A new hat...sort of

I knit myself a hat today. The pattern is spiffy--and the result looks spiffy--except for the minor detail that it's too small for my head. It fits more like a yarmulke. And keeps falling off.

Maybe I'll just pin it to my head with bobby-pins.

And/or knit myself another hat.

Yet Another Delay

So, just kidding. I'm not meeting my new Karen family today. I was supposed to, although they never did tell me where or when I'd be meeting them. And then this morning--after my sending multiple emails and calling--I received a "How about next week instead?" in my inbox.

Bah.

I had emotionally geared myself up for this being today.

Well, anyway. Hopefully I'll be meeting them next week. I'll let you know.

More time to review my Karen language notes this way, right?

Sigh.

Life's Small Tragedies

I broke my favorite mug this morning.

I tell myself, it's just a mug. Just a "thing."

And yet, it makes me sad. It was the perfect size and shape to hold between my hands, big enough to be a sturdy mug but not so big that it felt clumsy or excessive. The perfect interior-color to tell by tint when my tea was steeped just the right amount. The perfect pattern: just enough of tackiness to leave it quirky, not ugly.

And it was familiar. I used it every morning and evening--and sometimes afternoon--for years now.

Farewell, my mug. You will be missed.

He's here!

The new mpwa has arrived! Little John David was born this afternoon, and I now have two nephews running around. Well, John isn't running yet, I guess. But he's around. And the poor kid's going to be attacked with affection at Christmastime, when they come out west.

Ah, aunthood. So fun.

Originality

The world has felt absurdly poetic to me the last few days. As if every commonplace event is imbued with intense significance.

The observation: "Huh, a solitary falling leaf."
My mind's interpretation: "Every man's lonely and unstoppable journey towards death."

You get the idea.

But really, I feel like there's something in me trying to get out. I just don't know what or how. A story? A painting? A four-volume epic novel? Bah. Whatever it is, it's apparently not something I can squeeze out of myself by sitting down and forcing myself to write or paint it. I think it will have to be something which takes me by surprise. (If there's anything actually there at all, I guess.)

-musing-

In one of his essays, C.S. Lewis talks about "originality" as being among the least important aims when creating literature (or art, or music, or whatever). Particularly when it's originality for originality's sake. To be daring, or different, or more interesting so that everyone can gasp and say talk excitedly about how daring or different or interesting you are. Lewis' idea is to aim for truth instead of originality. He believes--and I think he's probably right--that by writing truth, you'll likely find that you end up being "original" without trying.

I think I'm still stuck wanting to be original, though. Bah to pride.

Church

I went to a new church this morning, and tentatively believe that there I've found a home. I always get really conflicted when it comes to "looking for a church," as if it's shopping for a car or a house or something. What am I actually looking for? If I believe that many of the churches around me are part of the global Church, and therefore are my brothers and sisters in Christ, should my personal preferences for structure/service-style prevent my joining them? I still don't know.

But this church is close (three blocks), active (with small groups and urban/community service throughout the week), friendly, and doctrinally sound (as far as I can tell from one service, their website, and the endorsement of another pastor whom I trust). And I like the structure. So, I think it's a place I can meet and fellowship and grow and be with my local Church. And that makes me really happy. It's wearying to be church-homeless. Thank you for all your prayers!

Weirdness

People do really weird things on Halloween. Like wearing Pokemon costumes on public buses. So, what the heck; here's some surrealism for the evening (in Beligan surrealist Rene Magritte's painting, "La Reproduction Interdit"):

There's my full contribution to the weirdness surrounding today (that, I suppose, and fervent prayers against the twistedly-weird things that are dabbled in tonight). Cheers.
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Painting reproduction from http://psyc.queensu.ca/~psyc382/magritte-notrepro.jpg