Skating, Again

As we gear up for the '10 Olympics, I'm transferring all our old '06 Olympic VHS's onto DVDs. As I'm watching them, and marvelling that it was only four years ago (two moves, two states, two children ago - no wonder it feels like another lifetime), a few thoughts have come to mind, specifically from the ladies competition:

I miss Kimmie Meisner. She was such a delight. Bubbly, effervescent, talented ... don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled for Rachael Flatt and Mirai Nagasu, this year's US Olympic team, but I do miss Kimmie.

I hope Robin Wagner is coaching someone at this Olympics. She's the best coach to watch - her joy in her students' successes is legendary. Can anyone forget watching her and Sarah Hughes after they found out Sarah won the gold back in '02? (I can't - my reaction was almost as extreme. I fell off the couch in happy shock.)

The US Olympic Committee really gypped Emily Hughes in favour of Michelle Kwan. Fail.

Figure Skating commentary will lose a lot when Dick Button finally fully retires (which, admittedly, will likely not happen until he's dead). I know a lot of people hate him, but he's the salt which keeps the rest from being too bland. (Not that Scott Hamilton could ever be accused of being bland ... but you never hear him saying things like: "She's a buttercup" or "Not only was that her best, it was also very good" or "Well, that was second-rate.")

I don't think I realised, the first time around, how biased everyone was against Shizuka Arakawa. As I'm listening to the commentators after her program, and with each succeeding skater, it's quite clear they were all just waiting for the next skater to beat her. Starting with Sandra Bezic snapping as soon as Arakawa finished: "A cautious program," followed by a grudging "but clean," to the complete ignoring of her beautiful routine in favour of the flawed programs of the other women ... people really didn't want her to win. And that saddens me, because she was the best that night, and she never really got the credit she deserved. I have a theory about that: after Sarah Hughes came out of nowhere to beat the much-hyped favourites for the gold, they were embarrassed that once again, somebody who hadn't even been mentioned as a possibility for a medal ended up winning the gold. And you know what that says to me? That since four years later at the US Nationals, when the media hype surrounding Sasha Cohen's return to competition fizzled to nothing as she was soundly beaten by Rachael Flatt ("Who?"), Mirai Nagasu ("Who?"), and Ashley Wagner ("Do these people even skate?"), the media never learns.

As much as I love the Olympics, and love figure skating, it saddens me more and more the older I get to see how so many athletes wrap their entire lives around the Olympics, as though that's all that gives them worth as a human being. If they fail to win that medal, in some cases even if they have to "settle" for silver or bronze instead of gold, they are completely devastated. That's just such a warped view of the world. I joke about wanting to see my girls as world-class athletes someday, but never, never at the expense of having a proper view of life. The world will not end, you are not a failure as a human being if you do not achieve glory in sports. I'd rather be an obscure mamma of two, loving my husband and daughters, and most importantly growing in the knowledge and love of the Lord, than the most famous and beloved Olympian in the world. 'Course, that's easy to say when I have no discernible talent at sports at all.

That's all for this time (especially since my dvd player is acting up, and after recording five hour of Olympic skating, it decided to damage the dvd at the very end so I have to do it all over again and I'm immensely irritated). To those of you who enjoy my figure skating chats: you're welcome, and to those who barely tolerate them: I'm sorry!

(Don't you think the ISU should send me to Vancouver as the official blogger for the skating?)

My Girls

"Squeaking, little mouse!" Joy just pronounced.

She's right; that's exactly what Gracie sounds like at the moment. Which is highly preferable to a Baby Ringwraith, or even just a highly unhappy child. It might not be quite as amusing as "Grr, bear cub," but it usually does indicate a happier mindset.

Joy herself is sitting on the floor, alternately cuddling her fairy bunny and throwing it on the floor. ("Oh no, poor bunny, on the floor!") Now she's lying down on top of Bunny ("Taking a nap.") and grinning between her fingers at me.

My kids crack me up.

Gracie turned 8 months last weekend. She's the most inquisitive kid; I can't get over it. She's still not crawling, but she creeps everywhere, so fast, I can't get over it, and is into everything. I haven't really done too much for baby-proofing this time around, because Joy just didn't get into anything. She knocked the full-length mirror down on top of her a few times, but that's about it. Gracie, though ... if she's not safely in someone's arms or her little play center, she's most likely going to be getting into trouble. With a big old grin on her face, of course. She keeps getting herself stuck under the table; she is fascinated by the bookshelves; if she's in the bathroom with me while I'm helping Joy with the potty, she's trying to play with the trashcan; her last few baths she's tried to roll over and creep in the tub.

And just as I'm about ready to lock her in a cage (kidding! just kidding!), she looks up at me and says in the softest, sweetest voice: "Ah-da-da-da," or she pats my face with her little hands and tries to bite my nose off.

Joy's been a little destructive lately, so I've been trying to balance between being a bit more strict, and also spending more time playing specifically with her. I have a hard time - I tend to feel that either I have to spend every minute of the day actively involved with her, or else leave her to play completely on her own, just watching her and encouraging her and talking to her. Yeah ... balance. So yesterday I spent a lot of time reading her stories, coloring with her, working on her toddler BrainQuest from Oma, even just sitting with her on my lap while I checked my internet stuff (she's abandoned Bunny and is back on my lap now, listening to Raffi while I type), and also was a bit more strict when it came to things like "pick up your stuffed animals if you want to read" and "take care of your books when you're done reading them" (and helping her with all that, since, after all, she is only two), and we managed to get through the day without anything getting ripped or broken.

And the potty-training seems to be back on track - only one accident yesterday, and that was when she snuck upstairs into Gracie's room while I was preparing the chicken for supper. Some of Gracie's clothes ended up in the laundry, but no real damage was done.

These girls have such completely different personalities - Joy is the cautious one, the planner, strong-willed, passionate, either all happy or all miserable, no in-between. Gracie's my wild child, all adventure and no forethought, curious about everything, generally happy unless she's in pain, mostly easy-going. They keep me on my toes, but oh, they are fun while they are running me ragged!

Black and White Wednesday: Tea Time

Tea is very important to me. I can survive quite happily without coffee every morning (although I do enjoy it occasionally, don't get me wrong), but I almost always need at least one cup of tea to start my day. It doesn't even matter what kind of tea: I enjoy chai (although I can't drink the powdered stuff that's mostly sugar anymore - I trained my taste buds away from it and now it just tastes like chemicals, which is sort of sad, because I always used to consider it a real treat); English Breakfast; various herbal blends ... etc.

One of my earliest memories has to do with tea. I was maybe four, five at the most. My aunt and uncle and cousins were camping at the state park near my family. We went up to spend the day with them, and Aunt Michele gave me a styrofoam cup with Celestial Seasonings Lemon Zinger tea in it, and my cousin Zach and I went off exploring all by ourselves, feeling like big-shots.  To this day, the scent of Lemon Zinger brings back that sense of adventure and independence, and fun. Which is probably why I always keep a box of Lemon Zinger in the house.

Along with my morning tea, I usually try to take a break from whatever I'm doing in the middle of the afternoon for a cuppa. I have to do something non-caffeinated, since any caffeine whatsoever after 3:00 keeps me awake all night, but I find it's a soothing way to relax a little, unwind before Carl gets home, so I can hopefully greet him with a smile (it doesn't always happen, but it's a goal).

Usually I just brew a single cup for myself, but every once in a while I use my loose-leaf tea and make a full pot. I never have the time to drink an entire pot by myself, but I have some beautiful teapots and cups, and every now and then I like to use them.

This was from Monday, our "corduroy day." When the girls went down for their naps, I indulged in a full pot of Lavender Sencha Green Tea (my only blend of loose-leaf, because loose-leaf is expensive). I only managed to get about half of it drunk, but just the brewing of it made me happy!

After Joy woke up, she wanted to try a sip. To my shock (as I have been trying to introduce her to tea for months now, and she refuses it every time), she loved it. I wasn't sure about giving that particular blend to a two-year-old, so I made her a cup of chamomile just for her. At first I tried giving it to her in an open cup, but after she dumped half of it on the tablecloth, I switched to an old sippy cup and we were both much happier. And now Joy had decided she's a big fan of tea!

Maybe eventually we'll be able to have mother-daughter teatime.

Want to see more black and whites? Head over to Long Road to China and check it out!

Corduroy Day

I had considered doing a full week of posts on skating ... but I won't torture you all like that. After all, starting Feb. 12, I'll be doing many, many winter sport-related posts.

Yesterday rained hard all day long. I was pretty groggy after staying up to 11:00 two nights in a row, and both girls were slightly cranky from teething issues. So what do you do when it's a slow, rainy January day?

Why, you get dressed up (in corduroy), grab some stuffed animals and books, and create your own little photo shoot!

The above two were originally sister shots, but one girl in each shot was making an awful face, so I did some cropping and editing to capture their best expressions!

I've been wanting to actually be in more pictures, instead of always being the one behind the camera, so I set it up with the self-timer and experimented. The good news was that Joy was so delighted by the flashing light of the timer that she laughed in every shot. The bad news is that she tried to wiggle out of my arms in every shot so she could go touch the light. Oh well. At least she's smiling!

The discerning viewer might notice a discrepancy in the girls' legwear in these pictures. Gracie kicks her socks off constantly - I can't believe she doesn't have frostbitten toes. Joy took a few steps back in the potty-training (mostly because of her teeth, but I think the fact that we forgot to put her in a diaper for her nap on Sunday, resulting in leakage everywhere, was also a setback), so she had to have her legwarmers and socks changed many times yesterday. Le sigh.

My favorite picture from the entire shoot. They each have their puppy from Great-Grandpa, and for once they're looking at each other agreeably. So sweet!

Today's not raining, but it's another groggy day for me. My children's book came back from the last publisher on my initial list yesterday, so I had to spend a considerable amount of time last night researching new publishers. My brain hurts today!

In happier news, I finished Chapter 18 of my final Meg story (LMM fanfiction) yesterday. I told myself that once I reached twenty chapters I would start publishing, because that would be the approximate halfway mark. Two more chapters to go! I'm excited (and a little nervous) to see people's reactions to married-Meg.

I've also been contemplating a multi-chaptered Rilian story (Narnia), about adjusting to suddenly becoming king after ten years in mindless slavery to the Witch. I'm not sure though ... it might be too much work. Besides, I'm still having fun writing about the early years of Caspian's reign; I'm not certain that I want to suddenly jump to his son.

I've also been considering another Lloyd Alexander fic, a sequel of sorts to my post-magic Prydain story, this one on Taran and Eilonwy's youngest son. We'll see.

To finish, I just have one more thing to say: The US is sending an awesome team for figure skating to the Olympics this year. Even without Sasha Cohen!

 

Heartfelt

It was 11:00; Carl and I had just finished watching the final event of the Nationals, and I was feeding the baby one last time before bed. As usual after a really good event, my head was still buzzing. I could still feel the exhilaration from the Ladies Free Skate - just incredible performances. I could still recall the awe and wonder I experienced while watching the gold-medal performance of Meryl Davis and Charlie White in Dance, a routine that moved me so powerfully I was very close to tears.

As Gracie finished eating and snuggled down, instead of putting her back into bed right away like I usually do, I let her rest against my chest and rocked back and forth with her. With that sleepy baby head nestled up on my shoulder, a prayer formed almost without thinking.

"Thank you Lord, for my babies. Thank you for my husband. Thank you for my parents. Thank you for my sister and brother-in-law. Thank you ..."

I continued in this vein for a while, and then stopped, struck.

This was the first time that I had watched a major event and not wished somewhere in the back of my mind and heart that it could have been me there, out on the ice. That I could have lived that particular dream.

Last year, I was pregnant, and mostly out of it. My main wish then was to simply be done being pregnant; no other goals were really admitted. The year before that, Joy was a newborn and colicky, and again, I only had one wish: for someone to please make my poor baby feel better.

I never thought having children would change me so much. But this year, my first year since having children that I was able to form a coherent thought, I realised that I would not trade my life for all the gold medals in the world.

Oh, I still love figure skating. Davis and White's free dance made me remember just how much I adored taking ice dance, and how amazing it was to find the discipline at which I was actually good (jumping and spinning not being my friends). Mirai Nagasu's long program had me cheering in delight.

Yet when it was all over, I was content. Content to sit and rock my baby. Content to be living a life so far removed from that of a world-class athlete. Content to have had my life go in this direction, instead of  another. No more pining.

This is where God has placed me. These children, this husband, my family ... these are his gracious gifts of love to me. I don't have to wonder what life would have been like, had I been talented enough and dedicated enough (neither of which I was) to pursue skating. This, right here, right now, is God's best plan for me. His only plan for me, which is automatically his best.

And so I could watch, and enjoy, and delight.

And then snuggle my baby, and wholeheartedly rejoice in her, in this life, in where I am.

I am content.

And I am thankful.

More of the Endless Gift list from the past week ...


Pursed-lip kisses from my Joy
Mischievous grins from Gracie
Kind words from strangers in a store
Brownies at breakfast
Newly organised bookshelves (Pictures to be posted later this week)
Snow feathers sparkling in the sun
Visit from a beloved uncle (not that I have any un-beloved uncles - they're all special to me)
Husband tackling the mound of dishes for me
Baby singing "ah-da-da" softly to her toes
Peace regarding my baby's small size (I finally can disregard the charts and just rejoice in her obvious health and adorability!)

Visit

Fun with Gunka (My uncle's choice of name for my children to call him):

My uncle's been visiting us this weekend, and we've all been having a grand time. Today, we went for a walk at our favorite state park, and Gunka even managed to get a family picture of us. Those, let me tell you, are few and far between!

He's going back tonight, and we are very sad because we love having him around. Not least because he holds the babies and entertains them and gives Mamma a chance to get some work done!

Come back soon, Gunka. We'll miss you!

Children Again

In between getting ready for much-welcome company and trying to comfort screaming baby while taking care of spacey toddler, I managed to jot down a short Narnia one-shot that's been sloshing around my brain for a while, and finally crystallized around 6:00 this morning. I'm sure it could have been better if I wasn't dealing with the aforementioned children (and my house would certainly look more company-ready if I hadn't been writing), but I'm fairly pleased, and mostly satisfied with it. Which is about as much as I can ever say about any of my works.

Children Again

Hope you all have a wonderfully refreshing weekend, and may your nights be filled with sleep! (And mine, too)

Proof

Proof that real men DO read maps. And read them well, I might add.

This really is the last of my BK pictures I'll be posting here ... another from NYC. I don't think Carl and Steve got us lost at all that day!

How Beautiful is Sleep ...

Two nights ago, Gracie woke up every two hours consistently throughout the night. Last night, she never really settled to sleep until about 1:00 - just kept half-settling, then waking up and crying. And then Joy decided to wake up around 3:30 and read loudly to herself for half an hour or so.

I am wiped out.

My uncle is coming for a couple days tomorrow, and I would really like to have some food made for when he gets here ... cinnamon rolls, his favorite, maybe, for breakfast. I would like to have the house clean.

I think I'm just going to be resting today. His train doesn't get in until mid-afternoon, and he'll be coming home with Carl, from work, so if I rest all day today, hopefully I'll have energy tomorrow to clean and prepare.

And if not, well, he won't care. He grew up as #6 of 8 children, so it's not like he's never seen a messy house or known what it was like to be exhausted from babies.

In the meantime, I found some other old photos yesterday that I thought it would be fun to post ... these from February 2007. I was pregnant with Joy at the time, but didn't know it yet, just was irritated that I was hungry all the time because it was really messing up my diet. Er ...

Anyway. I present you, Louise and Ash go skating on the Rideau Canal, Ottawa:

(I'm not sure why I wasn't wearing my sunglasses in this picture ... perhaps I thought the squint-eyed look was becoming?)

(Hungry, but not knowing why and so trying to ignore it.)

(Yay, Canadian flag!)

(Ash's first experience of a beaver tail. It was well worth almost losing fingers to frostbite in order to eat it. Yum.)

Ash is getting married this June, and Joy and I are both in the wedding. Hard to believe that it's been almost five years since we met and discovered a mutual love for Anne of Green Gables and figure skating.

That's pretty much it for interesting old photos on the computer ... all other older pictures (at least, the interesting ones) were taken with a film camera, and I've never scanned them onto the computer. It had been fun, though, reliving some of the pre-baby moments.

Especially since the baby moments these days are all tinged with a haze of sleeplessness ...

Black and White Wednesday

Way back BK (Before Kids), Carl and I went on a double-date with our friends Jo and Steve to NYC for a day. (I actually think that's the only time we've ever been on a double-date, which is kind of sad. Unless you count the time that the two of us, Lis and David, and Mom and Dad went to see Stars on Ice as a triple date.)

Anyway. It was a grand time, as I recall, full of laughter and good conversation. Jo took some truly lovely pictures of Carl and me (one of which made it onto our Christmas card that year), and even though I just had my little automatic, I had fun snapping away.

Once we got back and I uploaded the pictures onto the computer, I kind of forgot about them. Admittedly, it was shortly after that that I got pregnant and life took off in a completely unexpected direction. Still.

When Lisa started the Black and White challenge, I started skimming through some of my old photo albums, wondering what I had in there that would look better in black and white. When I came across the NYC album, two photos jumped right out at me. So I started editing, and here's the result:

(It is a sheer impossibility for me to see a lamppost and not think of Narnia)

(This makes me think of England. Which is almost as happy a thought as Narnia)

So, not only did this challenge help me discover two pictures which would look lovely printed and framed and hung on our wall, I also recalled a really fun trip with really good friends. Double points!

(And in case you're curious, this is the picture Jo took of us that was on our Christmas card that year. Boy, were we ever young before kids!)

Sister Moments

The girls don't often do that much playing together. Their interaction these days mostly consists of Gracie trying to peer over Joy's shoulder when Joy is reading, and Joy turning away to protect the book, or Joy running over to take Gracie's ball away and Gracie looking so confused. There are occasionally moments, though, that remind me how much fun sisters can have together. They had a lot of fun this day, with Gracie on the couch peeking over at sister, and Joy giggling back at her. Joy looks bored stiff in all the photos, but believe me, as soon as the camera was put away, she was smiling.

(apologies regarding the red-eye - I need to download Picasa for my Mac, since iPhoto doesn't have the greatest photo editing)

("Mamma, how soon will I be big enough to read all of Papa's commentaries?")

This was when Joy really started giggling - when Gracie lost her balance and got all crooked. I confess, I started giggling a little, too. So did Gracie.

I love seeing the occasional moments when the girls actually start enjoying each other. At first, when Gracie was first born, I felt a few pangs. Joy and I were always such chums, and I was a little wistful thinking that now that there was a new sister, they would grow up to be best friends, and Mamma would be relegated to second place. Now, though, I'm happy thinking about that. And, certainly my sister and I are now both really close to our Mum - the three of us are great friends, and I think that's the way it should be.

I hope that there will be special relationships between all parts of this family - that Joy and Gracie will have a particular bond, and Joy and I will have one, and Gracie and I will have one, and each girl will have one with Carl ... you get the picture. And, ultimately, I hope that all four of us will be woven so tightly together that we all just thoroughly enjoy each other.

Family: there's nothing like it.

(My sis and me at her wedding, July 2005)

Multitudes Monday, Back

Yes, I am back, ready to do another gratitude post. I have been doing much better at keeping track of the little things (and the big), and so can share some of them with you. Not all of these made it onto my master list, but that's more due to the fact that any spare moment these days is spent helping Joy with the potty, not leaving me much time for scribbling. I will write them down in the journal, though, probably at lunch today or whenever I get to take a break from the usual Monday cleaning.

• Slow but steady progress with the potty-training
• A new fridge (most especially its prompt arrival after our old one unexpectedly croaked Thursday night)
• Breakfast at Panera, unplanned fun family time
• A short drive, one of the few chances we get to spend all as a family without someone being distracted by books, studying, toys, or the potty.
• Anticipation of visiting with an old friend
• Sunday night prayer with my husband
• Joy in (and on) ice ... several of the performances this past weekend just delighted me, reminded me what I truly love about this sport (and no, it's not the sequins or the divas)
• January thaw. 'nough said.
• Popcorn, wine, and a new book from the library. Bliss.
• Slowly improving attitude (and that would be my attitude, not anyone in the family's - mine's the one that's needed work lately)

I have more, but Gracie is in desperate need of a diaper change, and vociferously objecting to me taking any more time before getting to it.

Hope you all have a blessed Monday, my friends!

It's the most wonderful time of the year (or four years)

The US Figure Skating Championships started this weekend. I am in skating heaven. I love me an Olympic year :)

Riches

it's been nearly ten years since i was there last, that tiny island bridging the atlantic and the caribbean oceans, yet the memories are still vivid, flaming in my mind against the drab background of everyday toil. i'm not sure why it stands out so clearly, when other memories have faded and worn. maybe because it was all so different. maybe because the island engaged all five senses. maybe because the people were so utterly, humblingly, generous.

the first thing that struck me, getting off the plane the first time, was the smell. hot, heavy, sweetly exotic, almost tangible in its richness. the second year that i went, i almost cried stepping off the plane and getting hit with that wall of scent again. it felt like i'd come home.

not all smells were so pleasant. the river of sewage we passed every day on our way to the beach ... the butcher's alley in the marketplace ... the many unwashed bodies we came into contact with each day ... yet even those worked to cement the memories in my mind.

colours were richer there, i think, unless my memory has played me false, for even the many, many pictures that i took don't reflect the brilliance i see when i close my mind and bring back the images. the greens of the mountains; the blues and turquoises of the seas; the white of the sands; the beautiful, rich skin tones of the people; the jewel-bright birds and various creatures; even the purple cloud of ink that was all i saw of an octopus when snorkeling.

sounds? oh yes. monkey cries when we were near the mountains, birdsong i've never heard before, musical voices so different from the hurried, sharp tones of we americans (the canadians weren't as bad, but still not as melodious as the islanders).

as for taste ... o, sometimes i still dream about the food. fruit picked directly from the tree into your hand, into your mouth (though apples were an exotic luxury!). mangoes eaten over the sink, so ripe the juice flowed everywhere when you bit. passionfruit juice, a favourite with all of us, so heady and sweet. flavoured frozen ice, ice-cold coca-cola in glass bottles, ice cream that was all ice and no cream ... all these tasted like heaven in the midst of the heat of the day. the lentils, spiced to perfection ... the flying fish at the artist's house, food fit for the greek gods! chunks of peppermint, a better candy than anything artificial. oh, i could go on all day, but i'll make myself cry.

when it comes to touch, though, i don't think necessarily of anything about the island impersonal (except maybe the torrential downpours, soaking us to the skin without warning, followed moments later by brilliant sunshine, sending clouds of steam from our clothes and keeping my hair in a constant state of unruly curls). no, i think of the people. hugging us, clasping hands, making us feel like we belonged. children, offering unconditional love, cuddling in our laps, patting our faces with sticky hands.

i remember pj, pretending annoyance at these crazy american kids who kept coming around to hang out on his doorstep, but always having to hide his grin. john, so eager to hear more about god's love. carl, shunned by the other children as having a "devil," so astonished at our acceptance of him. peaches, a bundle of energy discovered in the market, attaching herself to us so confidently. darling lucy, the pastor's daughter, bossing the life out of all of us. kenzie, my sweet kenzie, whom i wanted to pack up and bring home with me, all of four years old and the sweetest little boy i've ever known.

we were supposed to be there to help them. in all our western superiority we came, and left humbled, having been given far more than we ever gave. out of their poverty, they showered us with generosity. i realised, then, how easily abundance makes us poor.

true riches do not come with affluence. they come with love.

(i did not go to haiti, but to an island very similar. the recent tragedy that has struck the haitians has brought back poignantly my memories of the west indian island i visited. please, will you join me in praying for the haitians? we have so much - surely we can spare them a few moments out of our days to bring them before the throne of grace.)

Thoughts on Writing

Yesterday I wrote a status inquiry (or enquiry) letter regarding my children's novel - I sent it to the publisher at the end of August, and was supposed to hear back within 3-4 months. Then, since I was on a roll, I completely rewrote the query letter I would like to send out to my top choice of agent for my romance. I like this version of the query much better than the first draft (which was stiff, stilted, and dreadful) (which makes improving it not much of a challenge - I would like practically ANYTHING better than that), so I'm just waiting on opinions from Mom (the editor) and Carl (the professional) before sending it out.

And then I was so exhausted that even though it was barely 8:00, I collapsed on the couch and dozed until I roused myself enough to go to bed at 10.

Writing the stories themselves is so much easier than attempting to find a publisher. Or agent.

Writing is part of me. I've always loved the part in Emily of New Moon when Mr. Carpenter challenges Emily as to her reasons for being a writer. Desiring fame and fortune wasn't enough, even simply loving it wasn't enough ... when it came down to it, she had to write. Even if nobody ever read a word she wrote, even if she was poor and unknown and hungry all her life, she would still write. That is me.

Terry Brooks puts it another way. He says the difference between an author and a writer, in his opinion, is that the author writes to be published; the writer writes for love and passion, with being published as a nice side goal. (I'm paraphrasing slightly here)

I am a writer, not an author, by that definition. Would I spend so much time on fanfiction if getting published was my only goal? Would I defiantly write a Christian romance that goes against every tradition of Christian romances? I write because something in me would shrivel up and die if I didn't.

Not that I'm scornful about being published, mind you. I did, after all, spend over an hour pulling out my hair trying to compose the perfect query letter! Being published would be the ultimate dream come true for me.

Yet even if I suddenly was given a glimpse into the future, and found out that I never got published, not anything, I would still keep writing. And I would still have joy in it.

And yet ... and yet ... even with all this, writing is not the single most important thing in my life. It is part of me, true, an inextricable part of my makeup, and yet ... if I was given that glimpse into my future and discovered that somehow I was unable to write anything else, I would still live. And I would still have joy. I would be changed, I would struggle, but I would continue.

Because God? Is bigger than being published, bigger than writing itself. So long as I have him, I have enough. My joy is in him, and in him it is complete. That knowledge gives me great hope, and great comfort.

In the meantime, I keep scribbling away.

And hopefully, he uses my poor words to bring glory to his name.

Black and White Wednesday

Lisa (Half Gaelic, Half Garlic) over at The Long Road to China had started a new theme of "Black and White Wednesday," where participants post any black and white picture they have taken. I love black and white, so you can imagine how this appealed to me! I don't know that I'll participate every week ... some Wednesdays I might have something else to talk about ... but for now, here is my entry:

Joy wore a beautiful red and brown corduroy jumper to church this past Sunday. When getting her dressed for outside, I realized that the red beret was a slightly different shade from the red jumper, but if you weren't distracted by the colors, it was an adorable picture.

So I grabbed my camera and snapped several shots. This is my favorite, even though you can only see part of her face. The serious expression as she reaches up for her coat, the detail of each long lash standing out, the clear shadow on the wall behind her, everything about it just makes me smile.

If you'd like to participate, head over to The Long Road to China, and join the fun!

Potty-training Update

Potty-training has taken a definite turn for the better. We'd started to have some successes earlier, but Joy was still crying and clutching at us every time she actually needed to go on the potty (as opposed to just sitting there listening to music on Mamma's laptop and reading books). Sunday, I called home (as I always do when I'm troubled over anything), and Mom and Dad both recommended pulling out the little potty chair and trying her on that, instead of using the small seat on the big toilet. Apparently, fear of relaxing enough to go is common! ("Nobody told me that!" I huffed.)

We'd used the little potty chair this summer when we were half-heartedly trying to train her, and she hated it so much we gave it up. So I wasn't sure how it would work, but anything would be better than the hysterics she went into Sunday morning before church.

She loves it. And I love it. We take it into whichever room we're currently playing in, so she doesn't even have to run to the bathroom when she needs to use the potty, and she, yesterday, sat herself on it TWICE unprompted, and went. We've still had a couple accidents, and I still need to keep a close eye on her, but now I actually have hope that we're going to have success. AND it means I don't have to spend half my day in the bathroom with her. Yesterday, I cooked supper while she sat on the potty in the kitchen, and we chattered to each other and had a grand time.

So there you go. In case anyone else out there has, or might someday have, a problem with a kid who is scared to go on the big toilet, or has a toddler who hates missing out on anything, and so doesn't like having to spend a lot of time in the bathroom while waiting to go (because Life Might Be Happening), here's some anecdotal advice: try a little potty chair.

She's Back!

So. I'm back.

It was a lovely week off, except from Wednesday to today, when the toilet-training started full throttle. That hasn't been so fun, but hopefully we will start to see some improvement this week, since we dug out the small potty chair so she won't have to sit on the big one, which apparently scares her.

Anyway. What did I do last week?

I finished the quilt. (Sunday night, just barely squeaking in on the week goals)

I finished the pregnancy scrapbook. I started Joy's one-year scrapbook. I got a little bit of writing done - longhand - but not as much as I would have liked. I worked really, really hard on toilet-training, which took up great huge amounts of time. I spent time playing with and reading to the girls. I did not do so great on keeping the house clean, although cleaning up puddles has meant that my floors are actually in better shape now than they've been all winter.

I read many books, mostly from the library. This because when sitting in the bathroom waiting for your toddler to go, there's not much else to do but read. And it needs to be something light, that can be dropped at a moment to praise said toddler to the skies when she does go. Or comfort her when she suddenly starts to scream because she apparently is afraid she's going to fall in. Or something.

I memorised the second verse of Psalm 145, and would be doing better with verse three if it weren't very close to a praise song that keeps getting stuck in my head instead of the actual verse. The dangers of being musically-minded.

I wrote in my gratitude journal every day except Sunday, and only missed Sunday because I was too busy finishing the quilt to stop and write anything down.

It was a good week. A productive week. But I'm glad to be back. I missed blogging, and I missed all of you. I was able to think a little bit more about this blog, and about the attitude and mindset I want it to convey, and some ways my posts might change for that. We'll see what happens there.

In the meantime, a couple of pictures taken recently, to start your week (and mine) with a smile:

Break Time

I'm taking the week off from blogging. Over the last two weeks, I had so much going on with the holidays, that any spare moment I had, I was playing on the computer, just because it was too much mental effort to think about anything else.  And, just like people who overindulge with food on the holidays, this computer overindulgence has its price - I am now sick of it, and in need of some real-life activities. I want to finish Joy's quilt, finally. I want to write ... with a pen, on paper. I want to finish my pregnancy scrapbook and maybe even start Joy's first-year scrapbook. I want to keep my house in order and still have time to potty-train Joy and play with both girls. I am trying to memorise Psalm 145, and need a considerable amount of effort to fasten the words in my mind. I want to start making my gratitude journal a habit again.

So, no blogging for me. I'll still read other people's blogs, maybe even occasionally leave a comment, but no new posts from me until next week. And limited facebook and email and fanfiction time, too.

Oh, and Carl? You will be delighted to know that I removed the Solitaire app from my computer. No promises it won't mysteriously re-appear at the end of some particularly stressful day ... but for right now, it's gone.

Hope you all have a wonderful week. See you next Monday.

Non-Resolutions

A copy of my goal list for 2010. I'm sure I'll be adding to it or changing it as the days pass, but for right now, here it is:

• Write "The Elder Sister"
• Write Orestes' story
• Find agent/publisher for "Frozen Dreams"
• Find publisher for "The Magic Garden"
• Memorise more Scripture
• Learn Welsh
• Finish studying Welsh history
• Finish studying Hosea
• Potty-train Joy and Grace
• Teach Joy alphabet and numbers

I don't really do resolutions, because there is too much guilt and "me-effort" involved in them, but goals? goals I can get behind.

What are your goals for the new year?

A Happy Memory Made

With both my parents and Carl's mother here for New Year's Eve and Day, I hoped for a peaceful, relaxed, enjoyable time, but was nervous about personality conflicts, jealousy, and uncomfortableness. You know what? It was peaceful, relaxed, and enjoyable. There were a couple of moments here and there that could have turned awkward, but they passed without incident. This was my first occasion hosting a holiday family affair, and I was rather nervous about the whole thing, and I am so thankful to the Lord for working it out so beautifully. (If I skip Multitude Monday this week again, you all can testify that I was and am overwhelming thankful for one thing, at least.)

One thing I had really hoped would work out would be going to the park with Joy's sled - something we never got to do last year, because we apparently never had snow on weekends when we were free. Yesterday, we had beautiful packy snow, a mix of sun and clouds, and the temperature was hovering just around freezing. In other words, the perfect snow day at the park.

Dad bought this sled for Joy last year, and she loves it. Carl pulled her all over the place, and even took her in a controlled run downhill. She grinned the whole time.

After a little bit, Joy decided she wanted to walk, and we tried Gracie in the sled. Thankfully she was so bundled up she couldn't have fallen out if she tried, and even though she was tired, she still had fun having Mamma or Papa pull her around (we did NOT take her down the hill, only on the flats.)

The snow was PERFECT for snowballs. Joy's never seen snow like this before, and as you can tell from her face, loved it.

Mom and I decided to show her how to build a small snowman. We are not exactly experts. It turned into a snow thing, but we still thought it was cute, and I don't think it gave Joy nightmares!

This, I think, is my new favourite picture of my mom and Joy.

Proof that I still occasionally take pictures of something other than my children. Not often, but occasionally.

After we got back from the park, the rest of the day was just spent relaxing and munching food. I made cranberry meatballs in one crockpot, a brown sugar glazed ham in another, had cheese and crackers, sweetbread, and spinach and artichoke dip available to eat throughout the afternoon and evening ... no fuss, no frills, nice and simple. We watched a Brother Cadfael later in the afternoon (I recently introduced Carl's mom to the books, and so she was really interested in watching the show), and then we played Apples to Apples. Mom helped me work on Joy's quilt (technically, Mom pinned the binding and started sewing it while I fetched her thread and needles and pins) ... all in all, it was just a thoroughly pleasant day. Not often that happens, and so nice when it does.

Carl's mom left last night, and Mom and Dad are helping us take down the Christmas decorations and rearrange the living room today before they leave as well. Then it will be life back to normal ... back into potty-training whole-heartedly; helping Gracie practice crawling; writing, studying, etc.

Another holiday season passed - another winter partway through - another year begun.

Gracie finds the ball great incentive for crawling!