Spoiling the Sopranos

Paul and I are currently watching the first half of the sixth and final season of The Sopranos on dvd. We've watched each season after its video release. For whatever reason their filming schedule has been nutty. They waited a couple years between the fifth and sixth season. Then they filmed half a season, which aired on HBO this fall. The second half of the sixth season and the end of the show will air this spring...I think. I don't really keep up. I just occasionally look and see if new discs are out.

So we've got the first disc in: Season 6: Part 1: Disc 1. As it's been a couple years since we've seen any of this we watch the little recap for each season. Then, with great excitement, we watch the first episode.

It all seemed strangely familliar to me. The opening scene shows Carmella and Adriana walking through the frame of a house being built. Paul was confused because the last we saw, Adriana got whacked. I said, "Yes, Aid's dead. Carm is just dreaming this. They are walking through the spec home she and her dad are building only he used subgrade wood and thinks he can bribe the building inspector, but the inspector he knows has retired so Carmella gets really mad...." Paul looks at me like he has never heard of any of this. I then realize that none of what I have just described has happened yet in the episode. So, I'm psychic now?

I make a couple more comments, spoiling the scenes which are about to take place. Finally I drive the nail in the coffin by saying, "Wait...wait...I thought Uncle Junior SHOT Tony! I thought he was all crazy with dementia and shot him and the last we saw Tony he's lying on the floor trying to call 911! Why wasn't that on the recap?!?"

And then Paul realized what was going on.

"YOU WATCHED THIS AT YOUR PARENT'S HOUSE!"

My parents have cable. I was visiting the week the first episode aired last fall. I watched it. I totally RUINED this GREAT episode he had been waiting two years to watch. I gave a way the killer ending about 10 minutes into the hour-long episode.

ooops.

I'm lucky I didn't get whacked.

Nothings Spells Friendship Like F-L-U

Our weekend was a comedy of errors and I use "comedy" loosely...and perhaps I mean "bad juju" instead of "errors."

Thursday: Our beloved Friends Ben, Susan, Samuel and Jude come to visit and the washer breaks. Parishoner dies, meaning Paul will have to plan and do a funeral while our friends are here, on top of the already scheduled wedding.

Friday: Repair man "fixes" washer says it was "operator error", by which he means, "it was your fault, dummy." Oliver starts throwing up.

Saturday: I try to wash Oliver's bedding and whatnot, but the washer is not actually fixed. Leave message with repairman, but they won't call back until Monday, won't come out again until Tuesday even though I paid them $100 yesterday for a fix that didn't happen.

Sunday: Susan & I go to the laundry mat. Moses, Samuel and I start throwing up.

Monday: Paul sprains his ankle on the ice coming back from the funeral (on his day off, while friends are in town). Susan and Phoebe start throwing up. Ben goes to the laundry mat. Snow starts falling.

Tuesday: The morning flight out of Omaha is canceled. Ben feels nauseous. Our friends shakily drive off at noon hoping their evening flight will indeed fly out and they make a mental note never to visit the Dunbars again.

And I didn't even mention diarrhea.

Fit & Fits

1. We get to pick up our Honda Fit tomorrow. They called yesterday afternoon and we did a happy dance. Catholic Social Services showed up to haul away the couch in our garage so we're busy readying its nest. Maybe it's a lair not a nest. It's a garage anyway.

2. Yesterday I went to pick the kids up from school. Everyone came out except Mo. This is a reoccurring problem. Literally, everyone had come out of the building. I left all my other charges and went after my lost little lamb. When he saw me walk into the room he about crumpled onto the floor. He was so sad. He knows that if I have to come in and get him that he doesn't get to have a snack after school. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I just will not stand out in the cold with three other kids and wait 10 minutes for him. He had his coat on. He was holding two sweat shirts, his snow pants, his library book, and his zipped up backpack filled to the brim with who-knows-what. He cried and cried. By the time we got out of the (long deserted) building he was in a full fit. Screaming and yelling and mad.

After snack they went across the street to roller skate/skate board in the church parking lot because it was nice out. But in a span of 10 minutes everyone had come back to the house twice. Now, it's not a busy street and they are all very good about crossing it -- one of the older kids always goes with Ollie. They really do a good job, but the running back and forth and back and forth is not okay with me. So I said the next time they crossed back to our side they stayed there. Phoebe got mad at Ollie and came back over--somehow thinking my rule would not apply to her -- and had a total freak out when she found out she was wrong. A knock down drag out "you're so unfair!" fit.

Ollie came in and...well...I don't even remember what it was. He didn't get his way somehow and chucked whatever toy he was holding at me (a glow in the dark rubber lizard, I think). I remained calm and asked him to go to his room. At first he yelled "No!" and then he started in with some sort of goofy slo-mo notwalk. I finally chased him in there and he banged around and yelled for about ten minutes.

By the time Paul got home I was ready to BAIL. Thankfully, it was time for my big soup supper gig and I bolted. And when I got home everyone was delightful. I had to take a deep breath and be happy they were happy instead of saying, "Does anyone remember how terrible you were a couple hours ago? Because I do and I want restitution."

And we did have a nice evening. We played a round of Pass the Pigs and read a chapter of Prince Caspian. Good times.

big gig

I had a big gig tonight. I played the Relay for Life Kick-Off Soup Supper in the church basement. The audience? Eating soup and not paying attention. The pay? A bowl of chilli and a plate of brownies to take home. Not the gig-of-all-gigs, but I got to stand there with no children running around--well, not my own children and play and sing for an hour or so with no interruptions. It was nice.

100th Day Polka

Yesterday was the 100th day of school. Our elementary school makes a big deal out of it. Phoebe's class made a 100th Day of School snack mix. Everybody brought 100 of something. She brought Goldfish crackers. Mo's class made necklaces with 100 Fruit Loops on a string and paper hats covered in 100 stickers.

A couple weeks ago I went to Ollie's class (he goes to pre-school at the elementary school, so they are all in the same building, which is right across the street from our house--sweet!)to make vanilla ice cream for snack and I got to just hang out and help with activities. I'm a room mother for Phoebe's class so I get to be in there for all the holiday parties. Plus I chaperoned a field trip this fall. But I hadn't spent anytime in Mo's class.

So, I sent a note to his teacher asking if I could come in some afternoon to visit--preferably to help with something, rather than just sit and spy. She asked if I'd do a song for the 100th Day. This was right up my alley. I ended up writing my first composition solely for accordion: The 100th Day Polka. Any accordion polka is slightly annoying, but this one with it's silly words and simple melody for kindergartners gets stuck in your brain and polkas round and round until you want to scream. It was perfect for the occasion.

It was a really fun afternoon, but more than I bargained for. I ended up helping with a birthday celebration and then singing random songs and, basically, entertaining the kids while the teacher went to the bathroom and to the office. Which was great. A para educator came in when it was just me and the kids and couldn't figure out who I was or why I was leading the class. Then it was time for recess, so I went out to recess. Then it turned out the music teacher was absent with pink eye and there was no sub. So instead of teaching Mo's class the song and leaving (I imagined 20 minutes total, tops) I was there until school let out.

After recess we went down to the music room. I had Mo's class for their 25 minute music lesson. I taught them all about the accordion and taught them the 100th Day Polka. The only other kindergarten-appropriate accordion song I know is jingle bells. So we sang that too. They asked all kinds of questions and it was really fun ("where'd you get it?" on eBay "HEY! That's where I got my shotgun!"). Then, Mo's class left and I stayed and did the same thing with the other kindergarten class. I was the music sub.

I've never considered teaching elementary school. I have always said that, while I like my own kids, I've never really been a fan of little kids. But maybe that's not true. Yesterday made rethink it. It really was fun....exhausting, but fun. And doing music for Vacation Bible School is loads of fun. But that's all music and I can't really be a music teacher. I think one has to be able to read music to do that. Really, teaching a room full of six-year-olds is enjoyable. They're so enthusiastic and interested.

The idea of teaching high school English seems more appealing. Talking books with teenagers? Turning them onto the joys of literature and writing? Heck yeah.

But then I wondered: maybe it's too late to inspire them in high school. Maybe in teaching high school I'll miss that boat. Maybe by high school they've already made up their minds...or had them made up by proxy...but that's such a pessimistic view. Isn't that just an awful thought? I should be shamed. I had great teachers in high school who I really learned from and inspired by, but I was a pretty willing student (except math--sorry Mr Sharpe)...probably because I had great elementary school teachers. Is it the chicken or the egg, folks?

Carey gets what Carey wants: the glasses

typical

pick a metaphor! i'm mixing mine.

I started with a couple skeins of yarn. Cheap, Lion Brand, faux-mohair acrylic, machine washable from Hobby Lobby. Just balls of yarn. And a crochet hook. And some instructions I printed off from Crochetme Magazine.

I read the instructions and, frankly, they didn't make much sense to me. Measure the back of your neck (A). Multiply it by your gauge (stitches per inch) (B). Crochet B stitches and then do a three stitch shell, mark the middle stitch. Crochet A stitches and do a three stitch shell, mark the middle stitch, 2DC in DC at the end of each row..etc.

These individual tasks made sense to me. I know how to use a measuring tape. I know how to count stitches per inch. It's not rocket science. But, I'm a big picture person. How this wobbly chain I held in my hands after the first round was going to become a sweater, I had no idea.

It's an act of faith. I can't think about what a waste of time this will be if the end product doesn't fit...or doesn't turn out at all. I can't think about how much I paid for the yarn or what else I could do with it when I rip the finished-but-awful project out and wind the yarn back up into balls and start over. I can't think about trying a new craft or putting this down and working on the sock monkeys I'm making for my nephews' birthday (sorry, Allison. I'm always late).

I have to take a deep breath, reread the instructions and start hooking. I have to trust the pattern. And you know what? Very slowly it starts to make sense. After a few rounds I see that the shell stitches are forming corners and the 2DCs on the ends are creating a v-neck. The pattern said I was also creating sleeves--which seemed absurd--but as I hooked and read on, suddenly, I understood that the fabric just wraps around to make cap sleeves.

It's like the sweater is magically forming in my hands. I'm working on it, sure, but without any true understanding of what each step contributes to the whole. I couldn't have guessed how it would take shape. I saw the pictures with the pattern online, but the cryptic instructions upon first reading them seemed unable to call the sweater into being. It was beyond me. And yet, here it is. I had to put the instructions into action and that doing gave meaning to the words, proved them true.

And soon I'll have a new sweater. I'll post a finished pic (uh...it's going to be longer than this).

bought it at the five and dime, played it 'til my fingers bled

1. I am learning to play The Beatles' "Blackbird." This is a) a fine challenge b) good fun c) causing great pain. I love finger picking and I really, really, want to improve. My fingers just hurt a lot. I'm also learning David Wilcox's "Strong Chemistry" which is unlike anything I've ever played before--bending strings and whatnot. Robin has set a goal for me to take the techniques and chords in these two songs and use them in songs of my own. This is generally what I do anyway. I learn a new song with a new trick and I crib it. But having it thusly formalized into an assignment makes me a little nervous. Especially the Wilcox. Should be interesting.

2. I finished reading Jane Eyre. Let me say that a)I am a really fast reader and b)it is my goal this year to take advantage of having everybody in school from 12:15-3:15 and I took advantage of it this week by reading Jane Eyre. Also, a couple months ago I bought a Mighty Bright Book Light at Prairie Books and it has changed my life. I know, it's a book light. But now I can sit up (or lie for that matter) in bed with a tiny little led light illuminated my pages and not disturb Paul. It's the greatest.

But back to Miss Eyre. She is EVERY BIT as SAUCY in the book as she is portrayed in Master Piece Theater. I just never read it that way. I read her as akward and unused to soceity. But she totally flirts and teases Mr. Rochester. Perhaps it's because she is unused to soceity that she takes such liberties, but she totally takes them. It's fantastic. The scene at the end Sunday night where she asks leave to see her dying Aunt Reed and needs her wages is straight off the pages. He gives her the money and says he wants it back, she holds her purse behind her back and tells him he's "not to be trusted." There's all sorts of back and forth that is just delicious.

If you haven't read it, do. It's creepy and scary and romantic. Aaaaaaahhhhh...Jane Eyre.

3. I scheduled my PRAXIS test. This is the standardized test I need to get into the masters program at Hastings College. This is THE MATH. By Monday March 12 I need to have my ducks in a row. I borrowed a book from the library with practice tests and whatnot and it is all a little scary to me. It's been a long time since I've studied for anything--really sat down and systematcally studied for a test. And then to have it be math?! The last math I took was Algebera II my junior year in high school.

4. We should be getting our Fit in a couple weeks. At first the salesman got on the computer to try and find us a car and we realized he wasn't even talking about real cars, but potential cars. He was looking at which cars were slated for production in February and March...in Japan. So the car would have to first be built and then shipped over. It would be like eight weeks from the cars birthday to when we got it. At that point Paul and I were both thinking that we could have an XB in our driveway next week, wouldn't that be nice?

But Mr. Salesman had one potential Fit coming his way (red and automatic, we want silver and stick) so he put that up for trade on some Honda dealer website and somebody bit. So when the potential red automatic is born it will be shipped to Portland. In the meantime silver stick Fit is being put on a train in Portland headed toward Kansas City, and then on a truck to Grand Island. What a world we live in. When I think about all the carbon emmissions used in getting us our high gas mileage vehicle I wonder what the point is.

5. Today I am going to Ollie's preschool class with my icecream maker! We're going to make icecream for snack. Now, I know I talk all the time about wanting to be Laura Ingalls, but Laura Ingalls had to make ice cream with rock salt and churning and whatnot. I'm sure that would be fun for the kids...and educational. But that's not what is happening today. Today I am taking my stainless steel Cuisinart state-of-the-art icecream maker, filling it with milk and cream and sugar, plugging it in and in 30 minutes we will have ice cream. There are days when it pays not to be Laura Ingalls.

6. Yesterday the City of Hastings trucks rolled up in front of our house to take away the branches from the ice storm Dec. 30. Oliver and I stood on the porch and watched the great machine scoop up the piles of branches in it's great teeth and drop them in the back of the truck and then smash them down. It was very cool. And cooler yet: they broke for lunch and left the giant scooper (I'm sure it has a real name) parked in front of our house--a four year old's dream. We no longer look like we live in a beaver dam.

a good quote from our nest of nerdlings

"I have a question, Mom. At lunch today I was sitting with the boys and they were talking about patriots and I was confused. Does patriots have two meanings? Because I thought patriots were the people who didn't want us to have a king, but it sounded like they were talking about basketball or something."

coat of contention

I'm the sort of gal who, for the most part, marches to the beat of her own drummer. I've never been much of a people-pleaser; never been too worried about people's opinions about me, especially when it comes to my appearance. I wear what I like. I like to be comfortable. I try to look nice when the occasion calls for it and settle for presentable most days. I have my girlie moments when makeup and new clothes are all that will make me happy, but most days are not like that.


This winter I bought a new coat. My mom bought me a coat last year (or the year before..?) that is gorgeous. It is fitted and stylish. I love it. But I could never throw it on over sweats to run an errand. I could never throw it on over a bulky sweater or sweatshirt because it has too snug a fit.


We live across the street from the kid's school. I walk back and forth three times a day, five days a week. I take Phoebe & Mo over every morning at 8. I take Ollie over every day at 12. I go over and walk them all home at 3:15. And while it's right across the street, there's a big field between our house and the building. And, for those of you don't live here, it is very windy and very cold here in the winter. I wanted a coat I could bundle up in for the purpose of walking to school or doing any sort of outside activity that didn't require me to be somewhat dressy. (Can you think of an outdoor activity for which you'd want to be dressy?)


So, I looked around and ordered this coat from Land's End: The Women's Down Chalet Long Coat in "olive drab." It's down-filled (hence the name) so it's light as a feather (haha) and it feels like being inside a sleeping bag. It's soft and comfy. It's so warm it actually gets uncomfortable in the grocery store. It comes down past my knees so at 8:00 in the morning when it is 3 degrees I can put on my fake ugg boots and my big coat and all that shows is about three inches of pants, so no one has to know that I am still in my flannel pj's. It is perfect. I love this coat. I crocheted a hat and scarf in self-striping 100% wool Norro yarn that matches perfectly. Good stuff!


But every time I wear it, someone makes a comment. "Boy, you're bundled up!" "That's quite a coat!" "Whoa! How cold is it out there today?!" Those are things that strangers say. A lady in line behind me at St. Joseph Gift & Thrift actually patted my shoulders to feel the coat and said, "That is some kind of coat!" My friends say things like, "Wow, that is puffy!" Someone at church just laughed the other day and said, "Warm enough?"


Now, a few of these comments I could have ignored, but everyday somebody says something about it. And while nobody has said, "You look like an idiot in that coat", I seldom hear, "What a great coat!" The volume of decidedly NEUTRAL comments makes me suspicious. Why make a comment if it is neutral? Why draw attention to the coat and say "that's some kind of coat." It is some kind of coat. It's the Women's Down Chalet Long Coat.


Why do people care about my coat? It's such a weird thing...because it seems to me a pretty normal coat. It's not an outlandish color. Does "drab olive" sound outlandish? It doesn't have any exciting embellishments--no fur collar, no embroidered cuffs, no reflective strips, no fancy buttons, no nothing. It's a quilted nylon parka with down filling.

Maybe I look funny in the coat. Maybe I look like the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man. I know I don't look the model in the picture. The picture shows a far more accentuated waist than is perceivable when I am wearing it. But it's not ridiculous.

Im starting to feel a little self-conscious about it.


Will I stop wearing it? Heck no. I say again, it's like walking around in a sleeping bag and no one can see that I'm still in my pajamas. When you find a coat like that, you can't go back. I'm wearing this sucker every day. But if you see me wearing it don't say a thing.

Hold on to Your Virtue!

Sunday night on PBS: Masterpiece Theater presents a new, two-part production of

Jane Eyre

Check your local listings; hold on to your virtue; and beware of what lurks in the attic.

First books, Now Movies

Here is our Netflix Rental History for the past four or so months (and in reverse order). What are you watching?

Currently at home:

Word Wars
Documentary @ Scrabble...halfway through and it's fabulous--a good companion to Wordplay & Akeelah

Born into Brothels
Documentary @ the daughters of Indian prostitutes. I think filmed in part by the girls...?Haven't watched it yet.

The Chorus
French Mr Holland's Opus/Stand & Deliver. Maybe cheesey, maybe great...we'll see.

Who Killed the Electric Car?
Incredibly disturbing documentary about the EV-1 and California's repealed zero-emissions policy.

Strangers with Candy
I really wanted to like it.

Nashville
See this.

Nacho Libre
Watched ten minutes and sent it back.

Undeclared: The Complete Series: Discs 1 & 2
Very funny show.

A Prairie Home Companion
See Nashville above.

Ice Age 2: The Meltdown
Whatever.

Da Ali G Show: Season 1
I cringed and had to leave the room. I laughed my head off. Hated it. Loved it. Can't wait to see Borat. Don't want to see Borat.

An Inconvenient Truth
Everyone should watch this. See here.

Jeeves and Wooster: Season 1: Discs 1 & 2
Fantastic use of language in this BBC comedy based on PG Wodehouse. Hugh Laurie (House) and Stephen Fry are fabulous. Over the course of 10 years, we've watched these again and again.

Akeelah and the Bee
Love it. Made me want to spell better.

Northern Exposure: Season 1: Disc 1
Not as good as I remembered, only watched one disc.

Quiz Show
Good film. In queue for "Dinner & Movie" discussion night

Mrs. Henderson Presents
Enjoyed it.

The Facts of Life: The Complete First and Second Seasons: Disc 1
Better than I remember it.

The Apostle
Duvall is as good as it gets.

Freaks & Geeks: The Complete Series: Discs 1 through 6
THIS IS HANDS DOWN THE BEST TV SHOW EVER MADE. YOU MUST WATCH THIS. IT IS FUNNY AND SAD AND TRUE AND EXACTLY AS AWFUL AND WONDERFUL AS HIGH SCHOOL IS. IN THE LAST EPISODE I CRIED LIKE A BABY, NOT ONLY BECAUSE IT WAS A TOUCHING EPISODE, BUT BECAUSE I KNEW THOSE CHARACTERS THAT I LOVED WERE GONE FOREVER. However, many of the same actors are in undeclared which has the same creator, though it is straight comedy.

Tender Mercies
Again, Duvall.

Brokeback Mountain
Fine.

Transamerica
Fine

Capote
Very Good. But after these three films Netflix would only recommend gay & lesbian films to us.

Curb Your Enthusiasm: Season 5: Complete Series: Discs 1 & 2
Larry David is awful and wonderful. Such a funny, funny show. Love Larry David as a character but would not want to have dinner with him.

King Kong
Fine.

Bottle Rocket
Great.

The Looney Tunes Golden Collection
Great for kids and parents.

My Life in Pink
Wondeful.

The Squid and the Whale
Very good.

The Cutting Edge: Going for the Gold
The original was delightfully cheesey. This one simply sucked. But what did I expect?

talkin' 'bout chest hair & crazy cool medallions

Even though it's totally simple, it took me many tries to figure this out...but I still feel like a web genius.

Without further ado, I bring you five minutes and forty seconds of silliness that cracks me up everytime I think about it. Enjoy.


HEY! This is my 100th post!

Reading is Fundamental!

Faith Lutheran Book Discussion Group

Picks for 2007

We meet the second Thursday of the month

@ The Blue Moon in Hastings.

All are welcome.

January 11

Everything is Illuminated

by Jonathan Safran Foer

February 8

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

by Kim Edwards

March 8

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

by Dave Eggers

April 12

The Green Mile

by Stephen King

May 10

Sophie's Choice

by William Styron

Other Recent Reads:

Jane Austen: A Life

by Claire Tomalin

Mansfield Park

by Jane Austen

Northanger Abbey

by Jane Austen

The Fourth Hand

by John Irving

Romona Quimby: Age 8

by Beverly Cleary

The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe

by C.S. Lewis

The Dinosaur Mystery

A Boxcar Children Mystery

by Gertrude Chandler Warren

The Bob Books

by Bobby Lynn Maslen

I've been leading the book group for almost three years now, I think. The goal was to read "secular books" with spiritual themes for discussion. Sometimes the goal is met, sometimes not. I try very hard to strike a balance between books that are good for discussion -- which generally means literary, difficult, and with much racier subject matter than one would expect to find in a church sponsored group -- and books that are fun reads that everyone likes. Too many "fun books" and discussion is left to "Gee, that was funny. I like it." Then we all go home. Too many "tough books" and book group becomes more like work than fun.

We just read Everything is Illuminated. It was a small turnout. It was a hard book. But it was the best discussion we'd had in ages because it was just chalk-full of goodness. Have you ever read a hilarious book about the Holocaust? Is okay to laugh? One of the narrators is a Ukrainian guy writing in his second language, English, which leads to some fantastic, albeit a little off, use of language. If you think Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris is funny, Alex in Everything is Illuminated will have you rolling.

I am clearly, a Jane Austen freak. I seldom read biographies but I for some reason I felt compelled to. I wound up in stacks at Hastings Public Library that I'd never been to. About once I year a read one of these: Sense & Sensibility, Emma, or Pride & Prejudice. It's my three-year Austen lectionary. But Northanger Abbey & Mansfield Park I hadn't read in ages. I have Tana at the Well Read Book trying to get me a copy of Persuasion--the only one I don't own.

The author I've read more than my dear Jane is C.S. Lewis. We already read the Chronicles of Narnia once with the kids. Phoebe remembers much of it, but the boys don't so we thought we'd start in again.

I think I've read all of John Irving...I think. That Piggy Sneed book I just couldn't finish. Ditto for Son of the Circus. Other than those two, I get a kick out of Irving. A Prayer for Owen Meany remains at the top of my all-time list.

It was such a joy to have Phoebe read Ramona to me. Such a great character! I could take or leave the Boxcar Children, but the kids are so totally into it. Each chapter is a cliff-hanger of sorts and they can't take it. The beg to be read more. Over the course of reading a half dozen Boxcar Mysteries, they now will gather clues and make guesses. It's fun, even if the Boxcar Children are a bunch of goody-goodies who only have adventures because their rich grandfather pays for them. All three of my kids have learned to read with the Bob Books. If you have kids who know their letter sounds--this is the best set of early readers I've found, and believe me, I've looked.

What are you reading?

An Inconvenient Truth

There was an important factor that I didn't count on when we showed An Inconvenient Truth at church. Maybe it shows that I am out of touch with my brothers and sisters in Christ. Maybe it shows that I haven't been paying attention. Maybe it doesn't show anything, I don't know. But what I didn't count on was this: many Republicans have a deep dislike and distrust for Al Gore.

Now, I must say here, that out of the 24 people who came to watch and discuss (more than double the usual turn out when we show feature films), I am talking about the vocal minority. There were four or five very outspoken people out of the bunch--but they rattled me. They were predisposed to not believe a thing Gore said. They were predisposed to believe that he was selling hype to further his political career.

I simply had never thought of Al Gore that way.
I never really thought about the movie as being partisan--which is totally my bad --because as soon as the discussion started people, ideas, science was sliced up into what was Republican and what was Democrat.

I have only fairly recently switched political parties. Most of my life I was a Republican. My parents are conservative (though we never had any sort of political discussion at home) and so, at 18, I voted like Mom and Dad and didn't really think about it. During the 2000 presidential campaign, in St. Louis (when I was gigantically pregnant with Moses, born November 3) we hosted a series of "Debate Parties" where we'd invite a bunch of folks over the watch the debates and discuss. It was hard to get a good mix of conservatives and liberals, as we were at an LCMS seminary, but we managed to get some diversity and it was so great. I learned a lot. I was torn between voting for Gore because of his environmental passion and record, but ultimately voted for Bush as a single-issue pro-life voter. That's where I was at the time. Though I voted against Gore, it wasn't an easy decision because of the environment.

Paul, as a biology major and nature enthusiast turned me onto being green when we met. He was passionate about birds and their habitat, fighting invasive species (curse you, purple lustrife!) and restoring native prairies and wetlands, recycling and whatnot. I always thought recycling was a good idea and would throw my can in a recycle bin if there was one -- but I hadn't connected it with my faith as "environmental stewardship." I vaguely remember being annoyed at Paul's insistence on considering the environment in making decisions early in our marriage. Over the years we've both gotten more and more serious and deliberate about making green choices: cloth diapers, compact fluorescent light bulbs, recycling, composting, keeping the house cool in the winter and warm in the summer, buying local farmer's market produce when we can, shopping second hand before buying new, considering product packaging at the grocery store, buying wind energy, riding bikes around town when the weather permits, etc. These things all came about gradually and over time without too much adjustment or sacrifice (okay, the light bulbs when they first came out at like $12 a pop were a sacrifice).

Over time my political views have changed as well -- and almost as gradually. While my thoughts on abortion haven't changed, they are tempered with much more compassion than in my youth and "pro-life" has come to have a much broader definition in my mind (ie: I don't think war is pro-life). Paul's work with the poor since entering the ministry has brought many social issues into focus for me. Though I hadn't really thought of myself as Republican for some time, it wasn't until right before the last presidential election I marched into the county courthouse and officially switched parties.

So, that's the baggage I brought to movie. Back to the story.

During the discussion a man mentioned scientists they heard refuting "the theory of global warming" on Rush Limbaugh. This was an epiphany for me. He thinks of Al Gore the way I think of Rush Limbaugh. I really had to stop and give these folks some serious props. That's the way they feel about Gore and they came to watch the movie and discuss it. Would I have gone to hear Rush Limbaugh speak about anything? If there was documentary of Donald Rumsfeld talking about the war would I be able to go in with an open mind and hear what he was saying?

I decided to start thinking about things relatively (lowering my expectations a bit) and be glad for people coming and showing any interest at all. I could debate the rights & wrongs of the biases we walked into the movie with, but we all had them, and with that in mind, it was big of some of these folks to come.

In the end, almost everyone believed that, if not global warming exactly, humans are having a negative impact on the environment. And we should do something.

That's a start, anyway.

Before the showing of the film, I wouldn't have guessed that anyone would NOT BELIEVE IN global warming. I wouldn't have guessed someone would, in all honesty, not understand why a person would pay extra for wind energy. I get that people have different priorities and chose not to, but to NOT understand the concept....? I wouldn't have guessed that people would choose not to do something because they see no immediate personal benefit ("If I use stick deodorant instead of aerosol, will I have better fishing next year? I don't think so.")

It was eye opening.

I told the group that I like Al Gore. I told them that my "practicing environmentalism" (for lack of a better term) flows out of my faith and parallels it. I follow Christ and sometimes I see a huge impact from it. But most of the time, it doesn't feel like I'm changing the world. But I keep on praying, I keep serving, I keep believing because that's who I am. I do it out of obedience and out of gratitude to what Christ has done for me. I buy compact fluorescent bulbs not because it makes the sky above my house bluer (though if we all did....) but because I am a steward of this earth and that's how I help care for it. I do it ecause it's right, right?

After that discussion and our "Is God Green?" bible study the next morning I felt like a freak. I felt like I was on the outside looking in at a culture I don't understand but am supposed to be a part of. I felt like somebody in this group is wrong and somebody is crazy and maybe it's me. How could I see the world so differently from those around me?! How could these people whom I love and respect and enjoy come to conclusions completely opposite to my own? I called Susan and asked if she would like to start a commune with me for theologically conservative, socially progressive Lutherans.

I've since settled down. I haven't really reconciled all those feelings, but I don't know how to change any of it. My friend Jeremy often talks about homesickness: that we all long for our true home in heaven where all is right. I guess I'm feeling homesick. Until I go home, I guess I'll just have to keep working to make this temporary home more like that one. And start a commune. Any takers?

laughing my head off

1. Phoebe was giving everyone nicknames on Saturday morning after all three kids had climbed in bed with us. "Mom is Guitarlady. Papa is Birdman. Moses is Legoboy. Ollie is Natureboy. And I'm "Love-My-Family-Girl." At this point we all rolled our eyes, gagged on the saccharine and promised to remind her of that nickname in about ten minutes when she started terrorizing her brothers. I said, "I would have called you CraftySally." Ollie said, "I would have called you Crap." I laughed my head off. He had heard "crap" on "Dirty Jobs" and--bless his little heart-- didn't know what it meant. Now he does. But darnit, the name didn't stick.

2. Moses lost a tooth last Wednesday.

3. Not to be outdone, Phoebe yanked a tooth out on Thursday. That night Paul was sick in bed with Strep and I had rehersal for Friday's show, which lead to bourbon drinking and merry-making. I got home late and went right to bed. In the morning Phoebe came in and said, "Guess what the tooth fairy brought me. Nothing." Ooops. I suggested that Phoebe wasn't on her master schedule since she had yanked the tooth out before it's time. Paul shouted from the other room, "Maybe she was in a horrible accident! Did anyone stop to think of that?!" I laughed my head off. The kids did too--we're raising people as twisted as we are.

4. I cut Oliver's hair.


5. Phoebe drew this picture on the white-board in our kitchen. If I had any reason to be ashamed or worried, I would have been horrified and erased it. As it is, I laughed my head off. "Mama likes wine. Papa loves birds." (why does this look like a link? it's not.)



6. The show was wonderful on Friday. As I said, it was a full-house. Robin did a seven minute interview on Live at the Mill on Friday morning. It's a live show on our NPR affiliate out of Lincoln showcasing arts around the state. She was also on local radio. We both did interviews for a very nice article that ran in the Hastings Tribune. The publicity helped, but people just seemed really excited to hear local musicians/songwriters.
I did the opening song "Ohio" with Robin & Cody on vocals, Dan on banjo, Christie on fiddle and Jay on bass. I was nervous, especially to go first, but it went well. Everything went well, barring my Weepies cover in which I couldn't seem to get my fingers to play C-sharp-minor. Thankfully, Peter was wailing away and covered it some. Oh well. I sang harmony on a couple tunes--Stephen Foster's "Hard Times", on which almost everybody played and Cody's cover of Kasey Chamber's "Pony." Robin & I split the vocals on Dave Carter's "I Go Like the Raven" because neither of us wanted to learn all those crazy words. I played accordion on Todd's "Blackbird" and the song he and I wrote together which is either called "Black 13" or "Nothing Comes Easy." On that last one I not only manged to play accordion and sing harmony, but to dance, as well, because it is most definatley a dance tune (especially with Jay on drums). Most of you have no idea who these folks are or what it all means and to that, I say, you'll just have to come to the next show.

For me, the highlights were Dan & Todd singing "Wagon Wheel", Christie playing fiddle on "I Go Like the Raven", Cody singing "Blackberry Blossom" and Todd & I nailing "Black 13." And we raised much needed cash for the Listening Room. The LR is a non-profit, volunteer run organization that is generally short on cash. We have our sales tax due shortly and now we can pay it, plus have a cushion going into the spring season. Yeah.

7. I almost killed somebody with a peanut allergy(okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration). We had some friends over, spur of the moment the other night. Friend #1 brought some cookies. I know she has a nut allergy. She was looking at the ingredients list with new friend #2. I figured #2 must also have a nut allergy, but didn't think much of it because nobody said anything to me. I made cookies from some frozen dough given to me as a Christmas gift. I was pretty sure it had peanut butter in it. I set the tray down on the table and said, "I think these have peanuts so..." And #2 literally ran for the door. She was grabbing her coat to get out of the house. It turned out fine--the cookies didn't have peanuts, but if she had even smelled peanuts she would have started throwing up and turning blotchy. Now, I'm totally aware of how serious nut allergies can be--I'm no allergy deny-er (I saw Freaks & Geeks when super-bully Allan put peanuts in Bill's sandwich), but I guess I'd thought there'd be a warning that I might send somebody to the hospital! Now I know. Hopefully #2 and I can still be friends, as this was the first time we really hung out. Oops. I felt awful.

8. We're buying a Honda Fit. It was down to the Scion XB and The Fit, which cost the same, have the same amount of interior space, the same warranty, about the same gas mileage and are almost alike in everyway--except the XB looks a lot cooler. A lot. Price & gas mileage were our two big factors. We just can't afford a hybrid at this stage, but want the next best thing. Then Paul read here that you can save 3,000 pounds of carbon dioxide every year if your new car gets only 3 miles per gallon more than your current one. The Honda Fit gets 3 miles per gallon more than the XB. Done.

Here's the Deal

My computer went nutso on me. I thought it just had a virus that a trip to the doctor would fix. Really, it needed some sort of dialysis--removing the operating system, cleaning it and putting it back in. This took time and cost me money. Both made me sad. Then I finally get the thing home and my whole ethernet connection stopped working. There's no phone jack in the office so alltel (now windstream) hooked us up with some ethernet craziness--that instead of being wifi, it uses the electrical lines in the house to carry the internet. Wierd. So a box is hooked up to a phone jack in the laundry room and plugged into the wall and then I have a box in the office that plugs into the wall and into the phone port in my computer. Magic. Except one box stopped working. Now I have to wait until the UPS man brings me a new magic electrical outlet internet box. In the mean time I've been walking across the street to Paul's office once a day to check email. A thousand times a day I think of stuff I'd like to google and many of those thoughts have had to do with how to fix my computer--which left me in a double bind.

So that's my excuse for not blogging. Believe me, when I'm up and running I have a lot to say. I have pictures to share. I live an exciting life, people.

I will say this--we had our Artists in Residence show at the Listening Room last night and it was a full house. We cleared $2,100. We rocked that place. I stood up on stage and wailed on my accordion and I'm not even joking. Good times.

Right now I have to get ready for "dinner and a movie" at church. We're watching an Inconvenient Truth and I discovered Sunday at our "Is God Green?" Bible study that there are people who aren't concerned/don't care/don't believe that the environment is falling apart. Of course I know there must be such people in the world--the Hummer exists, doesn't it? But it's wierd to have farmers and railroadmen in on a discussion about the environment (I didn't really even know there were really railroadmen anymore, I must confess). So I have no idea what this will be like. I do know that I'm making killer centerpieces out of recycled materials. Maybe I'll take pictures.

Here's the big question: why isn't anyone else blogging? People, I need to read your blogs. Get your acts together, please!

Second big question: new colors--are they hidious? I'm going to keep tweaking.

huh?

I consider myself a fairly smart cookie. But I have recently been confounded. When director Robert Altman died in Novemember NPR simply gushed with praise for his cinematic work. I was intrigued. I had been meaning to put Prairie Home Companion in my Netflix queue, simply because I like the radio program so much...and Meryl Streepe. I went one step further and put Altman's much touted Nashville in the queue as well.

I have now watched both films.

I am now very confused as to what the excitement is about.

Prairie Home Companion was palletable because I know the radio show and the cast was fantastic. How can you beat Kevin Klein as Guy Noir? Or Meryl Streepe and Lilly Tomlin as singing sisters? Or John C. Reilly and Woody Harrelson as Dusty & Lefty (or Lefty and Dusty, though it doesn't really matter, they come as a pair either way). There was music and sketches, which I enjoyed, but there was also the Angel of Death and plot that meandered but didn't go anywhere...and also Lindsay Lohan, who I enjoy on the pages of People Magazine, but not in a real movie. Paul watched half and was disinterested enough to leave off at that.

Last night we watched Nashville. Again, there was music, which I enjoy. I especially enjoy cheesey bad country music and there was plenty to go around. But there was also this cast of thousands whose stories intersected randomly and whose characters were half developed and a shred of a plot that left all questions half-asked and totally unanswered at the end. Two hours in (and ready for bed) we laughed that it might go on forever because the story wasn't building toward anything at all.

Someone please tell me what I'm missing here.

gray?

I wanted a new look. I'm not married to it, though. I might keep changing it. What color is really me? I'm open to suggestions.

Happy? It's new anyway.

1. I've been trying to post, but my computer is driving me insane. I installed the new Internet Explorer, but now I don't have Flash Player and the "install Flash Player" box pops up on every website and everytime I hit "install" but it never does--so I can't watch video. Then I installed the new Windows Media Player (because, like with IE, it asked me to everytime I opened it up) and now I can't open it at all. It tells me to restart the computer and log on as an administrator. I am the administrator. I'm "Valued Customer." I'm the only one. Then yesterday I was uploading images to share with you and I would wait and wait and wait and then it would say "can not display page." Grrr. I'm open to advice.

2. We had an ice storm the week before Christmas. We couldn't believe what happened to our trees. Then we had another ice storm on the 30th and we laughed that the first storm bothered us at all. Thankfully we didn't lose power or phones or anything, but thousands of people between Kearney and Hastings are still out....and it's cold out here on the prairie. I will supply photos of our dessimated trees when my stupid computer, or the stupid internet allows. I will say this: living in a parsonage rocks. Sunday afternon a team of folks with chainsaws appeared and started cleaning up the yard. Somebody climbed up on the icy roof and plugged the holes with rags. A couple of branches just speared the roof--not all the way through--I can't see out through my bedroom ceiling--but holes just the same. We'll be getting a new roof. And guess what? I live in the parsonage, so I don't really have to do plan that, or pay for it, or worry about it. Maybe I should rephrase and say living in a parsonage rocks when your congregation is incredibly generous and attentive and caring. That's the part that rocks.

3. I'm done teaching High School Sunday School for a few months and I'm ready for the break.

4. I booked two shows for The Listening Room this spring! I finalized details with Jalan Crossland for a Feb 17 show yesterday and sealed the deal for a May 5 show with Storyhill a few weeks ago. I keep emailing my co-producer Robin (who has been doing this for 17 years and sees nothing glamorous about it anymore) and saying "look at me! i'm booking shows! i'm talking to jalan crossland on the phone! he's calling me at home! i'm contacting booking agents!" It's all exciting and new.

5. I also wrote half the brochure for the LR's spring season yesterday. Another new thing. Fun stuff.

6. We had a great Christmas. The kids and I went to the 7:30 Christmas Eve worship service. It was fairly small (which is why I go) now that we have three services that night. We give out glow sticks instead of candles, which is far less romantic, but the fire depatrtment isn't busting in and shutting us down AND it's much less scary with all the kids in there. Christmas morning there were over 50 people caroling at the hospital. I was fine until I saw that a very sweet and recently widowed man was among the carolers (the funerals was four days before Christmas) and I got a little misty--sniffled my way through the hymns.

7. We had a great visit from family. Much Scrabble was played--with much smack talked at the table. We hung out with the fam. The cousins ran crazy. We had six adults and five kids under seven sleeping under the roof of this modest ranch house and nobody went crazy. I made yummy icecream and frozen margaritas in my new icecream maker.

8. A good friend of ours has a New Year's Eve birthday and always has a party the 30th. For the past few years that has served as our "night out" and we've stayed in on the 31st. We didn't even stay up until midnight. We played scrabble, read in bed and I fell asleep. Paul said he heard fireworks and such at midnight. Lame, I guess, but fine with me.

9. The kids go back to school tomorrow. Yesterday in the midst of angst and turnmoil and fighting and rudeness I thought "what is happening here? what is wrong with us?" And the answer, which came to me as I was laying in bed last night, was "it's the tail end of Christmas break." That's all. It's just time to go back to school. But why go back on a Thursday? Wierd.

10. Happy New Year to you all. Hope you had a great holiday.

Merry Christmas!

Last year was the first year I really felt settled into a Christmas routine. It took a long time to give up the traditions of my youth and my parents/siblings and realize that Paul is always going to be gone all afternoon/night Christmas Eve. This was hard when the kids were babies because they were not good company. I wanted to catch up with family. I wanted to eat hors deorves and drink cocktails. I wanted a nice big dinner. I wanted to spend a long lazy time opening presents. I wanted to get dressed up fancy and sit solemnly in church singing hyms and reflecting on what it means that God became this tiny little baby. Unlikely.

The low was spending--literally--five minutes in church one year (by myself with the kids of course because Paul is leading worship, and of course there is no nursery the one service of the year when you really really need a nursery) before one kid pooped in their diaper and the other two were screaming. I dragged everybody out, buckled them in the van and we drove through McDonalds. Fish fillet was not what I had in mind. I put the kids to bed and sat and watched tv by myself. I was pretty sad.

But, now I have come to peace with our Christmas routine. I have stopped comparing it to the Christmas of my youth because it’s simply apples and oranges..and this is the only sort of Christmas my kids know. And they love it. And I love it. It gets better every year because they are older and now are such good company. We’ve built our own Christmas.

Today we will hang out and clean up in anticipation of our guests who arrive tomorrow. Jon, Hope & the boys are coming from Iowa for a Scrabble showdown and will arrive after lunch tomorrow. Tom & Terry are driving in from Indiana to give some Oma and Opa love to the grandkids and will get in late tomorrow night. We can't start the festivities until the Pastors Dunbar (all three of them) have completed their Christmas worship duties. Ah, the extended clergy family.

This evening the kids and I will bake a birthday cake for Jesus; go to 7:30 Christmas Eve worship (which they can now participate in and enjoy and there should be no pooping involved); and decorate the cake (left to cool during worship) while we wait for Paul to get home. We have services at 3:00, 5:00 and 7:30, so he's usually gone from 2:00 until 9:00/:30.
(Now that we live in the parsonage, he can sometimes run home for a few minutes between the 5 and 7:30.) We'll start opening presents when he's home for good.

Tomorrow morning we'll haul the kids out of bed to go caroling at the hospital at 8:00am. I thought this was crazy the first year we were here. I thought no one would show up that early on Christmas morning, but we usually have 30-50 people come and it has become one of my favorite Christmas traditions. How awful it would be to be sick and alone in the hospital on Christmas morning. It's a very moving thing to walk the halls singing hymns proclaiming glad tidings. The hospital serves us continental breakfast in the cafeteria afterwards and then we all head to church for 10 am worship. The Christmas morning service is also one of my favorites of the year. It's usually a pretty small, intimate gathering. I love it.

We'll cross the street back home and eat egg casserole and birthday cake for lunch. Then we‘ll finish off the gifts and wait for the Iowa Dunbars to arrive. And then we’ll catch up with family. And then we’ll eat hors deorves (cream cheese/crab dip) and drink cocktails (snowflake martinis!). And then we’ll have a nice big dinner (rib roast and twice baked potatoes!). And then, the next night, when everyone is here, we’ll have a LONG time opening presents.

It will be a Merry Christmas.

I hope you have one too.

...in your sappy email...part 2

We're on a roll here, folks. The Dunbar family is reading "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" which I believe to be (Bible aside) the best Christmas book ever. This is the kids' first exposure to it and they are mad into it. My kids are such goody-goodies that they are HORRIFIED at the Herdmans. The book is cracking them up. It's fantastic.

So, last night Phoebe said "Imogene Herdman took the Lord's name insane!"

Not, "...took the Lords name, insane!" Just "...took the Lord's name insane."

The commandments are forever altered for us.
************************************************
FYI, it has been raining since about 11 pm last night. The trees here are beautifully heavy laden with ice. I heard the doomsday predictions and went and got batteries and milk and what not yesterday. The kids are in school because the roads aren't so bad now, but by the time school gets out I'm afraid it will be a mess. Snow is on it's way as well. I have a feeling they will miss their last day of school tomorrow, which means no Christmas parties, which means I am off the hook for the second grade class. The other room mother bailed on me and I have to fly solo...but maybe not. I will be sad if our Advent worship is cancelled tonight. It's our congregational hymn sing and I love me song Christmas hymns.

Happy Wednesday.

put this in your sappy email and forward it

It was just revealed to me at lunch that the prayer Ollie picks to pray at almost every meal has been grossly misunderstood. Our boy, who I was just this morning telling Paul I thought might be a genius, has been praying, "Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love and doors forever. Amen."

Update:
About ten minutes after I revoked his genius status, the four-year-old started reading. Okay, "reading" might be too strong, but he was sounding out words like dots, mop, tap, nap, cat. Genius status: reinstated.

people.com is a gateway drug

Please procede with caution. People.com is merely a gateway drug. The hard stuff lies beyond. Don't blame me when your brain turns to mush and your teeth fall out from the celebrity-candy. Don't call me your pusher. I'm just telling you...warning you that surfing over to people.com could lead to you visiting sites like this (again and again and again and again).

the closest thing to a dunbar family christmas card you'll see this year

Last night was our Advent worship lead by 3 year olds through second graders. Good stuff. Very festive, very cute. Phoebe had a small speaking part and got to play the bells. They all sang and had class recitations. The event required dressing up and the boys were pretty excited about their ties. Oliver, of course, wore rain boots, but what do you expect? Phoebe's hair is cute, it just makes her look so old! Blessed Avent and merry Christmas!

A few things

1. I sent in my application to graduate school today. I sent in my requests for transcripts. I contacted one professor who did, indeed, remember me and said she would write a letter of recommendation (albeit a vague one as I took her class 12 years ago). I called and left a message with the woman I'm hoping will give me a graduate assistant job which would waive my tuition.

2. I kicked Paul's ass at Scrabble. We've played every night since Thanksgiving and until yesterday I had never won..NEVER. Last night we decided to play 9-tile Scrabble because our games take forever and we have children who like our attention. I played the word MINDLESS, which covered two triple word squares, plus was a BINGO worth 50 and one of the S's crossed the bottome of some other word making plural (I can't even remember what it was now, maybe "route"). All in all, that word was worth 178 points. Boo-ya.

3. Phoebe has been asking that we go get her hair cut. Yesterday she said "chin length and bangs." Not my first choice, but she knew exactly what she wanted. The stylist and I tried to go for soft, layered, swish to the side bangs and she said, "I want them straight across." And so they are. And she is so happy and excited about her hair. She couldn't wait to go to school. She thought maybe if she picked out a new outfit, her classmates might think she was a new student. And Paul and I are happy because she's so happy and we love her loads and we love that she is her own person with her own ideas (and goodness knows I've had my fair share of bad ideas and worse hair cuts...Dudley Moore, anyone?) but the haircut in and of itself....

Do you really want to hurt me?

I got together with a bunch of musicians the other day. Most of them are good friends of mine. And then there were a couple of acquaintances with whom I've never played or even talked much. I was excited to jam. It's been a long time since we've had an all out hootinany. Plus, we're working on putting a show together--all of us playing on each others' songs and collaborating in small groups. Good stuff.

Also, I've been reworking an old song called Ohio and I was excited to unveil the updated version. I wrote it amost four years ago. It was the first song I wrote that I thought well enough of to want to play it for people. Someone asked me to play it last week and I did and I wanted to stop half way through because I was so bored with it. My friend Todd is alwasy reworking his old stuff and he challenged me to breath new life into that bad boy.

I've been working hard. I changed the tuning from standard to DAGAD. Instead of the simple strumming pattern I had, I now travis pick, playing the melody as an intro and between verses. I put in a bridge. I have vocal parts for two other voices--and not just straight one third up harmonies--but, in my own small way, vocal arrangements. I'm rather proud of how it's turning out and proud of myself for taking the challenge and running with it. I was pumped.

And then I was dissappointed.

I sat there trying in vain to put my finger on how I was feeling while everyone was playing. On the way home I wanted to cry, but held back. Finally when Paul asked me how it was, the tears came. And it took a surprisingly long time for me to come up with a label for what it was: my feelings were hurt.

The whole thing is just wierd to me. On one hand I think how silly to have hurt feelings. On the other hand I think why is having hurt feelings alien to me? Am I a wuss or a stone wall? I don't know. Maybe I'm not used to hurt feelings in this field. It's all bizarre. I feel very out of touch with my emotions.

I played my song (much anticipated in my mind) and everyone nodded their heads like, "yeah, good one." Then someone else played another midtempo song and the comment was made "if we keep playing songs like those we'll put our audiene to sleep." He had a point. Two downers in a row. But, it was dissappointing to be told the song I was so excited about was boring.

Then everyone played songs and jammed. They are all excellent musicians. We had four guitars, a mandolin, a bass, a banjo, and a snare drum (the fiddler couldn't make it). Those instruments got passed around with various people playing at different times (I can't play any of them but guitar). Arrangements were fleshed out with parts loosely assigned--"yeah, you play lead there" (I couldn't play lead guitar to save my life unless it was a memorized riff or solo that I had practiced dilligently) "and here, let's figure out a harmony part for you" (I can sing harmony, but there are others in the group who are much faster at picking it up and are known for singing backup). So I sat and listened and realized I really had nothing to contribute to the group. There was nothing I could be called on to do that at least three people couldn't do better.

Now, I don't mean to throw a pitty part. And I don't want you fill in the comments telling me that, no really, I'm great (though you are all very kind and I thank you anyway). I feel okay saying my talents lie in songwriting and performing. Those talents serve me well. Playing shows is fun. Writing songs is fun. Both are great outlets for me. But, I was excited to be a part of something new and something bigger than myself and my own songs and it was sad to find out that my skillset really really limits how much I can participate and enjoy it.

I felt sad for myself.

So, I'm determined to make the songs I, myself, put forward for this show are killer. I keep telling myself I have nothing to prove, but I kind of feel like I do. Maybe my challenge isn't a musical one but a psychological/emotional one. Maybe the challenge is figuring out my place in this group and how to play to my strengths within it. Maybe the challenge is taking a backseat--I have plenty of opportunities to share my music--and letting other dogs have their day. I don't know. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out. Ha. Plays out.

Right Down Satan Claws Lane

There's no Santa at the Dunbar's house. I'm anti-Santa. I don't think I'm anti-Santa in a killjoy-obnoxious-funsucking-religious-fanatic way. But, I guess you can decide that for yourselves and let me know how deluded I am.

First, let me explain one reason for being anti-Santa that DOES NOT apply to me. That is to say I am anti-Santa for reasons other than this. This is killjoy with a capital K. J.: Magic.

I'm a big fan of magic. Harry Potter? Check. Narnia? Check. Lord of the Rings (movies not books, I'm sad to say)? Check. Toothfairy? Fine. Made up bedtime stories about stuffed donkeys coming to life and my kids having crazy-ass magical powers? Youbetcha. I LOVE that stuff.

In fact, talk to me about toy making elves, flying reindeer and magical fat men in red suits in June and I'd rather like the idea. My main beef with Santa is timing. Why does he arrive the same night as Baby Jesus?

This is somebody who comes to us on December 25; he knows if we've been naughtly or nice; he rewards us accordingly; and when we get to be a certain age we stop believing in him, but keep pretending we do to keep up appearances.

Now, pretend you are three years old and guess whoI'm talking about: Santa or Baby Jesus? Or don't pretend you're anything--which person fits that description? There is confusion enough in the world about who Jesus is. We don't need Santa appearing on a cloud for every eye to see and mussing things up further.

If we need a little something to help explain who Jesus is and what He came to do...if we need an analogy of sorts...a friendly cartoon character to reflect Jesus' nature...I could get into that. But the fact that Santa comes at the same time and is so NOT Jesus...well...no thank you.

The other problem is one of American materialism and a sense of entitlement. This is such a big problem for me because it is my problem EXACTLY. I wish I had more money. I wish I had more stuff. I wish I had nicer stuff. It is my stray dog sin that follows me around and scratches at my door all the time. I pray about it a lot. I remind myself that my life would still be life with all it's joys and sorrows if I had $50,000 more or $50,000 les per year (though, frankly, the latter is a little hard to imagine). I refuse to let all this Santa business instill this in my kids.

What am I talking about, you ask? This question, that some well meaning stranger or friend asks my children at least once day, "What sorts of things do you have on your list for Santa?" I guess I did it when I was little, and my mom still asks me if there is anything special I want, but the idea of telling a child to sit down and write out all the things they want to be given? To walk through the toy aisles full of plastic crap they'll outgrow in a couple months and say, "which 10 of these things will make your holiday special?" It gives me the heebeegeebees. Because if those things (or some of them) don't show up on Christmas morning, then what? Do you really say, "you must have been naughty?" or make up some cock and bull story about Santa catching a flat or letters getting lost in the mail?

And then I start to think outside of my own family and at the community/world around me. When the poor kids in Phoebe's class say they didn't get anything...or not much...is the conclusion then that they were bad? That Santa doesn't visit the poor because they are bad? Does being poor make them bad? Is that the same thing?

And I think of all the hours each week Paul spends helping people who come into his office to get out of debt, or to manage their money, or to make ends meet. And I think about those people feeling like they HAVE to spend all this money at Christmas to make it Christmas and then spend the next 11 months digging themselves out from under that.

I know I'm getting carried away here.

I like presents. I hope to get some good ones. I hope the ones I'm giving are received with happiness and enjoyed.

My kids know who Santa is. They think of him, I think, like Mickey Mouse. He's in movies and books and everybody loves him and talks about him but why would he come to our house on Christmas? We've come up with this answer for when people ask if they are going to get lots of presents for Santa. They say, "I know I'll get some nice things from my friends and family." I worked really hard to come up with that. I don't want to be in your face shouting "we don't believe in Santa!" and ruin anybody else's good time. And I get wierd looks-o-plent with that reply, but the kids have to say something when they are asked, and boy are they asked.

It's this sort of thing that makes me want to be a pioneer wife. I could make cornhusk dolls for the kids and they'd be so excited. Paul would get me fabric so I could make myself a new bonnet and I wouldn't even want for more. I know a time machine is not the answer. And I know I've been through all this before on the blog, but sometimes I feel Amerian culture just dragging me under.

I know some people do St. Nicholas. Some people have figurines of Santa kneeling and praying before the manger. Some people with the same beliefs as me choose to do Santa and that's fine. There's no law against Santa. But we decided to not do Santa at all. It seems to get harder and harder to manage as the wide world becomes more a part of the kids' lives. Since they can't talk about Jesus at school, all they hear is Santa (don't get me started on public vs. parochial school) . But, we'll stick to our guns and pray and believe that these kids are God's children even more so then they are ours and maybe save a little money for later therapy if being anti-Santa scars them for life.

setlist

1. Box of Letters
I wrote this song a year ago, played it once last spring and then totally forgot about it, which is weird because I really like it. It's up beat. It's chorus is "wooo-hooo-hooo" instead of words, which is unusual for me. The music tricks you into thinking it's happy song.
"Now time rolls by window, but leaves nothing at my door
'cept a string of days roughly the same as the string that came before
And I read this box of letters damn near every month
My star may never shine again, but here's proof that it shined once."

2. The Long Winter
I took the story from the Little House book of the same name. It's a fast fingerpick pattern with a built-in bass line. It took a lot of editing and re-editing and re-editing to pare it down to essentials -- I can't sing the whole book. I could, I guess, put it would be a very long song. I played it in Holdrege, NE but this was it's Listening Room debut.
"If you can't hear that whistle blow
then the tracks are blocked with snow
If the engineer can't make that engine roll
Then the train can't bring the coal"

3. Still There
A camp song. I totally ripped off two songs in writing this: Cheryl Wheelers "Further and Further Away" and Nora Jones "Those Sweet Words" (the chords in the bridge), and I'm okay with that. I started writing this after our Soaring Hawk reunion last fall and played it during the summer, but this was it's LR debut as well. You can read the lyrics and hear a homerecording (I play the accordion!) here.

4. Lavalier
It may have been against my better judgement to play this, as I finished writing it the day before and the guitar part was difficult and not exactly executed as I would have liked. But people liked the song. A couple people told me it made them cry...so there you go. I'd like to tell you about it, but it's a story song and writing a synopsis of a tale that's told nicely three minutes kind of deflates the whole thing. Hopefully, I will have the means for you to hear it by the end of 2007. * When I walked off stage Mark Erelli was standing there and quoted back to me the last two lines below nodding his head in approval. Yeah!
"Sunday dinners at Granny's house -- ham and peas and mashed potatoes
When we were all thorougly stuffed we'd settle into board games and old tv shows
And I'd skate down the hallway -- hardwood floors and slippery socks
I'd sit at Granny's vanity and look through her jewlery box...."

5. Prairie Christmas
I wrote this after our second Christmas in Hastings. It's my ode to Nebraska. People really respond to this song. I am always asked if I really wrote it. I did. As it is seasonal, I have to really milk it during November and December. Listen to it here.
"Now our kids are grown, each one to their own home
St. Louis, Chicago, L.A.
They drive their S.U.V.'s to bring home plastic trees
But there are somethings that simply will not change
Top the tree with a cardboard star, sing carols with the guitar
Every week light a candle on the advent wreath
Bake the Christ a birthday cake, give more than you take
And contemplate the season's wonder on your knees"

*I am hereby committing myself to producing an album during 2007. My enthusiasm waxes and wanes constantly on this, but this last show was a huge encouragement. The last few shows people I don't know have asked me if I have a cd for sale. Many people. That's a good indicator to me -- because of course my friends want a recording, they love me, but strangers only know the music. Mark told me he recorded his latest album of lullabies in his apartment with one mic. Then on stage he encouraged the community of Hastings to hound me until I had a record for sale. My friend Todd has a digital recorder that he has offered to set up at our house for as long as it takes. This is all good news as I have built up a whole pychological aversion to going into "the studio." So...now it's out there, publicly...I am going to do this (start panic attack....now).

un-freakin'-believable

So, none of you showed last night. Okay. I gave you little noticed and Nebraska is terribly far away from most of you, but you missed a great event, and I don't mean me.

I have loved Mark Erelli's music from the first time I heard him on "Live from the Mill" on our NPR affiliate the morning before he played the Listening Room a couple three or four years ago. We hadn't been able to get a babysitter that night and weren't going to go, but then we heard him play live on "Live from the Mill" and so we went halvsies. Paul went to the first set, drove home at intermission and I went for the second set.

He gets better and better each time I hear him. He doesn't give the "album version" of his songs live--the songs are reincarnated each time. His songwriting gets better and better with each album. Each song has a pivotal line that just scewers the heart. He makes me want to lay my head down on the table--it's so piercing and dead on I can hardly stand it. That is good music, my friends. Click here to listen to a demo, recorded on minidisc in his apartment in Boston, of an unreleased song called Abraham. When that pivotal line comes, you'll know it. Make sure you've cleared a space on your computer table to lay your head down and cry.