What a week

It has been a full and rather intense week - the kind of week that feels like ideas and events and experiences and emotions are tumbling over you so fast you barely have time to process it all and give meaning to it. Here are a few of the highlights:

- It was really wonderful meeting Brian McLaren in person AND spending a delightful evening and plane ride home reading his new book "Everything Must Change". If you've been struggling with how your faith connects with the really big issues that are going on in this world - climate change, poverty, war, unfair trade, etc. - you really should read this book.

- Marcel and I attended the 25th anniversary celebration for our friends Steve and Nanci. I traveled to Ethiopia with Steve and Nanci (and produced a couple of videos with Steve, which I'll link to soon) and it's been really cool developing a friendship with them. There was great music being played at the social that night, the highlight of which was the reunion of Steve's old band "Elias, Shritt, and Bell". Their harmonies are truly amazing - kinda like Simon and Garfunkel or Crosby, Stills, and Nash.

- This week marked the seventh anniversary of the birth and death of our son Matthew. In what is becoming a family tradition, we celebrated the place he holds in our family's story by visiting his grave and making a trip to Dairy Queen for some birthday ice cream sundaes.

- I attended this concert and saw part of the related art exhibit. About all I can say is "Wow!" If you're in Winnipeg and you can take in the exhibit, you really should do so. It's incredibly moving.

- I got to chat with Bob Bennett and tell him how much his songs "We are the Kings" and "We were the Kings" have meant to me. It was a brief conversation and I didn't get a chance to tell him the story of how those songs served as a touchstone for me in Ethiopia when I found out my best childhood friend Julie's father had died and I couldn't be around to mourn with her. Perhaps another time.

- I also had a brief opportunity to talk to Carolyn Arends and let her know how her music had been my constant companion in the hospital during the three weeks leading up to the birth and death of Matthew. When she sang "We've been Waiting for You", I wept, because that was the song that was the most closely connected to our waiting and longing for Matthew. She got a chuckle out of the story of how I listened to her music on the Fisher Price tape recorder a friend had brought to my hospital room.

- After being gone for most of the week, I took Friday off and hung out with my kids. We did a little shopping and went out for lunch. They're at such a great age right now - they're truly fun to hang out with and don't require a lot of "caring for them" energy. We've had some great laughs this weekend, like when Marcel showed his age by referring to MySpace and/or Facebook as "My Face".

- I had some of the greatest conversations with people this week. Some of them happened in Toronto, as I mentioned in my last post, but some of them happened closer to home. It was really fun connecting with a new friend - the mother of one of Nikki's best friends - on her front yard. A conversation that started with the kind of sandals we both love wandered from there to fair trade, life changes, and the impact of losing a son. (Joanne, if you're reading this - WELCOME!)

- I spoke in church this morning - something I truly enjoy doing. You know what they say about public speaking being one of the most common fears among people? Yeah, well I'm an exception to that statistic. It gives me energy.

- With all of these incredibly inspiring things swirling around me, the muse has visited and I've gotten inspired with a few writing and work-related ideas. I can hardly wait to get started. Now if only I can find the time.

I think I need a quiet day in a retreat centre just to process all of this.

So good

If you want to know where I am (or where I'm about to leave, since I'm currently sitting in the airport), you can find all the clues you need here. Unfortunately, those pictures were taken on the only evening I had a chance to wander. The rest of the time, I was stuck in a boring hotel in the industrial wasteland near the airport. (Sorry Karla – no chance to hook up this time.)

But it’s been good. So good. Surprisingly good.

I’m at a Christian charities conference, and the last time I came to one of these, I felt like a fish out of water. As much as I make a continuous (or perhaps I should say repeated and sometimes sporadic) choice to be a person of faith, I do not speak the language of religion well. In fact, I wouldn’t even say that I “do” religion well. I’m a bit of a faltering Christian without the same sense of a box in which to place my faith as many people seem to have. Especially people who tend to gather in a place like this. The shape of my faith is a little less like a box and more like a loosely woven basket. (I know some of you are smiling right now, because you’ve got baskets too. And some of the holes are even bigger than you’d like, right?)

So when I’m in a context surrounded by hundreds of people for whom the language is as natural as breathing, I get a little antsy and often feel inclined to run from the room. Sometimes I envy them their boxes and their common language, but I just know it doesn’t work for me. (Like, for example, the guy who delivers the “spiritual challenge” – a mini-sermon – each morning, who says “God bless you” every time he steps out of the elevator. I seem to share an elevator with him every time I go to my room. I don’t know how to respond. “Um – yeah thanks?” Good thing he hasn’t noticed that I’ve managed to skip the “spiritual challenge” part of the morning every day since the first day.)

You can see then, why a place like a “Christian charities conference” leaves me feeling a little like an impostor. And an alien. A stranger in a strange land.

But this time, it’s been different. Not because I’ve conformed to the box or learned the language – quite the opposite. I’ve been having the most amazing conversations. I have found lots of other baskets in rooms I assumed were full of boxes. I’ve had pleasant surprises. I’ve had to readjust my perceptions of people. I love that. With one person in particular, whom I’ve known for a couple of years, a person who is a leader in a Christian relief and development agency – someone you’d assume almost certainly fits in the box category – I’ve had a couple of truly remarkable conversations. He’s faced the same doubts, the same anger at organized religion, and the same shaking of a faith he thought was fairly secure. He’s had to climb out of the box too, and is still trying to figure out the shape of his new faith. He is now my friend on a very different level than he was two days ago. What a lovely surprise!

And I’ve gotten to attend two sessions with one of my favourite writers, Brian McLaren. And after each workshop, I got a chance to chat with him one on one. He’s even more cool in person than in his books. Definitely a basket kind of guy. A basket guy who doesn’t pretend he’s got a box. My kind of guy. I’ve even got an advance copy of his new (not even released yet) book that he’s asked me to pass on as a surprise to a mutual friend of ours (but I get to read it first on the airplane on the way home). How cool is that?

There have been other great sessions too. I’ve definitely been refreshed. And I have some great ideas floating around in my grey matter.

I never expected I’d be this glad I came.

Time to put the lawnchairs away

Our private beach, Cass Lake, originally uploaded by Fumbling for Words.

In the summertime, our lawnchairs are always in the trunk of the car. Whether it's a soccer game, a family barbecue, a church picnic, a visit to the beach, or a camping trip, those lawnchairs get a lot of use. If you look closely at the photo, you'll see that the one on the left is falling apart. We've had that particular chair since shortly after we got married. It has been sat on hundreds of times by dozens of butts.

This morning, we watched the last outdoor soccer game of the season. It was a disappointing 1-0 loss for Julie's team in the semi-final round of the city championship (b-side). It's over. The end of another season.

It's time to put the lawnchairs away. Today didn't feel like summer was over - it was a beautiful day. But the leaves are changing, and we've already had the furnace on once or twice in our house.

Fall has arrived.

In other news, I'm sitting in a stinky hotel room. No funky bed and breakfast this time - it was just easier to stay where the conference is being held. I'm stuck in one of those rather boring corporate hotels close to the airport where there isn't even an interesting place to walk, and unfortunately I booked a little late and there was nothing left but a smoking room. Bummer. Plus I just had a very disappointing greek salad from room service, so this isn't shaping up to be a particularly memorable place to stay.

Oh well. At least the bed is comfy. And I have a new book to read, so I'm going to curl up with it right now. I took Lucia's advice and picked up Infidel in the airport. It looks interesting so far.

Thirteen things currently spinning through my head

(yes, I’m feeling spinny today)

Alternate title: A day in the life of my brain at work

1. Should I order more newsletters, or will 18,000 be enough?
2. Did I catch all the mistakes on the design proof of the brochure, or will someone point out a glaring error the moment 10,000 of them arrive in my office from the printer?
3. Is there something I committed to doing tonight that I’m forgetting?
4. What should I take along to read on my trip next week?
5. When will I find the time to prepare my speaking notes for Monday’s meeting? On the airplane?
6. I hope the band they hired for the conference I’ll be at next week won’t be the same country gospel one they had at the last conference I attended. (Please don’t hate me if you happen to like country gospel – it’s just not my thing.)
7. When will I get the first phone call from a disgruntled supporter saying that we shouldn’t have mentioned the connection between fossil fuel consumption and climate change in our newsletter?
8. Do they REALLY want 29,000 copies of the brochure? Just how many trees did that kill? Can I use recycled paper?
9. How will I replace one of my key staff members who gave his notice this week? Yikes!
10. Will we be ready to launch our big new program by early next month? Will I have an aneurysm before then?
11. After three years of monthly conference calls with my team, WHY haven't I learned to ask the questions so that I'm not met with stone-cold silence almost every time I ask for feedback on something?
    
12. Oooo… the new website is going to look SO lovely! Why didn’t I get this done years ago?
13. Will the designer hate me when he gets my email for 35 picky little changes to the document?

Babysitting Abby

The laundry didn’t get folded last night,
but I sat and rocked a little girl to sleep for the first time in about three years

I didn’t get started on the wall that needs painting,
but I watched my oldest daughter change her first poopy diaper and I marveled how quickly she has gone from the “pooper” to the “changer”

I didn’t sweep the floor or wipe the dirty fingerprints off the fridge,
instead I dutifully obeyed every time my 22 month old niece said “Hah-her come” (after all, when someone learns your name, how can you resist letting her wrap you around her finger?)

I didn’t pay the bills or change the sheets,
but I sat and read “Good Night Little Sheep” to an appreciative audience when it was nearly time for bed

I didn’t “accomplish” anything last night, nor did any of my children,
but for a short while we played the roles of doting auntie and cousins and we let our world revolve around a little girl who’s got a firm hold on our hearts.

At least there are some names that I DO know

I think hearing Ato G.'s story of dying girls left me feeling a bit of survivor guilt.

There's something about the nature of the type of travel I do in developing countries that makes me feel a little voyeuristic. I wander from village to village, get access to their homes, their schools, and their farms, they let me take pictures of their lives, I take a few notes for some stories and for my journal, but then I return home to my comfortable North American life, and they are left with the pain that I cannot share.

A lot of times - like the case of the young girls in the Afar region - I don't even get a chance to ask many of their names. It all happens so quickly and many of them don't speak English, so I leave feeling like I haven't really learned who they are. I am an observer. A watcher. I take back their stories, and I try to honour them the best way I know how, but I can never really be part of their pain.

While I was sitting with that thought yesterday, a little gift fell in my lap - just the kind of moment I needed to remind myself that I am doing the best I can, and that sometimes real connections do happen.

Daniel has recently arrived from Kenya. He's working in our office as an international intern this year. He'll be traveling across Canada, connecting with youth in schools and churches and sharing his story of growing up with hunger. You only need to look at his grin to know that it is not hard to fall in love with Daniel. He's got a bright light shining in him and I'm lucky to be close enough to be touched by it.
Daniel sat in my office yesterday, and I showed him my pictures of Kenya. In earlier conversation, I'd found out that he'd grown up in one of the regions I'd traveled in a few years ago. As I flipped through the pictures, his eyes lit up when he spotted familiar landmarks and even some faces that he recognized.

Then we got to this picture, and he burst out laughing.
"THAT'S MY SISTER!" he nearly shouted. Sure enough - this is his younger sister Agnes.

I remember Agnes. We were sitting at the table under the acacia tree on the farm where we'd tented the night before. It was the afternoon, between outings, and I'd found a shady spot to rest. I remember how she approached me and, in a bold yet quiet way, sat down close enough to brush her shoulder up against mine. It was clear that she wanted to be my friend.

The older women were busy cooking food for us on the open fire pit, but Agnes and one or two other young women clearly had other ideas in mind. They wanted to befriend these Canadian visitors. She sat down and we talked. For nearly an hour. She told me about her life. She was a school teacher, teaching in a village some distance from her family. She boarded with another family in the village. She talked about her family, and I'm sure she even told me about Daniel, though I had no inkling at the time that I'd meet him some day.

I am so glad that I remember Agnes, and that I can learn of her life two and a half years later. I cannot name the other girls in my last post, but somehow, remembering Agnes makes me feel a little less sad.

And I am even more glad that I get to spend the upcoming year getting to know Daniel.

They may be dead now

We had a visitor in our office yesterday. Ato G. from Ethiopia. A gentle yet bold man who's responsible for the project we visited in the Afar district, where a water diversion project has transformed the community and dramatically increased the food security for hundreds (maybe even thousands) of people. He brought pictures and stories of lives transformed, new crops growing, and a bustling and growing village. When we were there in January, the people boasted that the village school which had had only 1 student 3 years earlier had grown to 64 students. Now, merely 8 months later, Ato G. tells us that it has now grown to 250 children, and 40 % of them are girls. Women have increasingly greater responsibility in the community, especially since it has been recognized that they possess many of the skills required to move the village forward economically.

When we were there, we visited the second project that Ato G's staff are overseeing. At least a hundred workers bustled around a busy work site carrying rocks, mixing concrete, hauling water, and digging trenches. He tells us that that water weir has now been completed and they are enjoying their first crops. There is renewed hope in the community. Access to water means access to life in arid regions like the Afar.

Ato G. came with some sad stories, however. Last year's flood in the region set the communities back and meant that thick silt had to be removed from their new canals. We watched a man on a video tell us how he'd lost his farm when the flooding moved the river about 150 metres from the original riverbed. He stood looking over the rushing water and said "this used to be my farm."

The piece of news that Ato G. brought that haunts me the most, however, is the story of the young girls. "Remember all the girls you watched carrying loads of rocks in their sacks to help build the water weir? They made up a large part of our work force there. But many of them are dead now."
Female genital mutilation. That's what's killing them. The community comes together for the coming of age celebration once a year or so, and with a single contaminated blade, 50 to 100 young women lose a little piece of themselves. In the weeks that follow, many of them lose their lives.

I can't get that out of my mind and my heart. We watched these young woman work. We watched them dance in the setting sun. We watched them walk their livestock home from the fields. We watched them cast subtle flirtatious glances at the young men - the same looks you'd catch in any country of the world when young people gather.

But many of them are dead now. And those that aren't dead have been violated. And they've lost their friends.

Sometimes the work of international development feels like one step forward two steps back. The community has changed, they have access to water and more food. There are even woman serving in key roles in the community. That's all good news. But their young women are dying.

Today I am sad for those hopeful young women who danced in the evening sun. My hope and prayer is that those who survived will rise up and be strong, and that some day, when it is their turn to step into whatever leadership roles they are afforded they will say "this is enough. We will not watch our daughters die."

Things I've learned (and re-learned) in the past few days

- Rain and wind are ONLY fun if you’re in a warm place watching through a window, NOT if you’re sitting on the side of a soccer field.

- Saying good-bye to the same person again and again gets old. Quickly.

- Sending three kids back to school is FRICKIN’ expensive. New outfits, new shoes, school supplies, school fees, lunch fees – YIKES!

- Signing two kids up for indoor soccer just after you’ve finished paying for their return to school can be downright painful.

- Going grocery shopping after the above two expenses can be very nearly impossible.

- Household renovations or decorating projects will always take at least twice as long as you originally estimated.

- Wearing sandals when it’s 5 degrees (Celsius) and windy is stupid.

- Even with a “resistant to change” child, the return to school gets easier as they get older.

- Drinking hot chocolate while sitting at the side of the soccer field in the wind and the rain makes you feel only marginally more comfortable.

- Chasing half a dozen napkins (that came along with your hot chocolate and muffins) across the soccer field when the wind picks them up can be embarrassing. Especially when you’re wearing a poncho that flips up in your face every time you try to bend down to grab a dancing napkin.

- Folding your lawnchair with a cup of hot chocolate still in the cup holder is not a smart idea.

- Nutella on toast makes nice comfort food at ten o’clock at night when you’ve been watching soccer in the rain, trying to scratch together a few dollars to buy groceries, saying good-bye for the umpteenth time, and you didn’t have time for supper.

So what we’ve established so far is that I am broke, stupid, clumsy, and cold. Yep, it’s a good day to be alive. Thank god for Nutella.

And so it goes

To see what was originally in this post, go here. I didn't want anyone to hate me for having to listen to the same song every time they opened my blog.

And so it begins

School supplies are bought, everyone is equipped with indoor and outdoor shoes (yeesh), the oldest two have carefully written their names on all of their belongings, and each child is outfitted in new clothes for the first day of school. And so it begins.

Tomorrow morning, Maddie meets her new teacher. Madame R. The same kindergarten teacher Julie had. The woman is a marvel. I have seen her transform a group of five-year-olds from screaming and chaotic into quiet subdued sitting-on-the-floor-and-listening with one wave of her magic wand. Well actually it was one well-timed game of follow-the-leader around the classroom, but to my admiring eye it looked like magic. Maddie is ready to be a schoolgirl like her big sisters. And so it begins.

Yesterday Marcel met his new cooperating teacher and spent the day at his new school. He will finally be student teaching in a high school in the subjects he’s been studying for – history and social studies. This is his last year of more than 5 years of university. After a summer of being the only one awake at 7:00 in the morning, I had to smile a little when his alarm went off this morning. And so it begins.

Soccer practice for Nikki this afternoon. Julie starts again soon too. After a week at soccer camp, they’ve learned new skills and are raring to go. They have play-offs from now until the end of September. And so it begins.

Julie and Nikki are both happy with the teachers they get this year. They’re switching teachers. Julie’s moving into the grade 5 class Nikki was in last year and Julie’s teacher from last year is moving up to teach grade 6 where Nikki will be. They both liked these particular teachers last year, so they’re offering each other words of hope. And so it begins.

Beginnings for everyone. Except me. I’m thinking it’s time for a new beginning for me too. Perhaps an art class. Or photography. Or pottery again. Something that sends me out to buy school supplies for ME.

On the doorstep

As I watched Maddie play in the water on the slide the other day, I came to an odd and rather uncomfortable realization. I have spent the past 5 years preparing for her funeral.

I watch her play and more often than I care to admit, a fleeting thought passes through my mind. “How will we describe her at her funeral? We’ll talk about how delighted she was to splash in puddles. We’ll recount some funny stories about her. We’ll say she was a ray of sunshine after the dark. We may even play some of her self-produced videos.”

It’s not that I spend a lot of time worrying about her imminent death. She’s a healthy, robust child who barely ever got sick until this past year at daycare when she was exposed to all the pesky bugs that love to breed in a room full of small children. Yes she has a heart murmur, but the doctors tell us it is very, very slight and nothing to be concerned about.

So then why am I preparing for her funeral? I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about Nikki and Julie’s funerals, why Maddie?

The thing is, when you bury one child, death perches on your doorstep and you can never again live in a fantasy world that “it couldn’t happen here”. After we lost our son Matthew, we had a miscarriage. Throughout my pregnancy with Maddie, I waited for the day when the pregnancy would end. It seemed inevitable somehow.

When Maddie was born a healthy beautiful child, I thought “well, I’ll enjoy the time I have with her because it won’t last.” When the doctor discovered a heart murmur, I thought “no big surprise. I knew it wouldn’t last”. When they told us the heart murmur was so slight it was of essentially no concern, I thought “okay, then it will be something else that will take her.” I never said these things out loud, but somewhere in a hidden corner of my mind, I believed them.

I know it’s crazy and irrational, but it’s what the mind does sometimes. I don’t obsess about it, and it hasn’t made me into one of those overly-protective can’t-let-the-child-out of-my-sight parents, but it sticks with me and pops up now and then when I watch her.

I think it is the memory of Mrs. B. standing at her son’s grave that has brought this all back to me now. I wish I could banish death from my doorstep and go back to the fantasy that it could never happen here

Too soon

Eleven months ago, we said good-bye to Brad. 40 years old. Motorcycle accident. Too young to die. Today they will bury his mother. 62 years old. Heart attack. Too young to die.

Are you ever old enough to die?

Are you ever ready to say good-bye to someone who shares your life?

The last time I saw Mrs. B. she nearly crumpled to the ground at her son's grave. Overcome with grief. Now the only remaining family members - her husband, her only remaining son, and her four grandchildren - will stand by her grave and try to fathom life without her just like she tried to fathom life without her Brad.

There are hardly words to express the depth their grief must be.

My people

I spent the weekend with some lovely mer-people, and other members of my family. It was the kind of weekend that serves to remind a person how rich it can make you feel to have good people in your corner. Tonight, my corner feels full. And I am content.
You can see a bunch more pictures here.

(We missed you, B&S&A&B.)

Speaking of people in my corner, thank you SO much to all those people who replied to my last post. I feel affirmed and delighted. I am excited about this idea and I'm glad you are too. If you haven't had a chance to respond yet, please do. I'll need just a few more people on the list to make this viable. I'll keep you posted on the details as they unfold.

Creativity + Women + Retreat = My Dream

A few years ago, I facilitated an eight week creativity workshop which was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done. For eight wonderful weeks, a group of about 8-10 women came together to get inspired, share the fruits of their labour, encourage each other, find a safe space to create, try new and daring things, get their hands dirty, and discover that they were more gifted than they’d ever thought they were. For most of us (myself included), it felt like an awakening - an un-shackling. It wasn’t about painting the most amazing, critically acclaimed work of art, or writing that great novel that would launch you into stardom, it was more about giving yourself permission to pick up a paint brush or pen or camera or guitar or whatever your tool of choice may be, close the door on the laundry room, and just create to your heart’s content. It was about acknowledging that creativity is as high a calling as any and there is value in the process even without any astounding results. It was about discovering that, despite what our highly productive society too often preaches, creating art just for the sake of enjoying it is NOT a waste of time.

Last week, while I was blog-surfing, I came across a reference to a “creativity retreat”. Something stirred inside of me. It was that old longing again. A longing to go back to that place where women were safe enough to admit their fears of failure and yet encouraged to find the boldness to try anyway. A longing to once again serve as a midwife to other women’s art-babies. A longing to see the tears well up in someone’s eyes when they gave themselves permission to create. A longing to listen to the whispering of the muse and to help other people hear it too. A longing to see the bold yet terrified looks on their faces as they laid the fruits of the labour before the rest of the group.

I have waited nearly five years for the chance to do it again. I’m done with waiting. It’s time to go back to that place. Who wants to come with me?

Here’s what I want to do. I want to set aside an extended weekend (perhaps 3-4 days) where a group of women can escape to a quiet place to be inspired, to cheer each other on, to make art, to tell stories, to sit in silence, to let the tears flow, to laugh with delight, to birth and share their art-babies, to have a-ha moments, to forget about unfinished laundry, to think bold thoughts, and to just be safe for awhile.

I expect that the time-frame for this will be some time in November. Yeah, I know it’s not the BEST time to be at a retreat centre in Manitoba, but hopefully I’ll find somewhere with a cozy fireplace.

I haven’t worked out the details yet, but I thought I would first “cast my bread upon the water” and see if I can find enough interested women to make this worth the effort. Who’s willing to give it a shot? Anyone is welcome (well, any WOMEN anyway – sorry guys), as long as you can get yourself to the Winnipeg vicinity for a few days. You don’t have to be an accomplished artist, you just have to be willing to open that tiny door to the creative space in your brain.

I’m not sure of the cost yet, but I’ll work that out as I put the plans into place. (It’s not a money-making venture, so the costs won’t be astronomical.)

For now, just let me know if you’re interested. No, I’m not promising you’ll be imparted with great wisdom from a creativity guru or accomplished artist, but I can promise you that, if you are willing to share of yourself and open yourself up to new ideas, you will be inspired. I may not be the most qualified “teacher”, but I do believe I have some gifts in “facilitating” creativity and learning. Most of your learning will not come from me but from the other amazing women who choose to offer something of themselves.

Who’s with me? Reply in the comments or send me an email.

No previous experience required

As I was cleaning out my junk mail folder, I found myself wondering about the people who write these emails. Were they hired for the express purpose of writing and sending spam to millions of emails around the world? Or do they contract themselves out? Do they have business cards? If so, what's their tag line? "The best spam writers money can buy"? or "We annoy people for a living." or "Wanna lose your credibility? We'll show you how."

Can you imagine the job interview questions? Picture some young college graduate with big dreams and an advertising diploma tucked into his back pocket, walking into one of those obscure job interviews held in an undisclosed location with company X.

"Thank you for coming. Can you close the door behind you? You didn't tell anyone you were here, did you? Good, good, then let's get started. How are your writing skills?"

"Very good. Would you like to see a sample of my work?

"Nah, that's okay, we'll take your word for it. We're not talking about anything too complicated here. Have you written ad copy before?"

"Yes, I took a course in it and I got an A, so I'm sure I'm well suited to whatever you have in mind."

"Are you one of those anal retentive people who has to spell everything right, or are you okay with a few intentionally misspelled words?"

"Well, I suppose I could live it it, for the right purpose."

"Good, good. Do you have any qualms about annoying people for a living? I mean... you're in advertising after all..."

"Umm... well... can you explain yourself? Annoying people?"

"Let's move one, shall we? Do you have any experience with, um, pe*nis enlargement?"

"Excuse me? My mom told me you weren't allowed to ask me any personal questions."

"Oh, that's only if it doesn't have anything to do with the task at hand. Do you?"

"Well, not any PERSONAL experience."

"But you think you could write creative ad copy about them?"

"Well, I suppose..."

"Very well then. Would you be willing to share any na*ked pictures of yourself? Or at least a reasonable facsimile of your pe*nis?"

"WHAT?"

"Oops, I'm sorry - my H.R. advisor said I wasn't supposed to ask that until you've been offered the job. Forget I said that. How's your email address book? Do you have at least a hundred friends whose emails you'd be willing to share?"

"Ummm... I don't know..."

"Don't worry, it will all be anonymous - they'll never know you're involved. One last question - do you have any hobbies? Like perhaps fishing? Sorry... make that phishing?"

"I'm confused... just WHAT was this job for anyway?"

"We'll get to that. Okay, one last thing - how desperate are you to make money? Got any bad debt hanging over your head? Maybe a collection agency that wants you dead?"

Mad

Yesterday afternoon, while I was trying to do some paperwork, Maddie REALLY wanted my attention. "Mom, can you help me build a fort? Mom can you play a game with me? Mom can you watch a movie with me?"

Getting rather impatient (because I hate paperwork and really wanted to get it over with without further interruptions), I said "Maddie, I just don't have time right now. You're going to have to find something to do that doesn't involve interrupting me."

A few moments later came her reply. "Mom, I've found something to do that doesn't involve interrupting you. It's being MAD at you."

Stuff

- I think the fruit flies are almost vanquished. Almost. One taunted me as I came up the basement stairs this morning, and a few more met their fate in the vacuum cleaner just before my bath.

- I have to go back to work tomorrow. Holiday's over. Sigh.

- Yesterday, Julie and I collided on our bikes on the way to church. Neither of us was seriously injured, but she took the brunt of it. It wasn't a very pleasant moment, looking down at my girl lying on the pavement clutching her head and crying "oh - my head! my head!" Especially since the collision could have been avoided if I'd been paying more attention. Later she told me she'd thought she was going to go to sleep at that moment because the pain in her head was so bad. She seems to be fully recovered today though, other than a little stiffness.

- Today is school supply shopping day. Gulp. Does that mean summer is almost over?

- I still enjoy school supply shopping even if the shiny new pencils and markers are not for me.

- This year, Maddie joins the fun. Kindergarten! Somewhere along the line, I must have blinked, because suddenly I have three children in school.

- Because it was the last night I could stay up late and sleep in the next morning, I went to a late show last night. "Becoming Jane". LOVED IT!

- My sister's new house is perfectly lovely. I covet her big open kitchen and patio doors to the deck. Perhaps someday, if our remodeling dreams come true, we'll have our own.

- After our trip and the resulting build-up of dirt and crumbled snacks and unidentifiable substances in the back seat of the car, we thought we'd treat ourselves to a full-service car wash. It felt like such a luxury in these cash-strapped days. While we sat in the comfortable waiting room, I fantasized about a similar service for houses. How could I pull my house up to the building and have it emerge at the other end clean and sparkly? My fantasy was dashed however when I saw what a lousy job they'd done of the car. We had to get them to re-wipe the dashboard because it was still dusty, and re-scrub the bugs on the front end. And then on the way home, we realized they hadn't even gotten a rag anywhere near the disgustingly grungy cup holders or door handles. And the trunk? Didn't even bother to look at the crud on the carpet. How disappointing!

- Why is it that I only seem to be able to write rambling lists of random stuff these days? It must have something to do with summer distracting me.

I am woman, hear me VACUUM!

I have declared war on the fruit flies. I am a one-woman army with a vendetta. Just picture a female Rambo, but with a vacuum hose and a bottle of balsamic vinegar as my weapons. I will NOT be beaten!

Alas, the flies, they are a-multiplyin'. They are taunting me with their beady little eyes. I swear I can hear them laughing at me in their evil glee. They have taken over every room in my house. There is absolutely NO FRUIT anywhere in my house (other than sealed in the fridge), and yet they have found some place to breed and lay their eggs. And multiply, multiply, MULTIPLY!

Last night, after catching at least a hundred in my traps in various rooms of the house (yes, I made 4 traps and Marcel made one - one of them is sitting on the desk near me, but the flies are simply circling around it and laughing at me. I can hear them!), it was time to pull out the full arsenal and DECLARE WAR.

I searched every website I could find, read every comment on every bulletin board that talked about getting rid of them, and did EVERY SINGLE BLASTED THING anyone suggested.

- Balsamic/cider vinegar traps in cups with paper funnels taped to the top to keep them trapped? Check. (And then, when you've got thirty or so trapped, add a little baking soda to watch them FRY! Hey - I didn't say I was humane!)
- Pour bleach down every drain in the house in case they've been breeding in the gunk that collects in the drains? Check. (No, I didn't pour a whole bottle like some sites suggested - I'm a little more environmentally friendly than THAT!)
- Take out all of the garbage in the house, seal up all food sources, wipe every kitchen surface clean? Check.
- Look behind dressers, in pantry shelves, in lunch bags abandoned since the last day of school for abandoned fruit or vegetables? Check.
- Put a piece of fruit in the oven, leave the oven door open overnight, and then sneak into the room quietly in the morning, close the oven door and roast those suckers? Check. Nyah-ha-ha!
- Vacuum up every single pesky bug you can find? Check. With twisted and rather pathetic delight. Again and again. (Note: If you're doing this late at night and your bleary-eyed daughter walks into the bathroom to find you looking like a mad woman and waving a vacuum cleaner hose in the air, you may get some funny looks.)
- Clean out the gunk that sometimes collects in the bottom of the toothbrush cup in case they're breeding in there? Check.

And yet... and YET - the battle continues. They are not vanquished. As I type this, two of them just flew past my computer screen (and I'm in the corner of the basement furthest from the kitchen and any source of food for them). The AUDACITY!

These flies WILL NOT BE THE DEATH OF ME! I WILL win! I WILL! (Whimper.)

(Incidentally, my friend Whippersnapper is fighting the same battle at her house. Together, we are Rambo and the Terminator! Don't mess with two angry chicks with vacuums and vinegar!)

(No, I am NOT petty enough to bring one of my traps over to Whip's house, drop a rotting apple behind her dresser, and open the trap. It wasn't my fault! She had them before she came over to visit, and I haven't been there for months.)

Random, with pictures

- We have an infestation of fruit flies. Yuck. They were already here before our trip, but they multiplied while we were gone - even though we didn't leave any fruit around for them to feast on. They're in every room of the house. Just now I washed my hands in the bathroom, and there must have been thirty of them on the mirror - perhaps attracted to the windex Marcel just used to clean it. I figured out how to trap them, and I'm sure I've trapped about 100, but there are at least that many more still in the house. I may have to look for more aggressive measures.

- Do you want to see an ugly case of poison ivy? No? Well avert your eyes then, 'cause I'm showing you anyway (and this is just his legs - it has spread to his arms and back too)...
- As part of our housewarming gift for ccap and her boy and Abby, we bought them each a special plate. Guess who gets each one...
- And here's a picture of the happy homeowners... (here's hoping ccap doesn't hate me for posting a pic before she gets around to it, but I thought perhaps her downloading cord was already packed.)
- My friend Whippersnapper just stopped by for a little visit. She's one of those rare friends that, after nearly 10 years of not seeing each other, we can just pick up where we left off and still laugh just as hard and be just as relaxed with as we ever were.

- My holidays are almost over. Bummer. They sure have been good though. And thankfully, I have a job that I never hate to go back to.

- Yes, I know I've still got plenty of hormonal years to deal with, but I'm quite enjoying my preteen girls right now. During the camping trip, I kept marveling at how much easier it was to set up and take down our campsite, because they were both willing contributors in the work. And this morning was cleaning day, and my basement is VERY clean and I didn't have to lift a finger (or even nag). They've moved past that stage where you usually have to do a spot check and clean up after them.

- Speaking of cooperative kids, I think some of it has to do with the lack of TV-watching this summer (we extended TV-free month to two months). Every time we give up TV for awhile, I find I like my kids more. They seem more settled and less irritable. Plus they do more creative things. Sometimes I think we should give it up permanently.

- Tonight's an exception to TV-free month. My two preteens have waited all summer for High School Musical 2. I would be the worst ogre to walk the face of the earth if I denied them that.

And now, in pictures...

In between loads of laundry and cleaning the spilled dishwashing liquid out of the camping box, I managed to upload my vacation pictures. You can find them all here.

A sampling...