Things from my office wall: a little variety

Torrance Fiber Festival 2011

The Torrance Fiber Festival wasn’t a giant turn-on for me this year.  There was nothing wrong with it:  three large rooms of fiber vendors, a fashion show, a silent auction and some food items.  The usual.  I think the deal is that this is my third year attending and I’m not seeing anything new or intriguing.  I know the event is a lot of work and I'm grateful that the South Coast Handweavers Guild sponsors it every year.

Merino X from Morro Fleeceworks is spinning nicely

I left with a pound of Merino X roving from MorroFleece Works and instructions for sending my fleeces from rare breeds to them for processing into roving.  It's always a pleasure to do business with Shari.  She sells beautifully drafted fiber and is an amazingly honest vendor, always careful to point out even the tiniest flaws in her fiber to potential buyers.  

Camel fiber from Yarn Place

I also picked up a pound of camel fiber from Yarn Place to experiment with in spinning.  After spending 2011 in spinning rare breeds, I plan to spend 2012  spinning non-wool fibers (llama, bison, bamboo, cotton, etc). 

It was very, very hard to leave behind aTakhli spindle and an ounce of buffalo fiber but I couldn’t justify unrestrained gorging on everything I wanted--especially with three unprocessed fleeces waiting for me at home.


The best part of the journey was hanging with Mary, one of the coolest humans I know.  She, too, was nonplussed by the event but, when you’ve got the right companion, the journey beats the destination every time.

By the time we finished our trip we were famished and cruised over to Bagels and Brew for burgers.  At some point during the meal, I told Mary how I became a Christian.  It was a big deal for me because it’s not something I’ve ever done before.  I felt afraid of offending her or freaking her out.  But, she just listened. 

Dad always told me that, to be a leader, you can’t ask anyone else to do something you wouldn’t.  In working with the Junior High kids at church, we’re always encouraging them to share their faith.  So, if I ask them to be willing to risk their friendships by broaching spiritual topics, I have to be willing to take the same risks.  Otherwise, I’m just a hypocrite with less courage than a Junior High school kid and I should just shut up and go home.

Chinese Proverb

Martha

Are there any chicks who play harmonica?

As I'm diving deeper into harmonica, I find that there are a bunch of guys who play but are there any women I can look to for inspiration?  Today, I'm so stoked to discover an amazing jazz harmonica player, Hermine Deurloo.

Here, she plays an amazing set with Candy Dulfer.  Girl power!

Two dudes who know what a guitar was made for

YEE-HOO! 

California Concert Date announced: Feburary 14, 2012

Loudon Wainwright III


Leo Kottke

Road Trip - > Portland!

Hoody-hoo!

It's been nearly a decade since I've seen my friend's face and she's coming to Portland next spring. 

The hubby has recently been certified as a coffee q grader by the Coffee Quality Institute so they're coming to a giant specialty coffee conference in April.

I'm kicking around the idea of meeting up with the J's and spiriting Melinda away to Artichoke to look at harmonicas and guitars, take a class at the Columbia Gorge Fiber Festival, maybe rent a kayak or do some paddleboarding, and go to Le Bistro Montage or Pine State Biscuits.

Fish, Peach, and Mem

Mostly I just want to see my friend's face.  Even though we we just co-workers for six months 15 years ago, we've been virtual friends for the thousands of days since then.  She's a person who accepts me the way I am and is endlessly fascinating.  She has a keen intellect, a good sense of curiosity, and an excellent wordsmith.  We're friends because, when something piques our interest, we have to follow it all the way through to its extreme conclusion. 

She's vaguely Luddite--growing veggies and raising chickens.  Through the years she's made soap and cheese, brewed beer, studied history, played clarinet, sewed, and knitted and made books.  I never get bored.  We're never at a loss for words.

I suspect that God allowed us to be virtual friends because he knew that she's someone I can't do without but, if we were in close proximity, my Christianity and her atheism would drive us apart.

And so, I can hardly wait for the spring.

Burn, baby, burn (a guilty pleasure)

After a one month break, Burn Notice hits the airwaves again tonight. Watching Burn Notice is one of my guilty pleasures. It’s not a guilty pleasure because it’s overtly sexy. It’s a guilty pleasure because, well, it’s not PBS. It’s a shoot-out, blow-‘em-up extravaganza. I ask myself, "would a person of serious intellect and refinement truly be caught dead watching it?"

Even more, the primary male lead, Jeffrey Donovan, has had a couple of roles playing an extremely unpleasant jerk. In Hitch, he plays the ever-smarmy, Vance Munson, whose primary goal is to score one night stands. In Crossing Jordan, he plays an oily but charming attorney whose interference wreaks havoc in two murder investigations. He plays the charming creep so well, it’s hard to believe that at least a little bit of true sliminess doesn’t inhabit the man himself. And yet, I’m still a fan.

To me, what appeals is that the leads are attractive 40-somethings. It means that, just because you clock over to 40 doesn’t mean you have to let yourself go. You can still be fit and attractive.  Woot! Just watching an episode makes me want to do a gnarly workout and dive into a cup of yogurt. It’s really hard to just lay on the sofa and watch Michael Westen scheming and fighting his way out of danger. It’s the kind of TV that’s meant to be watched on a treadmill or elliptical trainer.

The storyline has worn a little thin in the past season but it still beats reality TV. I guess I prefer to lose myself in a well-constructed story than watch acquired fame turn a normal person’s life inside out. There’s something horrible about reality TV—feasting on the emotion of a person’s lost dream or painful rejection. I just can’t do it.

So, tonight, I’ll be at the gym, eagerly awaiting the latest installment of Burn Notice.

Couldn't let it drop

So, one of the things I'd planned to give up to assuage my stress groove situation was Wednesday night with the Junior High people.  In fact, I was seriously thinking about giving up on the Junior High ministry completely.  I didn't feel like it was a good fit or that I was making a difference.  I thought I was wasting my time and just getting in the way.

But something shifted during Pumpkin Palooza.

At the end of the party, I was sitting near Anson. Two junior high girls came strolling up--not from our church. Anson struck up this conversation with them about what they thought about God and what happens when you die. I marvelled at the ease with which he spoke with them (not at them), gently getting them to consider eternity.  I was floored by his kind compassion for the girls. I know it's exactly what Jesus would have done and said.

It laid bare my shabby reasons for joining the Junior High ministry.  I'd wanted to be part of a ministry because something was missing in my spiritual life.  I've seen an exodus of leaders from my church and feel spooked.  And I think I wanted some "Bible points" with God.  It wasn't about how I could serve the kids at all.

I thought it would be easy, that I could hang out on the sidelines and do tasks.  I wanted to be a "Martha."

I hadn't planned to actually care about the kids and their lives and their futures.   My heart's been through the blender a couple of times too many so I prefer keeping people at arm's length.  It's safer that way.  But, I look at these kids and think, "They're making decisions that will affect the rest of their lives...and they're kind of crazy."

But when Anson talked with those girls, I thought, "Dang, I wish I could do that," and I realized, "Oh crap.  I've gotta either throw in the towel or let my guard down and care."

Tonight, when I was gonna bail on the Junior High ministry, I decided to show up and let my guard down.  And I had an awesome time.  I listened and learned and laughed.

Maybe God will use me to do something interesting in the Junior High ministry.  And maybe he'll knock the "arm's length" habit off of me.  All I know is that hearing that conversation sparked a revolution towards the ministry in my heart.

Spindling

0225111130a.jpg, a photo by andersox on Flickr.

So, I've got a serious spinning issue.  This photo shows just a bit of the obsession with spindles containing Gotland, BVM and Tunis wool.

The Gotland is a lovely, slick silver color.  It spins fast.The Tunis is shorter with more bounce.  The black Welsh Mountain isn't as slick as the Gotland, but it spins very quickly, too.  And I could easily get lost in the depths of it's chocolately browness.

Schedule Slam Stress Groove

Today was a stress groove day. 

It happens when certain aspects (flaws?) of my character shift into overdrive:  the desire to please the people I love,, optimism, mild impulsivity, and the avid belief that there's so many interesting things to do.

At work, my inbox was overflowing with meeting invitations and requests for information.  At home, my calendar was exploding with all the the things I have to do (pay bills, housework, car maintenance, haircuts) and all of the things I want to do (exercise, spin, knit with friends, hike, go to a fiber festival, go to Bible study, work with the Junior High kids at church, paddle board).

I am blessed with over abundance.

But, this over scheduling also crowds out God...the opportunity to be still, reflective, and to worship without distraction.  It makes me snappish and tired, a poor reflection of Jesus.

This over scheduling makes me feel greedy and grasping, as though if I don't do all, all, all of these things, I'm maybe less? will be left out?  will miss something interesting?

So, what's a girl to do?  Go back to "7 Habits."  What's important?  What's urgent?  Then, go back to "Franklin."  Prioritize stuff.  First things first.

• Things that make my heart bounce for joy:  seeing Dirk and meeting with UCI about teaching an extension class
• The things that are urgent/important to me:  exercise, paying bills, scheduling car maintenance, working with the junior high kids
• Places where I need to keep a promise:  going to the fiber festival and knitting with a friend

 Everything else has to drop.  So that there's room to breathe and hang with God.

Christian Zombie Killers Handbook

What I love about Christian Zombie Killers Handbook is that its author’s voice is clear, direct, and passionate.  In the introduction, his words paint a graphic depiction of what the dark side of human nature truly looks like and how it functions in our lives.

Organized into 12 episodes—laying out the leading theories for explaining for zombieism (sin).

I was initially concerned about the wisdom of building an entire zombie mythology as a metaphor for sin; however, the author nicely balances each episode, first with a story based on the zombie metaphor immediately followed by relevant, Biblically/scripturally-based discussion questions.

What makes the discussion questions so good is that the author doesn’t pull any punches.  He uses extreme phrases and word pictures like “moral insanity, ” “soul-crimes,”  It’s this use of visceral language that will make it appealing to teenagers and young adults.  The questions are really appropriate for teenagers who are sifting through everything they’ve heard and read, beginning to firmly establish the beliefs and opinions they’ll carry into adulthood. 

Christian Zombie Killers Handbook was provided to me as an advanced reading copy by BookSneeze.

My salvation Psalm

Even though I was raised in a church-going home, it wasn't a Christian home as the church we went to didn't teach about salvation through Jesus.

When I was a teenager, my Mom was born again. I wasn't. I got really angry at God and left the church. I was mad because we switched churches and all of the kids at the new church acted all holy on Sunday but were crappy to me at high school during the week.  I had many friends who were Jewish and, if God didn't want them in Heaven, I didn't want anything to do with God.

Also, Mom was super zealous.  She came at me really hard with the Bible stuff.  Instead of building a bridge, it built a wall between us.

My 20's were moderately wild and I made most of the poor choices that a person can make. In my 30's, I tried Buddhism for a few years but found it to be empty--but, whenever I drove to the Buddhist temple, I passed a Calvary Church.  There were all these smiling people having coffee.  I was still mad at God so I felt like giving them the finger as I passed by.

When my Mom sensed any softening towards God in me, she'd push me towards Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa.  But I didn't want to accept God because she'd come at me hard and smother me like she did when I was a teenager.

Still, I couldn't get that church out of my mind.  And, when I went to Barnes & Noble, I started picking up books by offbeat Christians (Anne Lamott and Kathleen Norris) and was intrigued by this Jesus. But, it wasn't me wanting the books. It's like I was drawn to these books in spite of myself. Now, I know it was the Holy Spirit.

Shortly after that, I moved to Aliso Viejo and decided I should get involved in a church. I let my fingers to the walking through the yellow pages and found Pacific Hills Church. Pastor Danny taught on Psalm 19 and it answered all of my teenage rebelliousness. Sitting in the back row of the church I prayed, "God I can't go another day without you." 

So I always think of Psalm 19 as my saving Psalm.  One other tiny thing that links me to this Psalm is my love for reggae.  "Rivers of Babylon" by Jimmy Cliff blends Psalm 137 and Psalm 19:14.  Even before Ibecame a Christian, I loved these BiblicIal references that pervades reggae.  No matter where it shows up, the word of God is sweet.

Dear Dad

I miss you today.  Your face smiles at me from a photo on my kitchen wall.  It's 15 years ago and you're in your late 60's.  It's some random family holiday and you're wearing one of my handmade basket on your head. 

You've got a fabulous smile that reaches all the way to your hazel eyes.  You're not just smiling for the camera--you're twinkling at the person behind the camera, probably Mom.  I compare it to a more recent photo and I see how much Parkinson's Disease robbed you over the years.  It stole your ability to laugh and smile and twinkle.

When I think, "I miss my Dad," I think I miss two things:  the man in the photo with the dynamite smile and the opportunity of sharing the little achievements of my life with you.  It's hard to know that I'll never make you proud ever again.

I would never wish you back.  You're in heaven now, the man God originally made you to be.  But I miss your face, Dad.

111 days

My Best Leadership Experience

In one of the courses for my project management certification, we're learning about leadership.  The teacher asked us to consider our best or worst leadership experiences.

I have a couple areas in my life where I’m a leader.  I lead a team of writers.  I lead a scrum team.  I’m a leader of the Junior High School kids at church.  I’m part of a panel of speakers who teach Orange County law enforcement officers about mental illness.

Short-term leadership experiences are much better than long term.  I’m not cut out to be a long haul leader.  I lose inspiration unless I’m doing something that really inspires me.

One of the best short-term leadership experiences is when I volunteered to help teach 1^st and 2^nd graders at my church’s family camp.  We had to come up with curriculum and crafts.  I chose the 23^rd Psalm because it’s familiar and because it lends itself to easily dividable lessons.

As I researched the Psalm and broke it into lessons, I actually learned new things about it and God that I never knew.  I learned that, in nomadic culture, that if you were dining with someone and they were attacked by enemies, you'd defend your guest as if they were your own family.  God defends me against my enemies like I'm his own kid.  Very inspiring. 

I worked to create activities that would provide a sensory experience to really instill the lessons into the kids.  We planned a night hike with glow sticks when we studied “even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I’ll fear no evil.”

But for the actual camp, I’d only signed up to help—not to actually teach.  And yet, when it came to the actual event, the lead teacher bailed and I was left to lead 20 young kids.  I had no experience.  I was terrified but I did it anyway.

The very first day, I was exhausted by lunch time.  All I wanted to do was to clean up the craft supplies and have lunch.  But, just as I finished picking up the supplies, two little girls came wandering back into the room, sat down and began to color.

I was irritated but I just kept cleaning another area of the room. I listened to the little girls talking.  One asked, “Do you live with your Mommy or Daddy?”  The other answered, “I live with them both.”  The first girl replied, “You’re lucky.  You don’t have to choose who you love better.”

Those last words just slayed me and my irritation evaporated.  This little 7-year-old had to face a world where she had to make an impossible choice.  It let me empty myself and enjoy serving the kids for the rest of the week.  And it gave me a love for Briana and Susana that endures to this day.

Why am I learning the harmonica?

Well...about a decade ago, my boyfriend learned to play the harmonica. We even went to jazz harmonica concerts (Toots Thielemans). It gave me a passing interest in learning to play but I held off because I only had a casual interest and didn’t want to push up on my boyfriend’s new hobby.

A few years later, my boyfriend and I parted ways. I took a one-evening class on learning to play the blues but I didn't learn enough for it to be useful so I gave up.

Last week, when I was doing some serious cleaning, I found my harmonica. I decided I needed to either learn to play or throw it out.

I searched YouTube for lessons. They helped me get started, but it was difficult to figure out a systematic way of learning.   As I ranged around the Internet, I found the Harmonica Academy. I liked it because it's structured.

The downside is that I want to skip all the beginning lessons, hurry ahead and play songs. I don’t want to take the time to learn technique. BUT, so far, I’m restraining myself and dutifully learning single notes and scales.  (Okay, I admit that I downloaded the tabs for "How Great is Our God" and practice it daily...and that I researched how to turn sheet music into harmonica tabs...but that's it.  I promise.)

I'm giving myself 30 minutes a day (or as many minutes as my lips will tolerate) for the next 30 days to see if I love it. So far, it's awesome! My hope is to be good enough that by next year I can play with the worship team at church.

I firmly believe that you've gotta try the things that pique your interest (within the bounds of legality/morality) because it opens a brave new world.  Makes life interesting.

Creer

My friend, Randi, teaches fiber arts at Creer.  It's been a cool program where she has taught knitting, crochet, weaving, and dyeing to men and women in San Juan Capistrano.  Her desire has been to empower people and help them gain confidence through learning new skills and creative expression.

I am so proud to have had just a tiny part in this endeavor by contributing yarn to the students.  It's amazing and delightful at how the students "catch the fiber bug" in the same way it's caught me and Randi and all of the other knitters and weavers we know.

I look at the happy faces in these photos and it's a reflection of how I felt when I made my very first garter scarf.  I must have knitted and ripped and knitted and ripped the first 10 rows over a dozen times.  But when I was done, all of my frustration was forgotten because I had made something beautiful with just two sticks and a piece of string.

Woot!

Dirk Hamilton

In college, my friend, Martha, turned me onto Public Radio and awesome music. We'd go to At My Place or the Sweetwater to catch rising stars. One of my enduring favorites is Dirk Hamilton.


He's got amazing charisma and raw sex appeal but what remains with me decades later is his ability to turn a phrase. To call him a musician barely does him justice. He sees into daily life as a poet does. He bends words until they paint the picture he wants you to see. He's been compared to Van Morrison and Bob Dylan, which is fitting because they're of the same age. This reviewer gives a great history of Dirk's career.

Dirk first captured me with "Meet me at the Crux." Somehow the suggestion to "explain to me in detail how your urine hits the sink" has remained in my brain for decades.


Dirk's raspy voice and acoustic guitar are the perfect vehicles for describing the angst of modern loneliness in "Billboard on the Moon."


I'm also intrigued because his lyrics contain many passing references to people or events of the Bible. In "How Do You Fight Fire?" he talks about how "one righteous man could save a city" and it brings to mind when Abraham bargained with God for the sake of Sodom and Gomorrah. I really hope Dirk has a saving knowledge of the Bible. I surely would love to hear him for 10,000 years in heaven.



If you ever get a chance, Dirk is worth a listen.

I'd planned to see him this Thursday at the Lounge in Hermosa Beach, but the venue has been cancelled.  It kinda solves my Stress Groove, but I'm kind of bummed.  I'll hafta make do with digital so I ordered a fresh copy of "Meet Me at the Crux."

Always every age I've ever been

Today when I was chatting with Melinda, I mentioned that it’s weird to be closer to retirement than I am to my graduation from college. It almost came as a shock at how close I am to being done with my career.

I think the shock comes from the fact that there’s a part of me that never ages. Sure, my face has wrinkles and my sable-colored hair is getting shot through with gray, but I’m always every age I’ve ever been.

In my mind, I can transport myself back to my high school graduation when I stood in the middle of campus and thought, “For 18 years, people have told me what to do, where to be, and how to act. Now what do I do?” I felt scared and excited all mixed together.

Thirty years later, as I walk towards the end of my career, I have that same sense of fear and wonder at what the future holds. For 25 years, I’ve had the structure of working in an office, having a boss and co-workers, and achieving steady professional goals. What will I do when I retire?

My soul still feels as wide-eyed, eager, and adventurous as I did when I was a kid. There’s so much more to learn and do. And I love this timeless part of my heart because it tells me that God is really there because he put this sense of eternity in my mind.

God had a plan for the 18-year-old girl I was. It’s faith that tells me he has good plans for the career woman I am now and the 65-year-old woman I will be.

Rowing!

Over the past month, I've become intrigued with rowing. After church today I went wild and had my first lesson. It was amazing. As I sat out there in the little boat on the big Newport Back Bay, I realized why the disciples woke Jesus up when they were out on the ocean and a storm came up. (If I was them, I would have screamed and shaken Jesus awake.)

Also, the most amazing thing happened. There was a flock of hundreds of tiny sandpipers skimming over the water. They broke formation and streamed around us. The sound of all of those wings beating in harmony was magical. It's the kind of awesome beauty that makes you hold your breath and feel everlastingly grateful to God just to be able to experience that moment.