Who got accepted to grad school this week?
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Odds
I was sitting here thinking, what are the odds of encountering two broken heaters during abnormally cold conditions in one winter season? when I realized I had never said anything about Thanksgiving. Travesty.
There's not much to say except that it was wonderful and everything I hoped it would be, except for our cabin had a broken heater. I got to see family and friends, hike, eat a lot, read, sit around a fire, listen to football games, and other life affirming moments.
And now I'm out of school, and it's wonderful and everything I hoped it would be, except now our heater is broken, which we only realized today when we broke down and decided to turn it on. But always, the good outweighs the bad, so it's fine and snuggly.
There's not much to say except that it was wonderful and everything I hoped it would be, except for our cabin had a broken heater. I got to see family and friends, hike, eat a lot, read, sit around a fire, listen to football games, and other life affirming moments.
And now I'm out of school, and it's wonderful and everything I hoped it would be, except now our heater is broken, which we only realized today when we broke down and decided to turn it on. But always, the good outweighs the bad, so it's fine and snuggly.
Monday, December 6, 2010
After the Advent lighting travesty, I went to the Advent festival and made my own wreath.
All of the women said, "Oh, you did such a good job this morning!" That was worrisome, because I don't speak old women yet, and I don't know if there was Southern sarcasm in that. I think I'm being overly paranoid. But I like these women because they speak their mind and scoff at Martha Stewart and say, "My daughter would never let me look like that," which is oddly comforting to me.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Tis the Season
A few weeks ago, the curriculum director at our church asked Tim and I if we wanted to light an advent candle (that is, stand in front of the church, read a little script about Advent season, and light a purple candle in a wreath). Well, technically, she asked if we wanted to the backup readers. She had already asked two people, but she hadn't heard from them.
We agreed, and I admit I was a little disappointed when we found out we were staying on the bench. Both people said yes, but she would put us on the list for next year.
Last week, however, we got an email asking if we could light the candle this Sunday, the Sunday before the one we were on call for. We agreed, happy to make it off the wait list.
Now, we were already at a disadvantage, because beside the important symbolic act of lighting the candle, the second most important thing is to have small children that will inevitably be adorable when they say their line. Thankfully we were delegated the early service, a service without as much gusto as the main service.
We arrived to our reserved pew (it even had the fancy sign on it!) and noticed the lighter and the acolyte candle. Tim said we should just use the lighter, but we go to a church where every Sunday men wear suits and ties, it's acceptable for women to wear Sunday hats, and the choir performs an anthem that could be on a movie soundtrack, so I thought, this is not a church where one lights the Advent candle with a lighter, we much use the alcolyte candle. Why else would it be there?
So you can probably tell where this is going.
My brain said "no, no, no!" but my fingers didn't listen and accidentally hit the knob that snuffs the candle out, right before Tim read the line, "we light this candle..."
I scurried back to the pew to grab the lighter and was still able to light the candle almost on cue, as the actual lighting of the candle is only the most important part of being the Advent candle lighter. It was not, however, done gracefully, and I felt shame. I came off the bench and didn't quite deliver.
Of course, my church isn't judgemental, and the pastor admitted (only when I brought up the snafu) that it happens almost every week, and he remembered he should have warned us that the candle burned out quickly as we approached the stand, which was of course too late. The woman I sat next too had a long list of Advent candle lighting stories where everything worked out much worse than my mistake did, and we both laughed at how such a simple act can produce so many things that go wrong.
But the main lesson of the story: don't light the Advent candle unless you have little children. They will steal the show and no one will care about you, and also, if something goes wrong, you can blame them.
Also, I hope this doesn't ruin my chances of making it off the bench for the handbell choir.
We agreed, and I admit I was a little disappointed when we found out we were staying on the bench. Both people said yes, but she would put us on the list for next year.
Last week, however, we got an email asking if we could light the candle this Sunday, the Sunday before the one we were on call for. We agreed, happy to make it off the wait list.
Now, we were already at a disadvantage, because beside the important symbolic act of lighting the candle, the second most important thing is to have small children that will inevitably be adorable when they say their line. Thankfully we were delegated the early service, a service without as much gusto as the main service.
We arrived to our reserved pew (it even had the fancy sign on it!) and noticed the lighter and the acolyte candle. Tim said we should just use the lighter, but we go to a church where every Sunday men wear suits and ties, it's acceptable for women to wear Sunday hats, and the choir performs an anthem that could be on a movie soundtrack, so I thought, this is not a church where one lights the Advent candle with a lighter, we much use the alcolyte candle. Why else would it be there?
So you can probably tell where this is going.
My brain said "no, no, no!" but my fingers didn't listen and accidentally hit the knob that snuffs the candle out, right before Tim read the line, "we light this candle..."
I scurried back to the pew to grab the lighter and was still able to light the candle almost on cue, as the actual lighting of the candle is only the most important part of being the Advent candle lighter. It was not, however, done gracefully, and I felt shame. I came off the bench and didn't quite deliver.
Of course, my church isn't judgemental, and the pastor admitted (only when I brought up the snafu) that it happens almost every week, and he remembered he should have warned us that the candle burned out quickly as we approached the stand, which was of course too late. The woman I sat next too had a long list of Advent candle lighting stories where everything worked out much worse than my mistake did, and we both laughed at how such a simple act can produce so many things that go wrong.
But the main lesson of the story: don't light the Advent candle unless you have little children. They will steal the show and no one will care about you, and also, if something goes wrong, you can blame them.
Also, I hope this doesn't ruin my chances of making it off the bench for the handbell choir.
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