A Dog's Life

 This is my new puppy.  At the age of 18, our family dog had to be put down.  I looked around online, and fell in love with her the moment I saw her picture.  She was found at an animal shelter down south.  She had been beaten, starved, and had a wire imbedded in her neck.  They were going to put her down, when a family near here decided to foster her.  She was cleaned and fed and taught to trust people. 

 She's quite a goofball.  She loves to chase things, and to run through/around/over obstacles.  I wish there was an agility course nearby.  For now, the woods will have to do.  Here she is watching a squirrel.

 She is the sweetest and kindest dog I have ever worked with.  She loves to please people, and behaves wonderfully even with very young children.  She's defensive around larger dogs - especially German Shepherds and Huskies.  However, she plays well with dogs her size or smaller, and is learning to let the human take charge when she feels uncomfortable.

She loves to play in mud.  This was taken after the dog park had flooded for the first time this year.  It's very close to the river, which meant that she was chasing fish in the dog park.  For some reason, she prefers rolling in mud to being massaged with shampoo.

She is such a goofball.  She loves to roll around, to twist and turn.  But most of all, she loves her belly rubbed.  When anyone enters the house, she will charge towards them and flop on her back, waving her paws in the air.  She is the gift of laughter.

Proud to be an oddball

I was quite young when I decided my best option was to be an eccentric.  I'm not the sort of person that stands out - I'm neither beautiful nor ugly.  I am not stupid, or smart.  I am rarely overwhelmingly obnoxious, but I am not particularly polite, either.  Though I am not athletic, I am also not completely incapable.  My physical appearance is completely nondescript.  I'm of medium height, neither fat nor thin, with brown hair and hazel eyes.  My voice is unremarkable.

It's not that I wanted to stand out in a crowd.  In fact, I was thankful for being able to blend in.  But I would still like to be memorable to people I meet, and respect.  No peer will ever be amazed at my wit or talent.  No teacher will ever point me out as an example - of success or failure.  That frustrated me, especially in middle school.  The students that the adults liked and respected were either rowdy or brilliant or beautiful or willfully ignorant.

So I had to play my strengths.  In the South-Eastern states, I was already unusual for being a Reformed Christian.  I read more quickly and of a greater variety than most students, and never watched television.  I generally got along with my parents and brothers.  I had lived overseas (on a volcano, no less). And before that I had lived in North Dakota, which was equally foreign.  I had had snowball fights and gone sledding on a regular basis, and without having to pay for a ski resort.  I rarely met my extended relatives, and couldn't even name all of my cousins.  I also had experience with RPG's - both PC and tabletop.

Instead of hiding my differences, I used them to define myself relative to other people.  As a eccentric, there was little pressure to fit in.  I was expected not to share mainstream interests, to dress oddly (i.e. cheaply), to discuss thoughtfully, and to be socially awkward.  If I was bored or uncomfortable in a situation, people accepted the fact that I was a bookworm and allowed me to hide behind ink and paper.  If my pants were ugly and too long, well it was comfortable and I've never cared much for my appearance.  There were limitations, of course.  I was often left out when the talk turned to popular culture.  While people were generally very gracious about my lack of social skills, it didn't change the fact that they were (and are) lacking.  I'd rather write an exam than have a conversation.  I would often get in trouble in English class for reading ahead or disagreeing with the textbook.

By the end of high school, I had gotten very comfortable with this label and stereotype.  I had learned to knit, and found other people who enjoyed it.  A small group of us became obsessed with classic film.  I read popular fantasy series that other students were eager to chat about.  I avoided the lunchroom, instead visiting teachers or attending a philosophy club.  A friend and I played with my family's video camera.  English teachers gave me old textbooks they were throwing away, and lent me other books.     

There are more of us than you would think.  On television, high school consists of jocks, cheerleaders, honor students, and the dreaded unpopular crowd which usually consists of goths and geeks.  Geeks, of course, wear glasses, have a very substandard notion of appropriate hygiene, wear dark ill-fitting clothes, and desperately wish to be a cheerleader or jock.  And they are usually proficient with computers.  I know it may shock you, but this is rarely the case.  It is possible for a person to enjoy cheerleading, chemistry, and opera at the same time.  It is possible for a person to be a brilliant and skilled artist/mathematician/athlete.

There are more of us than you would think.  And we can see you.  Mwa ha ha ha!!!!

A Meme. That I stole from someone, but I don't remember who or when.

1. Favorite childhood book?

Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome.

2. What are you reading right now?

See side bar.

3. What books do you have on request at the library?

At the moment, none.  Because I have a five dollar late fee, but not five dollars.

4. Bad book habit?

You make it sound like a debilitating addiction.  I don't think it's bad, if that's what you mean.

5. What do you currently have checked out at the library?

None.  See #3, above.

6. Do you have an e-reader?

In my dreams.  No, really.  It was purple, and kept turning into a teddy bear, which made it very difficult to read.

7. Do you prefer to read one book at a time or several at once?

Several at once.

8. Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog?

No...  Why?  Should they?

9. Least favorite book you read this year?

Twilight.  I just don't get it.  Gaaaa!!!  I want to go over it with a red pen.  But I didn't, since it was a library book.

10. Favorite book you’ve read this year?

I have a lot of favourites, but my favourite book that I hadn't read before this year is A Short History of Byzantium by John Julius Norwich.

11. How often do you read out of your comfort zone?

Ummm...  I don't quantify - I'm an English Major.

12. What is your reading comfort zone?

I don't read a lot of war history books.  That stark attitude towards death and killing haunts me.  My brothers do, so I can always go to them if I need information.

13. Can you read on the bus?

I am capable, yes.

14. Favorite place to read?

Curled up on my bed with my puppy.

15. What is your policy on book lending?

I make everyone sign a contract in blood, and it must be witnessed by the President.

16. Do you ever dog-ear books?

Not intentionally.  Moving around so often does tend to wear on books, though.

17. Do you ever write in the margins of your books?

Rarely.

18. Not even with text books?

That's right.  Shocking, isn't it?

19. What is your favorite language to read in?

The only language I am proficient with is English.

20. What makes you love a book?

I always judge a book by its cover.

21. What will inspire you to recommend a book?

Ummm....  A percentage of that book's sales?

22. Favorite genre?

The kind with complete sentences, elegant syntax, engaging characters and an intriguing plot.

23. Genre you rarely read (but wish you did?)

Nothing comes to mind.

24. Favorite biography?

Love Jane Austen biographies.

25. Have you ever read a self-help book?

No.

26. Favorite cookbook?

Betty Crocker.

27. Most inspirational book you’ve read this year (fiction or nonfiction)?

That word is overused.  Something is inspirational if it makes you "feel good."  I'd rather go with the book that most challenged me, which would be George Herbert's The Temple.  Actually, I haven't finished it yet.  I find it overwhelming.

28. Favorite reading snack?

Wine, and dark chocolate.  Or Cheetos.  Whatever.

29. Name a case in which hype ruined your reading experience.

I live in America, Land of Commercialism.  I learned to discount hype when I was three. 

30. How often do you agree with critics about a book?

I don't know.  I read critics to get a feel for the book, but their attitudes are usually obvious enough that I can tell which way they are slanting it. 

31. How do you feel about giving bad/negative reviews?

It gives me an irrepressible glee.

32. If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you chose?

Dutch.  Or Latin.  Or maybe Old English.  Or...  All of them!!!

33. Most intimidating book you’ve ever read?

Books can be boring, badly written, sickening, frustrating, but intimidating??

34. Most intimidating book you’re too nervous to begin?

Books don't make me nervous.  You do.

35. Favorite poet?

John Donne.

36. How many books do you usually have checked out of the library at any given time?

About a dozen, give or take.

37. How often have you returned books to the library unread?

38.4%

38. Favorite fictional character?

Fanny Price.

39. Favorite fictional villain?

Smaug.

40. Books I’m most likely to bring on vacation?

Georgette Heyer, Ngaio Marsh, Agatha Christie, Jane Austen, Lord Byron...

41. The longest I’ve gone without reading.

Hours?

42. Name a book that you could/would not finish.

There was some dating book I was supposed to read for a marriage and family class in high school.  I read the first and last paragraph of each chapter, wrote my response papers, and turned it all in by the second week. 

43. What distracts you easily when you’re reading?

Earthquakes.  Volcanic eruptions.  Hurricanes.

44. Favorite film adaptation of a novel?

1995 Pride and Prejudice.

45. Most disappointing film adaptation?

Most of them.

46. The most money I’ve ever spent in the bookstore at one time?

As much as I can afford.

47. How often do you skim a book before reading it?

Always.

48. What would cause you to stop reading a book half-way through?

I rarely read books in order.  But I don't finish books that have painfully bad grammar, or that bore me, or that I find too violent.

49. Do you like to keep your books organized?

Yes.  It makes sense to me, but no one else can ever find anything.

50. Do you prefer to keep books or give them away once you’ve read them?

Keep.  Except for my math textbook - I gave that away as soon as possible.

51. Are there any books you’ve been avoiding?

That makes it sound like there's a book waiting to pop out at me from a dark alley and mug me.  Umm... is there something I should know, here?

52. Name a book that made you angry.

The Stranger by Albert Camus

53. A book you didn’t expect to like but did?

I don't read books I don't expect to like.

54. A book that you expected to like but didn’t?

That's why I always read the end first, so I don't waste time reading things I don't want to, when there are so many wonderful books out there.

55. Favorite guilt-free, pleasure reading?

As opposed to guilty, painful reading?  Let's see...  that would be everything I read.

Dear Internet,

Hi.  How are you? Great. Good.  Oh, I'm fine.  Just great.  Where've I been?  Under the covers.  It's safe and comfortable, but awfully dark.  So I thought I should start getting up.  No, I'm not in school anymore.  Nope - no job right now.  Yes - I'm completely broke.  Aren't student loans wonderful?  As a matter of fact, I'm living in my parent's basement.  How's that for a stereotype?  But life goes on, you know.  A lot of positions open for seasonal workers, so I'll get something sooner or later.  In the meantime, I think I will go make some brownies.

My family - the Warbling Wonders?

As far back as i can remember, my dad has sung, and my mom has not. Mom says when i was a baby, i generally preferred Dad over her because of this. I'd be all whiny and fussy (although, naturally, less verbal about it than i am now), and Mom would do anything and everything to quiet me. But all Dad had to do was sing to me, and i would soon calm down. My favourites tended to be the songs he composed to my stuffed animals – “Whitey the Seal” to the tune of “Winnie the Pooh,” for instance. When my brothers and i grew a little older, Dad recorded himself singing on cassette tapes for us to listen to at night. And of course, he taught us all the classics, such as “Great Big Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts,” “Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder,” and “What a Friend We Have in Cheeses.” Much to his dismay, we taught ourselves “This is the Song That Never Ends” and “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” In church, my eldest brother especially would sing proudly, and loudly. I was incredibly embarrassed by this, especially when people would come up to him after the service and thank him for his enthusiastic singing. At that time i was too busy to step on his toes, as Dad needed curbing of his own - he insisted on showing off his command of accents. “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” was German, “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow” was British, “Amazing Grace” was French… Needless to say, i had no effect other than to exacerbate the problem, but i think the elderly ladies who always sat behind us enjoyed the show. We all have an embarrassing tendency to sing in public, especially around Christmastime. It’s just that the season is simply too short to sing all of the good songs if we don’t, and we also often feel the need to purge ourselves of the updated translations. I mean “God Rest You Merry Christian Folk” has nothing on “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “set your minds on things eternal” simply does not evoke the same imagery as “ponder nothing earthly minded.” Fortunately for the public, my father and my brothers can carry a tune fairly well, so as long as i stay fairly quiet, nobody feels the need to relieve themselves of rotten produce (an Alto singing with three Basses doesn’t generally stand out very much, anyway). In fact, we often get quite a few nods and smiles, and some people look like they’d like to join in, but so far no one has. Probably because they don’t wish to embarrass us with their superior singing ability. We also have to be careful regarding whom we watch our favourite musicals with. It is practically impossible to be silent while watching Congress sing a rousing song about opening windows (1776), or Maria teaching the children how to sing (The Sound of Music), or Yenta matchmaking (The Fiddler on the Roof). You try it sometime. But you musn't think we wait for Christmas or musicals to inflict ourselves on the public; we’ve also been known to break out in hospital waiting rooms, or while walking the dog, or waiting for the 4th of July fireworks to start, or in the middle of dinner, or at the grocery store, or while waiting in line at the veterinary clinic… For some reason, people are much less forgiving when they’re not filled with Christmas spirit. Instead of nods, we get odd looks, and people subtly moving away, and acquaintances crossing the street – especially when we try to harmonize. However, in most cases we’d rather sing than talk to them, anyway. It is a simple fact that some days, it is absolutely imperative to inquire of the world if they are going to Scarborough Fair, and exclaim about the glories of goober peas, and inform Aunt Rhodie that her old grey goose is dead. Yes, i know - my poor mother…

Moving, Part V

This was probably the most enjoyable move. We weren't leaving anyone, simply moving on base. And in any case, moves with Italian movers are bound to be exciting. There were very few actual mishaps, as i remember, but the potentiality... Almost having ID's (required for entry on base) packed away, bowling balls placed in pitcher bowls without even any paper b/w them, fragile items practically tossed off the balcony. There's a scene in The Hobbit where the dwarves taunt Bilbo Baggins by singing this while cleaning the kitchen - very apt, if i do say so myself. The house on base looked just like all of the other houses on base. It was a pale yellow one-story structure, divided in half. However, we had the loveliest trees in our backyard (unless you talk to my mother, who did our laundry) - some lovely eucalypti and an absolutely gorgeous fig tree. One of the eucalypti even had a sort of treehouse attached, and a ladder, and a hammock. If we didn't feel like climbing those, there were some pine trees acrost the road. We could (and did) walk to church, to the commissary, to the school, to the track, and to the creek behind the hospital (to catch tadpoles)... And it was safe. My friends and i biked and rollerbladed all over that base so that even i couldn't get lost if i'd wanted to. Halloween was amazing - we'd all get dressed up, and the people that lived off base would set up in the parking lot, and all of us kids would go trick-or-treating while the adults rested from having to assemble knights, ghostbusters, princesses, zombies, and legomen from the thrift store and packing cases. I still remember that boring, cookie-cutter old house (which is no more, i've heard - they bull-dozed that part of the base, so all of our beautiful trees and favourite haunts have made way for the new hospital, or something practical like that) as a place of beauty, not because it was of any aesthetic value, but because living there was beautiful. Okay, so i rhapsodized about living on base instead of actually talking about the move, but the move was even less interesting. Trust me. If you are insanely bored, links to all the other parts can be found here.

On Why I Go to Church, Part II

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilot, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell. The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended in to Heaven and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty. From thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit. I believe in a Holy Catholic Church, the communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the Body, and the Life everlasting. Amen. In case you haven’t noticed yet, i have been raised in the Christian Church, and am myself a confessing believer. This is the second post which concerns my motivations, not for my conversion (which is a completely different story), but for my involvement in the institution of the Church. It is written more for my own satisfaction than anything else, so if rather incoherent introspection does not interest you, i recommend that you skip them. Otherwise, part I is here. The negative impression I mention in Part I of these reflections was furthered by my work in the church archives. One of my tasks was to put together a database of all the pastors. Among other things, i had to look up which article of the church order was used to depose or separate preachers who were deposed or separated. The number of deposed preachers has skyrocketed in the last twenty or so years, and generally the cause is extremely ambiguous. My father currently pastors at a church where the previous preacher was deposed, for reasons that were not made public. Rumours abound, and it is very difficult to get the congregation to trust him and each other, not to mention the other churches in the area. Even the congregations of the same denomination are reluctant to work together. My grandfather, albeit unintentionally, also encouraged my bitterness. He is officially retired, and does interim pastorships at churches that lack a minister. These congregations are often troubled, and suffering some recent great divide over some triviality, such as which hymnal to use or the colour of their carpeting. Most have had some difficulty with their pastor, too. I could give you a list of churches all over the country that have split up for some reason or another, some grievous but often ridiculous. And so i looked forward to college as a chance to escape church. I was sick of church. It didn't do a thing for me, and i figured i had better give it a rest. I believed that Church embodied all that was wrong with Christianity and even (considered historically) humanity. Although i could see this worried my parents, and my father sometimes asked me unpleasant questions, no one directly opposed my resolve. I note here, as an aside, that i have never had what is known as a conversion experience. I have a not altogether unwarranted skepticism of conversion experiences. Yet… i can no longer completely discount them. There is an evening church service on campus. I attended a few times, as a counter-irritant to my heathen sensibilities (i.e. to make my mother feel better). One night they served communion. I have no idea what the sermon was, and i don’t believe i knew then. Understand that because of my qualms i had never made any public declaration of my faith, and therefore had never partaken of the Eucharist (this is very unusual in my denomination – most people would have done this years ago). After the service i went for a walk in the back parking lots, simply to escape the crowd. But I could not stop thinking about the Communion – about the Sacrifice poured out not just for me. I had the most astounding and blindingly obvious of revelations. Church is not about me. It wasn’t the Church that was irrelevant, but I. My withdrawal from the Church no longer seemed a noble and superior form of faith, but stupid and hypocritical. And i wept, though out of joy or regret i do not know. As for this particular church, well… I could no longer in conscience wait around until I found a church that “fit” me. I called my father who recommended a couple of friends who might serve as mentors and counselors, one of whom had been the preacher during the service i have just mentioned. Upon being informed of my intentions, she suggested i go to church with her sister the next week, as she knew the pastors there and it would be convenient for me. So i did, and spoke to the pastor, and joined the choir, and attended the catechism classes, and at last made a profession of faith. And God, in His grace, selected for me a church that suits me far more than anything i have come across before. It is a large though simple structure composed of red brick. There is not an overwhelming population of college students, which i very much appreciate (most of my close friends are nearer my parent’s age than mine; besides, I hate being labeled and herded). The congregation is, on the whole, well educated and responsible. Besides all this, they have an organ – a real pipe organ. Instrumentalists and singers abound, and the choir’s music selection is beautifully diverse. I would be incredibly surprised if more than a couple dozen of the congregation would know my name or even recognize me, yet, these people are my people. Their song is my song, their griefs my griefs, and their joys also mine – not for what they do but to whom they do it. Here, with these my people, I will worship our God.