over that his best friend has married his little sister. The bride’s father is called up. He says, “I don’t know half of you here, but I’ve known this boy (gesturing to my cousin) since he was this high” as he puts his hand out about three feet from the ground. My cousin is six feet five inches tall now.

The father continues, “First of all I never thought he would live this long!” There is an appreciative chuckle from the crowd. My cousin has only the weekend before jumped out of a helicopter, sky dives as much as he can, and generally is known to ride the rails of life. "I’d do anything for him." There is a pause where you know he means this and probably has done it. With a smile twitching beneath that beard he says, "I damn sure never expected him to marry my daughter!” Everyone laughs because no one else expected this either-- they are ten years apart. He finishes with, “Hugs and Kisses! Kiss for you (as he kisses his daughter) and hugs for you (as he grasps my cousin).”

Here, here.





Heavy Metals as a concern for Vegetable Tires (Mark Hare via Haiti)
Mon, 15 Apr 2013 02:23:00 +0200
I have been asked on several occasions if there is a concern about heavy metals leaching out of tires and affecting the vegetables. In short, the risk appears to be minimal.

Here is a somewhat longer answer. Your comments and especially any information you might have would be greatly appreciated.

If  the question was about heavy metals leaching, I worked at finding  information on that. The studies that have been done have been on  shredded tires used as a base for play areas for children. I asked in  ECHO, which has been promoting the use of tires and other basins for many years now. The consensus seemed to be that  there have been no studies done on using tires for vegetable production,  but that the risk is minimal (versus the advantages outweighing the  negatives) because the tires are used whole, not shredded. That limits  the surface area that is exposed to water/humic acids and also changes  the physics of how water and humic acids interact with the surface area it does  encounter. Also, at least part of any metals that might leach out would  wash out with the daily watering, affecting the soil under the tires,  but not the vegetables in the tires. Finally, we are worried  specifically about heavy metals and heavy metals are not absorbed by  most plants at all easily. The concern would be greater for vegetables that can (beets strike me as one that can absorb some heavy metals?) and particularly if those vegetables are grown consistently in the same tires. The odds would then increase that at least some of those crops are are contaminated.

Again, anyone reading this blog, please let us know if you have any information about studies that have been done. Martin Price at ECHO noted that one of the problems is that chemical studies like this are expensive and the people who use tires to grow vegetables are often poor, which makes it hard to find the funds to do the expensive studies.



For a bride and groom (Consider the Thought)
Sat, 13 Apr 2013 06:36:00 +0200

Today, you are crossing a threshold. The miracle of finding each other gives way to the greater, more audacious, adventure of life together. 

Places, circumstances, and our interests change. You will have many marriages within this one. Hold steady to the good, the calm, and the gentle, and each will brim with love. 

There is no one way. Yet I wish to share some of the bits that have helped me:


*Love each other as you are, you can only change yourself.

*If you find yourself picking faults, let go. 

*Please and thank you always feel nice, be courteous.

*Play is vital to our being and happiness, dance often.

*This is life, not a game-- no keeping score.

*It may not all be the fairytale we imagined, look with your heart (not the critical eye).

*Sometimes you need to chuck your ego, choose love over being right.

*It’s hard to say what you mean, sometimes it’s just better to sit quietly and hold hands.

*Laughter, sleep, and fresh air help everything.


You're going to be great at this, look who's coming with you!
Love, Kim




House Rules (Consider the Thought)
Thu, 11 Apr 2013 13:21:00 +0200
With piles of work and deadlines some of us stay up all night, cram for hours on end, and eat whatever. That was me before kiddos. Childrearing has lead me to appreciate routines, schedules, and menus. This  lifestyle turnabout has sometimes lead to frustration with my role as a mother. I constantly think that parenting shouldn't be so hard, but the real difficulty is changing myself.

Aware that I have room to improve, I enrolled in a parenting workshop offered by grad students at the local university with hopes to glean insights into helpful approaches to childrearing.

The first homework assignment was to create a list of house rules which got me thinking: What house rules have been ingrained or are no longer said aloud? What house rules would I like to add? I wanted the house rules to be positive statements that apply to everyone and to serve as mini mantras that encourage us each to be kinder, gentler, and strong enough to help each other.


House Rules (a work in progress, in no particular order)
Respect others 
Take turns
Speak positively, kindly "my least favorite..." "the best thing ever..."
Sometimes we need help saying what we mean, but please try, try again
Give generously
Touch gently, hold softly, everyone needs a hug sometime
Clean as you go
Everything has a place so put it where it belongs
Try before you ask for help
Eat at the table
Say your sorry if you hurt someone
Routines are good
Give positive feedback or hold your tongue
Ask questions
Manners are always nice
Silliness, laughs, and movie lines are always in order




An Open Letter to My Brothers and Sisters (Love God. Love People.)
Thu, 11 Apr 2013 11:33:26 +0200
I’m going to deal with an in-house issue today. This is an open (letter, blog?) to all of my fellow Christians. So if that’s you, then stick around. If you’re not a Christian, feel free to read it (in fact, please do) but I do want to include a side not. Just because I’m saying [...]I’m going to deal with an in-house issue today. This is an open (letter, blog?) to all of my fellow Christians. So if that’s you, then stick around.
If you’re not a Christian, feel free to read it (in fact, please do) but I do want to include a side not. Just because I’m saying these things does not at all reflect any animosity. I’m writing this to people I consider my “brothers” and “sisters” in Christ, and that’s exactly how I feel about them. I love them dearly and intensely. Nothing can change that. Even when they hurt my feelings, (which, as my “family” they often do,) I still love them. So please read this post as a discussion between siblings who are trying hard to live life as a family, with all of it’s faults and failures.
Alright, that said, here’s what I really wanted to get to. Tomorrow, I will have been engaged for two weeks. Not very long! The word has still been getting around.
And it seems that every time, after the initial “congratulations!” the same question follows; “So when is the wedding?” A natural question. Totally fine. It’s been people’s reactions to my answer, however, that have been hurtful.
See, even though Clay and I got engaged in April, we’re not planning on getting married until late May/early June of 2014. There are several, personal, economic, and familial reasons behind that, but the largest reason for that date is because next year I will be serving as an intern with Cru at OU (formerly known as Campus Crusade for Christ.)
This is something I’ve felt God leading me to for over a year now, and in the past few months the call has been more than confirmed for me. The internship runs August-April, and in that time, I don’t get any vacation time (other than holidays and such.) So, obviously, wedging a wedding in there would be pretty much impossible.
We talked about it, and although we definitely desire to be married sooner rather than later, this is what we feel is right for us, what God wants for us.
So it really hurts my feelings when people express surprise, and veiled (or not-so-veiled) judgement at our 15+ month engagement. I understand that typically in Christian circles, 6-8 month engagements are far more typical, but that’s just not a reality for us.
A long engagement is not a sin. Please don’t suggest that I ought not to intern with Cru just so that I can get married sooner (and yes, several people have said that to me.)
I wouldn’t blame someone if they did that, but I feel that to do so would be disobedient to what God has called me to do. So it really hurts when people suggest that I’m stupid, sinful, or some combination of both to choose to wait so that I can serve the Lord for less than a year.
I firmly believe that my life is not my own. I belong to the Lord, and to the Lord alone. I do what He has asked, even if that means waiting over a year to get married. I’m sure it will be hard. But I am indwelt with the Spirit. His grace is sufficient for me, for His “…power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Cor 12:9) I will endure, I will learn to love God and Clay more, and I will have joy in it all.
So please, remember to watch what you say. Let only good things come out of your mouth, “such as is fit for building up, that it may give grace to those who hear.” (Eph 4:29)
And please, don’t tell me how much I’m going to hate being engaged by the end. I’m just starting to enjoy it now.
That’s it. Love you all, brothers and sisters, I just want you to know. Ok, now let’s get back to regular life.

   


The Best Little Panty Raid in Ohio (The Barrel Racing Blog)
Wed, 10 Apr 2013 17:15:54 +0200
Hi Everyone : ) It’s been a while, I know I know. Things are nuts, and I know that’s what I always say, but, seeeeeeriously… not kidding. I just wanted to stop by and remind y’all to catch the Best … Continue reading →   Hi Everyone : )
It’s been a while, I know I know. Things are nuts, and I know that’s what I always say, but, seeeeeeriously… not kidding.
I just wanted to stop by and remind y’all to catch the Best Little Panty Raid in Ohio that On the Road with Dawn and Clea are producing! It’s going to be TOPS. If you can’t be at the Champions Center to enter up yourself, catch it online here.
Dawn and Clea have put up TONS of cash and prizes, not to mention one BAD-A Cactus Saddle that my lovely friend Cherie designed for us!
This show is to raise money for our September show, and we can’t wait to tell you about all the awesome sponsors who are back on board with us for 2013, and the NEW sponsors who are signing up by the day.

   


What you should know about my engagement photos (Love God. Love People.)
Mon, 08 Apr 2013 05:05:05 +0200
I just this really great article at Relevant, and it really made me stop to think. Now, I don’t have Instagram, but I have Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and a blog. I use all of them every day. And I will admit that I often leave my computer defeated, feeling as if I don’t measure up. [...]I just this really great article at Relevant, and it really made me stop to think.
Now, I don’t have Instagram, but I have Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and a blog. I use all of them every day. And I will admit that I often leave my computer defeated, feeling as if I don’t measure up. Like, my life isn’t as cute, or as romantic, or as wonderful as everyone else. And I start to wonder where I went wrong, or, even worse, I begin to question God.
The article hits it spot on; “I so easily fall prey to the seduction of other people’s partial truths and heavily filtered photos, making everything look amazing. And their amazing looking lives make me feel not amazing at all.”
Partial truths and heavily filtered experiences. That’s the nature of the Internet. Just today, I posted these photos of my engagement. They are everything that moment was; Sweet, surprising, beautiful, and so full of love.
But that’s what it was. A moment. A 10 minute span of time. What those photos have failed to show is the long 2.5 year relationship, and agonizing 6 month struggle that lead up to that moment. This is the reality.
Clay and I have been dating for over two years. We’ve known each other for three. Our relationship has been wonderful, but it’s also been really hard work. Back breaking at times. You don’t bring two people together with 20+ years of history, much of it difficult, without conflict.
The past 6 months alone for us were, quite frankly, awful. We’ve been long distance. We weren’t communicating well. There were lies we both believed about how the other felt and thought. We harbored hurt feelings, bitterness, anger, resentment. For three months, we had disagreements just about every time we talked. There were two months where I lay awake at night every night, worrying. There was a moment that I thought we might not make it.
But we did. It was hell, but we did. We struggled. We cried. We prayed. We sought counsel. We read the Word. We prayed, and prayed some more. We (ok, I) cried even more than I prayed. We WORKED. And it was hard, but it was so worth it, because it brought us to the moment when those photos were taken.
And that’s what it was. A moment, preceded by a billion others filled with blood, sweat, and lots of tears. So remember that, when you look at my photographs (or statuses, or Tweets, or blogs, or whatever) or anyone else’s.
One moment, proceeded by a billion other happy, sad, and mundane moments. That’s life.


   


Book for Radical Teens : Stay Solid! (doris zine blog)
Sun, 07 Apr 2013 00:45:00 +0200
Here's a new book I'm in. It looks so great! 

www.akpress.org/staysolid.html

Coming soon! Preorder now and get 25% off list price. We'll ship as  soon as it arrives in the warehouse! 
It ain't easy being a kid these days. For the first time in  generations, today's teens have worse prospects ahead of them than their  parents did, and the pressure to toe the line and be a success is  heavier than ever...and so is the temptation to just give up. But there  are things in the world worth fighting for!

This  scrapbook-style collection of essays, excerpts, explanations, and images  pushes back against a culture that relentlessly demands that kids give  up their best ideals, abandon their hopes, forget their ethical  objections to dominant life, soothe their rage, and accept their fates.  From dealing with the cops to dealing with your peers, from school and  community to drugs and sex, from race and class to money and mental  health, Stay Solid! provides essential support for  radically inclined teens who believe that it's possible for all of us  to hang on to our values and build a life we believe in.

Compiled  and edited by radical urbanist and educator Matt Hern, with the  assistance of the youth community at Vancouver's Purple Thistle Centre, Stay  Solid! is for kids everywhere, and for anyone who considers  themselves an ally—parents, teachers, neighbors, friends, relatives, and  beyond.
 Contributors include Michelle Alexander, Michael Hardt,  The Guerilla Girls, Dan Savage, Pete Jordan, Lisa Gray-Garcia, Shira  Tarrant, Lee Naught, Mike Davis, Geoff Mann, Victoria Law, Dawn Paley,  The Baltimore Algebra Project, CrimethInc, and many, many more.


Finding Water in the Mountains of the Artibonite (Mark Hare via Haiti)
Sat, 06 Apr 2013 18:59:00 +0200



"Every time I think I have found the community that is struggling with the most difficult situation in terms of water, I find people struggling with a problem that is even harder." 

The week after MPP's 40th Anniversary Congress, I went with my friend from Oregon, Susan L. Smith to visit some of our work in the mountains of Verettes in Haiti's Artibonite. Susan is a professor of environmental law at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon and a water justice advocate. She has worked with MPP (MPP website)for going on five years now, helping to provide funding and bring awareness of the need for clean water in the rural and disadvantaged communities of the Central Plateau. Susan is the Clean Water Leader for the United Church of Christ (UCC).

The Artibonite valley, with the majestic Artibonite river running through, is considered Haiti's "rice basket." While water is superabundant in the lower elevations of Verettes, it is can be extremely difficult in the mountain communities. Hosted by Nestly Voltair and other leaders of ODEVPRE (Organization for Development and Environmental Protection of Verettes), Susan was invited by ODEVPRE to see first hand the needs of the communities surrounding a spring known as Remonsaint. This site was about two and a half hours of tedious driving on a barely existent road. Walking, the community is about the same distance from Verettes, taking the much (much) steeper foot paths.


Susan Smith (blue shirt, red hat) visiting with the women and children patiently collecting water that slowly seeps into holes dug in the sand in this ravine. When I asked permission of the women to take this photo, they agreed without reservation, noting that the more people who know of their situation, the more hope they have that there can be change.

Trying to get some type of estimate for the number of people who depend on this site for their water, the folks collecting water listed for us about ten different mountain communities that come here during the driest months of the year (usually January-March). Then we asked about how many people live in each of those communities. The response that was a range. Folks estimated that the smallest had as few as 200 and the largest had at least 500. We took 300 as a possible average, which would mean that this ravine may be the main water supply for as many as 3,000 mountain inhabitants, for some part of the year.

Capping the Remonsaint water source. A Swiss aid organization, Helvetas (Helvetas) is helping the community of Remonsaint cap the spring and build a large cistern to store the water. It impressed me to find a non-governmental organization able to identify a need in an area as remote as this, and respond.

We spent a good bit of time visiting the folks working on the large cistern that will hold water from the spring and Susan and I were particularly impressed with one of the workers and a member of a local community (Terre-nette), Onondieu Louisius.

Onondieu Louisius from Terre-nette, one of the workers building Remonsaint's cistern. Onondieu helped explain the need for reforestation and the complications the communities face in following through with that need. Onondieu gave me permission to publish his photo on internet and to share his observations.

Onondieu was clear that the mountains of Verettes desperately need tree cover for many reasons, but especially to protect and increase the water supply for the local communities. He was also elegant in explaining some of the complications. Onondieu pointed out that because the area is remote and the road is so bad, trees grown in nurseries at lower elevations suffer too much by the time the reach the area around Remonsaint. That means that local tree nurseries are needed to produce trees that don't need to be transported long distances, and are better adapted to local conditions. But in an environmental catch-22, the lack of water during the dry season makes it impossible to establish a viable tree nursery during the dry months, which is when they have to be produced in order to plant them out during the rainy season. Onondieu noted that of course the area could produce trees during the rainy season, but then what would be the point of planting them out during the dry months, when they will just die? He also noted that there are organizations that often come in and give away trees to local farmers, but they rarely come back to find out if the trees were planted, or if they survived.

Inside the cap. The bamboo is holding up the form until the cement dries thoroughly. Once the main part of the cap is formed, the workers will remove the bamboo and fill in this space.

At this point, at the end of March, the spring was providing very little water. As it begins to rain in the area, some of our sources noted that fewer people would be coming to get water, which would give the spring time to recharge and  to fill up the cistern. However, when we calculated the size of the cistern that is being built, we found that it would hold about 22.5 m3 of water, or about 22,500 liters. At 25 liters per person per day (the minimum per person used as a standard by the United Nations, according to Susan), the cistern would provide enough water for about 900 people, less than a third of the people who may depend on it.


As we left the spring, Susan observed, "Every time I think I have found the community that is struggling  with the most difficult situation in terms of water, I find people struggling with a problem that is even harder."


It's Beginning to Look Like Spring (Consider the Thought)
Sat, 06 Apr 2013 13:30:00 +0200

The blush of sunrise contrasts with the dark sticks of tree limbs that still await the touch of spring. While my parents in Florida have already had the azaleas and dogwood blooms fall off, we barely have buds.

Meanwhile, the time crunch of life has left me with no opportunity to turn the brain scraps jotted on various bits of paper into coherent thoughts. Taxes, trips, health concerns, paperwork, and a workshop have been unavoidable priorities. Though a trip to the bead shop, time impersonating the Easter Bunny (with lukewarm success), and some garden planning did manage to squeeze into my days somehow, just not the walk, writing, and quiet time I like to have. 

A garden plot has been identified in our yard. It is a small, but with enough sunshine, I think, to sustain some of the Japanese herbs and vegetable varieties that I am missing. I found a seed company in California that specializes in the varieties that I wanted. A rabbit fence is in place, but not a deer fence. I may or may not end up with much in the garden if the deer find it. Yes, despite city living here in the hills of Ohio, rabbit and deer are munching their way through the neighbor’s first growth of spring bulbs. I have a batch of seedlings sprouting in my sun room awaiting the warming of the earth.

The Mule, a faithful bird watcher, is thrilled with the avian activities of spring-- the nest building, sightings of doves, turkey vultures, hawks, and others unknown, and the variety of bird songs all around. The newly turned compost and earthworms is a hot bed of earthworm hunting for the orange belly hoppers (robins).

Welcome spring! It’s been a while.




Datpiff Adventures (Blog of Duty)
Fri, 05 Apr 2013 15:54:36 +0200
Sup everybody. I want to say this right off the back; this post was inspired by the Where’s My 40 Acres Podcast crew. On their latest podcast, they did a search on Datpiff to find the most horrid, ratchet mixtape pictures. So, I decided to do my own search and found a couple of decent [...]Sup everybody. I want to say this right off the back; this post was inspired by the Where’s My 40 Acres Podcast crew. On their latest podcast, they did a search on Datpiff to find the most horrid, ratchet mixtape pictures. So, I decided to do my own search and found a couple of decent ones.
      

Well, there you have it. Until next time, peace!

   


African red worms doing their thing! Eudrilus eugeniae (Mark Hare via Haiti)
Tue, 02 Apr 2013 21:26:00 +0200
Wilner Exil's red worms. From left to right, first hand shows the dried manure that we use as food for African red worms. The middle hand shows the worms at work and the third hand shows the finished product, full of worm castings. African red worms do an excellent job of turning dried, resource-limited cow, horse and donkey manure into a high quality, nutrient-concentrated compost. The worms reduce the carbon and concentrate the nutrients, increasing the microbial life exponentially as well. We also add a variety of green leaves to the manure to increase the nutrient value of the compost. We do not use kitchen waste because we have found that it creates a fatal attraction for fire ants. "Fatal" for the red worms, not the fire ants.The scientific name of African red worm: Eudrilus eugeniae


Hydraulic ram pump: Leodiagüe, Hinche (4th Section) (Mark Hare via Haiti)
Tue, 02 Apr 2013 20:08:00 +0200




MPP's 40th Anniversary Congress, and March (Mark Hare via Haiti)
Sat, 30 Mar 2013 11:28:00 +0100
Mass marches, theater, dancing, stirring speeches, excellent lectures, networking of all kinds and lots of singing. MPP's 40th Anniversary Congress, from 18th-22nd of May was all that and more. MPP is Mouvman Peyizan Papay--The Peasants' Movement of Papay. They held their 5-year congress at MPP's national training center, Sant Lakay, to evaluate the local, national and international situation and to develop a vision for the work of MPP for the next five years. The Congress officially closed with a march. While the Congress itself had about 2,000 participants, including a multitude of international guests, the march itself had as many as 15,000 participants, possibly more. The theme was national sovereignty and a country that can take care of itself. Walking from Papay to Hinche and all through the city, a total of around 10 miles, the march closed in Hinche's central park with speeches by Chavannes Jean Baptiste, the director of MPP, and other leaders of grassroots movements from all over Haiti.

"Contract of the People, a free people in a country that can make decisions for itself." As many as 15,000 people, or more, marched from Papay to Hinche to call on the government to work for a nation respects and takes care of its own people.


 Also on the list to share: a report from the hydraulic ram pump in Leodiagüe, visits to the mountains in Verettes, colonial forts, a mountain paradise and more. It has been a very interesting two weeks. But now I am headed home to family, who I have missed very much, in the midst of everything.





Same-sex Marriage and the Supreme Court (MacklerMedia.com)
Thu, 28 Mar 2013 18:07:10 +0100
Yesterday, I went downtown to the U.S. Supreme Court to check out the protesters who were rallying while the Court listened to oral arguments in the United States v. Windsor case, which challenges the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act. Same-sex marriage supporters came out to demonstrate for equal rights. Here are some scenes from the [...]Yesterday, I went downtown to the U.S. Supreme Court to check out the protesters who were rallying while the Court listened to oral arguments in the United States v. Windsor case, which challenges the 1996 Defense of Marriage Act. Same-sex marriage supporters came out to demonstrate for equal rights. Here are some scenes from the day.
-Kristin





Farting Around (Consider the Thought)
Thu, 28 Mar 2013 16:19:00 +0100
"Dreaming of hummingbirds, tweet, tweet, tweet," is followed by snorting pig sounds then the hummingbird refrain. This audio file loop has no stop or pause button.

In my world, the noise level rises as the sun sets. I'm not on another planet, but ensconced in a car with my family. The racket is annoying. "Every night is tv when you're dreaming," she tells him as if they were remotely near dreamland. The energy level ramps up with the desperado attempts to stay awake. I wish there was a fine mist or a magic incantation that would topple them into slumberland. 

My mind drifts to the book I cannot read to the day with kiddos on spring break to thoughts on what am I doing with my time here. Maybe it's the Lenten season and my general neglect of engagement with it this year, but I sense a kind of soul reaction in a negative direction when I consider my merits and lack of achievement. I fear I am driven toward signs of success or progress that do not come. I check my bearings. I recollect a favorite Kurt Vonnegot quote that came my way recently.

[When Vonnegut tells his wife he's going out to buy an envelope] Oh, she says, well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is, is we're here on Earth to fart around. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we're not supposed to dance at all anymore. 
– Kurt Vonnegut, Interview by David Brancaccio, NOW (PBS) (7 October 2005)


"... we're here on earth to fart around," resonated with me. Maybe I just need this to be the case. It takes the pressure off of amounting to something. That vague something is what eats at me. One day I'm fine with whatever, but another day I'm stressing that I'm not adding some visible whatever to the world. Discouraged may be a state in the life of a writer/artist. I'm new to this calling so I have no frame of reference. I think farting around sums it up, and besides, I excel at farting around. My whole life makes way more sense through this lens of focus. 

We drive past globes of white lights and intersections of green and red circles hanging from rectangular boxes to the repeated phrase of, "Stop," which is followed by bodily noises such as lip sucking, mouth popping, and clucking as the dance of insanity continues. 

My reverie returns to Jude the Obscure who finds himself married but without a wife and jealous of a developing relationship between his old schoolmaster and his cousin. I marvel that Hardy can make a story of a longing for learning and a life as lived. His characters tend to wait and wait to do things, to say things. I tend to blurt things out. I dislike pacing and want the characters to stop holding themselves back. And yet the story is because of what is held back and what isn't. The tension between what we want and what is, is the driver in the story, in life. I want to rev the gas like a helmet-less Harley rider at a stop light in an Ohio town. Maybe I see too far down the line-- where the fumble leads to a fall. The fall shatters what is. The pieces are never the same. Instead the broken places are filled and mended; they are reinforced. White scars of survival stand as reminders of our fragility and as hardened places where we have come together again. I want to clang together chalk board erasers and dissipate the uncomfortable tension like chalk dust riding the wind. 

The moon is full. The sky is cloudy. I am twiddling my thumbs. A fierce growl lies in wait. Do those old superstitions hold weight in modern life? What does it mean to have a werewolf in your soul on the eve of Maundy Thursday? I should stop farting around.




You Cannot Keep Running from God (Love God. Love People.)
Mon, 25 Mar 2013 15:29:48 +0100
Ok, I’m sorry. I know I promised to post about my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. And I will. Life just has a funny way of getting overwhelmingly busy. And I want those posts to have the time put into them that they (and the people that they are about,) deserve. I’m ever learning [...]Ok, I’m sorry. I know I promised to post about my family, my friends, and my boyfriend. And I will. Life just has a funny way of getting overwhelmingly busy. And I want those posts to have the time put into them that they (and the people that they are about,) deserve.


I’m ever learning this one incredible truth.
I cannot run from God.
I can’t. No matter how fast I think I’m going, or how far I flee, or what I tried to hide under. I cannot run from God.
He tracks me down, He finds me out. No matter where I go or what I try, He knows.
And instead of being angry at me for my stupidity, He offers comfort and life. He says, “Come to me, you who are weary and heavy laden, I am gentle and lowly of heart. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” – Matt 11:28
He loves me. He loves me so desperately. When will I stop forgetting that? When will I stop fighting Him at every turn? When will I stop being reluctant to come to Him?
I need to come. Even if most days it feels like I’m dragging a broken, bleeding shell of a soul, I need to come.
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways

Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears

I hid from Him, and under running laughter…

From those strong Feet that followed, followed after…
That voice round me like a bursting sea:

“Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’Halts by me that footfall:Is my gloom, after all,

Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,I am He Whom thou seekest!

Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.”
-The Hound of Heaven, by  Francis Thompson

   


Fire and Reading (Consider the Thought)
Wed, 20 Mar 2013 11:48:00 +0100
It's the first day of spring. I have awoken in the middle of the night instead of to the rising sun. I creep down the stairs wary of awaking my slumbering family, but unable to lie in the bed any longer. To my delight I find the ghostly glow of the evening's fire. The wood pile is outside.

I slip on shoes like a Japanese teenager, smashing the back of them down with my heels and wear them like flip flops. I return and feed the embers the life nurturing fuel. My fire building skills are not much. Smoke appears in great volume but no greedy flames. I have time to while. I start the bread dough.

I am new to the luxury of fire. This is the first house I have lived in where I can burn wood and watch flames. There is something ancient yet compelling about the dancing heat. I will miss these flames as spring advances. For now though,  I want for nothing, locked in gaze with the fire. Maybe that is where the trouble started-- when we left off fire.

I start a new book that I brought with me, The Gutenberg Elegies by Sven Birkerts. I am going to like this book. Written in 1996, it gets at my fire despair at four in the morning in 2013.
We are it seems, most willing to accept a life hurried and fragmented on every front by technology, we are getting past the prior way of things, which could be slow and frustrating, but was also vivid in its material totality. 
Sven Birkerts, The Gutenberg Elegies, The Introduction to the 2006 edition




Hot Songs for Your Rear (Blog of Duty)
Tue, 19 Mar 2013 14:00:55 +0100
Here are a few songs that I’ve been bumping for the past couple of days.    Here are a few songs that I’ve been bumping for the past couple of days.

 

 


   


Athens' health centers towards energy efficiency (person on the street)
Mon, 18 Mar 2013 20:16:00 +0100

     
If you want to talk about a huge building that uses a lot of electricity, an exercise facility is a good place to start—hundreds of people in and out everyday, added up with hours on end of treadmill and elliptical power and you’ve got yourself a pretty heafty energy bill. The Athens Community Center building, built in 2000, houses a track, weight room, aerobics studio and thousands of multipurpose square footage. On the outside, the community center’s property boasts a skate park, picnic shelter, soccer fields, bike path, basketball court and fountain out front created by local Passion Works artists. It’s also hard to drive by the East State property without noticing the ginormous solar panels covering the Community Center’s side parking lot. 

The solar panel project was presented to the Athens City Council in 2010 by a company, called Solar Vision, who delivered a package showing they could build this using federal subsidies and it would be little or no cost to Athens city. The panels were built by a local Athens company called Dove Tail, who installed it. The system, which places power back into the power grid, is owned and operated completely by Solar Vision, who the Community Center pays a set amount every month for its electric bill. The solar project consists of four rows of panels *x plates00 that create a covered carport for community center, parks and pool patrons and staff. 

Andrew Chiki is the Assistant Director of Arts, Parks and Recreation for the City of Athens. Chiki has concerns in changing technologies and what that means for the city’s twenty-year agreement with Solar Vision to run this system. 

It has been over two years since Solar Vision’s project started. There are still a few questions and concerns Chiki has found himself asking. When there are new technologies to create stronger power in a smaller number of panels, when and how will they be able to replace their current ones, and who will pay for this? And because the city allowed for Solar Vision, a private company, to come and work on City property, will other businesses expect similar treatment, perhaps for things that may be even more controversial, like fracking. 

Despite questions and controversy, there are several simple ways the community center has found efficiency. Starting with lighting as a simple way to cut cots and inefficiency.

The new bulbs cost only about $1.15 to replace and they last longer, an instant return on investment. Although the building is only 13 years old, Chiki has worked to create greater efficiency with replacing chillers, airflow projects and working with new insulation in other older Athens Community buildings, such as Arts West, a community theater on West State Street. 
Ohio University’s Ping Center has also taken a couple steps to increase efficiency and save energy costs. Ping’s Operations Student Manager is Senior Nick Cooper. 

Their biggest initiative yet is the ReRev power program that generates power through Ping patron elliptical use started in the summer of 2009. 

Cooper has helped to maintain operations of this system. The higher the elliptical’s resistance setting, the greater energy converted from elliptical power. The ReRev system converts direct current to the ReCardio converter box, which then converts energy that can be used to provide electricity to other parts of the Ping Center. 

Ping has also started the process of switching out all bulbs to cut cots and increase efficiency.  

The Athens Community Center and Ohio University’s Ping Center are good examples of large buildings cutting costs and carbon footprints through energy efficient savings. With a building so large, it becomes necessary to do this in any way you can. Whether it’s a new cool technology like solar or ReRev systems or a simple lightbulb switch, it all makes a difference.  

 Details in real time and records of the energy input produced and other data from the solar panels can be seen at http://siteapp.fatspaniel.net/siteapp/simpleView.jsf?eid=631718




Clarity, an Essay on Where Are You From? (Consider the Thought)
Mon, 18 Mar 2013 15:35:00 +0100
I now know why it takes years to write a novel. Friday evening I read my work to a public audience for the first time at Women Speak with Women of Appalachia. Every time I read the piece I changed something. Reading to an audience partly obscured by the bright lights wasn't like standing at the podium in Coach West's speech class at DGF High School back in Rota, Spain, but I managed. I wanted to catch an eye and latch on for dear life, but the glare prevented me from locking in on anyone. Listening to others' stories and poems, I found myself moved by a tale of sibling rivalry with it's inherent quest for acknowledgment as well as swimming in the loss of control by a mother grappling with a son's war experiences through cooking and baking recipes in her kitchen. It was a privilege to have the opportunity and it was worth all of the time spent writing and tweaking to have the chance to read aloud. Without further ado, here is the essay.


Clarity

“Where are you from?” This question was often asked of me because my dad was in the Navy. When people asked, I wasn’t sure because we moved a lot. By the time I was a teenager, we had spent years living in Europe surrounded by ancient cities, cultures, and traditions. The people I saw off base every day knew where they were from, and I longed to know where I was from. I had a feeling I wasn’t Spanish or Italian, but when I asked my dad if we were maybe English or German, he rolled his eyes and said, “You’re a fifth generation hillbilly from Ohio kid.”

Ohio? Ohio was where we drove to visit family every summer. It didn't seem terribly romantic considering that some of my relatives in Ohio still had outhouses. I wanted to be from some place ancient and mysterious like Granada or Iona.  I didn’t want to be stuck to the vinyl seats of my dad's Chevy Nova during the marathon drives from Florida to Ohio reading Archie comic books and asking, “Are we there yet?” I wanted to take the Orient Express to Switzerland.

Ohio wasn't like the places I'd been in Europe. There were Italian and Spanish restaurants in Ohio, but I had never seen an Ohio restaurant in Europe. The only Ohio culinary tradition I could think of was pie for breakfast. In Europe, they had ancient festivals and town parades with relics of long dead saints. In Ohio, we visited the county fair and toured livestock barns. In Spain, we ate churros dipped in thick hot chocolate. In Ohio, there were "elephant ears" served with great big cups of lemonade. In Spain, they had the running of the bulls. In Ohio, they had tractor pulls, demolition derby, and the Tilt-O-Whirl. It was an existential crisis of sorts at that point in my adolescence. 

That is not to say that I didn't feel a nostalgic tug when my dad mentioned Ohio. Ohio summers were dinners of vegetables just pulled from the garden, family lounging on green grass, canoeing down shaded rivers, and cousins in hot pursuit of lightening bugs. My parents picked up where they left off with their friends and family, catching up on all the local news. In Ohio, friendships went back to first grade. In the Navy, you asked, “How long will you be here?” before making friends in hopes of finding some that might be there until the end of the school year.

Another thing they had in Ohio was basements. I'd seen a dungeon or two in Europe, but no basements, and we certainly didn't have them in Florida which is where I spend most of my childhood outside of Europe bouncing between Navy bases. 

The basement was a magical place for me as a child. These dark, cool, cave-like places were fitted with work tables, peg boards hung with tools, flat surfaces littered with pieces and parts, and seemingly endless rows of my grandma’s canning jars filled with this and that from the garden. In the basement, my grandpa repaired machines and my grandma reupholstered furniture, built lamps, and stored summer’s bounty. In Florida, we bought things in a store. In Ohio, my grandma and my aunts “put up” beans, corn, peppers, carrots, beets, jellies, jams, apple sauce, and even mustard. In Florida, we didn’t make much other than dinner. The brief sojourns to Ohio contrasted with the rest of my childhood, spent in Navy towns more notable for the presence of topless bars, pawn shops, and suburban sprawl than gardens or lighting bugs. 

It certainly wasn't Europe, but I’d always sensed a stability in Ohio that I didn't feel elsewhere. As fate would have it, I married a Navy guy, from Ohio, and continued the nomadic existence of my childhood. I worked as a hospital nurse and at every new duty station, people invariably asked the question that now seemed like salt rubbed into an open wound, “So where are you from? What do you do?” My husband never hesitated to answer, "Athens, Ohio," but I usually resorted to a deep breath, and, "I don’t know, my dad was in the Navy."

When children came into our lives, negotiating work and home created a tension between where my heart was and where it wanted to be. Work provided financial compensation and a sense of accomplishment-- people sought out my advice and expertise and often followed it. Home was full of people and things that had unending needs. I had it my head that there was some kind of balance I could achieve that looked like my neighbors and friends--  perhaps a part time job, a new position, a schedule for home life, a meal plan with shopping lists? I longed for short cuts that covered all the bases if performed at some unattainable level of efficiency. While my Capitol Hill neighbors put on a good show, the constant numbing fatigue, juggling of schedules, and dining on takeout was not how I had imagined living my life.

When the Navy assigned my husband to Japan, I took a break from my nursing career. Having just come from the work-equals-identity culture of the Beltway, it was not an easy decision. But, I looked forward to the new focus on home life, my children, and exploring Japan. 
 
We ignored every bit of advice from our fellow Americans and rented a house forty-five minutes from the umbilical of the Navy base. With our children enrolled in a local Japanese yochien preschool, it dawned on me that I had a job. The title of which I still hear repeated throughout the day: “Mama.” Being a Japanese yochien preschool mama is a full-time occupation. As with other jobs in Japan, you are expected to be completely devoted to your work and give one hundred percent. There are obento boxes to make, smocks and bags to sew, and mandatory “volunteer” events, meetings, and activities to attend, weekends included. 

My willingness to show up, even though I couldn’t speak Japanese, meant that I, the gaijin (a foreigner), was included. And so, we “band of mothers” collaborated. We read library books to the children (I in English) and then went for coffee. We wrote, practiced, and performed our requisite “fun” skit for the children for weeks and then celebrated our grand finale with an all-you-can-drink-for-ninety-minutes party at a local Izakaya (a pub), just like Japanese men in the corporate world do after closing a deal. 

As my children’s school days grew longer, there was more opportunity for me to participate in Japanese culture. From cooking lessons in Japanese for five years, the Japanese names of vegetables like nasu (eggplant), daikon (radish), and engan (greenbean) came into my vocabulary and proved helpful at the farmer’s market. New textures and flavors like the umami rich savory dashi stock, the chewiness of mochi pounded rice, and the sour surprise of the umeboshi pickled plum found their way to the table at home. From Ikebana, I learned to arrange flowers as they asked to be arranged.

An American friend took time to teach a few of us to use our sewing machines. We were a group of beginners, and we made every mistake imaginable. We sewed the fabric backwards, sideways, and inside out, and became intimately acquainted with the seam ripper. But, for the first time, the gifts I sent home were sewn by me.

Living in a country with a language I could not speak and time devoted to the needs of others, left me with things to say but no outlet. I started a blog. The internet connected me with readers, a blog widget dutifully counted the clicks of those who stopped by, and the surprise when an idea transformed into a story kept me coming back to the keyboard. In pursuing these “simple” things that too often get pushed aside in the bustle of modern life, like cooking, sewing, and writing, I discovered the wonders of creating.

Art, for me, had been a passive thing-- admiring the works of the masters. It was art beyond my capabilities. But, my experiences in Japan opened my eyes to another understanding of creativity and in a sense took me back to those summers in Ohio.

I think back now to the things my grandparents did-- the furniture given new life, the bounty of a summer garden, the jars lining the basement shelves. Creativity was part of my grandparents' daily lives in a way that I had not experienced until I landed in Japan. I thought back to my time in the Beltway, to those movers and shakers I had once envied. I wonder if in the pursuit of position, power, or prestige that others define for us, if we lose the connection to the imagination and the creativity that more truly defines us?

In the city, people could hide behind expensive cars, trendy clothes, and important titles. I had never found that simple serenity my grandpa had sitting on his porch as daylight faded with his pipe, listening to the crickets chirp, the frogs sing, and watching the lazy flight of the summer lighting bugs.

When our time ended in Japan and with the Navy, my husband and I asked each other where we should go. We arrived at the same place, Athens. Over the years, we had regularly visited. It was a place where, as my husband used to say when we came back, we could "hear the air and smell the earth."  

My city friends might not understand the lure of Athens. There are no fancy restaurants touting an exotic “catch of the day” flash frozen in a faraway ocean. Instead, the waitress with her three pony tails and one nose ring, informs you that the seasonal vegetable of the day is “butternut squash with apples” from a nearby farm. Dressing up at times is simply a pair of clean jeans. Having your nails done means that you’ve checked for dirt after gardening. Instead of following someone else’s vision of success and hoping for the elusive promotion to the circles of power, people tend to follow their own vision and everyone seems to have an artistic alter ego.

Life in Athens is slower, there are fewer distractions, and with that, I have found clarity. I know now what I didn't understand all those years ago when I asked my Dad where we were from. It’s about creating a life that feels good on the inside. 

I haven't worn pearls in a long time, and I don’t worry about what to wear opening night at the opera anymore. Here, I write, make Japanese recipes for the American kitchen, restring beads on a broken necklace, and trade loaves of bread for blocks of tofu. I focus on the work of my hands as it comes to fruition. 

Here in Athens, I have a back porch where I can sit at the end of day. This summer, as the light fades, I will be sitting there, sipping a mug of tea, listening to the crickets and the frogs, and watching my children chase the lightning bugs. I’m from the hills of Ohio now.

The Hills of Ohio





“He said, “I wi… (Love God. Love People.)
Thu, 14 Mar 2013 14:09:46 +0100
“He said, “I will forget the dying faces; The empty places, They shall be filled again. O voices moaning deep within me, cease.” But vain the word; vain, vain: Not in forgetting lieth peace. He said, “I will crowd action upon action The strife of faction Shall stir me and sustain; O tears that drown [...]“He said, “I will forget the dying faces;

The empty places,

They shall be filled again.

O voices moaning deep within me, cease.”

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in forgetting lieth peace.
He said, “I will crowd action upon action

The strife of faction

Shall stir me and sustain;

O tears that drown the fire of Manhood cease.”

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in endeavor lieth peace.
He said, “I will withdraw me and be quiet,

Why meddle in life’s riot?

Shut be my door to pain.

Desire, thou dost befool me, thou shalt cease.”

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in aloofness lieth peace.
He said, “I will submit;

I am defeated.

God hath depleted

My life of its rich gain.

O futile murmuring, why will ye not cease?”

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in submission lieth peace.
He said, “I will accept the breaking sorrow

Which God to-morrow

Will to His son explain.”

Then did the turmoil deep within him cease.

Not vain the word, not vain.

For in Acceptance lieth peace.”
-Amy Carmichael

   


It is exalting,… (Love God. Love People.)
Tue, 12 Mar 2013 18:43:56 +0100
It is exalting, delicious, to stand embraced by the shadows of a friendly tree with the wind tugging at your coattail and the heavens hailing your heart, to gaze and glory and give oneself again to God – what more could a man ask? Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on earth! [...]It is exalting, delicious, to stand embraced by the shadows of a friendly tree with the wind tugging at your coattail and the heavens hailing your heart, to gaze and glory and give oneself again to God – what more could a man ask? Oh, the fullness, pleasure, sheer excitement of knowing God on earth! I care not if I never raise my voice again for Him, if only I may love Him, please Him…if only I may see Him, touch His garments, and smile into His eyes…
-Jim Elliot. 
Oh, Lord. That I might enjoy the sheer exhilarating beauty of being a creature on this earth that knows and loves her Creator. 

   


“A mind that is stretched to a new dimension, never returns to its original form.  The new... ([A]Live !)
Mon, 11 Mar 2013 04:21:21 +0100
“A mind that is stretched to a new dimension, never returns to its original form.  The new dimension comes through ideas, experiences and sharing with people.”


A Rose by any other name…….. ([A]Live !)
Mon, 11 Mar 2013 04:14:56 +0100


A Rose by any other name……..


Don't be Afraid ([A]Live !)
Mon, 11 Mar 2013 02:50:00 +0100
Don’t worry about failure. Rather, worry about the chances you miss when you don’t even try.
Failure is as much a part of life as success. Acknowledge that there is no failure only temporary setbacks. You fail when you stop trying, stop hoping, stop believing.
See obstacles as challenges to be overcome and not as either blessings  or curses.
Peace, Love and Light!


When I Fall Down (Love God. Love People.)
Sat, 09 Mar 2013 16:22:36 +0100
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.(1 John 4:18 ESV) A lot of my posts lately have been sad and fearful. I won’t attempt to make apologies for that; it’s exactly how I feel. [...]There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
(1 John 4:18 ESV)

A lot of my posts lately have been sad and fearful. I won’t attempt to make apologies for that; it’s exactly how I feel. I’ve had a rough few months, to put it lightly. But as I was spending some time with the Lord and contemplating my life, I was convicted that I ought to be a lot more grateful than I am.
I am scared. Actually, I’m terrified. I graduate in less than 2 months. I have a job that, while awesome, is definitely going to be hard. I have to be an adult. I don’t feel ready for that!
I’m probably not ready for that. I’m most likely going to fall flat on my face more than once in the next year. But I realized this – I have lots of people in my life who are going to pick me up. And that’s really all we can do. Try, fail, and let those who love us most pick us up.
I have a family that loves me like crazy and is doing everything they can to help me get on my feet.
I have a group of friends that constantly shows me what it means to walk in the Light, live for eternity, and have a life filled joy.
I have a boyfriend who loves with so constantly and with such intensity, who shares my dreams. Adult life is scary, but a little bit easier when someone’s doing it with you.
I don’t talk about what I’m grateful for, or what fills me with joy. I don’t proclaim to the world what wonderful grace I’ve been given. And I think I need to. So the next three posts will be on these groups of people that have supported me the whole way. 
Next year is going to be really hard. But I’m so thankful God has given me everyone I need.
 

   


Music Around The Web 03-07-2013 (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Thu, 07 Mar 2013 15:05:57 +0100
Adam Rafferty’s 10 Tips for Healthy Guitar Practicing POST OF THE WEEK! Please read and take this to heart. Tip number 9 is especially powerful! Ron Carter Masterclass at Loyola I’ve never heard Carter speak before. Interesting video. Some of … Continue reading →Adam Rafferty’s 10 Tips for Healthy Guitar Practicing

POST OF THE WEEK! Please read and take this to heart. Tip number 9 is especially powerful!
Ron Carter Masterclass at Loyola

I’ve never heard Carter speak before. Interesting video. Some of the Q&A seemed a bit combative. 
Robert Fripp’s Diary

I never really got into Fripp or King Crimson, but I have always found him fascinating.
History As Symphony: The African-American Experience In Jazz Suites

Awesome music from the giants. I’m an especially big fan of Oliver Nelson.
10 Great Johhny Marr Riffs

I’m not very familiar with his entire catalog, but I love everything I’ve heard form Marr. See this article also.
Tom Dempsey’s 50 Jazz Masters Licks from TrueFire 

Tom is a amazing player and teacher. If you’re into jazz guitar this is definitely worth the price.
Flatfoot 56 “Black Thorn”

Not my usual thing, but I’m really kinda digging Flatfoot 56. 



Blues Junior Modification and Comparison (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Tue, 05 Mar 2013 23:08:47 +0100
I’ve been using Fender Blues Junior amps (I have two of them) since about 2005. I’ve never had any problems with them but decided that after seven years of use on the original tubes it might be a good idea … Continue reading →I’ve been using Fender Blues Junior amps (I have two of them) since about 2005. I’ve never had any problems with them but decided that after seven years of use on the original tubes it might be a good idea to have them looked at. I’d also heard a lot of great things about the Eminence 12″ Cannabis Rex as a replacement speaker for the Blues Junior, so decided to pick one up and have it installed in one amp while the amp was in the shop. 
I asked Athens area guitar and amp tech Jon Fluharty* to do the work for me. He tested the tubes and found out that all of the preamp tubes were pretty well shot and the power tubes were severely mismatched. I’m not at all knowledgeable when it comes to tubes so I went with Jon’s recommendations that he said would give me a bit more more headroom and better clarity. The tubes installed are as follows: V1 JJ 5751, V2 Sovtek 12AX7WC, V3 Sovtek 12AX7WC Balanced, and V4/V5 Sovtek EL84M. Jon also biased the amp and then took care of breaking in the new speaker by hooking it up to an  old Jeff Beck recording and just letting it play for a good 40 hours. Who else would you rather break in your speakers?
There are a ton of mods out there for the Blues Juniors, and although I didn’t ask for this, Jon went ahead and made a couple of tone stack modifications. In the stock amp, it is impossible to completely attenuate the mid frequencies. Jon corrected this so that the mids can be turned down completely if desired. He also beefed up the response on the bass knob. Where once the bass was anemic and made little difference below a setting of about 8, it now has a huge bass response and with lot more even control.
Since I now have both a stock amp and the newly modified one sitting next to each other, I attempted to create a video to demo the differences. Please note that the camera’s internal microphone did not do a very good job of picking up just how much  difference there is in the the low-end response and the noticeable volume boost the modded amp has. I don’t know if the changes would be everyone’s cup of tea and some might even suggest that I should have bought a different amp in the first place, but I’m extremely pleased with the result of the updates and mods and look forward to upgrading the other amp sometime soon. 
*Jon Fluharty does not currently have a website but if you are interested in contacting him please leave a note in the comments or email me via the Contact John page and I’ll put you in touch!



Feeling Alone (Singleness & Marriage & Whatever) (Love God. Love People.)
Tue, 05 Mar 2013 16:40:09 +0100
So my friend Hanna wrote this really awesome blog post about married/single labels and feeling alone. (You should probably go read it here.) The post got me thinking a lot about something I’ve been feeling, but haven’t been able/haven’t wanted to articulate. I haven’t been able to articulate it until now because it’s been so [...]So my friend Hanna wrote this really awesome blog post about married/single labels and feeling alone. (You should probably go read it here.)
The post got me thinking a lot about something I’ve been feeling, but haven’t been able/haven’t wanted to articulate. I haven’t been able to articulate it until now because it’s been so painful, and haven’t wanted to because I’m afraid people will think I’m immature/bratty/dramatic/etc. But here it goes. //Start soapbox.
Feeling alone is a peculiar feeling. Elisabeth Elliot describes it as a fundamental distortion of who man was supposed to be: A creature in full, perfect harmony with others and its Creator. But, because of sin, we feel disconnected. Unattached. Adrift. Alone.
My friend says she feels alone sometimes because she is married. I feel alone because I am not. We’re both in different places, yet feeling the same way for me. To be honest, it really is hard for me, (and probably for the well-intentioned woman who wrote this article,) to look at my married friends, and fathom how they could be lonely.
(Side note: This might look different for people whose friends have been married for quite some time, or especially for those whose friends are not yet married. But this is coming from my perspective, in which a great chunk of my friends have gotten married in the past year, or are getting married in the next year.)
It’s so hard for me to look at married life from my angle, and not simply see all of the positives: A real home, furnished with things not found in the basement of a rental house (not at all an example of my life…) A constant partner, a friend who is always there (literally and figuratively.) A warm bed shared with a best friend. 


That’s where my (and I think most single people’s) imagination ends. And then we wallow and feel sorry for ourselves and cry on the pink and teal giraffe bedsheets we bought when we were 18 and can’t get rid of because we can’t afford it. (Totally a made up situation right there…)
And I’d imagine that it runs somewhat in the other direction as well. Married people see all of the hard things about marriage, and long for the parts of singleness that were actually pretty awesome.  So there we both are, feeling hurt, misunderstood, and very, very alone.
But maybe the real point is that we feel often alone because we let ourselves feel that way. 
I’m totally preaching to the choir here, but we feel alone because we let ourselves imagine that no one can possibly understand how we feel. And that’s just dumb.
Single people: I echo Hanna – stop feeling so misunderstood. Remember your married friends were single once. Remember they still like pretty much all the same things they liked when they were single. Remember that they’re a human being, and if they’ve hurt your feelings or made you feel isolated, you should probably just tell them. In short: Be a loving friend.
Married people: This goes for you too! Stop feeling so misunderstood. If you’ve forgotten, then try to remember that you were once single. Remember that your single friends probably are hurting in one way or another, but it may not be how you think. Remember that your single friends definitely want to share in your life, but probably feel really awkward in conversations about things in which they have no experience to share (sex, husbands, wedding planning, etc.) Remember that they’re also human beings. Like I said, in short: Be a loving friend.
I don’t think I’m anywhere near done feeling alone. I don’t think I’ve got this all right and figured out. I’m sure I’ve hurt my married friend’s feelings with insensitivity to their feelings of aloneness as often as I’ve had mine hurt. The point is, feeling alone, at least in many cases, is a solvable problem.
“Turn your loneliness into solitude and your solitude into prayer.”
Ok, end soapbox.//
I’m going to go back to my pink and teal giraffe sheeted bed and drink some tea out of a crappy mug I found in the basement of the house I’m renting….

   


Give Me Peace and Rest (Love God. Love People.)
Mon, 04 Mar 2013 03:42:03 +0100
[Jesus] said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain [...]
 
[Jesus] said to them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what can a man give in return for his soul? – (Mark 8:34-37 ESV)
Struggling to swallow this teaching. I have been denied so many of the desires of my heart; to live near my boyfriend, to be married, this summer, to serve in ministry alongside him.
I involuntarily get nervous whenever the phone rings now, filled with the dread that bad news is again on the other end.
Now, that which I do have (which, I freely admit, is a lot) I fear will be taken from me also.
That’s where this passage hits me. Straight in the gut, filled with a little bit of grief and a whole lot of self pity.
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”
Oh Lord, have I not done this? Have I not eventually bowed my head in submission at every new turn, and picked up the cross? It is so heavy, so hard.
But it is true. “To whom shall [I] go, Lord? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68)
I cannot stop now. I cannot start to follow you, and not realize the implications from what comes next in this passage. “Whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.”
I am loosing it. In so many ways, I have lost it. None of my plans have come to be realized the way I wanted them. I have lost my life, at least the version of it that I had dreamed of. As I cry over this, you tell me, “‘What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his soul?’ What does it profit you to gain the things that you want, and lose the sanctified, holy, healed soul that I have planned for you?”
Oh, Father, this is a hard teaching. How do I bear it? How do I live life with this new future?  How do I continue to submit, on days when it feels like you hate me more than you love me?
“For what can a man give in return for his soul?”
Nothing. Of course, nothing. Thus, if I want to save my soul, I must lose my life.
May my self pity die, and my joyful submission grow in it’s place. “Give me peace and rest.”

   


Snow On The Ohio River (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Sun, 03 Mar 2013 17:25:00 +0100
View from the lobby of the historic Lafayette Hotel in Marietta Ohio.View from the lobby of the historic Lafayette Hotel in Marietta Ohio.




The best thing I ever did in all of my entire college (person on the street)
Wed, 27 Feb 2013 03:16:00 +0100
     
It was something like 4 o’clock on a Thursday morning. I walked to the kitchen and pounded my head on the counter until coffee magically came out of the machine. I looked at the assortment of bags packed on the floor by the front door—my cute Vera Bradley duffel looked funny hanging out with my fins and snorkel. I headed out the door towards the Aquatic Center with bright eyes. Athens, Ohio had been kissed by one of its first frosts of the year, all the more reason to get the heck down to Florida. As we packed up the trailer and everybody put themselves back to bed, I reviewed what had engulfed my stress for the nine weeks prior: OU SCUBA.

“Did you know SCUBA is actually an acronym?”: the only thing I actually knew about it going into the class. 

Our first day was like an episode of “1000 Ways to Die”—SCUBA edition. The instructors sat us down and told us anything and everything that could go wrong while we’re diving. Like how your skin could fall off, or how you could get bubbles in your blood and your skin would fall off, or how the bends would make your skin gross right before you died, or how a shark could come up behind you and tear all of your skin off. 

Then we signed a release form. 

I immediately called my expert diver boyfriend crying.  We had planned a big dive trip to the Dutch Caribbean with his family for Christmas break, but I wasn’t about to go near any water after this first class. 

Somehow, I managed to make it to the swim test. 

And to the next class. 

And to the next pool lab. 

And I kept going back, learning something new every time, going out of my comfort zone every time. 

The next nine weeks of class gave us more information and practice in the pool than any other introductory SCUBA training I’ve ever heard of. We learned a lot of badass techniques that most divers don’t know—like different kinds of dives, swimming to the bottom of the pool and clearing our mask (getting the water out) all in one breath. We learned how to dive down, gear in hand, and put it all on underwater. 

The instructors were total characters, but they also helped you keep calm, while pushing you to push yourself. I have never had a professor genuinely care so much about my success in a class. 

At the beginning of pool labs, I was struggling getting my ears to clear on my way to the bottom of the pool—if you don’t clear your ears, the pressure builds up, and the pain is unbearable. My instructor brought me solution for swimmer’s ear the next day.

One instructor had me pushing myself harder than I ever had before. He couldn’t believe how horrible I was at holding my breath.  (which, was actually quite horrible.)

“Are you an athlete?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m a runner.”

“Then why do you have no lung capacity to hold your breath?”

“Because when you’re running, you’re allowed to keep breathing.”

We figured out my incapacity to hold any air in my lungs was directly correlated to my incapacity to relax longer than a half second. (Picture me underwater: I’m the guy from Acceptedwho they finally get to meditate when they put him in a straight jacket.)

“Relax,” he’d tell me. Until I practiced just sitting at the bottom of the pool and letting myself forget that I couldn’t breathe, I was very horrible at relaxing. 

It’s funny to me how often many people, upon finding out I was taking SCUBA diving, responded so very cynically. “Oh, I would never take that class. I’m too scared.” 

The irony of their responses is that my reason for taking SCUBA diving is exactly that. I was scared. I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted to push myself well beyond my comfort zone. I wanted to poop my wetsuit. 

I wanted to let myself relax. 

And I’ll admit, I had to go into the aqua center a couple times outside of class to practice sitting at the bottom of the pool. 

It sounds ridiculous, but I got so good, in fact, that the lifeguards were on the edges of their seats, praying they wouldn’t have to come in after me. 

The final consisted of a written test and a pool test. And then we had the option to head to Florida for a check out dive to get our certification. (Well, hell yeah I’m going to take an opportunity to be excused from my classes and go to Florida in November.)

If you had told me in August that I would be SCUBA diving through pitch-black caves in just a couple months, I’d have called you a liar. 

But there I was, kickin’ it with the manatees.

Taking SCUBA diving at OU isn’t for everyone. But everyone should take a course that scares the skin off of them. Whether you are a macho dude who’s taking Women’s Gender Studies or you’re an arachnophobe taking Spider History (that’s not actually a course), everybody should be pushing themselves beyond that box called “comfortable” that we like to live in. 

My trip to the Caribbean was the greatest of my life. I dove 100 feet underwater to see the remnants of a shipwreck. I swam through beautiful reefs. I got to ask rainbow fish what it was like to star in every child’s favorite book. 

I learned more about myself in SCUBA diving than any other class I’ve ever taken in college. And I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t let myself get a little scared.






(Love God. Love People.)
Mon, 25 Feb 2013 01:59:24 +0100
“Somehow, my ruined plans fit into His larger plans.” – Elisabeth Elliot Somehow. I don’t see it now. But somewhere, in the midst of the grief over dead dreams, are the tiny buds of new ones. Bigger ones, better ones. Beautiful ones. Sometimes I’m bitter. Sometimes I’m jealous. Sometimes I’m confused. Most of the time [...]“Somehow, my ruined plans fit into His larger plans.” – Elisabeth Elliot

Somehow. I don’t see it now. But somewhere, in the midst of the grief over dead dreams, are the tiny buds of new ones. Bigger ones, better ones. Beautiful ones.
Sometimes I’m bitter. Sometimes I’m jealous. Sometimes I’m confused. Most of the time I’m sad. But, all the time, I am comforted. 
 

   


Music Around the Web 02-22-13 (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Fri, 22 Feb 2013 15:42:15 +0100
Kickstarter: The Psylodelic Gallery at Fur Peace Ranch Help fund this new venture at Jorma Kaukonen’s Fur Peace Ranch. Earth Blues by Jimi Hendrix A sneak peek at the previously unreleased Hendrix album that drops in March. Jazz Boot Experiment … Continue reading →Kickstarter: The Psylodelic Gallery at Fur Peace Ranch

 Help fund this new venture at Jorma Kaukonen’s Fur Peace Ranch.
Earth Blues by Jimi Hendrix

A sneak peek at the previously unreleased Hendrix album that drops in March.
Jazz Boot Experiment

Bootlegs of jazz concerts. Glad to see this site getting updated regularly again.
Brian Setzer Guitar Lesson

I just LOVE the Dave Edmunds lick in example 6! 
Eric Johnson “Cliffs of Dover” Live 2006

Rare footage of EJ playing a Gibson SG on his trademark tune.
Jim Nova’s Trombone Ensemble Arrangements

I know this is a guitar site but these are way too good to overlook. 
iTunes 11’s Mysterious Cloud Icon Explained

I’ve been wondering about that.
Phil Hansen: The Art of the Imperfect 

Embrace your limitations and fuel creativity. Watch below:



You’re Allowed to Grieve (Love God. Love People.)
Thu, 14 Feb 2013 22:37:55 +0100
Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to grieve.  As a whole, our culture really sucks at grieving. When someone dies, we give the family and friends one, maybe two days to mourn publicly. And then they have to go back to real life, as if everything were normal. And if that’s what we do when [...]Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not allowed to grieve. 
As a whole, our culture really sucks at grieving. When someone dies, we give the family and friends one, maybe two days to mourn publicly. And then they have to go back to real life, as if everything were normal. And if that’s what we do when someone dies, well I think it’s safe to say we handle lesser griefs much worse.
We don’t let people grieve. 
I’m a firm believer that any kind of loss causes grief, although arguably the amount of grief varies. The death of a dream, the hurt of being treated unkindly, having something we don’t want or wanting something we don’t have – all of those things cause grief. 
But we don’t let people grieve. Think about what you said the last time someone expressed hurt or discontent about being single. If you’re at all like me, you probably said something along the lines of, “You don’t need a boyfriend/girlfriend.” “Being in a relationship is hard too.” “God has something in store for you, just be content.” 
All of those statements are true. But are they helpful? In that moment, when someone is expressing their grief, is that what they really need to hear? 
Let them grieve.
Say, “I’m sorry.” Say, “How can I help?” Say, “That sucks, how are you doing?” Say anything but something that discounts their grief. 
Let your friends grieve over being single, or unmarried, or over hurts from long ago. Don’t let them wallow, but let them grieve. It’s not a one-time thing. It’s not something to “get over.” It’s a process, one made much easier with a good friend sitting quietly by your side. 
Please; Let me grieve. 

   


I never get what I want. Thank God. (Love God. Love People.)
Mon, 11 Feb 2013 16:23:51 +0100
Someone once said, “The meanest thing God could ever do would be to give you everything you want.”  As I was pondering this statement, I thought, “Well, then God must love me very, very much, because I feel like I never get what I want.” At the time, I said it bitterly, derisively, with an [...]Someone once said, “The meanest thing God could ever do would be to give you everything you want.” 
As I was pondering this statement, I thought, “Well, then God must love me very, very much, because I feel like I never get what I want.” At the time, I said it bitterly, derisively, with an angry heart that didn’t yet see the truth in it. 
Later that same night, while with a friend, she turned to me and said something to the extent of, “Friend, I’m so sorry. It seems you are always getting the short end of the stick.” I shrugged, and smiled. She was right. Sometimes, even to me, it seems my life is just one series of hard situations after another, always being denied something my heart desperately wants. 
But then, my earlier statement came back to mind. “The meanest thing God could ever do would be to give you everything you want.” And this time, the truth rang through. He really does love me very, very much. Enough to deny me the desires of my heart. 
As contradictory as that seems, every time he has denied me what I’ve so desperately wanted, good has grown out of the ashes of my lifeless dream. Sometimes, the good was in retrospectively realizing what I wanted wasn’t good, or would’ve denied me a greater good. Sometimes, it’s been the mortification of sin that seems to only come from the death of a dream. And many other times, it’s simply been the sweetness of a broken heart being forced to cast itself into the arms of the Savior, devoid of all other hopes. 
And so, as I stood there in the kitchen with my dear friend, (who herself seems to always be catching the short end of the stick) another truth came to mind. 
“I guess it all comes down to whether or not one truly believes that, ‘Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!’ (Psalm 126:5 ESV)”
Those who sow in tears, whose lives are a series of one dead dream after another, are promised to someday reap with shouts of joy. I’m not quite sure how that works. And in the moments of grief, while crying out for the fulfillment of a desire that just never seems to come, it can be of little comfort. But it’s still true. 
Now, I sow in tears. But then, I will reap with shouts of joy.
Praise God for the graves of all the dead dreams behind me, and the future surely filled with more. Hallelujah for desires unfulfilled, for an ever-longing heart, for the ever-present ache. 
Thank God for a love that is deep enough to deny me what I want, that I might get what I need. 

   


Review: Adam Rafferty Instructional Video On Demand (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Sun, 10 Feb 2013 06:09:10 +0100
Guitarist Adam Rafferty is now introducing digital downloads of his popular instructional videos that walk players through his funky fingerstyle arrangements of Stevie Wonder and The Jackson Five. This is a great solution for folks who primarily use devices that … Continue reading →Guitarist Adam Rafferty is now introducing digital downloads of his popular instructional videos that walk players through his funky fingerstyle arrangements of Stevie Wonder and The  Jackson Five. This is a great solution for folks who primarily use devices that don’t contain DVD players or who just want to be able to access the video lessons on their mobile devices.
I’ve tried the digital downloads out and they work great. Here’s a quick overview of the process:
The videos are sold via a company called Leaping Brain who also distribute content for Homespun Music Instruction and dozens of other well-known clients. You can visit this page to see all of Adam’s available titles: https://leapingbrain.com/modshop/?shop=194&
Upon purchasing a video, PC and Mac users are be prompted to download a special “Adam Rafferty Player” which basically acts as a container to organize the raw video and PDF files. Users can then download and launch all of their purchased content via the player. The videos will launch in their own player which has the ability to play the lessons at half- and quarter-speed and to select a portion of the video loop over and over. Great features for those elusive sections you need to see and hear several times to get a grip on them!
Tablet and smart phone users are prompted to click through to Leaping Brain’s “MOD Cloud Player.” I first tried the cloud player with Adam’s “How to Solo Over II-V-I Changes for Jazz Guitar” and found that the video did not stream. However all of the other titles work just fine on both my iPhone 4 and on my PC. The vids all feature excellent sound and video quality and buffered almost instantly. I suspect that the II-V-I video had just not yet been converted for live streaming as of this writing.
Leaping Brain also offers an iPhone/iPad app called MOD Mobile that sells for $1.99. This app allows users to transfer the video files from a PC or Mac to a mobile device via iTunes.  It takes a couple of extra steps to accomplish this, but if you don’t want to eat up your data plan or bandwidth streaming the videos this solution makes a lot of sense as all of the files will reside on your device. Although there are some negative reviews of MOD Mobile on iTunes, The app worked flawlessly for me.
One more special feature of the digital download is a PDF of the arrangements. The music in the PDF is significantly larger than what is in the booklets that are provided with the DVDs. This makes for much easier reading and study.
These digital versions of Adam’s instructional videos are an excellent value and will likely be the preferred method of delivery for on-the-go players.
Related articles:

DVD Review: Adam Rafferty Teaches Stevie Wonder

DVD Review: Adam Rafferty Teaches Stevie Wonder Vol. II

DVD Review: Adam Rafferty Teaches The Jackson Five


Great Big War Game (Blog of Duty)
Sat, 09 Feb 2013 16:49:36 +0100
Back in the day one of my favorite games was Advance Wars. It was a cool little military RTS game on the Gameboy Advance. However, the game never made it to any Playstation or X-box (I think it got ported to Gamecube and DS). Now, a few months ago I ran across this iPhone/Android game [...]Back in the day one of my favorite games was Advance Wars. It was a cool little military RTS game on the Gameboy Advance. However, the game never made it to any Playstation or X-box (I think it got ported to Gamecube and DS).
Now, a few months ago I ran across this iPhone/Android game called Great Big War Game; it is basically modern version of Advance Wars.

Great Big War Game just went free on the iPhone by the way (used to be $2.99), and I believe the Android version is 99 cents. If you have some time, give the game a try.



   


Music Around the Web (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Sat, 09 Feb 2013 03:38:24 +0100
Adam Rafferty’s Instructional DVDs Now Available as Digital Downloads A great solution for iPad and iPhone users. Review coming soon! Chord Addict How did I miss this blog until now? Jazz guitar transcrptions, lessons, and more. Robin Meloy Goldsby: Notes … Continue reading →Adam Rafferty’s Instructional DVDs Now Available as Digital Downloads

A great solution for iPad and iPhone users. Review coming soon!
Chord Addict

How did I miss this blog until now? Jazz guitar transcrptions, lessons, and more.
Robin Meloy Goldsby: Notes and Words

A blog of from the author of the memoir Piano Girl.
Sheryl Bailey Bebop Flow II

Just got around to purchasing part 2 of this great course.
Ask Massimo Varini Anything (About Pop Guitar)

Lots to learn in these replies to TrueFire users.
Ray Brown Masterclass

Great info from the master bassist.
Knopfler’s Wild Theme Arranged for Solo Acoustic

I must transcribe this little gem by Stuart Tindall.



Black Coffee at Jackie O’s (John Horne Guitar Studio)
Tue, 05 Feb 2013 23:32:47 +0100
On January 27, “Black Coffee” a jazz trio featuring bassist Greg Bikowski, drummer Tim Meyers, and me were visited by Ohio University photographer Maggie Rotanz. Here are some of the photos she shared with me.On January 27, “Black Coffee” a jazz trio featuring bassist Greg Bikowski, drummer Tim Meyers, and me were visited by Ohio University photographer Maggie Rotanz. Here are some of the photos she shared with me.