Lift Up Your Hearts!

I have extracted this, completely out of context, from an e-mail in which it made total sense, because nonetheless it amused me. I can so sympathize with the sentiments it expresses, even though they weren't those of the writer.

I am not ready for Christmas. Not only in a secular, material sense (cards to be written, cookies to be bakes, presents to be bought, wrapped, and shipped), but spiritually. As one for whom Christmas has 12 days, and doesn't begin till December 25th, I know that we are now in Advent, that powerful, yet neglected, season of repentance and contemplation, of preparation and anticipation. I'm ready for Advent hymns, not Christmas carols.  (More)

Hooray!  I love Advent!  And I love being home at our church where the season is recognized in all its glory, and we don't plunge suddenly into Christmas.  Purple is the order of the day, not red and green, and repentence and renewal more than celebration.  Heather, tell your paster I thought of him today, as we started the service by chanting the Great Litany.  I particularly like this beautiful, ancient prayer.

Is there anything one can't find on the Internet?

One of the reasons I like Advent is that, like Lent, we sing particularly good and meaningful hymns during this season.  The Sequence Hymn was and exercise in sight reading (The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns), but the Communion Hymn was the glorious O Come, O Come Emmanuel, and the Recessional was Rejoice! Rejoice, Believers."

Our choir director greeting us this morning with, "It's great to see you back.  Do you know we are singing today?"  Fortunately, it was not a difficult piece, and it's a good thing I'd actually rehearsed the alto line a time or two, as I turned out to be the only alto present.... 

Dear far away, liturgy-loving children:  I hope this comforts your hearts, and doesn't make you terribly homesick.

P.S. Our "for schools" prayers today included the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. :)

I've much to write about, but since I just returned from a lovely Thanksgiving+ visit with family and friends, and had a full day's work worth of travel today, I will begin with just a few random comments about my trip home.

Pittsburgh is a lovely airport to wait in:  they play soft classical music and real Christmas carols, without the accompaniment of blaring television sets.

If you print your USAirways boarding pass at home, the pass is printed twice on the page, with a dotted line between and instructions to "cut here."  If you do that, be careful which paper you pull out to show at the security checkpoint, because if you give the guard the one labelled "customer copy," she will make you hold up the line while you dig out the other one.  It seems logical to me to keep the one I'm going to need to get on the plane in a safe place, and use the other copy as the one I'm likely to drop and/or lose in the shuffle of coat, shoes, laptop, luggage, and clear plastic bag.  But the TSA doesn't agree.  At least not in Pittsburgh, at least not today.

The bus ride between the airport and the stop nearest home takes two hours during rush hour.  If one has a World of Puzzles magazine, the ride is no worse than the flight, though without the free drink and pretzels.

Ah, yes.  The free drink.  Usually I ask for tea or water, but since this time it was an ersatz lunch, I felt the need for something more substantial and nutritious.  So I asked for "spicy tomato juice," which sometimes gets me V8 and sometimes, like today, "Bloody Mary mix."  The attendant generously gave me the whole can, so I was able to check out the nutritional information on the label.  Sure enough, it promised to provide 25% of my daily requirement of vitamin A, and a few other good things, and for only 70 calories.  So far so good.  Then I notice the sodium level....   Nearly two grams!  As much as an entire 10-12 ounce bag of potato chips.  It tasted very good at first, but I couldn't finish it.  Since coming home I've been drinking lots of water and tea to try to flush some of that salt assault out of my system.

It's hot in Orlando!  The overly-air conditioned bus and the dark sky almost convinced me that it was cool outside, but not for long.  After the 30-minute walk home I had to resist the impulse to put on the A/C, but it was really only 70 degrees inside, so I just needed to change out of my jeans and long-sleeved turtleneck, which were much more appropriate for Pittsburgh's below-freezing temperatures than Orlando's 80 degrees.

Tomorrow I begin the assault on Mount Mail, Mount Laundry, and Mount All-That-Stuff-I've-Been-Avoiding-For-The-Past-Two-Weeks.  Um, well, not until after a visit to the dentist for a double-coronation ceremony.... 

Natsukashii!  There's no sound like it.  I had lost track of Discovery while out of town, but the familiar twin sonic booms as I was fixing lunch alerted me in time to turn on the television and watch the landing.

It had actually been quite a while since I'd heard that sound—even if the shuttle doesn't have to land in California, it sometimes takes a path other than one that goes over our part of the state.  This time it was quite subdued, though still obvious; at others it has been known to wake us from a deep sleep.

After a rainy day, the weather cleared in time to encourage the trick-or-treaters to come out.  We had more than usual and I was afraid we'd run out of Mounds bars, so a couple of times I gave out one each instead of two.  I needn't have been so parsimonious—the flow dried up at 9:00 as if someone had thrown a switch, and I turned out the porch light at 9:30.

It was a more pleasant group of people this year, too.  At least one, and usually all, in every group said "thank you"; only one, very young, asked, "Can I have more?"; most were young children escorted by parents; and the only group of older kids (middle school, I'd guess) had costumes and were polite.  Very encouraging.

It's an old trick, I fell for it, and I'm glad.

Grocery stores love to put attractive displays in the checkout area, in hopes of luring shoppers to add one or two more items to their carts while waiting.  Albertsons has large displays of fresh, hot French bread, particularly irresistable to those who come to the grocery store on their way home from work.

I rarely give in to the temptation, but today I saw something new:  Nabisco's Honey Maid Gingerbread Graham Crackers.  I recommend you all go to your nearest tempting grocery display and buy some!  It's hard to imagine why anything this good can get away with being called "cracker" rather than "cookie," but hey, at least it's whole wheat.  :)

Hmm, guess I'd better find something to work on in a part of the house closer to the front door.  Trick-or-treaters are starting to arrive, and the frequent interruptions make writing difficult.

Porter had to get up early this morning for a 7:00 dentist appointment, but that didn't stop him from staying up late last night.  Now his beloved Boston Red Sox have won the World Series twice in his lifetime, which until now few living Red Sox fans could say.  He's been too busy to watch all the games, but he enjoyed a few, especially last night's.

Congratulations to the Red Sox, and to those of our New England relatives who are enjoying this victory!  Condolences to S, the Yankee fan.  (No, not that S -- the other S.  I know the one S is a dedicated Red Sox fan!)  I hope T&B are happy -- I've forgotten where their loyalties lie.

Apologies to those of you who are waiting for the story of last weekend's adventures in Sarasota.  That will come, but in the meantime it's been a while since I posted, and I just came upon the essay I wrote for a genealogy contest with the less-than-inspiring title of this post.

The circumstances were interesting, however.  Because the sponsoring organization was Irish, I thought my story might be of interest to them.  Maybe it was, but not enough to win. However, a blog owner can be her own publisher, and since they didn't want it, I'm sharing it here.  :) (More)

How many times do I have to be taught that technology, while useful, even delightful at times, is not to be depended on?  I wonder if electronic equipment works better in Switzerland, where trains and trams are so dependable that a three-minute deviation from schedule is a notable occurrence?

Once again, I picked up my PDA to find it had lost everything.  This is the third time that has happened in about a year an a half, and I think it's related to alarms going off repeatedly when I'm not aware of them.  I'd love to shut off the alarms on the handheld device, but I can't do that without removing them from the desktop, which is where I really need them.  But this time surprised me, because last I knew there was still plenty of life in the batteries.

Oh, well—I had a backup and only lost a couple of pieces of data.  It would be helpful if I knew which data I'd lost, but I'll manage.  At least this time I was home and could restore the data quickly—the first time I was on vacation and could do nothing till my return.  That's when I learned to keep key information on paper when I travel!

Our nifty electronic devices are still too useful for me to give them up altogether, but it's good to be reminded now and then of the importance of backups and of Plans B.  Of more concern is our similar dependence on fallible sources of heat, light, water, food, transportation, and other basic necessities, but that's another issue and much harder to resolve.

After much internal debate, Porter decided to invest in an air card, a device that plugs into his computer and allows him to connect to the Internet from anywhere.  Well, make that anywhere with Cingular—oops, I mean the New AT&T—cellular service.  Unfortunately, that excludes some important locations, like Granby, Connecticut.  But it does include a great many places.  I tried it out on the way home from the airport a few days ago, and only lost service once on the 45-minute ride, and that for no more than a second.  The speed is not as fast as our normal broadband connection, but it's really not bad, especially if you use the accelerator option, which reduces the quality (and thus the downloading time) of images.

I foresee several uses of this new device in addition to the obvious business benefits that were the excuse for its purchase.  The one that is emblazoned in large letters at the present time, however, is that the major lightning strike of about an hour ago, which took out our cable connection, has not left us without Internet and phone service.  Ironically, I only two days ago I filled out a survey stating that Bright House's cable service has been very reliable and its customer service fine.  I still don't fault the cable service—a lightning strike is bound to wreak havoc.  But Bright House customer service can offer us help no sooner than next Tuesday!  That really is unaccepable.  If they were only offering cable TV service, that would be one thing, but when people are depending on you for Internet and phone service—especially phone service!—you need to be more attentive to repairs.

So I'm very grateful for our backup.  Thanks to the air card, we not only have Internet access, but were able to connect to CallVantage and have our phone calls forwarded to Porter's cell phone.

With this coming on top of my own computer being in the shop—status currently unknown—I'm once again feeling a little nervous about our dependence on technology.  There should always be a Plan B—and probably C, D, and E as well.

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that." (James 4:13-15)

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
(Robert Burns, To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough)

I had plans for this week.

They did not include dealing with a computer that refuses to awaken from sleep. My alarm clock went of at 5:15 this morning, and I was up and about within seconds. Not so my computer. (More)

It's not my story, and it's not my photograph, but it's my grandson!  (Click on the picture for a larger view.)

A true father-son moment.  Could their faces be any more radiant?

As one who habitually indulges in catastrophism, I appreciated this essay by John Stackhouse on why people don't get back to us right away when we communicate.  I'm not usually upset when people don't answer e-mails immediately, because if everyone answered e-mails immediately, we'd get sucked into in a destructive vortex.  However, I confess to what might be an inordinate desire for blog comments; my hope for many of my posts is that they will be discussion-starters, and with any of them it's nice to know that someone is at least reading my offerings.  What's more, there are certain blogs I check frequently, looking for information, commentary, and discussion, and it's hard not to be disappointed when nothing new is forthcoming. (I'm not just referring to my own family's blogs, though of course they are the most important and most eagerly sought-after.)

My resigned sigh of "Everyone is too busy actually living life to write about it" is much more accurate than my joking, "Nobody loves me."    Perhaps the most useful response, however, is to remember the times I'm slow at responding to e-mails, or fail to make a comment on a post I like, or to acknowledge a comment on my own blog—as well as the days I allow to pass without providing a new post for my own readers.  In my own case I know there are good reasons for my lack of communication.  Okay, so some of the reasons aren't really all that good—but none is malicious.

Assuming the best rather than the worst sounds like a far happier and healthier approach to all of life.

I need Porter.

I'm not in this case referring to the fact that he has a good job and my employable skills are a quarter century out of date.

Nor to the fact that when I say I'd be lost without him, I mean that literally.  Oh, I can navigate pretty well and even find my car in the parking lot if I put my mind to it.  The trouble is, my mind is usually elsewhere entirely.

Nor because it's wonderful to have someone around who can work on the roof without getting all faint-hearted and weak-kneed.

I'm not even talking about emotional support; the security of knowing someone cares if I'm late coming home; arms to comfort and a shoulder to cry on; tender words of respect and encouragement; a friendly presence in the house, and on the other side of the bed.

Not even love. (More)

It's not news to most of my readers that I loathe shopping.

If I know exactly what I want and can head directly to the store and immediately zero in on the item, purchase it without hassle, and be pleased with it when I get home, then I don't mind so much and the experience is even somewhat satisfying. You know how many times this happens over the course of a lifetime. (More)