Saturday, July 16, 2011

Etcetera, Etcetera

It has been a bit since I have done a simple post of just me and whatever is in my head.  No big theological topic (although, I have something brewing about what the church could learn from Harry Potter premiere gatherings), no Meme, no lists or pictures or poems. Just my brain... my brain on blog.

If you look to the right side of your screen (assuming you are reading on my actual blog and not Google reader or some similar service), you will notice a new widget.  A word count widget, to be precise.  I started writing a story about Sanna, here on my blog, but I have decided to finish it out of the public sector.  I am excited about where the story is going.  At the very least, one copy will be self-published and printed as a gift for my step-daughter's 12th birthday. If I am satisfied with the finished-product, I may shop it around.  Maybe I will search for an agent.  I don't really know.  Right now, I am just writing it.  It feels good to write fiction after a long break from telling stories.

Yesterday, I drove to Fort Payne, AL, where I handed my oldest son over to his Pawpaw.  They continued onto TN and I turned around and drove home.  I did all of this after barely sleeping the night before.  I had gone to the Harry Potter midnight premiere and come home hopped up on adrenaline. I read and then finally fell asleep, only to wake up screaming and smacking the sheets.  I had dreamed about large blue spiders. They were made out of thread and somehow embroidered themselves onto my quilt. They came alive and were slowly unraveling and rethreading and advancing across the blanket toward my head.  Corey had to snap me out of it. All that, and I went to the bathroom during the spider part of the movie. Ai yi yi!

I am plotting another tattoo.  I want the word "poet" in typewriter font.  I am not sure where to put it.  My first choice is the inside of my left arm.  Across the wrist is also a possibility. It would look good on the back of my neck, but then I could never see it myself.  And I just don't understand tattoos that I cannot look at.

Corey spent a week in Smithville, along with a group of our youth, building a Habitat house.  They all did a great job, and I am so proud.  I drove up there, one day, and looking at Smithville felt so strange.  It has been cleaned up a lot, but it is so empty.

Yesterday, coming back from AL, I missed my regular exit and let GPS wind me through some unfamiliar Birmingham territory to get back on route. I drove through an area decimated by the tornadoes in April.  Unlike Smithville, no one has cleaned up there. It looks as though the tornado passed just yesterday. My heart felt like a boulder in my chest, as I drove past crippled trees, their roots pointing to heaven, and houses that will never be lived in again. Glass remains shattered. Buildings are still just rubble.  No one has helped those people.  Oh, Church, if we were all doing the most we can, what mountains we could move.

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