Now you see her…

This is my last day of work, people.

I’m going now.

::whpppp:: Out the door.





Well, perhaps not that suddenly. The truth is that I will be dropping off the face of the (Indiana) earth tomorrow as me and the family trek down to Texas for The (literal) Last Hurrah. Of course, to a certain peoples this will actually be us falling back on to the face of the earth. All depends on if you’re a euchre player or an armadillo, I guess. Anywho, we’ll be visiting the loverly folk back home until the 27th, methinks (which bumerously means that I can’t go to any CYA events during that time – oh crumbs). I miiiight get a post in, but no promises while there’s Blue Bell Ice Cream to distract me. :P

The other news for Hoosiers and such is that I believe our church Sycamore RPC is having a special sending service for us (nice alliteration for all you English geeks!) on the evening of Sunday July 2 at 6 p.m.

If you are anywhere in the vicinity of Kokomo/Indianapolis/ Lafayette/Elkhart/Seattle WA you need to come to this service to say goodbye.

There will be no pardons for missers, non-travelers, summer-class-takingers, or I’m-snowed-out-in-Massachusettsers – everyone needs to be there!

You have been warned.

Tickling my fancy

When one comes in stressed and plans to post, sometimes the best thing to do is just get a tickle. You can go to tickle.com and take personality tests ranging from the spiffy to the absurd and in general learn things about yourself that neither you nor anyone else on the planet knew (what kind of rug you would make, for instance). I found this first test particularly enlightening:

Al Einstine, Spending Time with Loved Ones renews your spirit

They say love conquers all — including stress. So when you're feeling zapped, what better way to lift your spirits than by surrounding yourself with those near and dear to you? A little R&R with the ones you love can make all the difference for a caring and loving soul like you.

Generous and kindhearted, you're probably always there for other people. So when you need a lift, why not pick up the phone? Reaching out to friends and family is the best way for a sweetie like you to feed your soul and refresh your outlook on life. Sounds good to us!

And then, of course, everyone has to see what they used to be...

Discover Your Past Life

Al Einstine, you're a Monkey!

Don't go bananas — in your former life you were a tiny monkey named Oompa. Here's what we know about you: Adorably sweet demeanor and sharp as a tack, you found success working with a street performer named Juan, who worshipped you and treated you like his own child. He bought you a gold satin jumpsuit with royal blue ruffles, a matching top hat, and a sequined bag for donations. He would play your favorite disco tunes on his accordion, prompting you to dance around and flirt with the crowd while you collected spare change and picked pockets. Everybody loved you. And you loved everybody. You and Juan took your gig around the country and raked in the riches. You were one happy little monkey.

Whoh, boy, have I missed my calling!!!

Watching the deep

I feel like a sailor on a long voyage who has discovered a curious fact. Though the journey as a whole is aiming toward one end, each leg of the voyage, each little seasonal wind, has a quality all its own. An inexperienced swabby like me not only has to guard against the dangers of each period, like falling asleep during the doldrums or collapsing under a gail, but they have trouble just adjusting to the seasons of the journey. I find that when a storm blows up, I often persist in working the details of the kitchen; or when a two week gail is finally past, I still cling to the main sail instead of walking about in the sun!

It’s been a little over a month since I stopped school and after a couple of weeks of break I realized this – there is life after homework!! It wasn’t just that the world had bloomed at last or that I could go to bed at 10:30 at last (heh), but there are relationships, there are crossroads, there is life outside of completing projects dawn to dusk. Being the uncompromising efficiency machine that I am, it has taken me these past several weeks to start living life outside the textbook again, and I see that it is a sweet and precious thing.

And now that I’ve started to discover this, we’re going to go away.

Ouch.

So if the previous leg of the voyage was full of furious work within the ship, and this next course in Scotland is a launch into uncharted waters, what about these few weeks in between? Well, quite simply, there has been a lot of looking out to sea.

You’ll catch me doing it when I’m alone in the gallery with a sad song on the speakers. It’s a weighing of life, a treasuring and a sadness over the past, a watching of the future. It’s looking out to sea.

You’ll find me and Mom doing it as we walk all around our house division, Forest Park. We go often to Big Ben and visit our favorite barista because our time here is short. We stop what we’re doing to muse or admire or visit because we are both looking out to sea.

I even hear it wailed over the guitar as Ben makes it come alive at night. He plays that song just one extra round, or he goes with the guys to the Y and makes sure to stop by Speedway for one more drink. You count your blessings and look out to sea.

I hear Amy making plans to visit Katie (sp?) again, or hop over to Meijer or Old Navy with Lidz. She gives Brian a hard time on Sundays and she smiles at Joy, but with Bailey in her arms who could help but look out to sea?

Dad has been amazing and with ministry/work/cars/insurance/boxes/checkbags/tickets on his mind, he still makes special time for other things. He invites the guys over for a burger, just one more burger, and then he gets them the special pepper cheese. I can tell he’s counting the hours as well, he’s treasuring the talks and laughter, looking out to sea.

We all wonder, When shall I ever do this again? How often shall I get to hug her again? Will we be miserable out there? Will it be glorious? Can't the sunset stay just a minute longer so that I can look into the horizon?

Looking out to sea

Lunch at the gallery

Ok, so Jims has inspired me with her story of ginormous bald men to tell you what the *real* work world is all about. While she's off in latte land, some of us baristas of the art world are slaving away twice a week to deliver modern Mona Lisas to Kokomo. And let me tell you, the workplace isn't ultimately about serving the customers, or working with grace and efficiency (such things as the Jims spends her time doing). Work in a real man's environment is about sacrifice.

So let me tell you of the T-day lunch hour in the IUK Art Gallery.

11:55 a.m. - Cabby has been working like a dog - lifting up finger after finger at the computer.

::sigh:: Such stress!

12:10 p.m. As her morning project comes to a close, the Cabby begins to eye her lunch quota, (attractively thrown into a Kroger sack 0.2 minutes before leaving the house). She knows that there are luscious dainties waiting inside! Often there was a microwavable Chef Boyardee lasagna bowl (you wouldn't believe the smell of canned sauce after it's been nuked!), another time it was summer sausage and cheese, all comfortably room temperature. But the best of all was when the cabbage absentmindedly packed a bowl of cold tuna that could fill the office with its fragrance... and there we pick up the story.

12:15 Cabby has run down to the cafeteria to get the one critical condiment that she must have with every meal: sweet pickle relish! Ah yes, it goes with everything. Now she relaxes in her chair and unpacks the motley of little baggies and tupperware which make up lunch. She's going to enjoy sinking her teeth into those squished chips...

But what is that sound? A footstep in the art gallery?!

Cabby looks up just in time to see a patron jump with embarrassment and surprise, it is an art lover in her early 50's who has just caught sight of the curator waving her tuna-y fingers over a little warzone of a desk. Was this the right entrance to get into the university gallery?!, thinks the woman. To hide her disgust she suddenly becomes very interested in a painting of Mary Joe’s smirking little brother Billy (complements of the high school exhibit).

Meanwhile, Cabby abashedly hides her pool of tuna and tries to look professional without showing any of the relish in her teeth – a difficult undertaking, you do the math.

And thus begins the curator’s lunch. During the 2 hours that she was on duty before, not a soul was seen in the gallery, not a toenail entered. But now that pickle water and mayonnaise are drying on her fingers, there is an art lover here getting engrossed in the show. Tuna becomes warmer, crackers become soggier, and the minutes tick by while Cabby meditates on the career impact of sack lunches. She also wonders how the art public knew when to suddenly appear at the moment of the curator’s first bite.

It’s all coincidence of course, we shan’t indulge in any base suspicions.

More on the job

Today was me first full day currating (curating? curing??).

In fact, my chief day was keeping track of the visitors to the gallery (putting a little line of paper on out “attendance sheet”). So when I was trained in the office, the other gallery assistants told me, with some concern, that I would have to find some way of keeping myself busy for 6 hours on a regular day. If only! I brought a whole slew of books that I didn’t even crack, ‘cause there was so much I wanted to get done on the computer, printing things and such.

I’m quite tart tonight so I’ll end with a nice pic of my new workspace in an old exhibit from last year:

Now is the Hour

Oh yes, she blogs at last.

Well what has been happening these many moons? I finished finals and by the grace of God got some very good marks on them (you’ll notice the Britishism). It was a smashing semester, but I was more than hippy to begin perhaps the four sweetest months of summer break I’ll ever have. (That’s right, Watson, the British don’t start there semesters til later in September or October – so I’m having the mama of all breaks!).

Another of the Lord’s great provisions, I have a summer campus job! On one of my last days of the semester I was looking at a job roster board and the director of the art gallery just walked by and said, “Ya know, we’re looking for summer helpers in the gallery,” and kept walking by. Upon further questioning I found that he was quite serious and willing to hire me on the spot! Literally the morning after my last final I came in to set up training and was making moolah two days after that. Is not that sweet?!

The first thing I did with was help set up a new exhibit (if you’re in the area you ought to see this one it’s actually cool). This undertaking requires 1) strong legs to stand for several hours 2) a good math head to calculate where all the pictures should go so that they hang symmetrically on the wall and 3) patience. Naturally I am strong in none of these areas, but I managed to help and have fun somehow. So it’s weird but my first week of break was actually pretty busy. No that ::sniff: I didn’t have time to see MI III or perhaps grab a coffee from the queen of joe, but hey, one must survive during the summer!

Finals this week

But I did want to document my existence at the beginning of the month, and say that I still hope to be alive after Wednesday.

Actually, I haven't that much to complain about. I talked to a lot of peeps at the Fireside Chat in Lafayette last night (which was blast by the way - you guys rock!) and apparently my 3 finals are an abnormally small amount.

Anywho, I want to leave you with a question that we were contemplating last night:

When you are cold does saying "Burr" make you warmer or colder?

I know my own thoughts, but let's hear yours...

Nahnahna

pocket lint


wet socks


shiny noses


And all that other Tuesday jive...

God made the sun!

And it shown today!!! I admit that I have often underestimated the effect of solar power on the human psyche - but today as I sat out in the courtyard of IUK's main building I could appreciate little more. I also believe that Daylight Savings has had a beneficial effect upon my evening homework times because the world seems so much more free to contemplation when it is still light outside at 8 o'clock.

Speaking of contemplation, I am in the last home stretch of literature papers before our finals in four weeks. In my L298 class I chose to write my ending paper on More's Utopia and I have checked out no fewer than ten books from two libraries to facilitate my research. And this morning I got a rather frightening occurrence. When the alarm went off, I looked at the clock and the very first thought in my head was "My my, 6:45, that minute sounds very like a Sir Thomas More minute! Heh, 6:45.... wonder what More would have thought of it...."

Doesn't the brain come up with the oddest stuff when it's first out of slumber?

Anywho. In order to combat a serious condition of Utopoplague I plan to take some of the rest of the evening off and watch a special film that mom is showing on ... English literature and John Donne.

Ah, relaxation!!!

These little winding words

Anyone care to write a novel for me so that I can win the Paul Zindel First Novel Award?

No takers?

Well, as you can see, I'm surfing the FastWeb scholarship site for possible augmentations of funds (yup, I just made up a new word - how Shakespearean of me!). Some of them, however, just don't quite match with me as a student. Like the one place that wanted me to write an essay arguing in favor of "voluntary means of population control" - whoa! a bit Huxlean for me.

On a much brighter note, the Lord really helped me with my Problem Speech. I got up there and things just came out in their own way, but I was overjoyed after getting through with it.

Well, off to the chopping block. There is something childishly wonderful about literature classes. Whereas I must collect interviews for journalism or conguage verbs for spanish, in both of my literature classes I may spend basking in Thomas More, or Hamlet, or Samuel Beckett. (Ok, no one is ever going to actually bask in Beckett, but he had some interesting things to say!).

¡Ciao!
(rhyms with "now")

Monday monday

Well, after all of those very helpful comments on how I should run my future, one is tempted to giving up posting in order to guffa at one's poor friends, but this cannot be.

But, as it is, I can't post for long. I'd like to tell you that this is because I'm so frightfully studious that I can't spare 20 minutes away from the books. Wishful thinking, dear - it's actually because there's a big beautiful cantaloup in the fridge with my name on it. Melon heaven, here I come!

Big fat huge speech today in SPCH121. This thing has to be 8-10 minutes long and accompanied by a very sophisticated PowerPoint. It doesn't sound that long but me wee little brain pretty much have it all memorized so I covet your prayers on that head. :o)

What else? Oh yes, our Presbytery meeting is comming up, that's the meeting of all the pastors for our slice of the US - The Great Lakes/Gulf Presbytery, and this time - our church is hosting it! Pretty exciting that we'll have a few dozen RP pastors decending upon our congregation, he magnificent ladies of our church are well up to the challenge of feeding and housing them, I believe.

Latter tatter!

So very much to do

And a week's so little time!

Spring break? Spring cleaning! In more ways than one.

One quick prayer request. My last day of school two faculty members individually urged me to decide once and for all if I'm going to be a Humanities major or an English major. The advantage of the former is that the Humanities department will probably accept almost any Glasgow classes that I come back with as transfer credit (that is, if I come back to IUK at all after a year abroad... I don't have it all figured out!). But if I'm really drawn to English Literature and Linguistics as my life's study (and I kindof am right now) then it might help me in the long run to specialize in that direction now. Humanities is all of the fine arts and if I go to graduate school as a literature student (you should have seen how my eyes popped when my advisor said that, see! another think to think about!) then it would be helpful if I had my undergrad degree in English.

Make sense?? ::pant, pant::

Uh... Not really to me either.


Which is why it's a prayer request.

I'm done with Midterms

Now what am I going to do with myself over spring break?

Ye olde hattes of rede

Well, it’s officially Shakespeare week on planet IUK. Today I had the inestimable pleasure of putting on a silly red hat and guiding an English actor 12 steps down the hall to a classroom. On the hat subject, the trademark of all the students who signed up as Shakespeare Ambassadors are these red Renaissance hats which look unsettlingly like pastries. As out of place as I must have looked in Walgreens yesterday (people would stare and then begin hiding from my pastry of doom) when four of us are on campus together and sailing down the wind like a very flock of giddy tarts I believe the very sight of us must be moving and sublime.

And as you’ll note, I’ve been so stuffed with the Bards endless iambic pentameter that I managed to squeeze 116 words into three stuffed sentences.

Methinks I will hie me down to bed where dreams of scarlet bonnets can sing me to my rest…

The spice of life.

This is me.



Right now.









And thats my eye.







Your candid Cabbage for the day.

Oh dear, we post at last

Many appologies to Granny, I lifted most of this post from a letter to her, but hey Granny I got it to you first!

Actually I’ve been so lazy that I’ve been trying to write y’all something for a few days now. So you’re getting an uncouth conglomeration composed over a span of 26 hours. Cheezió!

Feb 16, 10:52 p.m.

I had a great time at the Lafayette RPC last Sunday night. I had been wanting to go to a Fireside Chat and Jims and I just went to the evening service and made a night of it. Very comforting times. We had a challenging word from Pastor Olivetti and then a short chat time with Pastor Long on names and changing names (good thinking material). And then we had a testimony from the president of the seminary that was remarkable. Here was the chap that you thought’d be the ultimate have-your-life-together-all-along-dude and yet he struggled for many years against a heaviness of spirit.

And yes, the news on Mom’s blog is true. The University of Glasgow accepted me for a year of study abroad.

Whew.

But now I have miles to go before I sleep (figuratively, that is, I’m gonna hit the hay pretty soon!). Even with all of the bountiful financial aid that God has given me through IU I think that this operation will take some scholarships to keep it afloat so it is my sole duty to hunt these tricksy pray out and stun them with a well aimed essay.

Valentine’s day wasn’t terribly magical but the weather was thankfully very balmy and we did get out of Lit 297 half an hour early. Qué romántico, ¿no?

~~~

Feb 17 8:56 a.m.

Back to the U of Glasgow :o) Mom's the one who stops me from time to time and says, "Now Canny, you have to stop and think about how cool this is - you are going to go to college overseas (DV - Deo Volente, God willing)! In Scotland! At the University of Glasgow!!" Yes she's right, it's pretty cool. This is an old one too - I think that it's 29 on the list of oldest universities on the planet, 4 on the list of oldest UK colleges, and 2 on the list of oldest Scottish universities (only St. Andrews is older).

Here's a link of a few pictures of the campus. Pretty, ain't it?
http://www.gla.ac.uk:443/pictures/

We're very glad to have Josh back. He only got a bit of sleep last night because his body is still on Johannesburg time and it was early morning there. He showed us his souvenirs: a soccer jersey and some flip flops that were a size to big (we likened them to miniature observation decks). Wonderful to have him back in the house.

Not much going on today, Dad's over at the church building, participating in a men's work day, and Amy and I are going to go to a stamping party this afternoon. I believe our main activity will be fixing up cards with rubber stamps and ink pads, just a nice way to spend a few hours with some girls. Mom's hanging around Josh :o) and making a Latin test. Ben's been sleeping and now is probably eating breakfast (“Oh to be young again and have ten toes!”).

~~~

6:30

The party was nice, I can always make further steps in the social front. The really awesome thing was driving back with Amy when the iffy day had finally panned out into a very gentle evening. Golden sun on mown fields foreshadowed a beautiful spring to come, and oh, the green & chi tee latte at Joe Muggs was most wonderful. The joys of being neo hippy. :P

Then, wonder of wonders, we came home to piping hot pizza, and now I very full and my breath is rather garlicy (ew, we wanted to know?! say the readers). Weekends are good.

Post Scriptum
A free burger to anyone who can guess without the aid of internet where that very obscure quote is from, a couple of paragraphs up. Seriously.

Anyone except James, that is.

::chuckle::

Al Einstine, your alter ego is a Relaxed driver

For you, life is to be enjoyed, not fussed over. Sure, you know things can't always be the way you want them to be, which is why you sometimes get frazzled in the rush and push of daily life. But you know when that happens, you need only hop in your car, turn up your favorite CD, hit the one-lane street out to your favorite beach, or the major road into the city.

That's right, when the going gets tough on the road of life, you pull over and take a breather. Well, figuratively speaking, anyway. You're a Zen master of the road. You're the type to exchange smiles instead of sneers with fellow motorists, and let cars hop in front of you at an intersection instead of succumbing to road rage like those less enlightened. That's because you're more interested in gazing at the setting sun through a rearview mirror, watching dust-blue dusk fall on the city through your windshield, or wondering at the constellations shimmering in the wide-open skies above.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ah, tickle tests.

Matters of music and marching meter

After the wild success of my Hrothgar post I was tempted to just put out a series entitled Unferth, Higlac, Offa, and (my personal favorite) Wiglaf. Unfortunately, the great outcries against such treasured household names gave me pause, wary lest my neck should be cloven with an ancient enchanted sword. And so I’ve reverted to the droll habit of reporting on real life.

Last semester’s cool busyness has been replaced by the insane downward crash of full time schoolhood, and daughterhood, and part time musicianhood and workhood (not to mention sister- and friendhood, which are different demands entirely!). I am happy to report that I *love* all of my classes (Lit, Lit, Speech, Spanish, Newspaper) save one – never was a public speaker – and so even though I spend all day stringing sentences together their various natures keep up a wonderful diversity

Speaking of wonderful. The Jones household partook in yet another high school orchestra concert today, featuring Mr. Ben and Miss Amy. Actually attending a youth concert is a new experience for me I guess I was the one who started playing in string orchestras 8+ years ago, but this time, due to the demands of all the other hoods I sat out! Mr. Christiansen, the conductor, is a very good song-pickerouter. This year the youth played a Hayden peace, Bizet’s Carment (the string version, not the tragical, extravagant opera!), and mmmm Beethoven’s Prometheus overture. It’s very hard to top the Egmont overture, which we played last semester but this one’s pretty good.

Go to concerts thou burdened bookworm of blogger baloney! Thou wilt find that thy weary wit will be well watered with worthy waves!

Oop, that’s the inner Hrothgar coming out again, better wrap up the post before my marching meter makes some mongrel meditate munching my mead-hall!




Ok, just to set eeeeeveryone straight on my views of mead, I can assure you that it was mearly a culture reference. Anyone who ever catches me drinking sick rotted honey that would knock a thane over can have my next lunch!

Hrothgar

All praise be to God, Josh made it safely to South Africa for his four week stay at an archeological dig. Of course you can continue to pray for his safety way out in the mountains, but it’s a great comfort to know that he survived Chicago, London, and Johannesburg! You can also pray that the Lord would use this trip to confirm His will in Josh’s life, as a career in archeology or paleontology are possibilities in Josh’s future. And it’s nice to think, the God that brought him 9800 miles (one way!) can also direct his career steps.

On a Phoenix note, see the fine posts of Ginny, and Laura for some pictures of our trip to AZ.

And ::sigh:: I got on the computer armed, as my loverly mom put it, with all my good intentions for a full post. ‘Fraid you guys got bumped out by emails to Dr. McLean and searches for Mr. Mosley. Gotta get that time in for the profs!

Better luck next time, swabbies!

oh, and it's a commonly known fact among privileged Literature students: if you can't think of a blog title, insert a character from Beowulf and your audience will be satisfactorily corn-fused.

::whew::

CYA Winter conference.






Yea.