pearl necklace

Mumford & Sons - Winter Winds

2010-03-01T21:19:00.001-05:00

Thank-you Tim (my friend who is about to walk the Camino in Spain) - you are super.

thirst and outpour

2010-02-18T23:44:00.004-05:00

Rivers of Living Water (John 7.37-39)

On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, 'Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.'"

Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.

Water Flowing from the Temple (Ezekiel 47.6-12)

Then he led me back to the bank of the river. As I went back, I saw on the bank of the river very many trees on the one side and on the other. And he said to me, "This water flows toward the eastern region and goes down into the Arabah, and enters the sea, the water will become fresh. And wherever the river goes, every living creature that swarms will live, and there will be very many fish. For this water goes there, that the waters of the sea may become fresh; so everything will live where the river goes. Fisherman will stand beside the sea. From Engedi to Eneglaim it will be a place for the spreading of nets. Its fish of the Great Sea. But its swamps and marshes will not become fresh; they are to be left for salt. And on the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither, nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing."

Praise to be our Father who reveals himself to us as a Covenant keeping God. A God who is what we need him to be in our life situation. He is our righteousness, our holiness, our peace, our shepherd, our God who is here, our provider, the I AM.

How the Earth Loves You by David Waltner-Toews

2010-02-02T23:43:00.002-05:00

How the Earth Loves You

David Waltner-Toews

From: The Fat Lady Struck Dumb. Brick Books, 2000.

One day, perhaps when you are
in your forties, he is at your door
with a spring of daffodils.
Another day he bears lilies,
or jack-in-the-pulpits,
every day a flutter of fresh petals
and another scent whispering
at the skirt of your hair.
He seems disconcertingly traditional.
He brings roses, for instance, red ones.
You are bemused.
You look past him, sheepishly,
to the shapes of clouds,
to the paling blue sky.
When your eyes return from flight
you see your hand is bleeding,
you are clutching a sprig of thorns,
and he is gone.

He returns with fat red tomatoes,
waxy green peppers, a peach pressed firmly,
gently, from his palm to yours.
You can still feel the scars
from his roses. Your hand retreats.
Your fingers brush.
Your breath like a wave curls under, tumbles,
pulls back. Your belly tenses.
You are surfing, barely skimming the sand,
an unspeakable fear swelling your tongue.

Do not speak it.
This is what you were made for,
the heat of his gaze on your fore-arm,
burning your cheek.
You feel the slack first in your knees,
then your back. Do not succumb.
The best is still to come.

In the fall, he leaves in a glorious swirl
of gold and rust, amid the chatty travel songs
of migrating birds. You ache in his absence,
raking at the unreachable pain
in your chest. When you think of him,
you balk at his easy certainty,
his knowledge of your desire.
You delight in the melting snow-flakes
that catch in his hair.
You sigh at how his breathing undulates
under the white quilt. It is enough to lie
in bed on a slow Saturday,
to know he will come, his cool palm
stroking your belly, your breasts,
unexpectedly clutching your breath
as if it were another bouquet.
Do not hasten his wooing.
He will come soon enough.
You must not speak his name.
Only when you slip life's pearls
through your fingers, like a rosary,
counting the day after day
of his unfailing courtship,
when you have ached for him
in all the little things - in how you walk,
how your fingers probe a place for seeds,
how your cheek presses to his hard belly,
how you touch the mound where new life stirs —
only then will you be ready,
the light will break through
and the darkness, together,
and you will understand, finally,
who it is who has loved you
all this time, so well.

Planet Earth - PK Page

2010-01-18T23:21:00.002-05:00

In tribute to PK Page, an accomplished and inspiring Canadian poet.

Prophet in Kentucky

2010-01-13T21:43:00.004-05:00

Before people can live in harmony with their communities, or their spouses, or their topsoil, they need to be at peace with themselves, and that is Berry’s main concern. We need to live in real places, not in the generalized lobbies that modern houses often are. We need to be at home in our bodies, too – not in the “useless, weak” husks that we drag daily to the flourescently cheerful “health club,” but a body that each day knows the “elemental pleasures of eating and drinking and resting, of being dry while it is raining, of getting dry after getting wet, of getting warm against after getting cold, of cooling off after getting hot.” Of being tired at sundown and at life’s end feeling “a great weariness... like the lesser weariness that comes with day’s end – a weariness that had been earned and was therefore accepted.”

The rigorous life, with some goal beside a higher “standard of living,” Berry implies, need come not only through farming. The same forces that distort and maim our agriculture – fear of dredgery, the endless demand for more, and faster – also cause many other problems, both environmental and social, that we face. We drive or take a taxi when we should walk or ride a bike – if we were on foot we would not only emit less carbon dioxide, we’d be in closer touch with our communities, the way a farmer on a horse-drawn plow knows his field better than the pilot of a huge combine. And we would use the muscles that we must have been born with for some better reason than bouncing in front of a video. We would be out in the weather, and at day’s end we’d be weary instead of tense.

There are a thousand other ways we could try to shift our lives to create a more sustainable world; but, as Berry makes clear, it would be foolish to underestimate how difficult this will be or how powerful are the habits and interests that must be overcome. As economic actors we, through our investments, require corporations to look ahead a quarter or a year at a time, to make for us as much money as possible, even if that means, to give the tiniest example from the most recent Exxon annual meeting, not building our oil tankers with double hulls. As consumers, even those of us who are well-to-do often demand the cheapest possible food, though this requires the most harmful farming, and the most comfortable cars and houses, though they may well be helping to create an uncomfortable planet.

As citizens we deamnd lower taxes, instead of devoting ourselves to figuring out how to share the world’s greatest concentration of wealth with an increasingly poor nation and world. Suspicious of real change, and of more work and less luxury, we place our faith in frequent incatations about unceasing economic growth and technological expansion, even though our logic tells us they are as unlikely as endless growth in the food supply and our scientific instruments tell us they are starting to harm our planet as surely as poor farming erodes our soils.

Wherever we live, however we do so, we desperately need a prophet of responsibility; and although they days of the prophets seem past to many of us, Berry may be the closest to one we have. But, fortunately, he is also a poet of responsibility. He makes one believe that the good life may be not only harder than what we’re used to but sweeter as well (McKibben 276-277)

McKibben, Bill. The Bill McKibben Reader: Pieces from an Active Life. New York:Henry Holt and Company, 2008.

Gift of Creation

2009-12-19T08:45:00.005-05:00

This post was written by Byron Borger for his monthly book review column. He operates a diverse independent bookstore, Hearts & Minds Books. I met him last year at Jubliee and absolutely fell in love with what he does.

It is late Friday night here in South Central Pennsylvania and the weather people are predicting a serious storm with deep snowfall. It is coming down brisk but soft even now. As a struggling businessman, I am frustrated that this will surely kill holiday shopping on what, for us, needed to be the busiest day of the year. As a Christian, I stand in awe at God's power and the power of creation, wanting to praise Him in all things, and trust His providence. And as a human being, as a busy and stressed person this crazy time of year, I'm actually looking forward to the reprieve that a heavy snowfall brings. Ahh, yes, my bad back will hurt as we shovel out, but the stillness and beauty will be spectacular. As I grow older I dislike the cold and hassle, but I still relish the sheer beauty of God's changing seasons. Snow really is an amazing thing, isn't it? A servant of God, Psalm 119:91 assures us.

So, a quiet night, tense with anticipation of the coming storm, and a time for reflecting on the importance of (again) a robust and serious doctrine of creation. Obviously, this is why I wrote about Copenhagen earlier in the week, and reminded BookNotes readers of the call to stewardship of creation, and the duty to do justice to all creatures (not the least of which are the people in developing countries that feel the anguish of environmental disregard.) The whole creation (as Romans 8 puts it) is really groaning. Can we "read the signs of the times" and see judgment and mercy, and the need for response in this groaning? Let us pray, in Jesus name, for eyes to see and ears to hear. Despite controversies of fudged climate data and debates about proper policy and carbon offsets and such, we know God wants us to care for His beloved planet.

Besides the dozens of great, theologically-sound and quite compelling Christian studies of the environment, creation-care and proper response to the environmental crisis that we stock (and that we hope your church library or fellowship group or parish reading group has a few of), we can---and I believe, we must---read books to remind us to enjoy the beauty of the Earth. Of course some of us may be able to do this without reading about it, but I am sure that some of us need a little help (or, at least, can use books as resources in this habit of heart.) Of course we must protect her from the ideologies, systems and practices that assault her. (We would not sit and gaze at the beauty of our lovely spouse or sister or mother if she were being mugged or raped, would we?) Yes, we need analysis and action, theology and politics, research and guidebooks. Yet, I am confident that sustained care for these things (from daily acts of recycling or buying more organic food to lobbying for wise public policy options) will not just come from a stewardship theology or duty. It will come, also, from delight. (Maybe you know the Bruce Cockburn song from the CD You've Never Seen Everything reminding us "don't forget about delight." Lovely, lovely quiet rock, with cool, jazzy fiddle and soothing harmonica, from a profound poet and prophet on these very matters!)

Here's are three books to help us regain our focus, see the sensuous real-ness of things, train our hearts and eyes to enjoy and care.

Remember Creation: God's World of Wonder and Delight Scott Hozee (Eerdmans) $15.00 Thank goodness that this previously out of print collection of essays and sermons is now back in print! It is one of my personal favorites for insight and sheer beautiful writing. It is less about the science or economics of protecting the Earth or fighting for ecological sustainability but worshiping God by appreciating creation. It is truly about the spirituality of seeing, of understanding the complexities of the Earth, of being doxological in our walking around on the Earth. A lovely collection, wonderfully written, enjoyable and entertaining and, very profound. It, I think, would be pretty convicting for most of us. Very highly recommended.

The Gift of Creation: Images From Scripture and Earth edited by Norman Wirzba, photography by Thomas Barnes (Acclaim Press) $39.95 There are many books of nature photography, collections of stunning calendars and coffee table collections. Some are by serious photographers, some are a bit cheesy. You can probably get 'em cheap at the bargin bin at the local big box store. A few are breath-taking, but have stupid new age quotes over the pages (or Bible verses in ugly fonts, which, aesthetically speaking, isn't much better.)

It is hard to find a book that has top-notch photography, caringly produced by local folk with real integrity, and that isn't marred by goofy or sappy/inspirational text. We trust Norman Wirzba, who has written widely on a Christian philosophy of creation, directs a remarkable program at Duke U. researching a sense of place, and (for what it indicates) has written about, and is friends with, the poet-farmer-essayist Saint Wendell Berry Wirzba's book on sabbath is radical and wise and grand; he is one to listen to. When I heard that Wirzba had helped pull together this Kentucky photographers pictures, I knew we had to have it. It is from a small regional indie press: of course. We had to order it.

Little did I know that this heavy, well-produced hardback--big, but not too big-- has over ten essays alongside this amazing, amazing photography. The photographer is well respected and teaches forestry at the University of Kentucky. He's worked in extension services as a wildlife expert and his photography skills have been widely used all over the country. And, little did I know (ha!) that a few of the contributors to the text of this book are acquaintances, writers I deeply respect and appreciate. Within this handsome full-color gift book you will also find really important and wonderfully serious essays by the likes of Calvin DeWitt, Matthew Sleeth, and an essential, creative and exceptional piece by Dr. Sylvia Keesmaat (a New Testament scholar best known as co-author of Colossians Remixed.) If this book just had the essays, it would be worth shelling out for. That it is also a coffee table gift book full of rare and wondrous shots, meditation pieces about the gift of God's wonderful world, the value far exceeds the cost. This book is a treasure, a delight, and I intend to spend time looking carefully at it tomorrow during the snowstorm.

Here are some of the authors and their topics found in The Gift of Creation: Ellen Davis from Duke (who has a brilliant book on agrarianism and the Bible, by the way) on Genesis 1; Norman Wirzba reflecting on "being a creature" in light of the Noah story; John Rausch (who directs the very important Catholic Committee on Appalachia) explains the relationship between "sabbath creation" and "sabbath economics." There is a piece on the Psalms, one by a Jewish scholar and activist on "natural intelligence in the Song of Songs" and there is a very important one called "Nature's Travail and Renewal in the Prophets" (written by Presbyterian Bible scholar and activist, William Brown.) I think the chapter on Jesus and the Earth (in Luke) looks very good and I have thoroughly enjoyed, and learned much, again, from the remarkable piece by Sylvia Keesmaat on Paul and the hope for creation. It is so beautifully written (even as it is in formed by serious scholarship and profound Bible knowledge) that it nearly cries out to be read out loud. Lastly, Barbara Rossing from the Lutheran School of Theology reflects passionately on themes of creation found in apocalyptic literature. There is a helpful appendix offering various internet sites for creation care and a good and serious bibliography. Who knew a gift book could carry so much intellectual learnings and Biblical scholarship?

But, yet, again, it is the artwork here, the gloriously well-done photo shots that make the book. It is a nicely made, handsomely arranged and nicely shown story of a man and his camera, the work that he does, and the fruit of his amazingly wise eye for the details of this world of wonder. There are fairly standard pictures of winter churches and National Park vistas and delightful waterfalls and sunset lakes and grazing fawns--which could be cliched, I suppose, but are not in this arrangement. And then there are the close up looks at the bright color of a spotted salamander or the dull grayness of a cliff or the brown, brown fur of a hare. Yes, some of these look like Audubon calendars or Sierra Club appointment books (and, I hope you know, that is a great compliment, indicating the quality of the composition and the beauty of the work.) I admit that a few shots perhaps seem a tad plain, but perhaps this is good. Not all of God's good world is stunning. There are rather ordinary looking animals, rather mundane fields, barns that are, well, just barns, and not striking in their cool paint-peeling hipness. I sense that this Tom Barnes guy is (how do I say this nicely) not an elitist or at all pretentious. He sees stuff that most of us see, and some of his shots are fairly ordinary--even the ones of moose or flowers. They are accessible. Yes, yes, there is stunning light and odd shadow and blasts of colors in autumn leaves and sheer mist over giant waterfalls. Still, I think some of these shots are somehow more approachable than some in the calendars, showing us the subject--the ordinary life of the creation itself---and not drawing attention to the artfulness of the photographer. That is, these are less about Barnes talent and more about the flora and fauna, the landscapes and locations. Even the graphics are under-whelming, nice little fonts that aren't powerful; again, some designers these days are so absolutely fabulous that you end up looking at the sidebars and pull quotes and color and shades. This is not like that. I think it works well. It is, after all, produced by Norman Wirzba, a friend of Wendell Berry's, and the photographer works in forestry. This is a book for homes and outdoors-lovers and Sunday school classes, not the bohemian galleries.

The subtitle is "images from Scripture and Earth" and indeed the Biblical study is serious, but often imagistic. And they open up our minds to have hearts to see. Conversely, these nice pictures open us up to hear the Word of God. Excellent photography, wonderful creation, serious Bible study. I don't know of any book like it, I really don't. Thanks to Wirzba for pulling it off, and many, many thanks to Mr. Barnes for focusing our attention on the handiwork of a generous, involved Creator. The Gift of Creation is a fine, fine book, a gift itself, in more ways than one. Enjoy!

Winter: A Spiritual Geography Gary Schmidt and Susan Felch (Skylight Paths) $18.95 We have often promoted these four books (I've noted the Winter one, here, but there are three others, naturally entitled Spring, Summer and Autumn.) These are a dream-come-true for literary-type nature lovers. Edited by two fine writers from the English department of Calvin College in Grand Rapids, with a very broad spiritual eye, these include short pieces, poems, essays, excerpts of novels, and great literature from across the ages and faith perspectives. From Annie Dillard to Henry David Thoreau, from Sanskrit to Hebrew Bible, from E.B. White to John Updike, these essayists and writers help us see the season as a metaphor, to enter into, to appreciate, to experience. What a genius idea. I know a few folks who have given all four as a handsome gift pack, wrapped together with rugged twine or seasonal yarn.

The Purpose of Vocation: Living Outside Ourselves

2009-12-07T23:03:00.003-05:00

I found this booklet on The Circumcision and the Name of Jesus, by Rev. Marcus Zill, pastor of St. Andrew's Lutheran Church and Campus Center. This particular section is addresses vocation and I found it challenging and moving.

God our Father, Your Son grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and men. Bless, guide, and govern the children and young people of Your Church by Your Holy Spirit that they may grow in grace and in the knowledge of Your Word. Grant that they may serve you well and usefully, developing their talents not for their own sakes but for the glory of God and the welfare of their neighbor…through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Petition “For Young Persons,” LW, p.127

The purpose of all vocations is the self-sacrificial service of others. As Wingren puts it “God does not need our works, but our neighbor does.” Strictly speaking, we don’t “serve” God; He is always the one serving us. Rather, we “serve” our neighbor. Thus Luther taught that the Christian always lives outside of himself – in Christ by faith and in the neighbor by love. Through His Divine Service to us and in us, Jesus turns our selfishness inside out.

“Holiness before God is a gift of the Gospel, already established by Christ. Love towards the neighbor is a requirement of the law (Matthew 23:29 “You shall love your neighbor…”)

It is only before God that man stands alone (i.e. as an individual). In the earthly realm man always stands in relation to, and bound to others. Before his neighbor, the Christian is a doer of what God wants done in the world; Before God, the Christian is not a doer but a receiver.

“The sun shines in exactly the same way on all: the peasant and the king, the thorn and the rose, the pig in the alley and the lovely girl. They all receive alike of the sun’s light and warmth. But the works and actions which such diverse creatures carry on in the sunlight are widely different, and must be so. Likewise, all people are alike before Christ, who, like the sun, gives himself alike to all. All receive the body and blood of Christ in the Lord’s Supper; and all hear the same gospel. As for the reality which makes us Christians there is not the slightest difference between man and woman, young and old, learned and unlearned, great saint and frail character. The differences among persons all lie in the things which they can severely do, a capacity or a work, and these activities are directed ‘downward’ to the service of others. Before God in heaven there are no differences; all are simply human beings and sinners, to whom Christ is given, just like the sun that sheds its light on all without discrimination.”[1]

[1] Wingren, 174.

"O Brother Where Art Thou?"

2009-10-20T12:38:00.001-04:00

The Interior Castle

2009-10-15T17:04:00.005-04:00

The introduction to St. Teresa of Avila's The Interior Castle moved me to tears.

The Calling

written by Mirabai Starr

There is a secret place. A radient sanctuary. As real as your own kitchen. More real than that. Constructed of the purest elements. Overflowing with the ten thousand beautiful things. Worlds within worlds. Forest, rivers. Velvet coverlets thrown over featherbeds, fountains bubbling beneath a canopy of stars. Bountiful forests, universal libraries. A wine cellar offering an intoxication so sweet you will never be sober again. A clarity so complete you will never again forget.

This magnificent refuge is inside you. Enter. Shatter the darkness that shrouds the doorway. Step around the poisonous vipers that slither at your feet, attempting to throw you off your course. Be bold. Be humble. Put away the incense and forget the incatations they taught you. Ask no permission from the authorities. Slip away. Close your eyes and follow your breath to the still place that leads to the invisible path that leads you home.

Listen. Softly, the One you love is calling. Listen. At first, you will only hear traces of his voice. Love letters he drops for you in hiding places. In the sounds of your baby laughing, in your boyfriend telling you a dream, in a book about loving-kindness, in the sun dipping down below the horizon and a peacock’s tail of purple and orange clouds unfolding behind it, in the namelss sorrow that fills your heart when you wake in the night and remember that the world had gone to war and you are powerless to break up the fight. Let the idle chatter between friends drop down to what matters. Listen. Later his voice will come closer. A whisper you’re almost sure is meant for you fading in and out of the cacophony of thoughts, clearer in the silent space between them. Listen. His call is flute music, far away. Coming closer.

Be brave and walk through the country of your own wild heart. Be gentle and know that you know nothing. Be mindful and remember that every moment can be a prayer. Melting butter, scrambling eggs, lifting fork to mouth, praising God. Losing you temper and your dignity with someone you love, praising God. Balancing ecstasy with clear thinking, self-control with self-abandon. Be still. Listen. Keep walking.

What a spectacular kingdom you have entered! Befriending the guards and taming the lions at the gates. Sliding through a crack in the doorway on your prayer rug. Crossing the moat between this world and that, walking on water if you have to, because this is your rightful place. That is your Beloved reclining in the innermost chamber, waiting for you, offering wine from a bottle with your crest on the lable. Explore. Rest if you have to, but don’t go to sleep. Head straight for his arms.

And when you have dismissed the serpents of vanity and greed, conquered the lizards of self-importance, and lulled the monkey mind to sleep, your steps will be lighter. When you have given up everything to make a friend a cup of tea and tend her broken heart, stood up against the violation of innocent children and their fathers and mothers, made conscious choices to live simply and honor the earth, your steps will be lighter. When you have grown still on purpose while everything around you is asking for chaos, you will find the doors between every room of this interior castle thrown open, the path of home to your true love unobstructed after all.

No one else controls access to this perfect place. Give yourself you own unconditional permission to go there. Absolve yourself of missing the mark again and again. Believe in the incredible truth that the Beloved has chosen for his dwelling place the core of your own being because that is the single most beautiful place in all of creation. Waste no time. Enter the centre of your soul.

this is my home

2009-10-09T12:43:00.003-04:00

A great article that was recommended by Gideon Strauss.

Hamilton's dead. Or is it?

snapshots

2009-09-29T16:27:00.007-04:00

build

2009-09-27T22:18:00.005-04:00

There is a legendary story of a rich man who visited a cathedral while it was being built and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of the beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it."

And the workman replied, "Because he sees."

marshmellow

2009-09-18T14:42:00.002-04:00

This seems like a type of torture technique for kids.

A Conversation with Eugene Peterson

2009-09-14T14:13:00.008-04:00

In the new earth I hope to sit down with Eugene Peterson and spend a good amount of time just listening to him. I read an article titled 'A Conversation with Eugene Peterson' from Image this afternoon and was moved by his insights on embodying the gospel. I especially love that he has a deep appreciation for literature!

Also, Angela told me that Bono once asked Eugene Peterson to meet with him, but Peterson turned him down because he was writing. My fascination with him rose and now is overflowing into this blog.

Here is an excerpt from the conversation:

Image: What poets do you read and benefit from? What theologians?

EP: Auden has meant a lot to me. I learned more about prosody from Auden than anyone else. Some of his poems seem to me so probing of the human condition and the culture in which we live. He was very much aware of the nature of the culture, and had a clear sense of how the gospel and redemption work in it.

At one point in my life T.S. Eliot was the poet who was most important to me. The contrast between The Waste Land and Four Quartets sees to me such a stark illustration of what happens when a sharply attentive non-Christian mind becomes a sharply attentive Christian mind. As a pastor, it's easy to find out what's wrong with the world and condemn it and preach into it. It's a very different thing to look at that same world and pray it. That's what I wanted to do, and Eliot was primary in my learning how. I'll always be grateful to him for that.

The two writers who've most influenced the way I use language and the way I developed vocationally as a pastor are Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Theologically I was brought up on Calvin and Luther and later on Barth. They're all magnificant theologians, and not without imagination. They care about words, but I think of them as mountain climbers. They go to the heights. They see the whole thing. But five or ten years into being a pastor, I was introduced by a friend to Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. They are theologians of a very different kind. I think of them as theologians of the valley, where people live. Tersa is a storyteller. Everything she wrote is storied. John is a poet. Much of his writing is explication of his poetry, but all of it is rooted in the poetry, which has its basis in the Song of Songs. I realized that as a pastor I need Teresa and John right alongside Luther and Calvin and Barth. My job is not just announcing the truth of God; it's getting people into the country where the truth is lived. Teresa and John do that magnificentyly. While Luther and Calvin and Barth are proclaiming the truth from the mountain, Teresa and John are down in the valley plowing the fields, sowing the seeds, pulling the weeds. That's what pastors do. That's also what poets and novelists do. I couldn't live without the mountain climbers, but I couldn't do my work without the farmers.

little city farm

2009-07-21T22:38:00.020-04:00

Yesterday, a co-worker of mine told me about a place that caused my heart smile. Last week, she went with her Mom to a Bed and Breakfast in Kitchener called Little City Farm. This is a home in a city that has a hens in their yard, no tv, shelves and shelves of books, a vegetable garden, freshly baked bread, strawbale walls, green rooftops, a friendly dog, and cozy rooms, all run by a young couple with a small baby.

Did this cause me to start dreaming about the possibilities of incorporating this into my future aspirations? Maybe, just maybe it did.

Here is some excerpts from their website:

"Many environmental visionaries have inspired us, and we are practicing ways to reduce consumption and incorporate natural cycles into every day living. Rather than setting up a rural homestead, we are exploring a sustainable lifestyle in the city and we hope to share this with our guests."

"To us, urban homesteading means a conscious choice to live more simply and within our means, while supporting endeavors that promote community & sustainability, and increase the livability of our city."

"As urban homesteaders we are learning to produce quality homemade goods that are necessary to meet our everyday needs. We grow much of our own food, recycle our greywater through a pond system, bake in an outdoor cob oven, incorporate solar power, eat a vegetarian diet, use bicycles or a shared co-op vehicle for errands, use a passive-solar greenhouse to produce fresh greens all winter long, support local artisans, and buy from farmers who we know by name."

"In the past, we have lived and worked on a variety of organic & biodynamic farms across Canada, and have developed a passion for growing our own food and living a life that is light on the earth. We also enjoy the vibrant community & car-free options the city life offers, and yet dream of a slower, self-reliant rurally based existence."

"You are cultivating peace at Little City Farm..." - Charlie, North Carolina

The Singer

2009-07-16T22:59:00.008-04:00

Lately, this an aspect of the gospel that I am learning to cling to and the Spirit is teaching me to trust.

The Sermon on the Mount, from Matthew 6,9 and Luke 12, as told in The Jesus Storybook Bible (a highly reccomended resource for young families and all Christians alike).

Wherever Jesus went, lots of people went too. They loved being near him. Old people. Young people. All kinds of people came to see Jesus. Sick people. Well people. Happy people. Sad people. And worried people. Lots of them. Worrying about lots of things.
What if we don't have enough food? Or clothes? Or suppose we run out of money? What if there isn't enough? And everything goes wrong? And we won't be all right? What then?
When Jesus saw all the people, his heart was filled with love for them. They were like a little flock of sheep that didn't have a shepherd to take care of them. So Jesus sat them all down and he talked to them.
The people sat quietly on the grassy mountainside and listened. From where they sat, they could see th blue lake glittering below them and little fishing boats coming in from a night's catch. The spring air was fresh and clear.

"See those birds over there?" Jesus said.
Everybody looked. Little sparrows were pecking at seeds along the stony path.
"Where do they get there food? Perhaps they have pantries all stocked up? Cabinets of food?"
Everyone laughed - who's ever seen a bird with a bag of groceries?
"No," Jesus said. "They don't need to worry about that. Because God knows what they need and he feeds them."

"And what about these wild flowers?"
Everyone looked. All around them flowers were growing. Anemones, daises, pure white lilies.
"Where do they get their lovely colours? Do they make them? Or do they go to work every day so they can buy them? Do they have closests full of clothes?"
Everyone laughed again - who's ever seen a flower putting on a dress?
"No," Jesus said. "They don't need to worry about that because God clothes them in royal robes of splendor! Not even a king is that well dressed!"

They had never met a king but at they gazed out over the lake, glittering and sparkling below them, the hillsides dressed in reds, purples, and golds, they felt a great burden lift from their hearts. They could not imagine anything more beautiful.
"Little flock," Jesus said, "You are more important than birds! More important than flowers! The birds and the lowers didn't sit and worry about things. And God doesn't want his children to worry either. God loves to look after the birds and the flowers. And he loves to look after you, too."

Jesus knew that God would always love and watch over the world he had made - everything in it - birds, flowers, trees, animals, everything! And, most of all, his children.
Even though people had forgotten, the birds and the flowers hadn't forgotten, they still knew their song. It was the song all of God's creation had sung to him from the very beginning. It was the song people's hearts were made to sing: "God made us. He loves us. He is very pleased with us."
It was why Jesus had come into the world: to sing them that wonderful song; to sing it not only with his voice, but to make it his whole life - so that God's children could remember it and join in and sing it, too.

Austen and BBC

2009-07-05T17:45:00.006-04:00

This is my favourite recipe when it comes to film.

3 cups of Jane Austen
1 cup of BBC

Enjoy on a chilly evening, wrapped up in an
aphgan, with tea and good company.

One day, I hope to be able to glace over at one of my nearby shelves to realise that I happen to own all 6 of the BBC productions of Jane Austen's novels. That will be a good day.

O Canada

2009-07-01T21:41:00.001-04:00

a resounding resevoir

2009-06-29T23:08:00.017-04:00

This is one of the most beautiful depictions of worship that I have encountered. It is from a Ravi Zacharias talk entitled, "Why Don't I Feel My Faith."

"I say to you that music comes into your life and builds a resevoir so that in the moments where you are down and the moments where you are dark inside, a song, a hymn, or a chorus, or whatever it is, will come back to lighten your path and lessen your load. There is a Reader's Digest article that says that when we are alone we dance. I don't know if that's true, but I do know that when we are alone we sing. I will tell you what, the great hymns, the great songs that you sing in the car, sing alone at home, or listen to by way of record or a tape, when the church gives us that gift, it gives us the sentiments that can lift us in darker moments. I saw this demonstrated. My father-in-law suffered a heart attack and we were living in the fear of not knowing if he was going to make it. We were in church that morning, while he was at home resting, battling this through, really emotionally struggling, and I was sitting in the balcony with my wife and our children and downstairs was my mother-in-law sitting next to her friends. I watched her through the whole service and she had a very sad countanence the whole time. The preacher was done, the testimonies were done, everything was done. Then the closing hymn began and the tears could not longer be repressed. This was the hymn that was sung, and the tears just flowed. It put it all together for her.

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to your God to order and provide;
In every change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

I watched her cry and I thought that was good, it was therapeutic, everything had come together. The word of God to came to her. The language reminding herself of the truths, the language of friends seated around her, the language of obedience, a life that had served him over all these years, and now the language of the church as a song was ministering to her heart and lifted her above the dark lonliness and possible heartache around the corner."

feminism and food

2009-06-26T16:29:00.008-04:00

This is an excerpt from the novel that I am currently reading, The Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. It struck a chord so I am sharing it with you. Read and respond if you would like.

I understand that most US citizens don't have room in their lives to grow food or even see it growing. But I have trouble accepting the next step in our journey toward obligate symbiosis with the package meal and takeout. Cooking is a dying art in our culture. Why is a good question, and an uneasy one, because I find myself politically and socioeconomically entangled in the answer. I belong to a generation of women who took as our youthful rallying cry: Allow us a good education so we won't have to slave in the kitchen. We recoiled from the proposition that keeping a husband presentable and fed should be our highest intellectual aspiration. We fought for entry as equal partners into every quarter of the labor force. We went to school, sweated those exams, earned our professional stripes, and we beg therefore to be excused from manual labour. Or else our full time job is manual labor, we are carpenters or steelworkes, or we stand at a cash register all day. At the end of a shift we deserve to go home and put our feet up. Somehow, though, history came around and bit us in the backside: now most women have jobs and still find themselves largely in charge of the housework. Cooking at the end of a long day is a burden we could live without.

It's a reasonable position. But it got twisted into a pathological food culture. When my generation of women walked away from the kitchen we were escorted down that path by a profiteering industry that knew a tired, vunerable marketing taget when they saw it. "Hey, ladies," it said to us, "go ahead, get liberated. We'll take care of dinner." They threw open the door and we walked into a nutrtional crisis and genuinely toxic food supply. If you think toxic is an exaggeration, read the package directions for handling raw chicken from a CAFO. We came a long way, baby, into bad eating habits and collarterally impaired family dynamics. No matter what else we do or believe, food remains at the center of every culture. Ours now runs on empty calories.

When we traded homemaking for careers, we were implicity promised economic independance and worldly influence. But a devil of a bargain it has turned out to be in terms of daily life. We gave up the aroma of warm bread rising, the measured pace of nurturing routines, the creative task of molding our families' tastes and zest for life; we recieved in exchange the minivan and the Lunchable. (Or worse, convience-mart hot dogs and latchkey kids.) I consider it the great hoodwink of my generation (126-127).

amen.

2009-06-21T15:47:00.004-04:00

Thank-you Lord for a Dad who demonstrates aspects of Your faithfullness and love.

international clothesline week

2009-06-06T22:55:00.004-04:00

Do you remember as a kid seeing your mother hang the clothes on the clothesline and a few hours later helping her to take them down and smelling the freshness of each piece? Even in the winter you'd be pulling in frozen pieces of clothes that would stand on their own. Now most people ONLY use dryers ... lots of dryers!

Over 80% of our households have a clothes dryer drawing huge amounts of energy! If every household participated for even one day hanging their clothes to dry it would save us a huge amount of energy and a huge dollar savings. More importantly that translates into less charcoal pollutants and thus less health consequences associated with coal driven electricity. As a global community, if we could all hang our clothes to dry, it will mean healthier mentalities, healthier relationships and a healthier earth. And that's just one day; how about a week, a year, a lifetime?

sew darn frustrating

2009-05-21T00:39:00.002-04:00

In a couple of days I will be taking the walk. No, it isn't down the isle, it's across the stage of graduation.

If you ask me what I will wear, I would have responded with, "This glorious dress that I am making."

Except tonight the bobbin broke and since my machine is made in the 1970's, I cannot replace the part, thus I can no longer go on. Am I upset? Slightly.

how to eat maple seeds

2009-05-14T12:55:00.004-04:00

1. Harvest the seeds. They should be gathered when they're full but still green in the spring; run your hand

down the branch to gather a bunch in your hands.. All maple seeds are good to eat, but some are more bitter than others (a good rule of thumb is: small and sweet, big and bitter). Later, when their shells are brown, they are a little more bitter, but still good.

2. Hull the seeds. Peel off the outer skin (the "whirlygig" part). Cut the end with your thumbnail. Squeeze out the seed; it looks like a pea or bean.

3. Rinse out the tannins. Taste a few seeds raw. If they are bitter, you'll need to boil them in water, dump out the water, and repeat until the bitterness is gone.

4. Cook the seeds. If you boiled them already, just season with butter, salt, and pepper and enjoy. If they weren't boiled, here are a few more options:

o Roasting - Place the seeds on a cookie sheet and sprinkle with salt. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 8 - 10 minutes.

o Drying - Put them in a dry, sunny spot or in a food dehydrator until they are crunchy. They can then be pounded or ground into a flour, if you want.

imagine: dots in blue water

2009-04-07T01:12:00.000-04:00

just listen.

http://www.npr.org/templates/dmg/dmg.php?prgCode=ME&showDate=06-Jan-2005&segNum=18&NPRMediaPref=WM

too far to face

2009-03-24T12:01:00.006-04:00

If I go too far, call me on it, or if I don't go far enough (Matt), call me on it.

Last week Thursday was the last time I clicked on the Home page of Facebook, browsed other's photos, easdropped on conversations, and contemplated the next image I would use to convey myself to my community of friends. Has it only been a couple of days since I deactivated my account? It seems like much longer. Have you missed me? Have I missed you?

I would love to sit here and pronounce that I am experiencing freedom. Instead, I admit that I do miss you (or is it that I miss knowing what you are doing and saying, who you are interacting with and where). I actually have to talk to you - darn.

Facebook has gone too far. It has taken on the responsibility of upholding relationships.

Please come back and let's interact in a similar, but simpler way. A creational way?

psalm 104

2009-01-14T22:49:00.002-05:00

"This is mine", says the Lord.
"Take it, live it, sing it, and care for it."
"You are mine," says the Lord.
"Remember I am God."

I am Everything
The beginning, the end, the first, the last.
Yet, I am missing.
I fill the space, I breathe the wind, I speak the fire
And I sparked.

I am ever Dwelling,
In prescence and in spirit.
Yet, I roam.
I lay down, I build up, I set forward
And I placed.

I am ever With
Never without, never in need.
Yet, I desire.
I form you, I love you, I trust you
And I cried.

"This is mine," says the Lord.
"Take it, live it, sing it, and care for it."
"You are mine," says the Lord.
"Remember I am God."

nature & culture

2009-01-06T00:40:00.002-05:00

First red pool
Morecambe Bay, Lancashire
February 1977

Andy Goldsworthy

40"I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." 41As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it. Luke 19:40-41

we are but flowers that glide

2009-01-04T00:17:00.004-05:00

Fortunately, the Christmas break allowed me to catch up on some reading and also go back and visit a couple of favourites. This said, I came across The Flower by George Herbert. Like always, his words struck a chord and this work in particular seemed to resonate as I reflected on my past year and look forward to the year to come, so I am sharing it.

How Fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.

Who would have thought my shrivel’d heart
Could have recover’d greennesse? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.

These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven in an houre;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell,
We say amisse,
This or that is:
Thy word is all, if we could spell.

O that I once past changing were;
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offring at heav’n, growing and groning thither:
Nor doth my flower
Want a spring-showre,
My sinnes and I joining together;

But while I grow to a straight line;
Still upwards bent, as if heav’n were mine own,
Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that? what pole is not the zone,
Where all things burn,
When thou dost turn,
And the least frown of thine is shown?

And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: O my onely light,
It cannot be
That I am he
On whom thy tempests fell all night.

These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide:
Which when we once can finde and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.
Who would be more,
Swelling through store,
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

a christmas confession

2008-12-23T22:46:00.003-05:00

I believe in Santa Claus. I am not thwarted by my fellow classmates who told me otherwise, by my own Mother's handwriting on the tags, by the fact that the milk and cookies I leave out every year somehow end up by Dad's cup of breakfast coffee, or even by the time where my Grandpa came out dressed up as Santa Claus with the suit on backwards.

Okay, let me clarify my confession. When I say I believe in Santa Claus I don't mean I support what he has become - a pawn of our consumerist culture, but instead what he repersents for our culture. I love the part of Christmas where we as a family gather around the tree, some more controlled than others, and open the gifts that we gave one another. I delight in seeing the face of a loved one tearing off the wrapping paper in anticipation for what is inside and lets be honest I also really enjoy opening a pleasent looking box that says "Dear Katrina/Merry Christmas/Love: Santa Claus. Sure we may grumble about the busy stores, the tacky music, the awful lawn decorations, the consummerism, self focus, and the warrented concern resulting from the faulty focus. However, what we must keep in mind is that the reasons why, excpet for those blow up lawn ornaments... I admit there is no redemption for them.
Even now, I am having a hard time concentrating on writing this post because of the presents that are looming from under the tree - inviting me to peek. Is this bad? Maybe... I apologize for not wanting my gift to be a donation to CRWRC to send a lamb to Africa, I apologize for getting excited about gifts, and I apologize for believing in Santa Claus.

Can there be something sacred about the idea of Santa Claus? Can there be something secular about the birth of Jesus Christ. I sure hope so.

Don't get me wrong, the true reason for Christmas is not lost upon people like me. The story of Jesus' birth fills me with a joy, a peace, and a hope is incomparable. This story renews my excitment and wonder for my Saviour time and time again. Maybe, just maybe the whole idea of Santa, of gift giving, is a tiny glimpse or result of the joy, peace, hope, excitment, and wonder that we recieve at Christmas.

snowmagedon

2008-12-18T23:01:00.003-05:00

News Flash: apparently the world is going to end in a snow storm and they are naming it Snowmagedon. So I thought I would say my last goodbyes via my blog.
I know, I know, I am sentimental that way.

May you all dress warmly, wear snow shoes, bust out the GT racers, dig snow tunnels, and maybe even have a snowball fight.

If we survive this dump of snow I will make tshirts.

glimpses of glory

2008-12-09T00:45:00.003-05:00

There isn't much I that enjoy. Infact, I could fit it all onto one page and I have big writing.
False.

In an attempt to redeem my taste and interests after my last post, I will give you a little peek into what really gets me.

On Saturday we went to hear Handle's Messiah performed by the Redeemer choir. What an incredible experience. I could probably rave about it for a long time, and if you are reading this blog you most likely have already heard it all. So I will spare you the details, well most of them anyways.
As I sat in the hard wooden pew benches, a tad bit chilly from the drafty doors, I experienced the unique story of my Messiah in a way that I never have had before.
In a world that is overwhelmed in darkness, I am so thankful for the times when God allows us a glimpse of His glory; for when there is such a light you cannot see the darkness. On Saturday night, while the chorus rang true, I was unable to notice darkness, I could only hear the angels and see my Lord.

It is these glimpses that make me long for heaven and spur me on in hope for Home.

sometimes you just gotta.

2008-12-01T20:19:00.004-05:00

Call my humour sick, but these three videos had me hollering/coughing up a lung/peeing my pants/tears streaming down my face.
So I am sharing them with you.
Enjoy!

Garage Door Guillotine:

http://www.blinkx.com/video/garage-door-guillotine/kSUNk7dR2Ye_Qr4_-EgpqQ

Falling Mirror

Water Bloopers

pearl necklace

2008-11-11T20:07:00.002-05:00

Once there was a little girl who adored jewellery. She spent her childhood playing dress-up with her fake gems. When her parents would go to the local mall, this little girl would always beg to go with just so that she could gaze at the real stones glittering in the shop windows. During one such trip, they passed by a discount store. It was then that the little girl spotted a pearl necklace hanging in the window; the white beads seemed to glow alluringly. Next to the necklace dangled the price tag, which read $4.99. She would only receive a quarter for her weekly allowance, which meant that it would take her over five months to save enough money to buy the treasured necklace. Determined, she waited patiently and carefully put each of her quarters in her piggy bank. When she finally saved enough to pay for the necklace, her father took her back to the discount store. To her delight, the pearls were still waiting. She proudly walked into the store, emerging minuets later with a small velvet pouch. “I did it, Daddy!” she exclaimed.
That night, as her father tucked her into bed, he asked, “Honey, do you love me?”
“Of course I love you,” his daughter replied.
“Do you love me enough to give me your pearl necklace?” her father questioned.
Horrified, she burst into tears. “Daddy, I love you, but I can’t give you my pearl necklace.”
Her father leaned down, kissed her and told her that it was okay. Each night for a week, the father and daughter had the same conversation. Each night, after the tearful reaction, her father kissed her just the same. Finally on Sunday night, the father heard her crying sometime after he had tucked her in. He opened the door to her bedroom and sat down on the bed. “Daddy,” she sighed through tears, “I love you. You can have my pearl necklace.”
She pulled the small velvet pouch from under her pillow, placing it in her father’s hands. Now it was his eyes that filled with tears as he hugged her tightly. He thanked her and walked out of the room. The next morning, when the little girl awoke, she felt something under her pillow. Almost forgetting that she’d given away her precious necklace, she reached for the velvet pouch. But in her hand grasped something sturdier. She pulled out a small blue box and placed it in her lap. Slowly she opened it and gasped with surprise. Inside was a genuine pearl necklace. On the clasp, an inscription read, “Daddy Loves You.”

reflections on Listerine

2008-07-04T19:00:00.002-04:00

Did you know that a good dose of Listerine will keep mosquitoes away? Neither did I, until I saw my Mom spraying our whole campsite with it. Another remedy for mosquitoes is Bounce sheets. The things you learn when you go family camping...

I find that being with family makes you feel normal. Family is composed of people who will generally be just like you or at least have some of the same characteristics. Sitting around the campfire last Sunday and Monday night with the Vedder side made me realise that there are reasons why I am the way I am. It only takes about 10 minutes before we have all broken out in song trying to find a rhyme to everyone's name. ie. Mike - trike, Jackie - wacky, Ian - peeing, Jill - pill, Treeny - weanie. My Dad loves these campfires because everyone is giddy enough that he can break out a lame joke and eveyone will laugh. And then there's my Uncle Aalt who brings out the fire works with his tractor and lights them off 4 feet from our circle, while some encourage Jeremy to jump through them. As I look at each one of my family members through the light from the fire I can see Mike with two Bounce sheets hanging out of his cap, my Dad with his socks pulled up to his knees, my Mom with a net over her face to keep away the bugs, Aunt Jackie with her pink rubber boots, and all the while the grass smelling like Listerine. This is my family, this is my home, and I am a reflection of them both.

enjoi

2008-06-25T22:37:00.003-04:00

I find that the word love gets tossed around too easily. As a result instead of making a list of 50 things I love, I am giving you a sneak peak at what makes me tick - what I enjoy. I got this idea from Gideon Strauss who pointed out that in consideration of what we love that we come to know, most deeply, who we are and who we can become.

(they are in no particular order)

1. the stars.
2. spending time with my family.
3. hilarious situations that make me laugh until I can't breathe.
4. the smell of fresh cut hay.
5. laying in bed in the morning.
6. getting lost in a good book.
7. lasting friendships.
8. smiles.
9. conversation.
10. the combination of chocolate chip cookies and milk.
11. baseball.
12. listening to choirs.
13. letters.
14. accomplishing a goal.
15. taking walks down a gravel road.
16. watching the sun set.
17. the smell of rain.
18. dogs.
19. teddy bears.
20. naps in a hammock.
21. summer.
22. friends sitting around a campfire.
23. potatoes.
24. playing my guitar.
25. competition.
26. gardening.
27. suppertime with my family.
28. lame jokes.
29. comedy.
30. learning something new everyday.

its like rain

2008-06-08T19:02:00.004-04:00

I found this post half finished from the summer, but I decided to post it anyways because it is neat.

Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, Katrina here reporting from 333 Springbrook Ancaster Ontario. The current weather is humid and may cause you arms to stick to the kitchen table or make the pages of your book curl (wait... I think the reason that the pages are curled may be the cause of being left out in the rain).

Kudos to you if you are reading this blog because it means that you haven't given up on me. If you did give up and are reading this weeks after I post its understandable, because in all honesty I had given up on myself. I even thought about deleting my blog all together.

Where to start? How about the fact that this is the first summer that I am living away from home? I am not completely convinced that it has been wonderful, for I do get homesick spells and would love nothing more than just to sit at home in the playroom with my family, go outside to play catch with Chester, play a game of Wizard on a Sunday night, play a game of baseball with the church league, or to unload a wagon of hay. Dad in case you missed it, I just offered to unload a wagon of hay. But other than being homesick, this whole independance thing has been pretty great. Working at Maple Leaf has been splendid. This might sound lame, but put me in a place outside, where I can work with great people, there are tractors humming in the background, and some fields growing around me, I will be content. I guess the saying that farming is in your blood is proven. So I have decided that even though I don't want to farm, it is a must that I live near by one so that I can at least ask for the occasional opportunity to drive their tractors.

I have found that independance means that the potential for getting into scrapes is significantly higher. So far I almost signed our house away to a energy 'savings' plan, broke the key to my car at a gas station, lost the mail key many times, trying to pay bills on time, having baby raccoons fall out of your garage roof, and having to be the one to make sure there is air in the tires of the car. I am just thankful that my parents are only a phone call away and no matter how independant I think I am, they still take care of me. Okay this is getting a little too mushy. In fact if my parents actually read this blog (which I know they doesn't) they would probably be getting really awkward and embarassed right about now.

This is where the original post ended, but I am adding on to it.

So the summer past and two of my great friends tied the knot, we went up North, saw Jack Johnson, watched Ultimate Frisbee, became more knowledgable about plants than I ever really wanted to be, got a great burn, bashed my eye on a shelve and got three stiches, and developed a love for Talize.

All in all it was a solid summer. I liked remembering it.

match mate (scotish for friend)

2008-04-24T00:46:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I wonder if my life could get anymore interesting. Most of the time I answer myself with a resounding "no." This blog is proof, at least once every three weeks I have a substancial amount of events to fill its pages with. I think the only way my life could get any more thrilling would be if I step outside right now and got attacked by nightcrawlers. sick.

Ok, so I have never been and hopefully never be attacked by worms, but I did get hit in the head with a hockey puck. It hurt and I still have a small goosebump on the side of my head. I did not cry though, I was tough...

Speaking of hockey, baseball is well on its way. Just like all past 4 years I started with high hopes that they would do it this year, but Alas they are as consistant as a teeter totter. What is consistant is my love for playing catch. So far Ry and I have only broke one window, parts of a fence, and dented the side of the garage. Shhhh don't tell Tom.

Tomorrow I write my last exam as first year. Can yo belienve it? I can't, I can't believe I have an exam, because I am in summer mode. It will be so great to be done I think I will sing Handels Messiah the whole way home.

I started work for Maple Leaf Nursery, Ree's dad's nursery. Its a lot of work but I am loving it. I love the change betweem school and work. I really like working hard, it makes the days fly by. I helps that Robyn words there too, we make songs, riddles and names - great fun.

Well I really should either og to bed or study.... It will most likely be the later.

Just like D, I will inform you about a tidbit of info: Matching theory, people create realtionships with people of equal attractivess. All I have to day that if you are my friend cout yourself as lucky because that means that you are just a s attractive as me. ;)

On man I should get some shut eye, I am seeing visions of plants...

when it rains it pours

2008-04-13T21:05:00.002-04:00

I think I live in extremes. Maybe this explains the reason why I leave everything to the very last minute, handing papers in at midnight on the day its due, finishing three assignments on the same day, studying for exams the night before, deciding things at the last minute, or why I hate it when it drizzles but love it when its a thuderstorm.

If I was my own doctor I would perscribe myself a dose of mellow yellow. Because even though katrina's krunch time is thrilling, I also find it ussually results in a break down or two. On Friday night I thought the world was going to end (literally). I was writing my Social Psychology paper that was due at midnight, plus trying to figure out my finances for the next month (I got my VISA bill), realised that I owed the government my lifesavings because I hadn't done taxes in three years, and all the while reading articles on how the world was going to end in about 10 years because humans are goint to starve to death. Eeek. When it rains it pours. So I had to have a little prayer session with God for about 15 minutes so that I would not go crazy and be put in an asylum.

Like James pointed out on his blog, the countdown has come. My countdown looks a little like this: one paper and five exams till freedom. Freedom to work and make money, freedom to read Kite Runner, Atonment Child, and Into the West (along with many more books), freedom to use my computer for the sole sake of entertaiment, freedom to commit to other things that don't involve Redeemer, and freedom to sit back on a summers night knowing that my work is done until the next morning. Hmmm, reading this you would think I was trapped in school. Maybe I am just being extreme.

I enjoy learning, I actually enjoy it a lot. On Thursday I had my last Lewis and Tolkien class and I actually felt sorrow as I walked out of that classroom. I think I am going to start referring to CS Lewis as Saint Lewis. If I were to recommend one book to anyone, it would be Till We Have Faces. I am writing my last paper and I can't wait to get started on it tomorrow morning (as I push my thick rimmed glass up my nose and pat my pocket protector).

(Kinda wish I actually had a pocket protector because then I would actually have a safe place to keep my pens. At this time of year I have no pens left, I think they disappear to the same place my keys and bobbypins are. I think one of my goals this week will be to try and find that magical place and if anyone cares to join me on this adventure you are more than welcome).

This week is going to be busy, busy, dreadfully busy, more than a bumblee more than an ant. Busy, busy, dreadfully busy, much much to busy for you. Kidding, Ill never be THAT busy.

on a scale

2008-04-08T01:05:00.002-04:00

I hereby dedicate this blog to my dear friend Rebecca Joy Sikkema, whom I have been letting down in the blogging department.

A lot has happened since I last wrote to you on this page. I have turned 21, tackled a squirrel, went to Toronto, wrote a billgillion papers, learned how to play the bagpipes, and learned how to dance the waltz.

(Robyn just spoke in her sleep. She said something about a rose. Funny thing is that she will find out about it by reading this, ha ha).

If I was going to rate life on a scale of 1-10, I would give it a 9. Spring is in the air, the grass is slowly turning green after being buried by snow, Blue Jays have had a solid start, I have a job for this summer, and school is almost out. Hallelu. This past week has been a little nuts because I had four papers due and I still have one more paper and two presentations. It is going well though, I have yet to become stressed, although I have been feeling rather exhausted lately. As long as I don't get the illness that Ryan had inflicted on many, I will be okay.

In the past month I have watched two movies that I think everyone should watch at one time in their life. Once and Into the Wild. Into the Wild made me very upset, not just a sad upset but an angry one too. It is really thought proviking. Once has a BEAUTIFUL soundtrack and it is a simple story and is wonderful.

My eyes are shutting involuntarily on me, so I think I should answer them and fall asleep. Je suis fache. Hopefully I will keep it up this time, so that I can sleeep,

seperation is a good thing

2008-03-19T01:07:00.003-04:00

Call me a baby, but I think that the 'section plate' is the best invention for the kitchen since the sink. See the way that each section holds its food and stops it from running into eachother? It's a beautiful thing. It is a personal pet peeve, actually, labelling it a pet peeve is being to kind... I hate it when the my food touches and nothing repulses me more than potatoey peas. Years of watching my dad and brothers pile all their supper items together and topping it off with apple sauce has forever scared me.

So you think of all people, Robyn would be sympathetic to my cause. But apparently she has a very twisted sense of humour. The other day when Angie made us a wonderful supper I kindly asked Robyn to scoop me up some potatoes. This ended up being a big mistake because she plopped them right on top of my all my vegetables!!! So I had to quickly do damage control and save my potatoes from being infected by lima beans But alas! I did not save them all. One of my last bites of potates included a lima bean *shudder*. Robyn thought it was quite a hilarious situation, I did not.

Other than this unfortunate episode life has been treating me well. I can't believe that there is only 15 more days of classes, eeeek. I have quite a bit to get done before April is allowed to come. So if all of the sudden I seem to have dropped off the face of the earth, it is probably because I have in order to escape my work load and responsibilities. Speaking of being responsible, I should probably head to to bed so that I can function tomorrow.

nothing rhymes with orange

2008-03-08T14:00:00.002-05:00

Fact: In the English language there is no word that rhymes with orange.
False: Three oranges a day will keep the doctor away.

I bet you are asking yourself, "What's with the oranges?" Well, last week in my grocery shopping endeavor I bought a whole box of oranges because they were on sale. The bright sign below the stand distracted my thought process and I did not consider the fact that oranges go bad at a rapid rate. So now I am eating an abundance of oranges and if you come over to my house I will most likely share them with you or throw them at you. However, here is the catch. You would think that because I am overdosing on Vitamin C I would have an immune system stronger than the Wall of China. Nope, I am currently on the verge of a nasty cold, my throat is scratchy and my head feel like a balloon. I want a refund.

Speaking of refunds, I want a refund on the weather. There is a myth that is going around called Global Warming. Don't believe it. It is March 8th and I can barley see out of my window due to snow. Last time I checked snow doesn't fall in warm weather. Last night Robyn and I got stuck in our driveway 3 times, all at one time (yes, this is possible). In between the 2nd and 3rd time I just collapsed and shook my fists at the heavens, it was quite dramatic. I used to like snow. I liked it when it meant sledding, making snowman, and getting snow days, not shovelling out the driveway. Although, I shouldn't really complain because today a very, very, very, very, very, very, nice man came and ploughed it for us. And when I am really honest with myself, I do still have a soft spot for snow. Infact I am going to make a snowman family tomorrow. Maybe I'll use orange peels for the eyes.

consider the ravens

2008-03-02T19:22:00.002-05:00

There is nothing like a steaming cup of tea in your favourite mug after a long day of HALO. Yes, I just said long day of HALO, eew. For my Intramurals class one of the requirements is organizing a tourney. We decided on a HALO tournament because we knew that if all else failed at least people would still come out, and by people I mean guys.

Have you ever sat on a couch watching your friends play video games as wondered “What’s the big deal?” Today, I got a little taste of the big deal, although I cannot and will never claim to understand it. According to a new study, I never will and it’s not my fault. They took 22 young volunteers — half men, half women — and had them play a game as an M.R.I. machine looked at what was happening in their brains. The study found that in the men, there was much more activity in the mesocorticolimbic system (James and Jordan that was for you). When guys play the games, a part of the brain involved in feelings of reward and addiction becomes much more activated than it does in us girls. So there you go, that’s the big deal.

For the last couple of days our house hasn’t has internet. I would love to able to blame it on Bell or even a faulty internet signal because of snow squalls. But the truth is it was a result of a chair race. One pleasant Wednesday afternoon, Robyn and I decided to race our two wheely chairs around the kitchen table. Robyn wanted a best out of 3, because I ended up winning the first one. On the third race, I was clearly in lead when in desperation Robyn threw the internet chords in my pathway. My race chair’s wheels got tangled in them and I screeched to a sudden stop. Let’s just say I am thankful that it was only our internet that suffered damage and that the modem comes with a warrantee that covers domestic acts of violence.

I usually don’t get caught up in the whole ‘RRRRole Up the Rim to Win’ craze, but this year I decided to at least give it a try. As we speak I am 2 for 3, once upon a time I was 2 for 2 and those were the glory days. The next cup I get will probably win me the boat. I can’t wait.

School work wise, this has been a pretty hectic week. Oh how I love the academic world. There is nothing like sitting in class and having a revelation or a remembrance that you have an assignment due the next class. Oh man, I think I really should start using my agenda.

Student Senate elections are going on as I speak (or write) and it is my job to run them. For the first time here at Redeemer Katrina VandenBerg is not running for Senate. It kinda feels weird, but also good, so good.

I just realized how random this was. Oops. Hopefully you could follow my trains of thought. I swear when I was writing they all connected somehow. I guess the title of this post will be random too, the title of the song I am listening too. "I love it its random like freestyling its random."

a broken record

2008-02-22T10:17:00.002-05:00

I have never broken a bone in my body, even though there have been plenty of times where I should have. Like the time when Mike dared me to jump off the top step of our stair case, or the time I willfully jumped from the highest stack in the haymow to the floor (about 20 feet) just to prove that I was as cool as Mike and his friend Josh. There have been other opportunities for broken bones due to sacrificing my body for the sake of the game and just being plain clumsy.

Last night I 'broke' my record. As I type this my head is throbbing and my upper lip is cut and slightly swollen. Last night I am pretty sure I broke my nose... I say pretty sure because I am not sure what a broken nose is suppose to feel like and I don't feel like getting checked out. For one, I have a phobia of hospitals, two, I don't think you can really do anything for a broken nose anyways, and three if they can do anything it will be a cast and no thank-you on the cast for the nose.

The story for the broken nose is up there with spraining my foot by getting out of bed. I was on my way down the stairs and my dad was on the way up. We both did not feel the need to turn on the lights so the decent and accent was done in the dark. My dad climbs the stairs like he is a soldier on a mission, full speed, two at a time, and head down. I come down the stairs daydreaming about something and then WHAM. My dad head slams me in the face. I was stunned, then there was a lot of blood. I thought I was dying...

I did not die, but my nose did.

my dream house

2008-02-19T23:19:00.005-05:00

I think every girl dreams up what kind of house she wants to one day live in. I am not an exception to this rule, however I think there have been times when I was a little off track...

Over the vastness of my life, I have had many bright ideas of what kind of house I was going to live in.

At the age of 9 I had a grand vision of one day living in a little log cabin in the back woods of my dad's farm, living off the produce of the forest.

At the age of 13 I was convinced that it was possible to live in a box. You could easily turn one of those huge refrigerator boxes into a suitable living environment. Of course it would be in need of a little insulation and a extension chord that would plug into my parents house.

In first year of Univeristy I came up with the idea of bringing a tent trailor on campus and parking it in Siberia. I haven't followed through on this one. I am a little intimidated by Redeemer's security.

Tonight, I realized that my ideas of the past haven't been that far off what we might be seeing in the near future. I was watching the National and Vancouver will be turning huge shipping crates into housing units for the upcoming Olympics. I think I might just have to check them out come Olympic time. I tried to find you all a picture, but it was with little avail. I think it was breaking news and it hasn't leaked out the the world wide web yet. I attempted to sketch you one on paint but it just turned out looking like a 2D box with windows... although that isn't too far off what they actually are.

I think tomorrow I am going to make an Igloo. Apparently they are very warm. I don't believe it for a second.

a pocket sock

2008-02-09T00:11:00.001-05:00

Does anyone have a clean extra sock that has losts its pair? Because if you do, I am looking to borrow one. I am in need of one to carry in my back pocket for days like today when I can stuff it in my mouth to prevent myself from talking. I will spare you the details (ie. spare myself from documenting them so that I can forget that they happened). Days like today make me think that mute people got it good. They never have to experience that awful moment when what you just said finally registers in your brain making completely no sense at all. I admire people who have mastered the art of thinking before opening their mouth to share their thoughts with the world. That is a gift, so if you are one of those people, treasure it.

I think this why I enjoy writing so much, because you can erase what you have written very easily and no one will ever know the better. Also with writing you can choose whether or not you want others to read it. There have been many a blog that I have written and have wisely chosen not to push the big orange "Publish Post" button and my diary contains content that no one should ever read (I write with pen in my diary and you can't erase pen). On the other hand, there have been posts, stories, poetry, and essays that I have written and shared that have been simply brilliant. Yes, I am bragging, but I can do that because this is my blog and I can brag if I want to.

I will now leave you with a great quote,

Calvin: Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak.
Hobbes: Probably so we can think twice.

Oh Calvin and Hobbes how I relate to thee, except that I have been diagnosed with the completely opposite problem...

it's the end of the world as we know it

2008-02-07T01:43:00.000-05:00

So I have decided that I should never drink coffee within the 5 hour braket before I want to sleep. Presently, I am completely wired due to a Timmy's Cafe Mocha that I drank at 10pm... shoot.

Today I almost died. I know what you are thinking right now, "This is just one of Katrina's over exagerated tales" but I assure you that it is not. At about 5:30pm I got into my car to begin my drive up the escarpment. Usually I don't mind driving; I put in a sweet CD, crank it, sing along (occasionally dance), and cruise. Not today, as I got into my car, I noticed that I was being pelted by ice bullets and then quickly covered by huge snowflakes. Ice + snow + driving = near death. I don't think I have to go into detail about the drive, I am sure you have all had some kind of a similar experience.

I know that the weather is not a very interesting topic to talk/write about, usually only used to fill a moment of awkward silence. But what if I told you that the weather might be predicting the end of times? I saw and heard something today that I have never seen before, lightning and thunder during a snow storm. It was increadible; the snow muffled the thunder noise while the the lightning reflected of it. Robyn and I came to the conclusion that it was a sign that the world was ending. After this conclusion was made I Googled it and I came up with a letter from Ralph who assured us that "that thunder snow as some call it does happen. It is certainly uncomon, but not rare." Ralph seemed like a credible source, as he is a Newton Scientist.

Maybe our conclusion about the end times was a little rash, but it is understandable. This topic has been on the brain, because next Tuesday Jordan and I are doing a presentation on the topic Consummation in the 'Return of the King." I am pretty pumped about this topic. I can't wait to get started on it. I read the end of the LOTR while I was getting my hair done at the hairdressers and it was a little awkard because I got emotional... but I could not help it, Sam just does that to me. Okay.... I am going to stop now before I sound like a complete nerd.

To balance off that last topic I am going to talk about music. This week I discoverd a band called "As Tall As Lions" and I think that they are fantastic. I am torn whether to tell people about them, because I like it that they are not well known, but then again music is all about sharing. Oh, and also you should check out Great Aunt Ida. I babysit for the Bowens and Ben Bowen introduced me to her because he plays in her gigs. I really like her sound, it's the kind of music that you would sit in a comfy chair sipping tea to on a rainy day.

Speaking of sipping tea, today I was culturized. Tonight Robyn prepared a wonderful meal and right before I was about to pick up a fork to eat I looked over and Robyn was eating with her hands! She told me that it was the Ugandian way. I have to admit, at first I was a little apalled, but then embraced it and followed suit. If you have never had the sensation of eating rice and stirfry with your hands I highly recommend it. It brings a whole new meaning to 'finger licking' good.

That said, I am glad it's not the end because I feel like I am just beginning.

let's pretend

2008-01-31T02:26:00.000-05:00

For the sake of making my blog interesting compared to the exciting blogs from France and England, let's pretend that I am writing you all from an exotic island. And also for the sake of myself, because of the time difference on this island, I am not writing this at 2:30am but 2:30pm.

As I am writing I am fending off a crazy monkey that is trying to bite my toes, this monkey looks an awful lot like a kitten named Charlley. (Yes, I finally decided on a name for my kitten with the help of Robyn. It's pronounced Charlie, but spelt in a female way).

Life on this island is pretty exciting. It is not everyday that you wake up to cloudy skies and unpredictible climate change. One day it could be 5 degrees and mud is sticking to your pants, while the next day it could be -11 (with the windchill feel more like -40). I bet you tomorrow will bring some snow squalls. For all you back in Canada, England, and France, snow squalls are heavy periods of snow fall throughout the day. These really only happen on this island, so I am the only priviledged one who will get to live through them.

I am having a lot of down time lately, relaxing in the jungle... This means I can read as much as I want to. Right now I am reading through the LOTR with the occasional 19th piece on the side to keep my mind sharp. This reading is really helping me out with the classes that I am taking through Redeemer's new online classes. My Lewis and Tolkien class is by far my favourite class. I came into this class as a casual interest and I am quickly turning into a nerd... I fully embrace this.

I have met this really precious baby named Abigail Bowen in my explorations. She is simply adorable and I love spending time with her. We love to dance to Dixie Chicks together. I also just love it when it is her nap time and she just snuggles with me as she sleeps. Probably one of the highlights of my weeks here.

The other day the community center held a Soup Fest. This is where all the local restaraunts made their famous soups for us to try. My favourite one was Asparagus with White Mushroom. Mmmmm, it was delectible. Robyn tried one that was a definate FLOP - coconut chicken (by the way, Robyn came along with me to the Island).

I wish I could post pictures of this Island, but blogger isn't letting me dowload them right now. Oh, well some other time then eh?

Okay... I admit, I am not actually on a sweet Island somewhere and it is definitley 3am in the morning. Shoot... I wish I was travelling right now. I don't know what has gotten into me, but I am feeling pretty restless and I just want to go or do something different with my life. So just for now I will keep on pretending. Heck, daydreaming is one of my favourite past times, so why not?

lights will guide you home

2008-01-21T02:27:00.000-05:00

One of my greatest pet peeves is when people do not update their blogs. As of now I am officially my own pet peeve. I swear it’s a great to feel that way about yourself.

You want to know another pet peeve of mine? Well whether you do or you don't you are going to find out, that is the beauty of rhetorical questions. Knots. I can't stand the knots that are impossible to untie, the ones that you could spend hours trying to undo but then they just become bigger, more tangled, and messier. In grade school I was the kid that all the other kids, and the occasional teacher, would approach to undo the knots in their shoelaces, I was/am pretty proud of that fact. And sometimes if was bored, I would purposely tie a string into multiple knots just so that I could practice untying them. I am not really sure where I am going with this... I wanted to turn it into an analogy of some sort for this past week, but I am failing miserably. Instead I am going to use it as a metaphor. This past week was like a tangled knot. If this metaphor does not work for you just take this past paragraph as you learning one more interesting fact about me and if I ever become famous and there is a Jeopardy category about me you will be one step ahead of the game.

Alrighty, enough about pet peeves and more about just pets. If you don't already know I have a kitten. You may have heard rumours that it is mutated and sickly and I want to take this time to assure you that these rumours are true. Yes, my kitten has 8 toes on its front paws and it repeatedly sneezes, but as weird as it sounds I love her dearly. She doesn't have a name, unless you count Kitty as a name. Not only do I have a cat in my life, I have a dog. Her name is Ayla and she is wonderful. Ok, technically she is not mine, she is the guys, but I like to think that she is. And just between you and me, with Ryan as an exception, I think I am her favourite. In my opinion everyone should have pet and here's why. Pets don't care whether you've had a good or bad day, they don't care what you have done or what is going to happen, they are great listeners and they don't give any advice. All they do is love you no matter what. We all need to be loved like this, even if it means that they slobber all over our faces or sneeze on our pillows.

This week I said goodbye to three pretty stellar friends. They have all set off into adventures in far distant lands that only Skype and MSN can bridge. I might sound like a sap, but I miss you guys already, especially my roomies. Just make sure you have the best time of your life while you are out there to make all this missing worthwhile. However, with every hole there is usually a trampoline close by to help you jump out and have fun while doing it. Since I am on a role with the metaphors I won't stop, Robyn is my trampoline. I can't even start to tell you how AWESOME it is to have her here with me again. She is definitely one of my most favourite people in the whole wide world. I was going to take this time to write you a whole list of things that make her wonderful, but chances are if you read my blog you probably already know Robyn and know why she is so great.

Tonight was Church In The Box. It was pretty great, except I was struck by something. During worship I found myself unable to sing some of the songs. Not because I didn't like them or disagreed with them, but solely because I knew if I sang some of those songs lyrics it would be hypocritical. For me, this is the main reason why I 'prefer' to worship with hymns. I find hymns meet me more at where I am at and allow me realise the state I'm in. While, I find that some of the contemporary worship songs make me say things that my heart does not. This is solely based on my opinion and is not necessarily true for you. It was just something that struck me as I was singing tonight and I am not really sure how I feel about this response.

Well friends this will be all for tonight, except that I am going to leave you with one more metaphor. Friends are like lights.

Lights will guide you home...

board games

2007-12-28T22:50:00.000-05:00

I grew up on these things. Every Sunday afternoon for as long as I can remember was designated as family bonding time via board games. Now, I know that most people dread the thought of ever playing and would rather deem them 'bored' games. But I assure you, spend and afternoon with the VandenBerg's playing Monopoly or Settlers and you will never see them in the same light (the board games).

My Dad likes to see them as a bonding tool, but I'm not sure that's the purpose they hold in my family. You see, my family is made up of half ruthless competitive and half sensative competitive members. Every game there is someone who ended up in tears while the others left miffed, except for the one who won... they would be rubbing it in every other minute (actually only if one of the ruthless competitive ones won). Unfortunately for myself I am one of the ruthless competitive ones (I know this might come as a surprise). However, I am really bad at playing board games and I hardly ever win, wow, that was hard to admit. This is my theory, no one likes to see or let me win and everyone likes to get me all riled up and the perfect way of doing this is making me lose. When we play together it seems like everyone takes the extra mile just to boycott my plan in Settlers, refuse to trade properties in Monopoly, steal my boyfriend in the Barbie Game, always attack my countries in Risk, take my triple word score in Scrabble... trust me I could go on, but I will spare you. This history with board games has almost killed them for me, but since I have such a strength of character I continue on.

I guess the true purpose of this blog was to announce that last night we payed Settlers and I won against my family for the first time! It has been long awaited, but the victory felt marvelous. Just thought I would let the world know :)

bless us one and all

2007-12-24T22:34:00.000-05:00

I watch this movie every Christmas and I am dedicating this song to all of you!

HAVE A BLESSED CHRISTMAS!

Canada eh?

2007-12-22T14:49:00.001-05:00

Lately, I have witnessed that our wonderful country of Canada has been taking the heat (maybe the cold shoulder would be a better term).

With Robyn just coming back from Africa and Ree, Tim, and Danielle going abroad for a semester I feel like Canada has lost its appeal. This is why I am writing this breath-taking blog. As I chew my little brother's last piece of strawberry Hubba Bubba I am going to ensure that all of you that have caught the travelling bug long to come back to me, back to your homeland, with gratefulness.

I understand that the grass is ussually greener on the other side, but in my very biased opinion the grass seems pretty green over here. Well, maybe not right now, but if you dig under the 4 feet of snow you will be able to see it. Where else in the world can you find green grass under snow? I have heard that England and France has very little grass and the grass that they do have you can't walk on. In Canada however, we have an abundance of lush green grass, grass that you can walk on whenever you want, grass so green that you have to cut it at least once a week. Canada has very nice soft green grass.

Africa may have the lions, the zebras, and the giraffes, but does it have the Beaver? It might have them cooped up in zoo's somewhere, but in Canada they roam free. The beaver is the largest rodent in the world. Although its size makes it a little slow on land, in the water it can go 0 - 7km in 3 seconds flat. Impressed yet, if not get a load of this. Not only is it really speedy, the beaver has exceptional teeth. Its long, sharp, strong teeth grow continuously. The upper and lower teeth grind against eachother so they remain chisel-sharp. With them, a beaver is able to feel very large trees. The beaver cuts down an average of 216 trees a year. Can a lion do that? I don't think so.

Now on to the topic of snow. Yes, I admit it is cold and it is unpleasant to get facewashed or get snow in your shoes. But like I always say, perspective is everything. Take sun for example. We say we all love it, but do we love it when it gives us a sunburn that turns into boils, do we love it when we are suffering from sunstroke, do we love it when we are working a 12 hour day doing labourous outdoor work, or when we are trying to get to sleep but we can't because it is too muggy to breathe properly? Probably not. Snow is wonderful. It allows hills or mountains to become slippery so that we can crack out the crazy carpets or GT Racers, our snowboard or skiis, or if you are Ree, her very slippery shoes. We can make snow angels, snowmen, forts, tunnels, snowballs, and catch snowflakes on our tongues. And you have to admit their is something pretty magical about going to sleep at night with the ground all brown and dead, but then waking up to a winter wonderland.

With snow comes the cold. This one is going to be a little harder to make into something wonderful, but here goes. Cold brings ice and ice brings skating and pond hockey. How many of us have spent endless hours on the pond either pretending we are the next Jamie Salé or Wayne Gretzkey. I know I did. And just in case you didn't know Canada has the longest skating rink in the world - the Rideau Canal. It is about 40mins from my house and while you skate you can eat the best beaver tails in the world (it's a pastery, not an actual tail). Not only does the cold give us ice, but it also gives us a pretty good excuse for our moms to make us hot choclate with the big puffy marshmellows on top.

I think if I was forced to pick ONE thing about Canada as my arguing point I would pick the mountains. I know, I know, I am from Ontario and I have no idea about mountains, but this summer I went to Alberta and I got my first taste of them. They were probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. If I could wake up every morning and see a mountain in the distance I would live a very content life. I know that there are other places in the world with mountains, but they are probably not as good as ours.

And if I haven't convinced you yet, here is my last point. Canada is where I live. If you haven't already noticed I am a very fun person, and I have been told that I am hilarious. If you leave Canada you leave me and unevidably your life will become a little less interesting.

The Hubba Bubba gum that I am chewing has lost all its flavour and its making my jaw hurt, so I am going to take that as my cue to stop.

bread and (no) butter

2007-12-03T19:23:00.000-05:00

Mom I think you will be proud.

I felt like Laura Ingalls today and made my first homemade bread. Now finally I might win the heart of Almanzo Wilder. :)

Maybe if I am feeling ambitious, tomorrow I will church some butter to go along with it.
That's a pretty big maybe...

sorry Jordan

2007-11-29T16:51:00.000-05:00

In lue of Danielle's shower Ree, Jordan, and I had a girls night. This was the result...

We painted our nails.

Then we pampered our faces with watermelon cucumber facemasks.

bruised

2007-11-27T18:36:00.000-05:00

Have you ever nailed your elbow on the arm of your wooden couch on the downward swing of your yawn? I have, this afternoon in fact. Now my bruised elbow is what is keeping me from writing my paper, ouch.

Papers, papers, papers. I said that three times because that is how many I have to write in the next week. I wanted to get this one done today, but somehow doing the dishes, taking a nap, snuggling with Cow, listening to David Gray, sipping tea, and writing this blog seemed more important. Oops.

I think I am suffering from an extreme case of Pro-crast-in-ation. Don't worry about me though, I get it every year around this time and I always seem to get through it fine. As long as no other disease such as Tuberculosis attacks me at the same time.

Elbow. That's a weird word.

teach me to seek you in all that has life

2007-11-24T13:51:00.000-05:00

That you have made me in the image of you own mystery
thanks be to you, O God.
That in the soul of every human being
there are depths beyond naming
and heights greater than knowing
thanks be to you.
Grant me the grace of inner sight this day
that I may see you as the Self within all selves.
Grant me the grace of love this day
that amidst the pain and disfigurement of life
I may find the treasure that is unlocked by love,
that amidst the pain and disfigurment of my own life
I may know the richness that lies buried in the human soul.

2007-11-11T21:19:00.000-05:00

"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"

"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"

I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.

Pooh nodded thoughtfully.

"It's the same thing," he said.

fresh vegetables and flowers

2007-11-05T22:53:00.000-05:00

I thought I would never ever say this, but you know what they say... "Never, ever, ever, say never, ever, ever, ever."

What is better than listening to a song that you just downloaded on Limewire, better than a cup of hot chocolate with marshmellows on a cold day, better than half priced candy after Halloween?
Fresh vegetables. There I said it.

I didn't realise how much the body craves fresh produce when it hasn't consumed it for more than two weeks. This is the plight of an off campus student who goes grocery shopping every three weeks.

Last Friday I was invited to an Alumni Board dinner/meeting. On the menu was rice and platters piled with vegetables. I think I ate 30 cherry tomatoes, a whole green pepper, and countless carrots and cucumbers. That was an alliteration. This was not even the best part of the night, the part where I was given a bouquet of lillies topped off the night, and they presently fill my room with a pleasent aroma.

This aroma is the only thing that is sedating me as I unpatiently wait for an episode of House to download. Jason has got me hooked, but too bad the speed of the internet in our dwelling is SUPPPERRR SLOWWW. I have been waiting 3 hours for 30%! That is 10% every hour, that means it will take 10 hours for me to watch one show. Here is something else that I thought I would never say. I wish I had Redeemer internet.

Wow.

I think I have gained a new view on video games. As kids we were never allowed to play them = I really suck at them = I never gained an appreciation for them. Until now. The other night I saw something weirdly beautiful. Jason and Jordan hooking up their computers to one set of speakers and playing Chorno Trigger, and now they are BFF (boy friends forever).

On Wednesday I have my interview to see if I can get into the Education program at Redeemer. I am pretty excited for this, finally I feel like I am stepping in the direction of becoming a teacher. But for the record if I don't get in I am taking Teacher's College in New Zealand.

Speaking of different countries, I feel like everyone else is speading their wings and soaring to different parts of the world. And by everyone I mean Ree, Tim, Danielle, and Robyn. Ree and Tim are going to England next semester for schooling, Danielle France, and Robyn in Africa. My wings are clipped and I am staying in Ontario. A little part of me would like to go travel this big world of ours, but is it a really bad thing that I am content to stay here? That I don't have a longing to hop on a plane and spend four months away? I feel lameo.

I like it here. I like having my family a drive away, I like having my friends within walking distance, I like knowing that it will snow in a couple of weeks, I like the familiar. There is enough stuff in my life that is unpredictable and wonderful.
It is okay if you think I am lame. :)

This little clip from You Tube has no connection to my blog, but I guarentee that this will put a smile on your face and a chuckle in your throat.

Ree and Me

2007-10-30T00:27:00.001-04:00

We frolicked in the leaves...

and we ate some too!

My favourite part, we found a wagon!

Is that Laura Ingalls Wilder or is that Katrina VandenBerg?

Ree is eating my face.

Fall is fun.

And then we died our hair. Mine is orange like a pumpkin.

its a beautiful ride

2007-10-27T21:57:00.000-04:00

Georgia Rule. Awful movie, I wouldn't even recommend it to my worst enemy. If there was one thing that I could take out of this movie and apply it to life it would be this.
At one point the girl was doing a puzzle and the guy asked her why she wouldn't look at the picture of the puzzle she was working on. Her answer was this, "Why would you want to know how it is supposed to end, it would just make the rest wasting time."

Last week I asked Tim if he would want to fast-forward life 10 years so that we would know our life ended up so that we wouldn't have to stress about our decisions. I expected him to answer with a resouding YES! But he didn't. He told me that he wouldn't because then we wouldn't live a very full life. Right... we would probably just waste our time.

Life isn't always beautiful, but it is a beautiful ride. I don't want to waste this time. That is all.

Ree and I had some adventures today.

We went a train hunting.

And we found one a top a 50 foot bridge. It scooted right past us though. Yes that is us on the bridge with the train right behind us. It was thrilling.

*The pictures are taking too long to load so I will wait until I am back in Ancaster to finish this tale.*

anything but ordinary please

2007-10-25T17:23:00.000-04:00

Think what you must, Avril Lavigne makes my favourites in my music category. This is why:

peas and gravy

2007-10-23T15:35:00.001-04:00

I should not be writing right now and then sharing it with the world, but Ryan encouraged me so blame him.

I am grumpy. I want to be grumpy. I am enjoying it.

I got up on the wrong side of the bed, someone pissed in my cornflakes, and it is definitley raining on my parade.

My shoes got soaked on the way to school, Drew Carey has ruined Price Is Right, and I bet a kitten died today.

I got kicked and had the bejeebers scared out of me by Ryan, then I beat him in anger. That helped, a lot.

In the background Tim and Ryan are jamming which is stellar. I like it.

Hate this when this happens.

swing life away

2007-10-06T22:09:00.000-04:00

Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words.

I looked back on my blog history I noticed the following trend:

September + Katrina = no blogging.

And since I am a very trendy person, it happened once again. I have always found that October is a perfect month for turning over a new leaf.

I feel like I have finally gotten back into the swing of things. I am no longer desperately pumping back and forth just to maintain momentum. I have obtained a rhythm (what a wierd spelling for a word) which carries me. September has been jam packed and at times sent me a'twirrling. Sometime this can be fun, but you just have to make sure you don't get to dizzy and make yourself sick.

Now I am back at home and it almost feels like I haven't left, except for my sudden craving of anything that falls under the catergory fresh fruit. I have found that fruit doesn't tend to keep for the whole week and a half between grocery trips.

The trip home was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I almost got sandwiched between a RONA transport and a cement median. The trees are changing colour so that was an awesome sight to behold for at least 4 hours.

I think one of the best parts of coming home is that you are reminded that you are loved. First by my dog Chester who went nutso and then by your family that comes out before you can enter and gives you those big hugs that only family can give. Yes, they still welcomed me back even though they do not like the colour of my hair. My mom assures me that she likes it, but in her eyes I can hear "Where is my little blonde girlie?" Mike and Jeremy were blunt with their opinion. "Nope, don't like it." Dad was had the best reaction and said that it reminded him of his colour when he was young. His colour was ginger. My hair does not resemble a ginger kid. These reactions almost made me go to the drug store and dye it back blonde. I am not very good with disapproval. But then a nice trip to Emily's changed my mind. She liked it and she is a hair dresser, so there!

This afternoon I went to visit Emily and the girls. Smile (it's all I can do as I take these couple of moments to remember). Jess was outside by the mailboxes waiting for me and I couldn't get through the front door without little hugs from all around. I missed them, a lot. I hope Emily won't mind if I kindnapped them and brought them back to school with me. Oh, and I hope the girls that I live with won't mind four more. I am sure it will all work out fine. But I guess I would settle for a puppy or a kitten, if you don't think it would work.

One other thing that is nice about home is Hockey Night in Canada. We all sit in the playroom and watch the Leafs and unfortunately flip to the Sens game. Tonight one of the fans were caught picking their nose on TV. I thought it was pretty funny.

Life never fails to entertain, excuse me as I continue to swing.

it has been awhile

2007-09-18T18:31:00.000-04:00

- It's been awhile.
- Thank you captain obvious.
- You're welcome.

I have learnt that words are powerful, they are all encompasing, and yet as I sit outside 'borrowing' our neighbours internet connection, I am finding myself unable to express myself with words.

This past weeks have been wonderfully real. So much has happened, so much is yet to happen, and I am loving all this happening.

My classes are incredibly challenging. I come out of them not wanting to come out and full of desire to hit the books. It's been awhile since I could say that.
The house that I am living in is great; the people that are inside the walls make it that way. Living off campus is relaxing, fun, and enjoyable. Except when the kitchen sink gets clogged and Bell decides that it wants to be idiots. It's been awhile since I have had internet.
Friendships are solid and valued. I hope I never take advantage of the gift that God has richly blessed. It has been awhile since I told you that.

This year holds a lot of promise.

I'm still fighting it

2007-08-27T00:08:00.000-04:00

401

2007-08-25T17:52:00.000-04:00

Some want to call it the 'Highway of Heroes,' some use it as their race track while others (slow drivers and truckers) shouldn't use it, but for me the 401 is something entirely different...

Ever since I finished reading the Chronicles of Narnia, I have been in search of my own wardrobe. I've always wanted to discover my own little door that would open up and transport me into a whole different world. Well, I have found my wardrobe. It is not near as exciting or wonderful, but it is the place where I go to be transported back and forth between my two worlds - the 401. Although there is something unique about my wardrobe. The worlds are equally wonderful, equally as hard leave, and equally loved.

This summer has been incredible. Being at home with my family and reconnecting with friends has been great. I have even loved my 'job.' I put in quotation marks because it hasn't felt like work at all; I have big sister and friend now and I have lost my heart to four little girls and I don't know what I am going to do without the daily little hugs, pictures, and stories.

If I could change one thing about the 401 it would be this. It would be A LOT shorter, so that my two worlds would not be so far apart and I could come back and visit more often.

camp

2007-08-20T23:07:00.000-04:00

It was going to be a no go; for the first time in 8 years I wouldn't be packing my bags with the classic camp wear of long socks, silly shirts, and shorts made for speed, heading off to Camp Adonai. But then suddenly, spontanteously, and very last minute (like most things in my life) I decided that there was no way I could miss it, it just wouldn't be right. Thankfully, they found a spot for me and in about 5 days the tides turned from no go to for sho!*

As we drove up the twisty lane up to Ye Old Kitchen, my insides were filled with a warm fuzzy feeling, camp is one of my most favourite places to be in the whole wide world. Now at this point I could attempt to tell you all about my time at camp, but I really don't think I would do it justice, so I'll just give you a glimpse...

The week entailed:
- One very hyper boy who would eat sugar for breakfast, literally.
- Many conversations about passing gas... thanks to Ed and Natalie
- Screaming lungs out at campfire with the kids
- Almost leading about 35 kids down the wrong 'path' on the hike... good thing for a GPS that I had no idea how to use.
- Watching a little boy who told me that he could run down the steep hill ahead of us flip head over heals the whole way down instead (the only thing hurt was his pride).
- Getting thrown into the lake only 3 times.
- Eating tons of bribery candy and getting sweet notes and songs everyday... the perks of being a Cabin Inspector
- Destroying Ed in a wrestling match.
- Pillow fights
- Laughing until my gut was about to split about once a day.

On the very last day of camp, while we were all singing in the chapel, I realised something. I could just imagine God just smiling down at His kids, watching them sing out their little hearts, dancing and clapping their hands. I was struck with the reason why I keep coming back to this place and the reason while I will continue to until I am absolutely unable to do so. Camp is a such a unique place where kids can meet with God. They experience Him when they are splashing eachother in a water fight, when they are sliding down the soap slide, when they are capturing the flag, when they are loosing their voice at campfire, when they are finishing their fifth chocolate bar of the day, or when they are singing all together in chapel. It is such a priviledge to be part of this, to be able to touch kids lives and show them a side to their God that they might never experience anywhere else. Seeing the smiles, hearing the laughter, wiping the tears, giving the hugs, and just listening to them is reward enough for me, everything else is just an added bonus.

*excuse the gangster language, it rhymed so I used it.

postsecret

2007-08-09T23:22:00.000-04:00

I was watching 'The Hour' tonight and this was on it. I found it pretty fascinating so I'm sharing it with you.

It's a website where this guy (Frank) posts secrets that people annoymously send to him on a homemade postcard.

Some are funny, some are dirty, some are heart gripping. I don't really know how to describe it other than that...

Check it out for yourselves http://postsecret.blogspot.com/.

you catch me if I'm falling

2007-08-08T22:57:00.000-04:00

Ever had a dream where you were falling headlong into complete darkness, but woke with a start, heart pounding, before you hit bottom?
Ever played the game where you stood on top of a picnic table and made yourself fall backwards into someone's arms?
Ever fell from the top of a three story treefort only to be saved be two random branches at the bottom?

Falling. It is a concept that is hardly ever met with anticipation and willingness. Falling is frightening. Why this fear? Could it be because we are not confident that someone will be there to break our fall? And then what happens if you are unwillingly pushed into a situation that leaves you spiraling, with no other choice but to trust that you will be caught, that you will be upheld, so that you will not be devestated.

In no way will I say that it was worth it, that it is justified, and that it will ever make sense. Loosing Craig is, and will continue to be, one of the hardest things I have ever had to experience. Although, I heard something on the radio the other day that sank deep, allowing a peace to settle, and it to become a little more clear.

The talk was on why God would ever let His children to be tried by fire. I have to admit that I didn't pay attention to the whole thing. It was a long drive home and I was distracting myself by pretending that I was a racecar driver on the last victory lap. But it was almost as if the man's voice got a little more louder, a little more passionate, and these ringing words brought me back to reality with a start.
" These have come so that your faith - of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire - may be proved genuine and may result in praise glory and honour when Jesus Christ is revealed" (1 Peter 1:7).

Ever felt like you couldn't trust God? I know I have. In fact, at the beginning of the summer I was brutally honest and wrote a whole list of things that I couldn't trust Him with.

Craig's death pushed me and I was forced to fall, left with no other choice by to trust that someone was going to be there. I did not hit bottom and I was not devestated. He was there. He broke my fall, my faith upheld me, and made me realise that what I had was real. The hope that only He can give allows me to still be able to filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. It is not easy, but it proved that I can trust Him.

You catch me if I'm falling.

i am chicken.

2007-07-31T22:34:00.000-04:00

In my humble opinion chickens are proof that vegetarianism is pure silliness. They have brains the size a peas, can function without their head, are ugly, smell disgusting, and sound ridiculous. The only good reason that I can come up with for their pathetic existance is that they make a nice soup, taste good on the BBQ, and supply us with eggs.

I think it is safe to say that my strong dislike of chickens stems from the fact that they are my weakness when it comes to being a 'farm girl.' I love to think that I am a classic 'home grown on the farm' child. I know how to drive a tractor, plant a field, milk cows, unload hay, scrape the feed, the whole nine yards... but when it comes to chickens I fall apart at the seams. Me and chickens, we've had quite the relationship in the last 20 years...

It all started out when I was about 9 years old and my dad gave me the job of raising 100 little chicks. Well, if I could have been able to tell them apart I would have named them all, but since I couldn't, I gave them all the name Fred (I didn't know they were all girls). These fluffy little yellow puffs won over my heart instantly. That summer I fed them twice a day, sung them little songs at night, and picked fresh grass for a special treat. My parents started to worry about how attached I was getting and they didn't know how to break it to me that the destiny of these chickens was our freezer, so they didn't. Instead they sent me off to my friend Leanne's house on the fatal day. Murphy's Law prevailed and I came home a little before schedule and was welcomed with the site of my Freds without heads, hanging upside down and featherless. I screamed and I ran to the coop just in time to see Fred getting his head chopped off by Dad. It was a bad day.

The next year the weasels got them and the year after that they committed cannibalism and ate eachother. I soon learnt to not get attached to chickens and I went to the next extreme, I would help in the butchering of the chickens. My job was to cut the neck bone off of the already plucked and gutted chicken, simple enough task. The first three went well, but the forth had it in for me. A freshly killed chicken is pretty slippery... slippery chicken + sharp knife + Katrina = disaster for Katrina's wrist. Instead of chopping the chicken I chopped my wrist. It was a bad day.

I decided that I didn't like chickens and refused to have anything to do with them. They had hurt me far too many times. Little did I know that I was soon to be repulsed my them. If you have never seen I chicken lay an egg, kudos to you, eat your egg in peace. I have, and I still have a hard time choking down eggs. I have been blessed with an overactive imagination that sometimes gets the best of me...

Then there was chicken catching. One night, 16,000 chickens, 16 teenagers, and one truck. Chicken catching is probably one of the most sereal, horrible jobs I have ever done. By the end of the night you are carrying eight chickens, four in each hand, purposely giving them brain freeze and siezures, and playing the occasional game of catch - it makes you turn into a monster. For the next week you are coughing up feathers and chicken crap. Also you can't eat chicken for at least a year, well at least I couldn't... once again I'll blame it on the overactive imagination.

Today was chicken killing day. I opted to pick the beans from the garden, snap and bag them. Sadly I couldn't escape the smell and the sounds of the Fred exclaiming his last words. It was a bad day.

Chickens are my weakness, I can't handle them. True farm girl? Perhaps not.

and the sky is not cloudy all day

2007-07-24T00:28:00.000-04:00

My dreams of battling evil with Transformers by my side were rudely interrupted by some famous person rocking on the radio; it was time to get up to get ready for church. Sunday mornings at the deGroot house are much like home, the battle for the bathroom, blow-dryers all going at once, having to drinking your orange juice with already brushed teeth, sharing of the coloured comics... except for the fact that we arrived at church on time. The pastor’s message was a memorable one, delivered with confidence, passion, and a wicked accent (maybe my word choice isn’t the most appropriate). After church we went back to the deGroots for Sunday pie and ice cream. Since Ryan and I were donned the guests of honour (Ontarians are a rare species in Alberta), we scored on having the option of having one of each pie and an extra scoop of ice cream! Of course I fully capitalized on this. Don’t worry Levi, if you ever come to Ontario you can have a whole apple pie to yourself with a tub of Rolo ice cream to top it off. That night we were invited to hang out with the gang at Lindsay’s house. I am pretty jealous of her house, because it is right next to a park and a baseball diamond. So, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to gel as a group playing a great game of baseball. Apparently everyone likes Ultimate Frisbee better, I do have to admit it’s a pretty stellar game; James I can see why you love ‘disk’ so much. We did play soccer baseball for a bit, although turning for two is a little more difficult when you have to throw a ball the size of your head. All this activity wore us out so we headed back to watch a lame Simpson episode; I am crushed by the lack of humour lately from Homer and the gang, so much so that I don’t even want to see the movie. Instead, we got our laughs watching Dodgeball.

Monday, Monday. Robo and I woke up with crack of dawn to prepare for camping. We had a great challenge ahead of us, to fit everything that we needed into one car that also needed to fit four people in it. I have to admit I was not very optimistic about it all, I thought for sure we would have to resort to plan B, tying Ryan and Tim to the roof rack. But we surprised everyone, even ourselves, by fitting everything in with room to spare. This room to spare didn’t last very long, because Tim thought it would be completely necessary to bring foam along to protect us from the jagged rocks while we sleep. I haven’t really made my mind up whether it was a wise decision, being squishy for about an hour and a half versus having gashes in my sides... On the way to our Waterton camping experience, we made a little detour to tour a Ladder Day Saint temple. The gardens were nice and the lady was very persistent, I think I must have had a sign on my forehead that says “I want to know everything you can tell me about the history of your religion and temple, oh and I also want all your pamphlets too.” They almost had me with the whole wide road thing, because if the roads that we have here on earth are going to be changed into gold that town is going to be worth trillions. And if it wasn’t for the secret spy cameras that we suspected they had hidden we would have snuck into the inner temple to see what they were hiding in there.

And then there were mountains. Mountains, what can I even begin to say to describe the feeling of seeing them for the first time. I won’t even try; I’ll be what I was for the last 45 minutes of the drive – speechless. Not only were there mountains but fields of wildflowers around them, so there was a mandatory moment to get out of the car to frolic, turn our gazes upwards, and let it all soak in. We have arrived. The next thing we had to do is find the perfect campsite, and find one we did. It had the perfect amount of trees, it was in the perfect location for bathroom and the water tap facilities, and it was the perfect size... there were a couple of times when a huge RV would slowly pass our campsite and throw daggers our way for occupying ‘their space’ with our beauty tent. The guys then went on a wood hunt and brought back loads of free firewood. We were pretty stoked about this until we found out we could pick up free forewood at the entrance. After settling in we took a little stroll down to the river, where we tested our throwing accuracy with rocks and trees, waded up to our ankles in ice, and Ryan left our mark with a Mento. All these happenings made us work up and appetite, so it was time for Ryan to grill us up some burgers. The first two burgers were the tastiest by far, and the rest were must have been good too because they made fast friends with the neighbours – especially Laney. Once supper was finished we thought it would be high time to hit up the town Waterton. If I could live anywhere when I am retired I think I would live there and take over the little fudge shop so that I can give free fudge to everyone passing through. This little town is surrounded by mountains and is on the edge of a lake. It is also a great place for a honeymoon – eh Danielle and Jordan? I think it would be only appropriate as it was the place where we all crowded around the phone booth to hear the fantastic news. By the lake there were stones, great skipping stones and great throwing stones, so of course I had to challenge Ryan and Tim to a throwing contest. They made me go first, which I was fine with. I casually set up and threw with ease at least half-way across the lake. They on the other hand, took a running start and propelled the rocks as far as they could. I have to admit that they did throw a little farther, and if we were going to measure it would have been about 5cm. I was pretty impressed. We then tested the accuracy of their throws by throwing a rock into the air and then trying to hit it before it hit the water. After we stopped playing with stones we decided to check out a store that sold special stones, worth $1000. In that same little shop they thought it would be hilarious to make me look like a fool. It involved a frozen TV screen and a random passerby... yup, all I have to say is that I am really glad I am full of myself or else I could have been damaged for life. It was getting dark so we decided to head back where we had an awesome campfire. Even though we did so much during the day and did so many memorable things, I think the campfire stands out, Robyn’s beautiful song, Tim playing the guitar, the great talks and laughs – it was golden.

The next morning I was the first one to wake up and there waiting to keep me company for the whole 3 minutes was Laney. Before I knew what he was doing he went up to the tent and unzipped it and told everyone else to get up. Gosh, I still think it’s hilarious, although if I would have been woken up like that I’m pretty sure I would have reacted just like Tim - telling him in no uncertain terms to get lost. We had bacon and eggs for breakfast and when Ryan offered to make the eggs, I responded by spraying him with hot bacon grease in appreciation. Great start to a great day. Today we went on a hike; this hike was not for amateurs. We crossed the BC border into foreign terrain where we crossed a raging river to conquer a waterfall and then went on to battle the glaciers and we did it all without those hiking spears that the ‘experts’ use. Waiting for us at the end of our hike was a great mountain with a crystal clear lake – it was breathtaking, in more ways than one for the guys. The reason that this lake is clear is because it is too cold for life to live in it, but Ryan and Tim decided to take a dip anyways. It was pretty amusing to watch, although the couple beside didn’t think so... they didn’t even break a smirk. Man, if I was hiking and I saw two hooligans jumping into a glacier lake in their boxers I would have a good laugh and even take home the tale to the super table that night. We also met Gordon the chipmunk, Ryan was the first one to coax him to eat the sunflower seeds out of his hand and then from there he became our best little buddy. He just kept stuffing those little cheeks in the cute chipmunky way. The hike was fantastic, no one got lost, except for Tim’s bag that we forgot that we left on the top of the car as we drove off singing away to The Barenaked Ladies. Jesse came down that night to hang out with us in his four wheel drive truck. That truck came in handy as on our way back to the campsite we saw an entire herd of about 200 elk cross the road into the field. So what do you do when there is a big herd of elk and you are in a truck? You chase the elk of course and so we did. It was a pretty bumpy ride as we raced through the long grass and ground hog holes, thrilling in fact. That night the guys went back to look for Tim’s bag, so me and Robo wrecked havoc around the campsite. When the guys came back we chilled by the campfire for a bit, but it wasn’t long before everyone headed off to bed, we were all tuckered out. But since I had thrown ten huge logs on the fire right before everyone decided to hit the hay the fire was still roaring, so I decided to stay up a bit longer and just enjoy the night. No complaints here, because I think I could stay up all night just looking up at the Alberta sky, especially at night when it seems like you can see every single star in the universe.

The next morning we weren’t woken up by Laney. There were pancakes for breakfast and if I wasn’t given a limit I probably would have eaten at least 10. Since we were supposed to be out of our campsite by 12pm, we decided that at 12:30pm we should probably start to pack up, especially considering a couple who had booked our site had already asked us when we were going to be leaving. We went on one last little hike through the red rock canyon. Good thing we had tour guide Jesse along for this one, we didn’t even need to read the information signs. And yet again the guys went swimming in the glacier water... We then said our good-byes to the little beautiful town of Waterton and to Tim’s bag. That night we went to see Tim play soccer, his team destroyed their opponents 9-1. I also got to hang out with my cousin Andrew, who is ranching in Alberta for the summer. We met at the Tim Hortens and when I got there all I could see was this tall guy in a flannel shirt and cowboy hat from behind, so I ran up and gave him a big hug, thankfully it was him and not just some other rancher. It was so great to catch up with him and see that he was doing great. Although his near death stories from riding broncos and bulls worry me a bit...

Since we have been going full tilt since the day that we got to Alberta, we decided that today would be a day where we just chilled and did nothing. Robyn and I headed over to Tim and Ryan’s to watch Madagascar, listen to the Live Earth David Gray and Damien Rice duo *sigh*, and just really doing nothing... it was nice. That night Robo and I spent time with her wonderful family. We watched LOTR and even though Levi was seeing it for the first time I think he handled the scary parts better than I did. After the movie we made Robyn’s birthday cake because it was her birthday the next day! I suggested that we should do something crazy in her last minutes as a 19 year old, we came up with skinny dipping in her neighbours dugout, but since we didn’t want to get shot we decided not to. Instead we talked about what the future might hold and all those good things chats like that entail.

Today was Robyn’s birthday! Robyn chose to have steak as her birthday supper. If there was only one thing that would make me come back to Alberta, it would be for Mr. deGroot’s steaks. They are the best I have ever had. But of course we had to wait a bit for supper, so in the meantime we listened to Ryan and Tim’s rocking rendition of Babylon - 'let go of your heart, let go of your head...', got in a great game of catch in with Ryan, and swum in the dugout with the family – the girls clearly defeated the guys in keep away. Then it was suppertime, mmmmm. I had the privilege of sharing my milk with King, he’s a such great sharer. Then the whole gang came on out for the campfire. Tim had to miss a bit of it to make the trek out to Waterton to retrieve his lost bag that was found! Except on the way he blew a tire... his luck just wasn’t improving, oh and I think I failed to mention the fact that he swam with his cell phone so that broke too. (Tim I’m putting this in just for you, I know that you would never want to forget a day like this). Once again the campfire was awesome. It was a great way of ending off our last time that we would all be together in Alberta. We didn’t get to sleep until 3am.

At 6am we woke up to get ready to pick up Ryan so that he could meet Uncle Henry in Calgary. On the drive up we were given a sweet lesson on recycling and sharing by Jack Johnson himself, what a guy. It was then time to say our good-bye’s to Ryan and watched him ride off into the distance... and then there was three. We were originally going to stay in Calgary for the day and night until I had to catch my flight the next morning, but then we decided to head on back to Lethbridge, something I was very happy to do! So that day we just chilled out at Robyn’s. I got to see the deck being completed and had one last swim in the dugout, one last supper, and one last campfire. The deGroots showed me how to make colourful fire and what a Rachellamellow is. Meaghan was the best marshmallow toaster. Sorry Josh, you would have come close if you hadn’t dropped that one in the fire. I am so glad that I had that last night with the family and that I got to say a proper good-bye, because I think the world of you all!
Once again Robo and I did not get very much sleep. That morning we woke up to someone singing about how great life was... at 3am in the morning that is the last thing that you want to hear. As we drove to Calgary we got to see the sunrise and I just want to state that Robyn deGroot is the best trooper I know. For the first hour I fought to keep my eyes open at times sticking my head out of the window, but then I promised myself that I just needed to rest my eyelids for 5 minutes... Through this all Robyn was able to drive on and get us safely there. Once we were at the airport I knew that it was time to say good-bye... good-bye to great people and great times. Airport good-byes are bitter like salt. My flight was a lot less exciting than the trip up, although I met some really nice people.

My family was waiting for me in Ottawa and it was so great to see them... It’s always a nice feeling to come home.

Our time out in Alberta was a dream in reality form. Thanks for making it what it was, I will remember it and you for always and forever.

tag you're it!

2007-07-22T22:54:00.000-04:00

Shoot... in my grade school days I could outrun them all, but aparently Robyn's faster than the roadrunner.

I have been tagged and here are the rules… Each person tagged gives 7 random facts about themselves. Those tagged need to write in their blogs the 7 facts, as well as the rules of the game. You need to tag seven others and list their names on your blog.

I've decided to make it a little more interesting and share 7 of my most deepest darkest secrets for everyone in cyberspace to read. Ready, set, negative.
Instead, here are some random tidbits about Katrina Joy VandenBerg for you all to enjoy:

1) I am a daydreamer. If you ever catch me just staring off into space, I'm mostly likely in my own little world creating a situation or story where I am the main character doing something grand and dramatic. It's a wonderful place where I have experienced nearly everything from surviving falling off a cliff to flying in a hotair balloon.
2) I am probably a little too stubborn and competetive for my own good. If someone tells me I can't do something, the next moment I am planning how I am going to prove them wrong. There have been the times when I fainted beating all my siblings in the 'holding your breath' contest, suffocated myself from trying to beat the world record of 6 saltine crackers in 30 seconds, tore up my legs from running through torn bushes just so that I wouldn't get caught in Capture the Flag, and making a little boy cry trying to win Capture the President at camp. The many summers playing ball and years of highschool sports have left the marks and scars to prove this competetive side, thankfully I have mellowed out a bit... a bit.
3) I still sleep with my teddy bears. Shh, don't tell too many people. I will always have a little soft spot for them in my heart. Who doesn't loose their heart to those beady little eyes and soft paws? Let alone the fact that they give the best hugs and can listen really well.
4) My favourite snack and all around food group is homemade chocolate chip cookies with a tall glass of milk. The chewy chocolate goodness washed down with a refreshing sip of creamy milk - delectible.
5) I love to just lay down and look at up at the stars on a clear night. There is something about the stars that gets to me. With millions of diamonds sparkling above us and wishing on the shooting stars. Nights like that make me feel a little closer to heaven.
6) I would classify myself as an extreme reader/movie watcher - I can get a little too into the plot. If it is a comedy, I laugh until I cry or, if it is drama, I am spellbound until the end, if it is a thriller/action, I jump at every bang, if it is a tragedy, I sob. There have been the times on the bus where I'm crying against the window just because it was time for Laura Ingalls to leave her family, sobbing into a pillow because the main character of the movie just died (Ladder 49, Armageddon), or the time where I spilt all my juice when the sniper in Bourne Identity pegs off the man on the stairs through the window.
7) I absolutley love flowers and gardening, but what I love the most are wildflowers. I think that there is something so precious about how they can bring beauty to the most random places. They are wonderful.

Since Robyn tagged the people that I would have tagged I just reinforce the fact that they should do it! It's kinda fun :)

give me a home where the buffalo roam

2007-07-18T22:28:00.000-04:00

I know you have been all biting at the bit, checking my blog every other hour, wondering when the next time I was going to share my writings with the world. Well, wait no longer, I have returned from my two week abyss in Alberta and am brimming with stories to tell.

Warning, these blogs will most likely be a novel, you can skim it if you want or just ignore it. I'm kinda writing this for my own sake so that when im 65 years young I can show this to my kids and prove to them that they have an extremely hip mom and so that I can remember these past two weeks, because I never want to forget them. Ever.

It all started off with a chugging of a litre of pink lemonade. My bladder thanked me for this in about 1.5 hours and since I was too scared to use the bathroom on the plane it kept thanking me for the next 3 hours. No one even suspected that I was new flyer, not even when I had to ask how to recline my chair or the fact that I had my face pressed against the window the whole time - you would be suprised what you can see... clouds, clouds, clouds, and the occasional city blow up in Saskatoon. I peeled my face away from the window for about half and hour to watch an episode of The Office, I think I might have laughed a little to loud for plane curtisy, because the guy next isle over asked me what I was watching.

When I landed in Calgary, I suddenly realised how big the airport was and the fact that I didn't tell Tim what flight I was on... so needless to say I was never so happy to see the face Tim over all the cowboy hats roming around. Ryan's flight arrived at pretty much the same time mine did, I swear out planes almost collided on landing, but I gave the pilot the heads up that a WestJet flight was coming in just in the knick of time. Airport reunions are sweet like honey.

Tim's brother (forever remembered as the cake eater) drove us all to the city of Lethbridge. It was a pretty stellar trip with cigar smoke lingering in the air, the famous 7/11, discovering that Tim Horten's took debit, and gas fights.
Our first stop in Lethbridge will be remembered with a crazy hoolagan running towards us with big hair and then jumping on his sweet car - how I missed you Matt. Next stop Robyn and the Wonderbread truck - golden reunion (with Robyn). I had to pinch myself a couple of times that night/morning to make sure that Robyn was actually standing there infront of me.

Even though we stayed up early enough to see Robyn's dad off to work, the next morning I awoke at 7am. I like to blame it on the time change but really I think it was more of a kid on their birthday moment. Once everyone else woke up we went to eat breakfast at the most happening restaraunt in town, Smitty's. With our bellies full of delicious toast and eggs we decided that it would be a good time to go bridge jumping off a '20 foot' bridge. We spent the rest of the afternoon there just catching up with eachother, watching a dead bunny float by, dogs play by the riverside, and just relaxing in the sun. Tim played soccer that night, so we all went to watch and were impressed that we knew this guy. I even tried out coaching from the side lines, teaching them that clustering like grapes is not a good idea. After the game we went out for drinks and then spent the night at the classic hang out spot, sharing stories and getting to know Jordan, Lindsay, and Josh for the first time.

Since the guys did not invite us to Edmonton to watch Canada play soccer, Robo and I had a day to ourselves. I finally got to experience the coolies first hand. On the way down we saw an old abandoned shack and a random door that lead to nowhere - although I bet it was a door that leads to a whole new world... Once we got to the bottom there was a river of glacier water so we went for a dip with King (Robyn's dog). For some reason if he ever felt the need to dry himself off he would stand between me and Robyn and shake. That afternoon we went shopping and I managed to get my name called over the intercom... super. The night was spent with the family watching the soccer game on TV, scanning the crowds for the crazy fans that we knew. Once it got dark out Robyn and I just lay outside on her lawn looking up at the massive sky filled with stars talking about life... incredible.

We woke up to the sound of Levi pelting Sarah and her friends with an airsoft gun, I thought it was funny, but I am not sure Josh felt the same way. Today we were heading off to go camping in the hoodoes. On the way there we encountered this huge bridge that was built with the sole reason of supporting vechicles across a raging river, but somehow the guys thought it was meant for jumping off of. So needless to say I watched my friends (even Robyn) plummet 40 feet into water. I must admit it looked awesome and at times like that I wish I wasn't scared of falling to my death from such great heights. Once we got to our campsite we were welcomed by a friendly deer, which I would have tamed if it wasn't for the guys making fun - it was a sensative dear. Since it was a scorcher of a day we spent all afternoon 'swimming' in Milk river. We almost made a sandcastle too, but that was just an empty suggestion. After supper we went to the hoodoes to check them out, the guys thought it would be great to jump them and Ryan managed to give me heart failure. After this escapade the guys thought it would be great to give the Park Rangers an interesting night by skinny dipping in the river. Meanwhile me and Robyn started the killer fire, Robo manned the ax and I tore down a tree with my bare hands. - Pause for you to be impressed -

The next morning I woke up thinking it was about 9am when it was really 6am... those years in GEMS did not teach me how to read the sun. So I read some, took a nice stroll, and waited for everyone else to stop 'wasting' their day by sleeping in till noon ie. 10am. Matt took a little longer to wake up, so the guys collapsed the tent on him and the family that was getting water from the tap near by was greeting with the sight of a Matt walking half asleep in his boxers. Once everyone was rip roaring to go, we went on a hike to through Writing on Stone. Matt tried his lot at being the trail blazer, but I must admit I was a little more qualified to lead the hike than he. We went for a swim to cool down from the hike and then flaked out on the beach until it was time to go. On the way back Ryan had the sweet idea to make a rocking playlist, each picking 6 songs - all I have to say is that my friends have great taste in music and the last 3 songs were classic. That night we went to see Transformers in theatre, me and Robyn decided against going all hardcore and left our transformer outfits at the house. It was a great movie, exceeded my expectations by far, and I even had to hold back on the urge to go and buy a transformer toy.

hmmm... when I said novel I guess I wasn't joking, man a living i think im getting carried away here, so im going to stop for now and go to bed.

how can i keep from singing

2007-07-02T21:30:00.000-04:00

dear craig

2007-06-30T10:27:00.000-04:00

You are with the angels now in the presence of God, you have recieved the goal of your faith. No stress, no pressures, no more deadlines, no more meetings (although knowing you, you will convince everyone that there is a need for meetings in heaven and will be guiding them through Roberts Rules).

You were an incredible friend. Thanks for the many talks, I learnt so much from you about what it means to have a solid faith. You made me question things that I hadn't before and challenged me to grow in all aspects of my life - even the business and politic area). The life you lived was an inspiration.

I'll miss you so much. I don't know how we are going to do it next year without you here. Who is going to sit in on the meetings, faithfully read the minutes, and check the website everyday? Who's going to ask me to look over their papers for grammar errors? Who am I going to watch and quote the lines of Zoolander and Night at the Roxbury with? Who will I talk about 'So You Think You Can Dance?' episodes with? Who am I going to spend hours with counting loose change? I still think we should have invested in the change counting machine 2000. You were the only one I knew who could eat a full plate of extremely hot wings without breaking a sweat, and the only one who could ever convince me to try one.

Thanks for being such an upstanding leader, example, and man of God. Thanks for all your encouraging words and actions. Thanks for caring, thanks for being my friend.

Dance with the angels for me, just try not to break out the techno, Im not sure they could handle that.

I love you,

Katrina

making light of flight.

2007-06-28T23:01:00.000-04:00

In about 5 days/120 hours/7200 minutes/432000 seconds I'll be in Alberta, but who's really counting anyways?
I'm really quite excited. The only little thing is that I'm a tad bit afraid of flying. Hopefully the person sitting beside me won't mind me holding their hand very tightly for about 5 hours.

In order to warm myself up for flying I was reading a bunch of airplane jokes, this one was my favourite.

Occasionally, airline attendants make an effort to make the "in-flight safety lecture" and their other announcements a bit more entertaining. Here are some real examples that have been heard or reported:
1. From a Southwest Airlines employee.... "There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there are only 4 ways out of this airplane..."
2. Pilot -- "Folks, we have reached our cruising altitude now, so I am going to switch the seat belt sign off. Feel free to move about as you wish, but please stay inside the plane till we land...it's a bitcold outside, and if you walk on the wings it affects the flight pattern."
3. After landing: "Thank you for flying Delta Business Express. We hope you enjoyed giving us the business as much as we enjoyed taking you for a ride.
4. As the plane landed and was coming to a stop at Washington National, a lone voice comes over the loudspeaker: "Whoa, big fella. WHOA!"
5. After a particularly rough landing during thunderstorms in Memphis, a flight attendant on a Northwest flight announced: "Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, after alanding like that, sure as hell everything has shifted."
6. From a Southwest Airlines employee.... "Welcome aboard SouthwestFlight XXX to YYY. To operate your seatbelt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull tight. It works just like every other seatbelt and if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised. In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask beforeassisting with theirs. If you are traveling with two small children, decide now which one you love more.
7. Weather at our destination is 50 degrees with some broken clouds, but they'll try to have them fixed before we arrive. Thank you, and remember, nobody loves you or your money, more than Southwest Airlines."
8. "Your seat cushions can be used for flotation and in the event of an emergency water landing, please take them with our compliments."
9. "As you exit the plane, please make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses."
10. "Last one off the plane must clean it."
11. From the pilot during his welcome message: "We are pleased to have some of the best flight attendants in the industry...Unfortunately none of them are on this flight...!
12. Overheard on an American Airlines flight into Amarillo, Texas, on a particularly windy and bumpy day. During the final approach, the Captain was really having to fight it. After an extremely hardlanding, the Flight Attendant came on the PA and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Amarillo. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened while the Captain taxis what's left of our airplane to the gate!"
13. Another flight Attendant's comment on a less than perfect landing: "We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroobounces us to the terminal."
14. An airline pilot wrote that on this particular flight he had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required the first officer to stand at the door while the passengers exited, smile, and give them a "Thanks for flying XYZ airline." He said that in light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment.
Finally, everyone had gotten off except for this little old lady walking with a cane. She said, "Sonny, mind if I ask you a question?"
"Why no, Ma'am," said the pilot, "what is it?"
The little old lady said, "Did we land or were we shot down?"
15. After a real crusher of a landing in Phoenix, the Flight Attendant came on with, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the Crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt up against the gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we'll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal.
16. Part of a Flight Attendant's arrival announcement: "We'd like to thank you folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of us here at US Airways."

burnt stew

2007-06-23T19:18:00.000-04:00

It is never a good sign when you come in from the barn and you are unable to untie the laces of your work boots due to the fact that your vision is impared from the smoke billowing from the kitchen.

Last night was my little brother's graduation and since my parents had to attend the grad dinner, my mom had prepared stew ahead of time. My Oma, with the best intensions, thought she would warm the stew for her starving grandchildren who were hard at work in the barn. According to Oma our stove is the wrong way, hence the reason why she turned the element to max instead of min. But don't worry, she 'saved' the stew by taking it out of the original pot, scraping out the burnt parts, and putting in a new pot so we would not even suspect what happened. Unfortunately, she didn't take into account the obvious clue of smoke lingering in the air and the fact that the stew tasted like woodsmoke (not that I have ever eaten wood that was smoked). Since my Oma felt bad enough we decided to choke down the stew, insisting that you couldn't even taste the difference. That night I discovered that there is a way of making old leftovers taste worse, burn it.
We tried to feed the rest to my dog Chester, but after the first lick he ran away with his tail between his legs.

Believe it or not when you compare other situations to burnt stew it has a way of enhancing them...
The following will be classified by using the burnt stew scenerio:
1 being burnt stew -- 10 being chocolate chip cookies

Missing an episode of 'So You Think You Can Dance' -- 5
Having Sarah repeatly fart on my lap -- 4
Being taken out by the knees by Chester -- 7
Weeding our one acre garden -- 6
Putting my hands in stinging nettles (again) -- 4
Being kicked in the head by a cow -- 2
McDonald hitting a clinch, inside the park homerun, in the 10th to win the game -- 9
Leafs not picking up any huge names in the draft -- 5
Watching someone break random things with their but cheeks -- 6
Watching the same annoying car commercial 8 times in one hour -- 4
Playing catch with Mike -- 8
Having a skunk spray its wonderful scent right outside our house -- 3
The fact that there are only 10 more days until I head on out to Alberta -- 15.4!!!!!!

Cheers darling!

winchester is on the map baby!

2007-06-18T00:10:00.001-04:00

The one and only Rick Mercer came to Winchester for our annual hospital fundraiser.
Nope, not making this up, the picture is proof. But if you still don't believe me check this out.

I can just see it now... you will all be turning green with envy as you watch my hometown on national television.

easy silence

2007-06-09T20:52:00.000-04:00

A professor strides into his classroom, the chatter of students subside as they turn to face the front. Some of them eager to learn, while others are there with the sole purpose to obtain a credit. The professor turns towards his class, but does not say a word, he stands in silence, staring.
The students wait, note books open, ready for him to begin casting pearls of wisdom. Yet, he does not speak.
The only sound in the room is the constant ticking of the clock. Five minutes go by, then ten... *coughing, awkward shifting* Some students get up to leave. Still, he does not utter a word.
Finally, 23 minutes later, when the students feel like they could not take this any longer, the professor asks, "What is happening here?"
He pauses, looks each student in the eye, " What is it about silence that makes people uneasy?"
"Why do people only feel comfortable when they are filling the air with words?"

Awkward silence... something I hate, something most of us hate (if I can make that assumption). I'm sure we have all been in a situation where we are with someone, or even a group of people, and all of the sudden the convorsation runs dry. There is usually a long pause as you rack your brain for something to say, and then the moment is saved as someone pipes up with a comment about the weather. Fantastic, relief is felt and the convorsation continues.
Now, I will admit that I am usually the pipey person... the one who 'saves' the convorsation. But why? What is it with silence?
Why do we feel like we always have to fill our lives with noise? While we are driving - crank the tunes. While we are cleaning - crank the tunes. While we are with people - talk, talk, talk. While the family is sitting in the playroom - tv on in the background.
Don't get me wrong, I love to listen music, I love to talk, and I even love to watch tv... But honestly, I think we drown out life sometimes, forget to enjoy it for what it is.
If I was the doctor of this world, I would perscribe a good dose of easy silence.
The silence that is allowed to happen between people. When two or more people are sitting in the same room and no words are needed; there is no pipey person.
The silence when you are in the house by yourself, you hum, you sing, you dance.
The silence that lets you think. Getting lost in the thoughts that are scary, taking you places you really don't want to go, forcing you to deal with the stuff that you rather just not, making you truely realise what you have been compromising... Getting lost in the thoughts that are incredible, taking you places you really want to go, giving space to contemplate the great things in life, allowing you to dream...
The silence that surrounds you as you sit outside on summers night. Crickets singing, birds chirping, wind rustling through the trees, as you watch the sun set.

The silence that feels like a gift, the easy silence.

songs that make me sing

2007-06-04T23:34:00.000-04:00

Weak in the Knees - Serena Ryder

Easy Silence - Dixie Chicks

This Love - Maroon 5

You Love To Sing - Copeland

some people need to get a hobby...

2007-05-31T16:32:00.000-04:00

I first want to clarify that I have absolutely nothing against the 'Scripps National Spelling Bee.' In fact I think it is incredible and I watch the finals every year on tv. Those 13 year olds are genious; I watch the whole three hours, mouth agape with wonder at the words they spell.
Psychologists feed on this: I was and never will be a good speller, to put it bluntly I suck at it. I was always the first kid to sit down while competing in Mrs. Summers' spelling bees and the first one to strike out in Spelling Baseball with Mr. Postma. Maybe that is why I am so fascinated...

But when I read this article titled ' Protest urges simpler English,' I actually laughed out loud.

A group of English women formed a picket line yesterday outside the Scripps National Spelling Bee, protesting today's English language. Get this, they are from England, which means that they had to fly ALL the way across the Atlantic ocean to run this protest!!

The reason that they protest is because they think that the English language that has been inflicted across the rest of the world has been made unnessarily difficult. They use slogans such as "It's time to take the sting out of spelling," and "Let's end the 'i' in friend".
Clever?

One lady declared, "If spelling was made easier, more people would become literate and confident about writing and children would have more time to learn many other useful things - and to play."

Wow, that is quite the cause.
Maybe I should rephrase my title... 'Some people need to get a NEW hobby."

road trip

2007-05-25T23:24:00.000-04:00

A bunch of friends are lounging in a living room (no one's in particular) and the option of driving to who knows where, for who knows how long comes up. There is a pause and then one zellous friend jumps off the couch and yells, "ROAD TRIP!"

The others soon join in and soon the room is buzzing with excitement.

This is the typical reaction to the opportunity of a roadtrip. No one stops to think about the fact that they will be crammed in a car with people - it doesn't matter - it's all part of the adventure, the fun, and you love these people. Sweet.

My family is sitting in the playroom, my mom and dad look at eachother in anticipation, my mom stands up clears her throat and announces that we are going to Florida. My little brother jumps up and starts running around the house, Mike smiles and nods, and Erika and I squeal with excitement and start dreaming about Walt Disney world - just like in the commercials.

My dad clears his throat and adds, "We will be taking the van."

Jeremy stops running, Mike stops smiling, Erika stops dreaming, and well I am still dancing in the fields with John Smith because I wan't listening.

For my family, the idea of a road trip was never met with excitement, in fact even as a write this I am getting an sick feeling deep within my stomach. I'm sure in the early days, when we were naive and the only place we went in a car was to church and Grandpa's house, they didn't seem so bad, but then again I was strapped in a car seat and my brother in his booster seat.

I don't know what it is... my family loves eachother, we get along (most of the time), we are happy people, but stick us in a vechicle for longer then 15 minutes we turn into the extremely irritable family from Gloomsville. Needless to say, road trips with the VandenBerg's are usually memorable, but for all the wrong reasons...

I think I am going to attribute this lack of love to all the bad experiences we have had on the road together. When we were kids we didn't have the option of having a tv to entertain us for the ride, instead we used eacother, or in other words Mike bugged the jeebers out of me - poking, tickle torturing, teasing, pulling my braids, anything really to get a reaction. I think I would give a satisfactory reaction by crying, screaming, scratching and complaining. Every now and then my mom would look back and firmly tell Mike to stop harrassing his poor innocent little sister. My dad would drive on, silently brewing, until my last wail would make him snap and he would veer the van to a screeching halt, gravel flying, to the side of the road and refuse to drive on. From then on the ride would be pretty silent, except for Erika's oblivious chatter with her dolls.

And then of course there is the fact that when you are on a road trip your family must give you your MUCH needed space. Before every trip we would draw imaginary lines on the seats that no one or nothing that wasn't yours could not cross. The second your space was violated, Mom was informed. "Mom! Erika's hair is on my side!" My mom was inventive and she came up with the solution of rolling up blankets and placing them between us to ensure that we wouldn't touch eachother. But for some odd reason this would only seem to make invading someones space more tempting...

I think it would be important to note that my dad is one of those guys who will never stop and ask for directions if we are lost. He will also never admit we are lost. There have been times where we have added at leat 3 hours to a trip going the 'scenic route.' One classic time was when we were going camping and we missed one turnoff. We kept driving until eventually we were driving down this cow path while my dad was muttering how people should take better care of their roads. My mom finally convinced him to ask directions at the next place we went by, which ended up being a dump half an hour away. All we met there was a black bear... my dad decided to turn around.

If we were to ever write a book called 'Road Trips From Hell - VandenBerg edition,' the main plot would be concerning the epic Florida road trip. 2 days + four siblilngs + bordom + a blizzard + traffic jam = torture. At this time Jeremy was just begining to realise that it is every little brother's duty to annoy the stuffing out of his sisters. He would sing, he would burp, he would fart, he would punch - Mom and Dad thought it was cute, while we were driven crazy. I think there was a time where I spent a good two hours thinking of ways I could throw him out the window without Mom noticing.

Last summer, my family tried it again... this time to Boston, Darian Lake. You would think that since we have matured it would be a much better trip. Well, 'maturity' kinda melts away in 34 degree weather, no airconditioning, and being stuck at the border for 2 and a half hours. Although, there was a time where we all laughed until we cried, which broke the ice (if there was any ice to break). We had the sliding doors open while waiting at the border and when my little brother slammed one shut my dad jumped, swore, and hit his head on the top of the van because he thought we were getting shot at.

Honestly, the only thing that got us through the many times on the road was the promise that we would stop at a restaraunt. Road trips were the only reason that I encountered Fast Food in my childhood.

A road trip you say? Who cares that you will be crammed in a car with people, it doesn't matter, it's all part of the adventure, the fun, and you love these people. Sweet.

it's like medicine

2007-05-18T23:48:00.000-04:00

It has been just one of those nights... and these things, it's like medicine.

a great song plays on the radio while driving home
apple blossoms
the smell of lilacs
Chester welcoming me home with a slobbery kiss
listening to Erika play piano
a word of advice and encouragement from my dad and mom
playing guitar
memories of little hugs and kisses
chocolate chip cookies
a cup of tea with honey
star gazing

this one's for you

2007-05-16T20:12:00.000-04:00

Robo, I read this in the newspaper and thought of you.
It gave me a good snicker.

it is well with my soul

2007-05-11T23:54:00.000-04:00

And the greatest commandment is this:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” Mark 12:30

If I were to choose one thing that I have realised this past year about my walk of faith, it would be this: learning the implications of loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength.

I’m not even going to try and pretend that I have found the answer for this lesson, because I don’t. I have just begun this journey, and this past year was a testament to my ignorance.

At Redeemer you find many people who know their Bible and doctrine inside out. They seem so strong, so set in their faith, so secure. They know what it is all about, they have the answers to the big questions – so it seems anyways – I was/am fascinated by this. I am going to be honest here, I took catechism, but I didn’t take it seriously. I would love to be able to tell you that I know exactly what being Reformed is all about, but I can’t. Not something I am proud of, I see doctrine as being vital within the church and I can’t even begin to express how important it is to know and stick to it. I have experienced the implications of this within my home church.
I felt guilty, so I spent so much time concentrating and learning the nitty gritties about our doctrine. This is where the answers lay. I was going to finally understand Christianity better than I had ever before.
I soon became extremely cynical of the Christian Reformed Church, I thought we were going to the pits. We were not putting enough emphasis on doctrine. I sat through services picking everything apart and in some sick way I built myself up as I tore my church down.
It took one comment from my dad to snap me out of it. It was a Sunday night and I was having the weekly phone chat with the family. I was telling my dad about how I was so annoyed at church because they didn’t read the baptismal liturgy before the baptism and how I thought the CRC doesn’t take the Lord’s Supper seriously enough, oh, and I probably threw in the comment ‘there shouldn’t be any images of Jesus.’ My dad took a pause after my rant… was quite for a bit and then said, “What happened to you? This is not the Katrina I know.’
Now, I’m not saying that doctrine and being knowledgeable about your faith is wrong. I’m just sending out a caution. Don’t pull a me and take it too far. Once you start to think that you have the answers you become extremely ignorant.

I was heading down a very dangerous path; I needed to stop. I knew I was doing this all wrong, learning to love God. Then it was like a light bulb went on, yes like the cartoons. What do you usually love with? Your heart! Well then, that is what I was missing. This should be a much easier route, for I tend to give my heart a pretty big leeway in my life as is. I was going to take this seriously, I was going to do it right this time, I even bought a book called ‘The Ransomed Heart.’ It told me that the heart is central and that it is a tragedy for anyone to loose touch with the life of their heart.
I agreed/I agree. But since the heart is so central to our faith, to our being, I honestly think that it is where Satan sends his strongest attack.
Maybe this is just for me, but I have found that there is a danger with putting an emphasis on loving God with all your heart. The heart gets muddled so quickly. It is not concrete, it can get overrun with emotions, disappointments, feelings, relationships etc. God’s speaks to the heart, but how are we supposed to hear His calming whisper above the storm going on within a sinful and unsettled heart?
Frustrating. I wish I could love God with my whole heart, I wish I had a ransomed heart, but this is so hard because it is so vulnerable.

Last Sunday I was struck by something beautiful, something profound. Yes, that’s right, profound… I almost ran out of the service to go start writing my book. Good thing I practiced patience and waited five days. Honestly, it isn’t that profound, Calvin probably beat me to it. It just seemed that way at the time because God knocked me over with it using a 2 by 4.
We were singing ‘When Peace Like A River’
When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot thou has taught me to say, It is well with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control, that Christ has regarded my helpless estate, and has shed His own blood for my soul.

My soul. Solid. You know what I realised? Even though all my life I will struggle with learning to love God, through my struggles and triumphs, my failings and frustrations, I can be confident of this: It is well with my soul. Once God has a hold on your soul it cannot be tampered with.
The guy who wrote this song, Horatio Gates Spafford, lost all of his children when their boat sank in the Atlantic Ocean. His mind probably could not fathom the reasoning, his heart was broken, his strength drained, and yet he could say, "It is well with my soul,"
Your inner being, you soul belongs to Him, nothing can replace that, salvation is yours, depend on it, and through it find peace.

I’m slowly learning this. I will most likely need to be hit hard numerous of times as a reminder. Learning to love God hurts, but there is peace among the pain; it’s His promise.

oh summer employment...

2007-05-06T01:19:00.000-04:00

What was the very first job that you ever had?

Think back, think hard.

Well, there was this time when I was about 7 when my Aunt Grace would pay us a cent for every fly that we would kill in her house... that was kind of like a job, there were a 'whack' of flies (no pun intended).

No actually my very first job that I ever had was being a cat sitter. Though at the time I didn't really see the need. I thought all cats were supposed to be wild and free, catching mice in the barn and running away from human beings. A nice friendly cat who didn't scratch was foreign to me. And yet I cat sat for my grade three teacher Mrs. Luchies. Though the job was tough I did prevail and made a whole $3 for the week. (I made her a cross-stich of her cat for her birthday the next month - extra brownie points!)

What was the very first thing you ever spent your own money on?

Well, other than the 1 cent candies at the corner store, I used my hard earned money on a Nano... yes that's right a Nano. I was one of those kids. One Saturday I rode my super cycle to down town Winchester to buy one, except it wasn't one of the cool Nano's cause they didn't have those in stalk. It was a cheap version of one and it was a dog. Too bad I lost it the next week when it fell into the cracks of the couch, never to be seen again.

In lue of this let me make a toast to being employed, minimum wage being much more than we used to work for, and learning how to spend our money 'wisely.'

french, winks, musicals and more

2007-05-01T23:03:00.000-04:00

Fact: at this very moment two guys that I know rather well are going nutso because the Canucks just scored.

Bonjour mes amis!
I know what you are thinking, "Who is she trying to impress us with her knowledge of French?"
If I did impress you, neat, but I am actually just trying to make up for my embarassment this morning in the grade one french class. You see, I am doing my placement hours this week and I am helping out with the grade 1/2 class. This morning during their French lesson I had 9 grade ones all chime in together, "Comment ca va?" And all I could come up with is "Oui." Last time I checked 'yes' is not a satisfactory answer to the question 'how are you?'
So needless to say I crossed off the option of teaching french. At least I got a little chuckles and smiles in response.

Other than that, I have been loving these past days at school. It makes me quite excited for the 'someday.' It has been kinda neat to go back to my old grade school and see it from a whole new perspective. Although it has kinda been a blow to some of my memories, everything is so much smaller than I remembered it and those intramural games at recess that I would live for - not as intense as I made them.

Have I ever told you that I love kids, cause I do. Is it wrong to have favourites, cause I do. It has only been two days, but it is so hard not to loose your heart to a little 6 year old boy who always looks back at you with big brown eyes and gives you a little wink and smile or the 7 year old girl with pigtails who raises her hand to tell you about how many kittens she has at home.

Kids are pretty funny. Today there was a girl in my class who 'hurt her foot.' Apparently, she hurt it during her sleep and woke up and it was sprained. So the whole day she 'limped' around. Why would they pretend to hurt their foot, its no fun! First they have to go through the trouble of limping, second they can't play any of the games, and third its just ridiculous! I remember pretending to be sick... but that's entirely different, I think.

Also this week, we have been practicing for the musical that they are putting on this Thursday called 'Rescue in the Night.' It is based on Daniel in the Lions Den. It has been a treat to watch them practice. They get better everyday, Thank Goodness! The first day you would think that they have never saw or used a microphone in their life. They were constantly screaming into them, tapping them, and putting them too close together so their was a nice big screeching noise.
Kids + Microphones = Splitting Headache
Actually Im giving it a bad rap, those kids are good, especially my little brother Jeremy. He makes a fantastic King Darius. Oh, and also the Kindergartens are the lions and there is the part when they get to eat the three advisors, they kind of get out of hand and actually attack them full tilt. I think its awesome. Also it is so precious to hear them sing out their hearts while wearing tye dye.

Alright then... this is getting a tad bit long, so I'll stop.
Although I do just want to say one more thing. "LETS GO RAPTORS, VC SUCKS!"

That's a wrap.

im back...

2007-04-28T23:39:00.000-04:00

Here I am back in Winchester,

back home
back to being with my family
back to living on the farm and having a dog
back to having my mom fold my laundry into perfect squares
back to my dad's lame jokes - "why did the girl run around her bed? to catch up on her sleep!"
back to being around Senator fans. *shudder* honestly i don't think they get any worse.
back to being a big and little sister
back to waking up with my mom singing me a song in the morning
back to dial up internet
back to eating steak
back to living in a clean house and kitchen, and a dishwasher - heavenly
back to being able to drive
back to going to bed at an earthly hour - kinda.

It's been wonderful to be home, I have been keeping pretty busy with catching up with my family, friends, and sleep. On Thursday night we went to my sister's high school play. It was pretty neat, although it was long, 3 hours long. It was based on the "Voyage of the Dawn Treader" by CS Lewis. It made me wish that they had plays when I was in high school. If I was only given the chance I probably could have been a Holleywood star by now. I have always been told I have a flair for the dramatic and that the Olsen Twins have nothing on me.

And I cut my hair, quite a bit of hair - tear. I don't like it at all. The next time I suggest that I cut my hair in any drastic fashion, snuff that idea and remind me that I always regret it. No the fifth time is not the charm... Oh, well, good thing hair grows back.

YES! New Jersey just scored in 2 OT to beat the Senators. My whole family are Sens fans, except I am the only one still up watching the game. I don't know what to attribute it to, my extreme dislike for the Senators and the joy I get from seeing them loose, or the fact that I just love watching playoff hockey. It's probably both.

As much as I do love being home, it has been a huge ajustment. I miss being able to have everyone just chat away, I miss the randomness, I miss the late night talks, I miss the constant activity, I miss the good times, and I don't know what I'm going to do with myself tomorrow without you guys to have lunch with. I miss you, I miss "it" and I can't wait to be back.

good bye

2007-04-25T10:30:00.000-04:00

Am I allowed to swear on here? Cause if I am, I would, and I would use it in the context of describing good-byes. Today we are leaving, parting ways for a couple of months...
Man alive, I am going to miss all of you.
These past days have been completely wonderful and bittersweet, making the best of the moments.

It's the moments that make the memories, not what your doing but who you are doing it with.
Thanks for all the moments, I treasure you all.

the courage to change

2007-04-20T19:59:00.000-04:00

Play - Pause - Stop - Record - Rewind - Fast Forward.

6 different options on the remote control. As I hold the remote in the palm of my hand, I can't help but wish that I could have one of these for my life. I feel like my life is stuck in fast forward and all I want to do is press a Pause button and freeze frame it.

Life is always changing. Call me a prude, call me boring, call me unadventurous, but I HATE change. Yes, I know I am using the word 'hate' and that it has strong connotations, I use it deliberately. I hate the fact that I have two places where I live, I hate the fact that I have to leave people that I love twice a year to be with the others that I love. I hate the fact that because I leave people, I have to constantly miss people. I hate the fact that I don't know where I am going to be in 5 years. I hate the fact that relationships always change. I hate that change usually means good-bye.

Alright, I think I have made that point clear.

Last week I was having this discussion with Tamille in her room, while laying on her Buzz Light Year comforter. She didn't say too much to try and convince me that change is not as bad as I think it is. Instead she just pulled out this chapter from Don Miller. (I am selecting the bits and pieces that struck me the most, but I encourage you to read it all. It's from his book 'Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road')

It is fall here now, my favorite of the four seasons. We get all four here, and they come at us under the doors, in through the windows. One morning you wake and need blankets; you take the fan out of the window to see clouds that mist out by midmorning, only to reveal a naked blue coolness like God yawning.

I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. These seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I have been changing. I changed from a baby to a child, from soft toys to play daggers. I changed into a teenager to drive a car, into a worker to spend some money. I will change into a husband to love a woman, into a father to love a child, change houses so we are near water, and again so we are near mountains, and again so we are near friends, keep changing with my wife, getting our love so it dies and gets born again and again, like a garden, fed by four seasons, a cycle of change. Everybody has to change, or they expire, everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back again so they can love it again for the first time, and for all new reasons.

I want to keep my soul fertile for the changes, so things keep getting born in me, so things keep dying when it is time for things to die. I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read one page again and again.

The only good stories have the characters different at the end than they were at the beginning. And the closest thing I can liken life to is a book, the way it stretches out on paper, page after page, as if to trick the mind into thinking it isn't all happening at once.

Time has pressed you and I into a book, too, this tiny chapter we share together, this vapor of a scene, pulling our seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Everything we were is no more, and what we will become, will become what was. This is from where story stems; the stuff of its construction lying at our feet like cut strips of philosophy. I sometimes look into the endless heavens, the cosmos of which we can't find the edge, and ask God what it means. Did you really do all of this to dazzle us? Do you really keep shifting, rolling round the pinions to stave off boredom? God forbid your glory would be our distraction. And God forbid we would ignore your glory

Here is something I found to be true: You don't start processing death until you turn thirty. I live in visions, for instance, and they are cast out some fifty years, and just now, just last year I realized my visions were too far out, that they were cast beyond my lifespan. It frightened me to think of it, that I passed up an early marriage or children to write these silly books, that I bought the lie the academic life had to be separate from relational experience, as though God only wanted us to learn cognitive ideas, as if the heart of a man were only created so he could resonate with movies. No, life cannot be understood flat on a page, it has to be lived, a person has to get out of their head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath:

"I'll tell you how the sun rose. A ribbon at a time..."

It's a living book, this life, it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are, it is coming to a close quick, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still silence. And they will make a fire and pour wine and think about how you once were, and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be. So soon you will be in that point of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly towards its closure, knowing that the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualifications.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love other more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God.

We get one story, you and I and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? It might be time for you to go.

It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you:

Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry, everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

About the part of only choosing selections... I found that I couldn't leave anything out. It's a pretty challenging message eh? Not very comforting though. My attempt to describe it would be as frightenly beautiful.

I know that change is inevitable and I don't think I would even want to get rid of it, for it is the very fabric of life. What I am beginning to realise is that is takes a lot of courage to change, it is daunting to release what is familiar and secure and embrace the new. But you know what? I don't think I am willing to give up a life of meaning for a life of security, to give up the movement of life, and the power that comes with it.

So maybe I don't particularly hate change... but is it okay that I am still scared of it?

I just pray that someday I will be courageous enough to completely trust my Father, so that in turn I will be given courage to change.

*Listen to 'Every Little Thing' by Delirious

the newspaper does not get delivered

2007-04-18T01:31:00.000-04:00

If you have been a faithful reader of my blog for the past year, you would know that I think that the Pickels comic is priceless. I admit, not all of them are 'laugh until your side splits' funny, but I love the characters, the subtle humor, and then the occasional one that makes me chuckel for days to come when I reflect back on it.
Also, who says that comics need to be funny anyways? (exception "For Better or For Worse" - boring snoring)
Since they daily paper is not delivered to the dorms anymore, I sadly miss out on a daily randition of Pickels (along with my Word Jumble, but that is a completely different situation that I might blog about some other time when I feel uninspired to write anything else). The lack of a daily newspaper means that I am forced to look up the comic on the internet sight. I am ashamed to admit I am not a true avid fan, for I only check it weekly.
Wow... I went on a complete tangent, so now I am actually going to write about what I mean to.

This Sunday's Pickels Comic:

Ok. So not THAT funny...

Do you ever catch yourself repeating the proverbs sayings that your parents or grandparents always would say? Just today, when I was just sitting at the table in the dorm staring into space, I snapped out of my daydreaming by saying, "Well, this won't buy the baby a dress, or pay for the one she is wearing."

--- Robyn looks at me as if I had gone nutso. ---

Nope, not nutso, just a slip from my childhood. My mom would always say this after tea time and it was time for chores, or when she was reading a good book and needed to fold laundry.

This got me thinking about all the little proverbs and sayings we had around the house... mostly from my dad concerning the weather - when I was little I was convinced that he was 'Weather Man.'

I love these sayings, they are so neat. Neato.

Now, all I have to say is that "a cold April chill the barn will fill" better be true. I am sick of this cold weather and there had better be an explanation for this, but if it ensures the filling of the barn I am ok with that.

It just that I don't think the saying about "April showers bring May flowers" accounted for the snow day that Winchester had the other day.

What do April snows bring?? We have yet to see, maybe Ill make a clever saying for it. What rhymes with snow...?

Today's Pickels Comic:

Baahahah! Too good, too funny; this one is a keeper!

Maybe Ill attribute this to the fact that my brain is exhausted and anything is funny right now so that you don't think my taste in humour is completely lame. So now I am going to go to bed and stop staying up into the wee hours.

the greatest climber in the world

2007-04-15T04:16:00.000-04:00

My childhood summers were always full of adventure and this episode was not an exception. On this particular morning I had watched a television show on TVO kids which introduced mountain climbing. That was all that it took to convince my brimming spirit that it was my destiny to become the greatest climber in the world.

Now the first thing was getting the right equipment. They stressed that on the show... understandable I guess. There was only one problem, the only funds that I had were stashed away in my glass peanut butter bear jar. I had to find another way; I headed towards the play room. The belt from my dolls play swing was a perfect fit for the harness, the yarn from my mom’s sewing drawer became the rope, and of course for extra safety measures I wore the blue Toronto Maple Leafs plastic hockey helmet.

It was then time to choose the mountain that I would conquer. Since I do live in Eastern Ontario, where the only mountains are the occasional lumps in the road, I was forced to look elsewhere - I chose the biggest of the pine trees in my backyard. I tied one end of the yarn to my makeshift harness and started to climb the tree with ease in order to tie the remaining end to the top branch. Once at the top, feeling quite proud and excited, I decided it was time to repel down this mountain side. Mountain climbing is a synch, I was well on my way to becoming an expert. So I started to slowly repel down the side of the trunk, imitating the way they did it on the television, having complete trust in my homemade apparatus of yarn and doll’s swing belt. Complete trust…

I would love to say that yarn is a great substitute for rope and that a harness can be easy replaced by a buckle of cheap plastic, but unfortunately I can’t. First the yarn started to fray, and then quickly snapped. I began to quickly and uncontrollably fall towards the ground. Luckily, humans have a natural instinct to survive. I did the only thing that came to mind and grabbed a hold of the trunk, hugging it as tight as I could. The friction of my body against bark, hitting every branch, and knocking off every pinecone, slowed the plummet towards the ground. Believe it or not, I did not die, but my dream of becoming the world’s greatest mountain climber did.

Although this episode contributed to my fear of heights, it did not have a lasting effect on the person I have become today, nor does it plague my life with an unforgettable lesson. However, this story is can be seen as a metaphor on how I have learnt my lessons throughout my life, the hard way. “Experience is the hardest teacher, because it gives the test first and the lesson afterwards.” I have always learnt through experience and still do today. I was mostly likely a frustrating child, if my parents would tell me “no” it would generally just entice me to try it and find out the consequences.

Whether this is a good thing or not, I have hardly ever lacked self-confidence, I tend to easily trust those around me, and I do, feel, and react in extremes. I have found that this life brings my life and dreams to two different spectrums – success and happiness or disappointment and utter defeat. I have had many ambitions in life that I have intensely fought to keep alive, whether they were realistic or not. I have made many big mistakes in my life, I have trusted many people who I shouldn’t have, and through these failures I am slowly learning that there are limitations, people do betray you, not all your dreams are attainable, and yarn does not serve as a substitute for rope…

Most of these failures have left scars, real ones and hypothetical ones, but they remain to remind me of the lessons I have learnt. One big one that I have learnt over the years is that you can’t achieve everything you set your mind to. That is a big hocus pocus, self help line that people throw out to kids. The truth is that there are many unmovable obstacles that prevent you from running away with your dreams.

If I changed the way I go about life would it have made things easier? Probably. Would my lessons be less jarring? Definitely. Do I wish I could change it? No.

There have been many mountains that I have not been able to climb, however there have been the ones that I have been able to make it to the top to look back and realize how much it took to get there. The lessons have been valuable, the scars meaningful, and the experiences wonderful.

There will always be the trees that will hurt you, but somewhere nearby will be one growing just waiting for you to undertake it. The frustrations only prove to heighten the accomplishments; the failures make your dreams seem more real. Even though experience is the hardest teacher, it has been my favourite one.

increadible imogen

2007-04-10T01:36:00.000-04:00

I love her music.

presecription for Leaf fans

2007-04-09T01:29:00.000-04:00

Today , across Ontario, many a heart of a loyal Leafs fan took a horrible beating. The playoff fate of their favourite team lay not in their own hands, but in the hands of the New Jersey Devils, they needed them to come out victorious. In the third period the plight of the Leafs looked grim as the New York Islanders were up 2-0. The hearts of the Leafs fans were plumeting and it seemed as if there was little hope to cling to... but then New Jersey scored, 2-1! It was now a close game, the spirits lifted and we saw a light at the end of the tunnel. As the minutes wore on, New Jersey had yet to score. It then came down to the seconds... 10-9-8-7-6-5-4... the tears started to fall down the faces of some, while others smashed anything within reach... 3-2-1... good-bye Leafs...0.7 SCORE!! The New Jersey Devils had scored! Unbelievable... No one knew how to react to the painful squeeze of their hearts as they struggled to quell the shock. It was not over yet! The fat lady had not sung her tune! Fate was on our side, so it seemed anyways...
Overtime came and went with the different chances for each team, but no one was able to decide the game. This only meant one thing... the dreaded shoot outs ie. the nerve destroyer.
New York scored, New Jersey scored 1-1.
New York scored, New Jersey didn't 2-1.
Smyth was the next one to shoot, if he got it in Leafs would not make the playoffs. Realistically, many fans knew what was most like going to happen. Smyth is king, there is no way he will miss. Once again Leaf fans accept the coming doom. Smyth skates, shoots and NO GOAL, saved!
The spirits rise once again, new hope is given....
New York doesn't score, it is over. Leafs are out to the golfing range.

Tear.

Honestly, this was one of the most intense games I have ever seen or heard (I had to listen to it on the radio, no tv channels). My nerves were shot and my heart battered with disappointment. Will I get over it? Eventually. I just don't think I can watch another close game like this for quite sometime - my doctor advised against it.

The cure for this does not come in a bottle as advertised above - although it could work for you - my cure will be seeing the Senators loose in their first round of playoffs. Other than that, I think I wore off at least a year of my life... oh well it was worth it.

GO JAYS GO!

Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward

2007-04-07T12:50:00.000-04:00

Let mans Soul be a sphere, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other spheres, by being grown
Subject to foreigne motion, lose their own,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a year their natural form obey:
Pleasure or business, so, our Souls admit
For their first mover, and are whirled by it.
Hence is't, that I am carried towards the West
This day, when my Souls form bends toward the East.
There I should see a Sun, by rising set,
And by that setting endless day beget;
But that Christ on this Cross, did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for me.
Who sees Gods face, that is self-life, must die;
What a death were it then to see God die?
It made his own lieutenant, Nature, shrink,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sun wink.
Could I behold those hands which span the poles,
And tune all spheres at once peirced with those holes?
Could I behold that endless height which is
Zenith to us, and to our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our Souls, if not of his,
Made dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn
By God, for his apparel, ragg'd, and torn?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnished thus
Half of that Sacrifice, which ransomed us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;
I turn my back to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O think me worth thine anger, punish me,
Burn off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turn my face.

- John Donne

killer queen

2007-04-04T18:55:00.000-04:00

If you don't see me around this week, it's because I have transformed into the Killer Queen.

Superpowers include:
- accelerated healing
- invisability
- poison generation
- sonic scream
- superhuman reflexes
- night vision
- wallcrawling
- superhuman intelligence
- immoratality

She's a Killer Queen

Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite, with a laser beam.

Guaranteed to blow your mind anytime!