Crusted Over

I've been writing this one post and it was going to be all about why I like my new job so much more than other jobs I've worked in recent history. It's ok to have preferences, BUT my attitude has been hard-hearted and purely pragmatical.

You're getting this post instead.

The Reading of the Law in this morning's church service convicted me. Have you ever had one of those moments, where you are reading or hearing some of the most familiar words of the Bible and they just seem to leap out at you? Read this passage, and I'll emphasize for you what leapt out at me:

Slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling, with a sincere heart, as you would Christ, not by the way of eye-service, as people-pleasers, but as servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart, rendering service with a good will as to the Lord and not to man, knowing that whatever good anyone does, this he will receive back from the Lord, whether he is a slave or free. --Ephesians 6:5-8 ESV (emphasis mine)

The double-edged sword of the Word of the Lord cuts through even our attitudes--not just our actions. I confess that my 'sincere heart' and 'good will' have been crusted over by a layer of cynicism. I do like my job, but I want to think about the reasons that are positive in and of themselves, instead of "why it's so much better than my previous jobs." My cynical hard-heartedness shines forth in that sort of comparison. So, I'll wait another few days till I post about why I like my job.

Record

I scored a new journal today. It's pretty cheap, but I got it for nearly nothing. Yippee!

The cover says "Record," and I know it was intended to be a noun, as in, "This is a record of events." But I am looking at it as a verb, as in, "I am going to record what needs to be recorded."

Writing Writing Unit Plan

I haven't written a Unit Plan in over three years, and I'm pretty rusty! As much as my heart and my mind miss teaching, and as much as I've wanted to get back into it, I'm finding myself surprised that it's this hard to write a simple writing Unit Plan.

I'm trying to keep in mind that Writing was never something I enjoyed teaching (it's time-consuming! hard! confusing! hard to systematize!), so that's part of the challenge at this time. BUT on top of that layer of challenge is a layer of dust...or rust...or just plain stiffness...in my Unit-Writing muscles.

The only way out is through. So off I go.

Sweet Tea

Now that the weather is changing, I am drinking sweet tea. I'm sure some imagine sipping a tall, icy glass of sweet tea while sitting in a rocking chair on the front veranda of a beautiful antebellum Southern mansion.

Not me. It's getting chilly, and now I want sweet tea. (Also, I can't buy coffee yet. Payday's not for a while.) (Anyway, if there are any Aussies reading this blog, this post should be right on time for your spring- and summer-time.)

So here's my recipe, adapted from Paula Deen. (Hers is too sweet.)

Krista's Sweet Tea

• Bring to a boil 2 cups water in medium saucepan. As soon as it boils, take it off the heat, put two family-size teabags in, cover, and let steep for 10 minutes or so.
• In two-quart pitcher, dissolve 1/3 cup sugar in some hot water. Tap water is fine.
• When the tea has steeped, pour it over into the pitcher. Stir.
• Fill the pitcher with cold tap water.
• Serve over ice.

Yield: 1/2 gallon (2 quarts). Double the recipe for a 1-gallon pitcher.

For My Library List:

The Kentuckians, Hannah Fowler, and The Believers. By Janice Holt Giles.

Chat with Mother

It's amazing how much a chat with Mom helps perk you up.



Thanks, Mom. I love you.

Pet Peeve #49,704

I have absolutely no contact with people for an entire decade (coincidentally the amount of time that has passed since I graduated from high school) and suddenly, out of the blue, comes a friendly piece of mail asking me for a donation to a (reasonable, good, and worthy) cause.

Quietness

One of my brothers-in-law (yes, that is the correct pluralization of this hyphenated word!) blogs only when he is glum, dreary, blue, down in the dumps, in the doldrums,....

His blog (or mySpace or whatever) consequently reads like someone's suicide note. If you didn't know him, you'd worry.

However, I'm finding that I don't want to blog when I'm in that state of affairs. 1) I don't want to broadcast my state of mind to all the Internets everywhere. 2) Broadcasting it to all the Internets everywhere is creepy at best and dangerous at worst. 3) Re-reading it later sounds like whiny complaining. (Did you ever reread any of your journals? I re-read a Middle School Journal...whoo nelly was that ever soaking in patheticness! Ick! As cj's daughter says, "No thank you!")

I am doing a considerable amount of journaling in my private journals, though. At least it gets it out of my system, even if it's maudlin and filled with histrionics when I read it a decade later.

I like it, too.

Here's a link. It is about why traveling is fun. Please read it.

Yo, Appalachia

Green (through no effort of my own)

I've been trying to be a little more mindful of the resources I use. No, it's not because I'm a perfect, wonderful ecologist, but because we just don't have the money to buy paper towels and other products.

So, I've returned to cloth napkins. We are out of paper and we just can't afford paper ones right now.

And, when I cleaned the toilets, I used some of my cleaning rags to wipe it down (exterior) instead of some of the (expensive) TP. (I put them RIGHT into the washing machine with all my other whites and washed them HOT with BLEACH!)

So that's something. The trick will be to maintain this little bit of conservation when we have a tad more money again.

Rod.

Past tense is so closed, so final. It's over. Nothing more is going to happen, because it's past, not present.

Roderick Dylan Jackson. May 13, 1962 - Sept 12, 2008.

We who are Christ's, however, will not have to live with the past tense forever. We know the Lord Jesus. He will come again soon, making wrong things right, and creating for us a new heavens and a new earth...with no more endings.

Thank you, Lord. Come, Lord Jesus.

presenting...the Early Fall Makeover!

There it is.

Primary inspiration from the photo, which is my brother-in-law Peter's work. (Thank you, Peter. You are talented and should keep taking pictures.)

If you are looking for color codes to use for you own color-scheming, I like Computer Hope dot com's color page. It listed all the colors, all their hex codes, and gave good examples of each one.

Layout Better

That's better than the previous one.

It might be growing on me.

Layout Bleah!

I'm noooooot liking it.

At ALL.

Off I go, to another one.

New Layout

So, I chose a new layout and color scheme. It probably won't last, but I'm going to find a scanner one of these days and get some of my photos scanned and THEN you will see some MAGIC!

A Confession PLUS A Question

Am I the only one that likes to listen to 50's/60's/70's folk music? I'm talking Peter, Paul, and Mary...The Kingston Trio...and so on?

Going Public

I am headed off to orientation at my new job. Yes, I'm telling everyone: I'm finally employed again. I'm working at a local children's museum, and I'm excited about working...especially excited about NOT working in the retail world.

I'm also getting paid. Probably it will all go to gasoline, but at least we will have a larger number in the "Deposit" column in our checkbook.

All in all, a good announcement.

I'm a feminist? Really?

I used to be angry. I had all the potential of becoming one of those women you read about in the newspaper or see on TV...you know...the ones that fly into rants and are so upset that their eyes bug out...the ones that are so desperate to be heard that they don't listen at all! You know, a Feminist.

I didn't arrive there. Instead, I'm here. I'm married to a man. I'm a happy member of a conservative Presbyterian church in a conservative Presbyterian denomination. Best of all, I don't have this huge, heavy chip on my shoulder that fills me up with anger and bitterness. I'm happy and (usually) at peace.

However. Last night I almost launched into a rant with some of my church friends. Both men, both leaders of our congregation. They made me mad, and as I stood at a figurative fork in the road with the choice to launch into a rant or let the moment pass in favor of peace, I let the moment pass.

I'm happy with my choice. If I had the moment to re-live, I'd make the same choice that I did. But let me just say that I'm so tired of being labeled a feminist because I pay attention to the way issues, policies, patterns, and sins affect women differently than they affect men. I'm not a feminist.

And, for your reading pleasure, I present a well-written essay that puts my thoughts into so much clarity. Intellectuelle, thank you for doing a better job than I can at putting these thoughts into words. I am in your debt.