"That MUST have hurt!"

Today in my English class we studied the various uses of must, may, might, and be able to. It was thrilling. Positively chilling!

Did you know that may and might mean exactly the same thing, but that may is slightly more formal? Does it mean that I am more formal because I frequently use the word may? How may times do you use may versus might?


On other fronts: I nearly met my death on the stairs this morning. Remember them? Those marble slabs descending in parallel order from the second to the first floor? Weren't they particularly cold and unforgiving? I came down them with my computer in arm, careless and unafraid. I even had socks with little sticky things on the bottoms to keep me upright. Was it enough? Oh no. It must have been a classically gorgeous fall- my feet flew out from under me just like Jon of Garfield fame, I came down hard on one hand and my posterior and slithered, bumped, fell down three or four stairs. All without dropping my computer, I might add. Good for me. But Oy Vay did I holler!

Okay, happy Sabbath to you all. I am off to an evening of laziness. :-)

Last night I was standing behind the counter of the restaurant watching the incoming customers. Suddenly there was a crowd of fifteen or twenty policemen all in uniform standing in line. "What is this?" I thought, "County police vacation? Huge police meeting at Panera? How much food do twenty policemen eat anyway? It would have been nice if they had called first. Its going to take us forever to get them all fed."

But this is no time for idle speculation! I leaped into action just as the lights in the restaurant all went out...

and landed with a clatter on the plate and fork I had left on the floor beside my bed. The clock informed me it was only 12:30 am.

Serves me right for eating chicken pot pie for dinner RIGHT before going to sleep.

Books

With birthday money burning a hole in my pocket and a book wish-list of decent length, I made my way to to the Amazon a week or so ago.

Then I spent the next several days checking the front desk every day- hey, you never know!

Today they were on Grandma's kitchen table and I was so excited I nearly cried!


I am now the happy owner of:

The Complete English poems of John Donne (beautiful hardcover edition- I have wanted this for so long!)

Christianity for Modern Pagans Pascal's Pensees(I am going to leave this around at the restaurant- Just Kidding!)


I am so happy about them I am going to leave right now for softball and take them with me. That way I can show them to Gretchen who will be suitably excited for me.


TTFN

Death, be not proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more;
Death thou shalt die.

John Donne, Holy Sonnets X

Right back where I started from- a short journey up the East Coast

Hey Guys,
I am moving again. Really, actually I didn't "move" away from NH, I was just paying my parents an extended visit. :-) But however I word it, the fact is that I am returning to the North. Immediately. Without further delay. Okay, in the next couple of days anyway. :-)

I have been re-hired at my previous place of employment, so come visit me there!

I am looking forward to days that are less than 100 degrees, and less humidity. More than that I am looking forward to seeing those of my friends who live up there!!! Yay!

See you soon.

Going Places With God

Hey Guys,
Lisa is back from Jerusalem! She survived the killer trip and arrived in Atlanta around 10 pm. This series of flights was extra bad because the original round-trip ticket took her into Boston (where we had expected to be). We couldn't change the destination so we tacked on a one-way flight from Boston to Atlanta. Here is the list of cities she visited yesterday:

Jerusalem Tel Aviv Frankfurt Boston Baltimore Atlanta.

Pretty good, eh?

(Change of Subject coming up)

While I was in Israel and taking classes at UHL, I had a couple lectures and a couple field trips with one of the most enthusiastic and knowledgeable teachers I have ever had the privilege of studying under- Todd Bolen. He's got a blog and a website for all you interested Beulah-lovers, and I have a couple of his compiled Israel photo collections (on CD). Most Excellent.
Several months ago he offered to send a limited number of copies of this book (Going Places With God) to anybody interested if they agreed to review it when they were finished. Lisa and I both responded, but I got the book because I was in the States and the books were being mailed from the West Coast. Lucky me. :-)

Here is the review. Careful, the first paragraph is a bit thick says Lisa. Apparently I shouldn't dump all the technical info about the book on you before I grab your interest. Maybe I just have great faith in your above-average intellects and attention spans.


Going Places With God by Wayne Stiles
A Devotional Journey Through the Lands of the Bible


Just finished a winner of a book!
It is a 90-day devotional using the geography of the "connecting link between theology and humanity", i.e. the land of Israel, to drive home spiritual lessons. Each day has a verse, a lesson, a short prayer to help you actually internalize, and a quote from some well-known and classic sources. Interspersed throughout the book are reference maps and photos of various places in the Land.

I have been to Israel, so each lesson brought to mind some vivid mental images- all the way from the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem to the springs of Dan, the desert hills of the Judean Wilderness, to the Temple Mount. But despite my familiarity with the subject matter, I found many fresh and unexpected lessons both from a geographical and a spiritual point of view.

The spiritual lessons were wonderful! It takes something more than just a good writer to make a devotional books more than just a feel-good experience. I found myself intrigued, educated, comforted, and more importantly, challenged to reach higher, trust more, complain less, and love God with my whole heart.

(I would be willing to farm out my copy, but I think Lisa or Daddy want it next. Sorry, go buy your own copy.)

Wooohoooo!

Lisa is coming home today! We'll be picking her up at the airport late tonight.

Sarah is coming home tommorrow!! We'll be picking her up at the airport late Saturday night.


What a wealth of sisters!

tagged

1. I bought glasses today and I LOVE them!
2. tomorrow and Friday we are having a yard sale
3. my Mom thinks my hands are funny looking- so funny looking that she laughs out loud at them sometimes. All my fingers stick out in odd directions.
4. I dreamed the other night that Andrea had a baby brother named Owen. He had black hair.
5. I have a hankering to drive across country with a pistol, a large dog, and stack of books on tape. Though it WOULD be more fun with a bunch of friends- anybody interested in planning a trip in say, 2008 or 9?
6. I love N.C. Wyeth's work
7. I detest peach yougurt.

What the World Needs is a Few More Rednecks (come get 'em- they live in my house)

My brothers, none of whom own a car, live vicariously through me and my cars. I get all kinds of unsolicited advice on my cars, my driving, and how I could better spend my money in car-related ways.

Possible improvements to existing car, or better yet, a new car:

"Oh Katie! You should get rims like those!" says brother excitedly pointing to a low-slung boat of a car, driven by the coolest black guy ever (or so he thinks). The wheels scream glitz with miles of shiny chrome.

Okay dear," I reply calmly.

"Katie, you should really buy a Z X 679 Chevy Sports Model with factory conversion fuel-injected six cylinder wingdings."

"Whatever you say, dear."

"It costs $30,000 dollars. That's not bad, compared to a Lamborghini. It can go from 0 to 60 in 3 seconds flat and reach speeds of 250 miles per hour."

This conversation is like bubble gum- it occupies the jaw of the user and annoys the user's neighbor (that would be me).

"That's all very well and good, brother, but where am I going to come up with $30,000, and besides, when do I ever need to go from 0 to 60 in 3 seconds flat (or round for that matter), and for Pete's sake, WHEN will I ever get a chance to go 250 mph?"

Long-distance car identification:

"Oh, look at that Hemi!" says brother, pointing to a large white pick-up three lanes over and five cars up. How in the world does he know its a Hemi anyway? I can't even tell you if its a Chevy or a Ford from this distance. Besides, what's a Hemi anyway?

My identification methods are heavy on personification:
Pick-up trucks with double axles in the back have wide hips.
The Crossfire looks like it has suspenders when viewed from the back.
Some headlights look sleepy, angry, crosseyed, or bug-eyed.
One new version of the Thunderbird actually looks like its in reverse all the time because the back end looks like the front.
and....

"OOOOO! That's a pretty car! What is it?"


Technical information about cars:
I am completely in awe of the amount of car-related information my brothers have stuffed away in their brains, but mostly I can't handle hearing it. Nobody has ever sat me down and explained how an engine works. Until they do the relative number of cylinders, horsepower, and other details of brakepads, torque, etc, will leave me cold.

Thankfully, my brothers seem to handle my lack of intelligence with aplomb. They gently remind me when I am caught in a misstatement involving front or rear-wheel drive and sometimes remember to dumb down the conversation to my level.

Turn and turn about- after all, I have long since started talking about horses in car terms.

"Wow! That horse can practically take a corner on two wheels!"


Assistance driving:

Brother: "Want me to shift for you?"

Kate: "NO. And get your head out of the way, I can't see through it."

Kate: "Don't TOUCH my clutch or I'll beat you!"

Kate: "Don't you DARE touch the emergency brake, young man! Oh, it was on? Oh, okay."


Comments on my driving:

My brothers affectionately refer to my car as the Hyundai Accident. They should really call it the Hyundai Accident-Waiting-to-Happen. That I think, would be the correct name while I am driving. They think I'm a horrible driver.

"You almost squealed your tires around that corner!"

This is said in a tone of reproach and ill-concealed wistfulness. Laying rubber is an offense punishable by imprisonment in Georgia. Laws against laying rubber boggle the minds of Steve, Dan, Dave (and Kate) and are only made bearable by laws that allow one to carry guns anywhere one wants without a licence.

During one memorable parade this past year a whole line of cars were passing the police station where we were sitting on the curb. Some rednecks the next curb over started hollering for action. In one unbelievably loud and glorious moment one of the muscle cars reved their engine, shrieked their tires, and left behind a long line of black rubber and a huge cloud of smoke. We still talk about that day.

car-related gifts:
A couple Christmases ago they bought me wheel-lights. I think they would have gotten me hubcaps if they hadn't been so expensive. Wheel-lights are little things that attach magnetically to your hubs and light up when you go over a bump. These particular ones flashed blue and where very much illegal for street use. Sigh. I did use them one time- to drive down Old Marlborough Rd at 5:30 in the morning to take care of the horses.

Now they live in a clear plastic bag in my dresser and make me think fondly of my brothers every time I see an eerie blue light eminating from my middle drawer.

The day before yesterday David left a present on my pillow. It was a package of decals for my car- six 38 calibre bullet holes. He had heard me say I wanted them. (I did? When was I ever caught in such an indiscretion?)

We went outside and had a interesting discussion about where to put them: say I was involved in a drive-by shooting; I was driving at 60 mph and the guy with the 38 pistol was standing to my left shooting at me. Where would the holes be? Was it a an automatic, or a semi-automatic? Say 3 rounds per second. Hmmmmm. Daddy said they would all be at head-level which isn't practical for decals. After all, I can't but a bullet-hole sticker in the middle of my windshield, or even on my side-window for that matter.

Sidetracked from the really important issue, Daddy tells with great relish a story of seeing an Egyptian armoured car in Israel after the '67 war which had one bullet-hole right at head level in the windshield. Did the guy duck in time? Mom looks disgusted.

I get cold feet. I may be amused by bullet holes in other people's cars, but am I really willing to disgrace myself in such a manner, even for the love of my brother?

If I do, I'll post a picture (DV).

Katie vs. Goliath

Meet Goliath- 1500 lbs, 17 hands tall, all muscle and bone. Not the prettiest horse around, but one of the more solid. In his prime he was a steer-roping champion. He was so fast he could out-run the steer, and when he stopped with the steer at the other end of the rope, the steer did a back-flip. Goliath can turn a corner faster than I can think, take off from a stand-still like an explosion, and run all out for the fun of it. He is also one of the gentlest horses I have ever ridden and very well-behaved.



Daniel took this picture. The fuzziness to the right is the fencepost he was hiding behind to avoid getting run down. The yellow thing is a wire attached to a telephone pole just out of sight to the left. I am thinking to myself at this point "I hope this horse decides I mean it when I asked him to move over because I am going to look pretty disgusting without a head. And I WILL be decapitated if he doesn't move over!"

Which does not explain why I am smiling.

Motherhood

This is not a post about my mother, though Mother's Day is coming up.

I am doing a dry-run/ crash-course in mothering for a couple days. Mrs. and Mrs. L. left for the Gulf Coast to close on some rental property and I am taking care of their kids- Allison (11), Joseph (4), Benjamin (3), and Anna-Sophia (18 mo.)

Things are going remarkably well, but its so weird! We haven't had little ones in the house for years, and I forgot how time consuming they are. As in- they consume ALL available time ALL day long. Forget sitting down to read, forget eating food at meal times, forget thinking your own thoughts uninterrupted, or walking in a straight line down the path (no Sophia! THIS way!), or only managing your own food order at the drive-thru. Did you remember to wash Benjamin's hands? Sophia can't change her own diaper and she isn't going to remind you! Are they all crabby at once? Well, its your fault because dinner is late and they don't know how to be polite when they are hungry. Whose mess on the floor? Doesn't matter who made it-its mine now.

Suddenly I am thinking, planning and acting for 5 instead of one. I am responsible for their behavior and well-being, and naps are not an option (unless you think you can sleep and act as jungle-gym at the same time).

So wait, this is a post for my Mom- My word what a job! Thank you SO MUCH. I love you, and I think you are incredible.

Call it one or the other, or get a better gun

I have been wandering about the house this afternoon wearing my latest acquisition- a pair of half-chaps. Chaps are leather things that wrap around your legs to protect them from whatever. I think motorcycle dudes wear them. Cowboys wear whacking big ones that go the length of their legs and flap about. English gentlemen wear boots, or jodhpurs (Province in India/riding breeches), or sometimes subdued, snobby versions of cowboy chaps.

Half-chaps are for people like me who would rather not wear huge things, or spend a couple hundred dollars on a pair of (gorgeous) riding boots. They only cover your leg from the knee to the ankle, but that's all that matters.

On a Western saddle the part where you put your foot (stirrup) is attached to the saddle with a generous amount of smooth leather against which your leg can rest comfortably. English saddles are more stingy. The stirrup is attached by two thin leather straps which move back and forth and pinch your legs abominably. Nasty English.

I've been doing more riding recently, and am planning on continuing through the summer- on an English saddle. So, to keep myself from sporting a permanent row of bruises I drove to yon local huge saddle store and bought me-self chaps.

I love riding, and I hope to continue riding for the rest of my life, but I think this is the first time I have ever invested any money in riding. I haven't bought anything related- not even a riding helmet. Which I really could have used. I remember so many summer afternoons (Rachel, Frith?) tearing madly through the puckerbrush on horseback, barefoot, bareheaded, and brainless. We jumped and swam and thundered about and fell off repeatedly. And at the end of the day we would compare legs to see who had the most scratches.... sigh. Them were the days.

Where was I? Oh yes! investment. I was saying I hadn't ever invested in riding. Wait! There was, I suppose, the time I tied that rather flighty Appaloosa mare named Marcy to the MacCauley's water pump spigot and then sprayed her with the hose. She leaped into the air like a Pegasus and I spent most of the summer paying for a new pipe to replace the one she bent.

Anyway! I am pleased as punch with my new chaps, and I am happily anticipating putting them to good use in the next couple days. Though I admit they kind of make me look like a biker.


On to surveying.

I am learning about surveying! Isn't that cool? Blake T. is the engineer for a new bridge going up at the park across the road. He has his own equipment, but no crew I guess, so he got, Daniel, and David and me to help him out.

Actually he had already surveyed for the bridge twice, but the client didn't like the placement and picked a new spot. Blake T was sure it wouldn't fit where he wanted it. Our job was to help him find out if there was the necessary 7 1/2 feet between two large trees. The client wants the bridge between them without cutting them down. Sounds easy to figure out? It wasn't. Because it wasn't just a matter of running a tape measure. The bridge is really long, so moving it a wee bit at one end can make a big difference at the other end; possibly bringing it up against other obstacles.

We spent three hours learning how to use a transit (15 minute gun, Derrick, and whoohoo don't I feel smart to know what that means!) to shoot center lines and angles and plot trees that might be in the way, and then how to use a level to plot the elevation of temporary bench marks and tree roots. So many interesting facts about plumb bobs and angles and degrees, minutes, and seconds and tenths of a foot...

I kept on getting confused about how to read the angles and was all nervous that I was going to get it wildly wrong. The transit we used was only accurate down to 15 minute incriments. That meant that when I called the measurement there was a wee bit of guessing. I had to decide if it was closer to the 15, 30, 45, 0r 60 line. So what if it was exactly between two lines?

"Call it one or the other, or get a better gun," was the answer. In other words, this instrument only gets that close, and if you wanted it any closer, you should have brought the more powerful instrument.

There must be some life principle in that, but if I work it out it sounds too much like 'Just leave it, its good enough,' or 'this isn't a masterpiece, you know.' Sort of a lowering of standards.

But that isn't what it meant.

Anyway, I had a blast! Blake T. is a great teacher and besides that, he did all the really 'interesting' math. I just got to peer through the instruments and yell at Daniel to plumb the rod. Poor Daniel; I think found it all less amusing because he was the rod man and had to stand in the hot sun keeping an 8-foot pole steady for ages. Or run around measuring the circumference of trees with David. And pick up ticks.



So yay for surveying equipment and half-chaps!

And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart...

John Donne
Holy Sonnets I

Thou hast made me, And shall thy worke decay?
Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste,
I runne to death, and death meets me fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
I dare not move my dimme eyes any way,
Despaire behind, and death before doth cast
Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sinne in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh;
Onely thou art above, and when towards thee
By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one houre my selfe I can sustaine;
Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art,
And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.

What a cutie!

for your viewing pleasure and amusement

Happy 16th Birthday Daniel!

as if we hadn't had enough travel.

We got back Sunday evening from Fairwood, hung around Monday, and left before 6 am on Tuesday to drive to Indy.

Yep. Crazy.

But Sarah was in need of a break so Mom, Megan, and I drove down, stayed there Wednesday, and drove back Wednesday night. We got back home this morning around 4 and fell into our beds happy, bone-weary, and slightly sick on iced tea, Starbucks double-shot espresso, sugar and Cheetos.

What fun!! We planned the trip as a surprise and we managed that (mostly). The chef picked us up and the front desk and brought us back to the kitchen of the training center just before dinner. She stopped talking to someone else mid-sentence and just looked at us, then said, "What are you doing here??" and burst into tears. :-)

She had Thursday evening and Wednesday off, so we ate dinner at the center, then took her to a hotel nearby. Wednesday we slept in, wandered around the center of Indy taking pictures and eating food. In the afternoon we hung out at the center. We visited Sarah's roommate, Megan helped out in the kitchen, and I tagged along with Kendra for a bit. We ate dinner out of take-out boxes in Sarah's room and left around 6:45 pm.

Wish we could have brought her home with us. Sigh.

For Lisa

Home, James.

I was going to write about our trip home before I left Fairwood, and in fact I did, but Blogger ate what I wrote and I hadn't the heart or time to repeat. Its just as well, because the trip is so much more 'interesting' in retrospect...

We are normally fast travelers, or at least Mom is. We don't hang around staring at the scenery at rest stops, we don't sit down in Wendy's to eat our meals, and we don't sidetrack. Sometimes we even drive through the night to avoid traffic. We like the shortest route between two points, the fewest stops humanly possible, and certainly no extra days for frivolous visits.

But in the planning of our south-bound journey Mom must have lost her head.

Here is the planned itinerary:

Thursday: Leave Fairwood at 1 pm in two vehicles. Drive to NY. 4 hours.
Friday: Visit Dorothy A. Leave at 10:30 am in three vehicles. Drive to PA. 5 1/2 hours.
Saturday: Hang around PA visiting relatives.
Sunday: Leave PA as early as possible in one vehicle. Drive to GA. 12 hours.


Thus a trip which we have completed in a personal record of 17 1/2 hours has been stretched to cover four days.

I love driving trips. Somehow I managed to survive the harrowing years when my 3 brothers were small and completely dominated the van with endless bickering, silliness, constant need for food and bathrooms, and silly questions, and STILL enjoy road travel.

But even I know that dragging out a homeward-bound trip to cover four days is asking for trouble. :-)

Thursday: Due to procrastination and unforeseen obstacles I stay up most of Wednesday night working on Beulah photos. With less than 2 hours of sleep under my belt I am supposed to drive a car to NY. for Nate and Amy. We leave over a half our late and I have Megan in the car with me to keep my awake. Less than half way there the car starts doing weird things. Pretty soon Megan wonders out loud why the speedometer says I am going 0 miles per hour. I wonder why the car is slowing down even with the pedal to the floor.

Of course the horn stops working as well, and we were in a dead spot so we can't call: we watch the stern of the family ship disappear over the horizon as we drift silently to the side of the road.

They miss us pretty quick and came back. Daddy takes over the car and I crawl happily into the back seat and fall asleep.

We get the car to the next town, and with the expenditure of much time and money it makes it to NY.

Friday: Mom is to drive the van, me the resurrected car, and Daddy the Holscher's seal coating truck. We are quite the caravan. Friday is almost completely without incident. Oh yes, the truck has no heating, and with holes in the floor its rather drafty. Daddy spends the day in his snowmobile suit, and Stephen wrapped in blankets.

Saturday: Uncle Arnold spent Thursday night in the hospital with heart problems, but he is at the door to meet us Friday night. The time is spent in a happy family atmosphere of mutual love and harmony... have any of you met my Uncle Arnold? If not, I would be willing to introduce anyone interested to one the most colorful memebers of a colorful family. He is big of heart and of body, loud, happy, and sees life in black and white.

This visit includes at least 3 yelling matches, one tussle between Arnold and my mother, and a fair amount of verbal abuse flying between Uncle Arnie and myself.
He suggests that he join us on our next trip to Israel to give the Ultra-Orthodox Jews and the Arabs a piece of his mind. Somebody in the background is heard to mutter "International incident."

Sunday: Megan, Melissa, Uncle Arnie and I decide to go out 'to breakfast' late Saturday night, since 2:30 seems a bit early in the morning. We return from breakfast at 11:45, and leave for GA at 4 am, packed into one vehicle.

8:30 the sun is up, breakfast is eaten, and it slowly dawns on the general assembly that we are no longer in the snow-bound north. The temperature climbs with the sun, and all too soon a horrid truth is realized: the air-conditioning does not work.

The van has this cool little screen above the windshield which gives the time, the vehicles direction, and the outside temperature. Kind of like displaying the temperature in hell. After cheerfully racing through the 70's and 80's it seems to level out at 89. Then it creeps higher, dancing around the low 90's and briefly touching 95.

All life is reduced to the basics: " Daddy, could you open the window again?" and "Could I have something to drink?"

Around 2 pm, with the temp. at a happy 93, the van starts doing weird things in the parking lot of Walmart where we are stopped to buy food. Apparently these odd behaviors indicated a problem with the fuel pump. We spend 1 1/2 hours in some southern town identifying the problem, tracking down a fuel pump and buying said fuel pump. But we don't put it in. Daddy decids to see what happens. He figures that if it actually gives out we will just buzz over to the side of the road, nip under the vehicle, and pop in the new pump. He spends the rest of the trip visualizing himself doing so.

Daniel has a GPS. Instead of marking our house on it, he marked his tree-house. So every so often he yells out our progress to the half-dead contents of the van- "265 miles to my treehouse!" "65 miles to my treehouse!"

Then gloriously "19.5 to my treehouse!" I love Daniel's tree-house, and I have seldom been so happy to be in such close proximity to it.

I could kiss it when we finally pull into the driveway, all warm, soggy, and glowing with honest sweat.

Home, sweet Home.

hi

The nice thing about being gone from my blog for a really long time is that when I get back, it will appear on Aaron's clever blog list, and I don't have to worry about calling all my friends to let them know that I'm still alive.

I am.

I just got out of the habit.

It will probably take me a bit to get back in, especially since I'm at Fairwood and the Feast starts tomorrow night.

If you want to know what I've been up to, look at the picture of the front hall on Brandon's blog, or the pictures on Andrea's blog.

TTFN

"If Saturday is a foretaste of the Millenium, is Sunday the aftertaste?"

good reasons

Christmas+ New Year+ Computer crashed = no new posts