This and That, Hither and Yon

How long does a blog retirement last, exactly? Is a week or two sufficient to call it a break? We’ll say yes for now, and if I retire it again, I’ll be sure to legitimize it by waiting at least a month before posting. I had sincerely hoped that I would have the remnants of a past blog to help me get going, but the words “No drafts” quashed that dream quickly. Recently all my creativity (and believe me, the stores are easily depleted) has been channeled into either my book or journal. That’s right—my book. I write, all the time. It’s not good, or even interesting, and is relegated to the dusty shelf where I keep my poetry notebook. My plan is to burn all those things (or delete them from the computer, in some cases) within the next few years, lest I die suddenly and the embarrassing results of my fanciful (and moderately dramatic) mind are open to the world. I would hate to “sport with your intelligence” (to quote Ms. Austen) by sharing them. To clarify, though, my book flows much more smoothly than any blog post ever did. If one cannot be random and choppy in a blog, then where on earth can they? (besides in everyday conversation, in which I manage randomness quite well.) After all, the internet is the breeding ground for the decimation of grammatical rules and spelling, not to mention literary correctness. 
Owning the entire encyclopaedia brittannica (macropaedia AND micropaedia) has come in handy for once. (not that they don’t often come in handy, but this time it was more practical). If I can’t sleep, I find something rather mundane to read. Of course, reaching for the encyclopaedia turned out to be not boring at all. Next time I’ll use a phonebook. The result of Monday night’s caffeine-induced insomnia is a remarkable amount of information about Finnish architecture. That’s right, Alvar Aalto was a scandinavian architect who apparently “made the leap from rational-functional to irrational-organic.”  His work was world-renowned, and characterized by flat roofs, ribbon windows, and plenty of balconies and terraces. You see how much you can learn about architecture from one article? Poor man’s wife died in ‘49, but he remarried in ‘52… I’ll bet his two daughters were just thrilled with that move. Yes, I realize how ridiculous it is that I am reciting facts from an encyclopaedia, of all things. I’ll stop now.
Often I claim that my brain is either fried, or not fully functioning, generally because I’m overly tired. As it turns out, though, all those times (mostly in the last two months) have absolutely nothing on the last two days. Being sick brings me to a lack of clarity that I never experienced before, which makes me afraid that my brain not working quite right is the rule, not the exception. Yesterday (the first day I woke up feeling Not Quite The Thing) I decided to either do nothing that I had planned, or go ahead and plow through all of it. Besides, if I must do the unpleasant things, despite how I feel, then I am going to do the fun things as well. It was a looong day, and I feel quite bad for anyone who I held conversations with… I was much less coherent than normal, and possibly even rude. I’m too tired to really remember. Today I am paying the price for not submitting to sicknesses demands of yesterday. I’ve alternated between unrestful (yes, i’m making that word up) sleep which provides dreams so vivid that when I wake up, I can’t tell if they were real or not, and a state of half-wakefulness emphasized by a pounding headache, a horribly stuffy nose, an unspeakably painful throat, achiness, and slightly blurred and unfocused eyesight. Needless to say, I’m exhausted. And I think I know who I have to blame. He is about three feet tall, and I distinctly remember letting him drink out of my Starbucks cold cup this weekend. Silly me, I couldn’t say no, when he was so fascinated by the red and white striped straw. Either that, or a sweet little moppet who blew her nose on me. Three times. She thought it was cute…
Nonetheless, I forced myself to muster up the energy in between naps to tidy my room up. If I am going to be miserable and feel that I am at death’s door, then I am at least going to do it in an immaculate room. The reward of the temporary effort is huge. Lovely instrumental music, (alternating between Swing’s Greatest Hits, Directors Cut movie themes, and random symphonies) two or three candles, and a pot of very hot white vanilla grapefruit tea are the only things motivating me to write. I should be practicing the piano, but that takes too much effort. Every time I begin to think that I have energy, simply standing up reminds me that it’s futile. At least I can be tired in a nice atmosphere.
I love my quiet little domain, but even the satisfaction of a clean, candlelit room cannot keep the desire to travel at bay.The longing for a road trip has come over me again. It usually does this time of year, when it’s been too long since our last vacation. I want to walk the rolling hills of scotland again, but there doesn’t seem to be a high probability of that happening, so I’d be perfectly happy to settle for driving the “going to the sun” highway. Isn’t that the Glacier National Park one? Well, either that or Highway 1 in California. Technically Hannah and I have a cross country road trip planned, but that won’t happen until 2013, and I simply cannot last that long. What I’ve been doing is looking at pictures, hoping that would temporarily satisfy any desire to go, but all that’s doing is making me want to go out RIGHT NOW and buy the Nikon D90 that has been calling my name for a year now. As fun as being (mostly) unemployed is, it has a few practical disadvantages. Currently, the camera and the kindle are the two biggest getting to me. Good thing I have a couple hundred hard copies of books to keep me busy until I buy the kindle. Oh… and the two thousand plus books  in papa’s office. Perhaps I shouldn’t be complaining, after all.
And specifically for Aunt Sandie—Over the last year, every time I complained on facebook about any sort of physical ailment or something that sounds thyroid related, you told me to get it checked out…. Well, I did. I temporarily overcame my IMMENSE dislike of doctors, hospitals, and all things medical just long enough to try out Rachel’s naturopath. Amazing woman. Overlooking the fact that my arm is still bruised from blood drawn a week ago, I’m quite happy with what she told me. Something about deficiencies in the vitamins D and B, cortisol and iron levels. Is it strange that I’m thrilled to find out that something is wrong with me? It’s quite cheering to find out that things will be going up from here. Oh, and here’s a technical detail for you—apparently the thyroid was 1.25, which is normal and okay. Now I can pull the whole “My doctor recommends…” in a sniffly, reedy, british accent. (I’ve been watching too much Jeeves and Wooster lately.)
Well, that’s really all I’ve got for now. I promise that my next post will have something more spiritually-oriented in it. I’ll look for a good excerpt to put up. Have a phenomenal day.

I admit it…. 46 hours ago, I woke up (a feat in and of itself) and upon discovering that the sore throat had come and fully grasped me, I dropped back into bed, pulled the covers up, and started listing reasons I’d be justified in skipping church. After forcing myself to arise and open my curtains, I glared angrily at the light lacing of snow, annoyed at it’s inadequacy when the weather website had promised me six whole inches. “Accuweather… never looking at your site again!” I grumbled to no one in particular. No cd brought about a change in my cynicism. Not even the voices of three thousand people singing Come Thou Fount at the T4G conference improved my mood remotely… most likely because I wasn’t really focusing on the words.  
After being disgruntled about the lack of snow, I went about my day mostly like normal. Then it started snowing… and snowing… Now it’s still snowing hard, windy, and I most definitely got my promised six inches. Last night I curled up with a very big hot coffee, a heavy comfortable blanket, and sat and simply watched the snow fall. Either that, or I slept in front of the fire while wishing I could see both at once. I couldn’t have picked a better time to be so sick. I love watching the wind blow the snow around, and measuring the inches on the roadway. What I do not love is having family members out driving in it… Makes me nervous. At the moment, there are at least eight inches of snow up on the deck, where it has accumulated without wind interference. Now, for the apologetic sentence—I started writing this particular post yesterday, but didn’t end up finishing it. Therefore, some disjointedness may occur. Hopefully that is a plausible explanation for all errors, grammatical and chronological.
Today, or rather this morning, mom and clark and i went on a walk that inevitably ended in starbucks. I must admit that was the driving force behind getting me out of bed…. However, I was quite thrilled with the sun and sparkling snow that we encountered along the way. So far, I’m assuming that the cold wasn’t a further detriment to my recovery from a rather nasty cold that I’ve been fighting. The accusations of those who would falsely name me a hypochondriac now must fall by the wayside… A slight temperature validated my claims of invalidity. I’m not sure if that phrase is grammatically correct—I sincerely doubt it.
Originally I had a grand blog all planned out in my head. I was ready to have a creative narrative, followed by slightly less-creative pictures. However, what I end up with is very few pictures, because I haven’t ventured out into the cold long enough to really get any good ones. I was all ready to hit the streets yesterday morning with my camera in hand, but an ill-timed Verizon Wireless bill interrupted that. By the time I recovered from the bill, the only thing that sounded appealing was a hot shower. Since a four day headache is still lingering, I’m afraid that my creativity was killed and is having trouble recovering. Lest I leave you with only a few boring paragraphs, please allow me to share a few not-artsy pictures with you. A few snapshots are all I have. Perhaps next time I get online, and in a blogging mood, I will be found to have an endless well of miraculous creativity, with which to astound you. But until that moment, don’t hold your breath….. 



 

 
 

 
 

Tonight my creativity is lacking. A sore throat, bad headache, and general achiness have me consuming copious amounts of water, in an attempt to stave off the dreaded sickness. However, I am still encouraged by Richard Sibbes, so I am sharing his words with you.

“Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” – II Corinthians 1:9
God’s providence extends to the smallest things, to the sparrow and to the hairs of our heads. He governs every particular passage in our lives. This should teach us to look up to heaven for permission, power, and perseverance in all the affairs of life. We should not do anything in which we cannot expect God’s guidance, and this, so we can trust Him for a blessing upon all that we do. One way or the other, God will provide for His children. If we could live by faith as we should, we would not worry about anything, for God has promised liberally to provide for us, and if we could believe, He will not be less than His Word. He does suffer His children to lack a few outward things, but it is always for their good. God always gives us patience to suffer and to wait for the time of His deliverance. God often allows his children to come to great extremities and desperate estates, yea, even to the jaws of death itself, as Hezekiah, Job, Jonah, David, Daniel and the three children. He allowed His disciples to be overwhelmed with water before He took notice of it. the Father suffered his only Son upon the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When it comes to pass that all natural and ordinary means fail, we must look to a more durable and constant help—God’s own good will and power. When we have experienced His helping hand, we are able to rely more confidently upon Him in all adversities. His power is seen in man’s weakness. God is never nearer than in our extremities. He allows these to test us that He might exercise His grace in us. We should not be dismayed, though we find ourselves in the most forlorn estate. Every man’s life is a struggle, but in our extremities our graces are strengthened.
Richard Sibbes, Works, v: 35-42
Voices from the Past, 15 November