Pining for the Glen

It's nearly Glen time. Oh, the Glen. It is like the most fabulous summer camp ever, except way way better and for adults. Imagine this...

A college campus in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. A whole lecture hall full of Christian artists. Painters, poets, novelists, songwriters. Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants. More food for your brain and soul than you can digest.

We wish we could go to the Glen again this year. We had such a wonderful time last year. We got to know so many great people. We learned so much about art and faith. We were opened to new ideas. We were challenged, we were stretched, we were affirmed.

Have a look at this picture. Do you see the man with white hair and a blue shirt in the middle towards the back? That's Eugene Peterson. Eugene Peterson! He wrote "The Message". And he spoke every night at chapel last year at the Glen. That is the kind of person you can meet, chat with, eat breakfast with at the Glen.

And look at the next picture. That is me and the Music Man on the left with Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist, aka Over the Rhine. A rock star is touching my 6 1/2 month pregnant belly. Only at the Glen, folks. Only at the Glen.





So, in closing, if anyone has a large sum of money to give me in the next week to cover flights and tuition, I will love you forever and ever, and I will frolic my way down to Santa Fe.

June Cleaver I am not

(note: my technical difficulties seem to have resolved themselves. hoorah.)

I want to be a "together" mom. You know the type. (In fact, in my imagination you are all that type.) The moms at the park whose children are wearing clothes that match. Who speak with enthusiasm to their kids. Who look like they have showered AND brushed their hair in the last 24 hours. I fear I will never be that way.

I had it all planned out. When we moved into our new house I would magically become organised, creative, energetic. I would have a weekly menu. I would have a task for each day of the week (Monday - Laundry, Tuesday - cleaning and vacuuming, etc.). The little counter on the side of my kitchen would have neat and tidy in- and out-trays. Has it happened? Of course not. Moving house cannot change one's personality. What was I thinking?

It's not that I don't have the capacity to be organised. I have always been very organised at school or at work. Somehow it just doesn't transfer to home. Go figure.

So perhaps I just need to reevaluate my goals. I guess it's okay that today is Tuesday and I did sweep the floor but didn't vacuum or clean the bathroom. I did manage to keep Monkey clean, fed and relatively happy. I did manage to make supper (even though the rice on the menu had to change to macaroni when I discovered we are out of rice...). And, as of 9 o'clock in the evening, I have managed to have a shower AND brush my hair. I guess I'm doing alright.

I'm sure June Cleaver wasn't nearly as fun as I am anyway.

Faery Tale

I don't think this town exists. Perhaps I have discovered some sort of Brigadoon. Or perhaps I have somehow found myself in a children's story. I'm not sure, but this place cannot be real.

When we moved from Hick-ville, 20 minutes down the road we thought we were moving closer to shops, church, friends. We did not realise we were entering an enchanted land. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but there is no such thing as a real-life place with

*a library. (okay, okay, not so amazing. But we've been without for two years. It's amazing to me.)
*a fabulous park with a wading pool. (and the pool is open from 12 to 8. 12 to 8, people, that's like, all day.)
*a beach. (like a nice one. It could be the set of a steamy teen drama.)
*woods. (real woods with a creek and everything. The kind where wood elves and dryads live.)
*old people riding bicycles. (all the time. with baskets)


Plus we have an apple tree on our yard, and the neighbours have a different variety hanging over our fence. And the other neighbours have a Nanking Cherry tree that hangs over the fence. (The cherries are just about ready...)

* * * * *

Down to business. The name issue must be resolved. So here goes. Barring any violent protest new bloggy names shall be as follows :

Husband = Music Man (this indicates his general field without saying his exact profession)
Baby = Monkey (most used nickname, and very apt)

The blog will remain Whitekirk, because, as Bren pointed out, lots of churches move and don't change their names. (Oh, just in case you didn't get it, our old house was a church, which we called Whitekirk.)

Help!

I'm having some blog troubles. Maybe someone can help me...

I am trying to change/update my side bar features (Reading log, links etc.) but when I go to Layout to change them I click "save changes" and it says "saving..." forever, but never actually does anything. I am so frustrated! Help anyone????


(again, apologies for my lame-o posts, and lack of them...)


oh yeah, also, I can't sign out.