the lady blogs

and then there were none

2011-11-16T23:35:00.000-05:00

Hi there.

I miss you, I honestly do. Lately, life has been very busy. Isn't it always? I tend to think busyness is the world's worst excuse, because HELLO, everyone is busy! (or nearly everyone) and do we really think life is going to get less busy later? No, I do not think this. I do not foresee life becoming less busy in the next 20 years unless I contract a terrible illness and am unconfined to my bed. That's when I'll finish reading all those tomes of non fiction.

Anyway, life has been busy lately because I started LAW SCHOOL. Random capitalization, anyone? And at law school, lots of things are Very Important, like finishing the reading BEFORE class, and taking good notes, and not shopping online during boring lectures, and going out to bars with your classmates. I'm not kidding, I've been told all of the above are important to landing a good job, which is, apparently, the point.

I think I've been writing this ever-so-uninformative post for about the past month. I make no promises or predictions about the future of the lady blogs, but it's not because I don't love you.

You're welcome.

context is everything

2011-09-27T12:33:00.002-04:00

Unnamed party: "Is it too early to get tattoos?"

Confused party: "Excuse me?"

Unnamed party: "I mean, are tattoo parlors open this early in the day?"

keeping count

2011-07-05T10:35:00.003-04:00

For about the past month, I've been reading Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts. A major premise of the book is that joy and healing arise from gratitude. A friend challenged Voskamp to enumerate gifts she received from the Lord until she reached one thousand, and this reorientation towards the world around her opens Voskamp to new experiences of His Love.

Voskamp writes in a style that is highly narrative, while associations break in periodically. Her frank revelations of her own sorrows, pain and failings, keep the book from cliched "count your blessings" territory, and I was surprised by how much I shared with this homeschooling mother of six living on a farm in Canada.

I've begun keeping a list of my own, though hardly as poetically as Voskamp. On the ride home form the beach yesterday, I wrote a few from the weekend.

- covenant grace in a baptism shared by family
- a good turkey sandwich to a hungry belly
- saltwater and sunshine
- playful dolphins sharing the morning with us
- familiar songs in a strange place
- friends who want to spend the weekend with me
- almond butter on toast

be not afraid

2011-06-30T09:26:00.005-04:00

for where you go, there I am with you.

Promises.

<a href="http://cardiphonia.bandcamp.com/track/come-holy-ghost-2">Come, Holy Ghost by Cardiphonia</a>

We learned this song at church on Sunday, and (for my lack of a better musical lexicon) it rocked. Austin, Hunter, Rebekah, Isaac, and untold numbers of anonymous musicians brought this song to life even more beautifully than the recording. It's also an appropriate song for the season of the Church calendar we're in, Pentecost. I recommend a listen.

Come, Holy Ghost.

all things [re]considered: sex scandals and semantics

2011-06-28T18:01:00.007-04:00

Hell hath no fury like a woman
happy, scorned or otherwise.

-- the Avetts (with some help from the Bard)

In case you missed it, today Christine Lagarde was named head of the International Monetary Fund, taking over the post vacated by Dominique Strass-Kahn. I heard this news on the radio while sitting in infuriatingly bad traffic this afternoon because most of Charlottesville had suddenly forgotten how to drive.

Conditions that impair the abilities of Charlottesville drivers:
1. Rain.
2. Snow: in the air, on the ground, or in the forecast.
3. The hours between 4 and 6 pm.

I hit two out of three today, so despite a lack of apparent accidents or traffic signal outages, my drive home was more of a crawl. So I was already a little irritated when I heard the reporter on All Things Considered conclude the news item about Christine Lagarde by mentioning that her predecessor had been forced to resign following a sex scandal.

Oh. No. She. DIDN'T.

"That is NOT a sex scandal," I yelled at the stop light. "It is a felony."

I parked on my street, marched in the front door, and set my things down in a huff. In a moment, my laptop was open, browser directed to npr.org.

And then, my phone rang. A dear friend in New York was on the line, obviously upset. (No, she hadn't heard the NPR story.) During the 5 minute walk from the subway to her Park Slope apartment, she had been sexually harassed by two men who evidently considered her midthigh length shorts an invitation to make lewd remarks. M. told them off and these fine specimens of the male sex called her a f****** b****. By the end of her story, my friend was simultaneously crying and minimizing her "white girl problem."

In what sort of upside down world does M., who dresses modestly by New York standards, deserve a verbal lashing if she's not willing to put up with obscene comments from strange men? In what sort of world do men feel comfortable openly ogling a woman on the street? Perhaps the same world where a sexual assault is euphemized as a sex scandal on national news.

After we hung up, I finished lodging my complaint with All Things Considered. (Don't anyone mention the Unhappy Hipsters.com post. I needed to do something productive with all the anger.) I doubt I'm the only listener to do so, and sincerely hope the program apologizes on air tomorrow.

On June 28 at approximately 5:30 pm, a report on the new head of the IMF stated that the IMF's previous head, Dominique Strauss-Kahn was forced to resign over a sex scandal. Quite to the contrary, DSK had to step down because he had been charged with multiple felonies in a case of sexual assault.

Anthony Weiner resigned because of a sex scandal.

Jonathan Edwards's affair was a sex scandal.

President Clinton's dalliance with Monica Lewinsky was a sex scandal.

DSK lost his position because he is accused of a CRIME. To report otherwise minimizes the gravity of the crime. Does NPR consider this crime somehow to be less serious because it was sexual in nature? This is disrespectful to the victim, inaccurate, and contributes to a culture in which women fear not being taken seriously if they report such attacks. I expect better from NPR.

Sincerely,
Natalie Race

in [need of] translation: hipsterwear

2011-06-27T13:43:00.005-04:00

What is this guy trying to say with his ensemble? Translate for me.

Better yet: What is he texting?

Also, is this a sign of the apocalypse?

Thanks, Hunter.

in translation: an artist's statement

2011-06-23T12:10:00.003-04:00

I hope we can all laugh at this artist's statement (with helpful subtitles) without being called cynics.

You are laughing, right?

Found via First Things.

my loss

2011-06-21T11:00:00.000-04:00

The loss of people writing-- writing a composition, a letter or a report-- is not just the loss for the record. It's the loss of the process of working your thoughts out on paper, of having an idea that you would never have had if you weren't [writing]. And that's a handicap. People [I research] were writing letters every day. That was calisthenics for the brain.

-- Historian David McCullough to Belinda Luscombe. Read more (or watch the interview) here.

some things never change

2011-05-09T20:35:00.004-04:00

I spent the weekend in Greenville with my family celebrating Adam's graduation from Furman. Sunday morning we went to Devereaux downtown for Mother's Day brunch and I was delighted to recall a particularly amusing dinner we had there 18 months ago. In honor of fond memories of meals at Devereaux with Adam in a state of delirium, I humbly submit for your reading pleasure this gem of a post originally published October 4, 2009. And to those of you who read this blog in hopes of reading something thoughtful, I hope to bring you something worth reading as soon as I emerge from the fog of allergies.

Aaron, speaking passionately about Where the Red Fern Grows : I mean, for half that book I had no idea what was going on. I was like, 'what's a coon?!'

Natalie, interrupting with urgency : Aaron, do you know what a double-wide is?

Adam, without missing a beat : A double-wide is a luxury.

Aaron: A double-what?

How embarrassing.

just another beauty

2011-05-03T08:00:00.002-04:00

On the girl's brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar maker wants us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.
In a few breaths' time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this story teller is alive.

-- Little Bee by Chris Cleave. Bolded emphasis is mine.

oh and something about that Osama guy, right?

2011-05-02T14:24:00.004-04:00

E. (dear friend and high school social studies teacher): It was a big weekend in news, guys; what do you know?

Students: Mariah Carey had her twins!!!!

God bless high school teachers, and God save us all.

we should talk about this

2011-05-01T21:51:00.003-04:00

Some things I really think we should talk about.

1. Hope. Is this word over-used? Has it been misappropriated? When is hope actually a foolish miscalculation or naivete?

2.I didn't like Little Bee and I can't yet put words to why. This is very distressing.

3. Suddenly, I find twitter to be wearying. Too self-referential and congratulatory, too unnecessary. Too often, I find myself thinking, to quote Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, "Why is this necessary in life???" And this is confusing, because-- obviously-- I can't say such things without indicting myself and because I don't know why these aspects of the twitterverse suddenly are grating on my nerves.

And what does it mean that now I am blogging about this? I can't think of an unimpeachable justification, and frankly, it's all a bit meta for my tastes, and yet, here it is: Today, I am tired of twitter. ALERT THE MEDIA!

I may decide to delete this tomorrow, but as Harry would remind us "OH MY GOD! It's already OUT THERE!"

If you can offer insight or commiseration, let's talk.

Thank you and you're welcome.

with all your might

2011-04-24T21:13:00.003-04:00

The most solid advice . . . for a writer is this, I think: Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.

-- William Saroyan (via Advice to Writers)

Solid advice for us all, I think.

It's a certain kind of beauty, isn't it?

if you are home on friday night

2011-04-22T21:52:00.005-04:00

Peeps. (PEEPS! EASTER! FREE ASSOCIATION! Eww, Peeps are gross, right?)

Anyway, peeps, I have a problem.

I can't listen to music. I mean, really, unless I am LISTENING TO MUSIC, I just can't do it.

First, I had to stop listening to music in the car because it made me too emotional while driving (and that is just dangerous).

Then, I discovered I can't work while listening to music because I get too distracted by the words and sounds in my ears to focus on the words on the page.

And NOW (how now, brown cow?) I don't even want to listen to music when I'm hanging out, cooking, cleaning, blogging, listening to the rain fall (love that), because, well, it just crowds out my thoughts. And a clear thought is such a rare thing, that I don't want to miss one because I'm being swept away on the melodies of someone else's thoughts.

You know?

What's a girl to do?

Also, I think I may have sugar-high-by-osmosis because this bad boy is in the oven, thanks to the generous recipe sharing of Mikaela, who does NOT get enough love on this blog. Let the record show, girlfriend is a genius.

And FINALLY, go butter your bread.

good friday

2011-04-22T10:01:00.002-04:00

What Wondrous Love is This

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.

When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down beneath God’s righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.

To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb Who is the great “I Am”;
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing;
While millions join the theme, I will sing.

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be;
And through eternity, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And through eternity, I’ll sing on.

my coffee is not strong enough for this morning

2011-04-21T10:32:00.004-04:00

The coffee at work is highly unpredictable. The morning coffee anyway. The coffee available after about 11 am is always terrible, but the morning coffee is frustratingly hit-or-miss. Some mornings, it is perfectly potable, and others, like this morning, it tastes suspiciously like the afternoon coffee.

I am not amused.

And this morning I have lots of little editorial tasks and some revising tasks and even some fun but daunting writing tasks to do, but Brain and Coffee are having a hard time coming together on this one.

Work together guys! There is no "i" in TEAM!

(Or something. I told you I'm not working with much today.)

And that, my friends, is this morning.

just some high-brow name-calling

2011-04-08T12:13:00.004-04:00

I did a little reading this morning on Tom Wolfe's art criticism thanks to a tip-off from a post on the First Things blog.

This was just a normal bit of self-education until I reached wikipedia's section on the book's critical reception:

"The Painted Word hit the art world like a really bad, MSG-headache-producing, Chinese lunch," wrote Rosalind E. Krauss in Partisan Review.^[5]By ridiculing the most respected members of the art world establishment, Wolfe had ensured that the reaction to his book would be negative. Many reviewers dismissed Wolfe as someone simply too ignorant of art to write about it.^[6]^[7]
Other critics responded with such similar vitriol and hostility that Wolfe said their response demonstrated that the art community only talked to each other. A review in The New Republic called Wolfe a fascist and compared him to the brain-washed assassin in the film The Manchurian Candidate. Wolfe was particularly amused, however, by a series of criticisms that resorted to "X-rated insults." An artist compared him to "A six-year-old at a pornographic movie; he can follow the action of the bodies but he can't comprehend the nuances." A critic in Time Magazine used the same image, but with an 11-year-old boy. A review in The New York Times Book Review used the image again, clarifying that the boy was a eunuch.^[8] The opening of the review in Partisan Review compared Wolfe to the star of the pornographic film Deep Throat. She viewed Wolfe's lack of a suggestion for what should replace modern art as similar in their ignorance to statements Linda Lovelace made about Deep Throat being a "kind of goof."^[5]

To be sure, there are counter arguments to be made in response to Wolfe's book, but the venom and disdain in these responses is kind of beyond me-- and almost hilarious. Let's not be so afraid of critique.

aaron, i miss you too

2011-04-08T08:00:00.001-04:00

Guys, guys. Big news. Adam is coming to visit today.

My.

Brother.

Well, one of them.

I'm a wee bit excited.

And you should be too because:

He loves Redwall.

He's super funny.

He's a talented writer.

He's a very systematic eater.

He's neat and tidy.

In a sibling poll, he was voted "best looking child" out of the three of us.

(SIDE NOTE: If you get into a verbal fight with Adam, don't worry. The worst he's got is, "My wife will be prettier than your husband!" Um, okay.)

He's a little taller than me and blond and basically exactly what you would expect my brother to look like, only with skinnier legs. (No, I mean it. Picture bird legs. There you go.)

And for 45ish hours, we will eat and drink and laugh and look at art and go running (and even though he hasn't run in 3 months, he will be much faster than me), and I will try not to cry thinking about him living in the Czech Republic next year (so far away!).

It will be a super weekend. I am so thankful.

a brief epistolary foray into dualism OR "please don't hurt me"

2011-04-07T11:11:00.005-04:00

Dear Body,

Look, can we please make peace? I know I haven't been the best caretaker recently, having only taken you to yoga twice in the past three months (I'm sorry), but really, do you have to act out like this? I was trying to give you a rest after the Big Race (good job, by the way. I'm so proud of you!), and we have been on some nice walks. Do you think you could cut me some slack? See, this neck pain is making it hard to focus on work, and I'm feeling old before my time whenever I stand up and all of my muscles decide to vent their anger. I know, that bed I make you sleep in isn't super comfortable, and you'd probably like some more sleep, but count your blessings: I feed you good, nourishing food, and most people would consider 7- 8 hours a night to be plenty of rest.

Alright, alright, I'll get you a massage and some more water. Now just, please, be kind.

How does pimento cheese for lunch sound?

With love,

*This post is not an endorsement of gnosticism or any other body/spirit dualisms.

a letter penned while ironing

2011-03-31T11:14:00.004-04:00

Dear Future Husband,

If it ever becomes unfashionable for me to wear men's shirts, you can have my collection; I might even iron them for you if I can watch Law & Order while I do it. In the meantime, don't worry-- I bought all these shirts myself, except for the ones I stole from my brothers.

love,

Natalie

P.S. If any of your shirts are missing, I haven't seen them.

what to wear

2011-03-28T09:51:00.002-04:00

Imagine that you have an uncle who is a bit strange, a little awkward, but also utterly sweet and kind and funny. Imagine that he is a janitor at a marshmallow factory. Imagine that he has been a bachelor for his whole life, but then at the age of 46, he meets and falls in love with a wonderful woman. Imagine that she trains police dogs.

Imagine they decide to get married, and it's a destination wedding, and the destination is a maple syrup farm in New Hampshire in April.

Now, imagine what you would wear to their wedding.

Wear that to the show.

-- W.W.

on stewardship of hearts and words, briefly

2011-03-19T13:04:00.003-04:00

I'm sharing a table at a coffee shop with my friend Ash and two strangers who do not appear to be romantically involved. I just overheard one say to the other, "we could just read for five hours," and now all I can think is

We is a wonderfully powerful word.

Use it well.

maybe they're irish

2011-03-17T15:59:00.003-04:00

Or not. Who cares?

I don't know much (or anything) about dance, but I like this.

If you skip to 1:30, you'll see why.

Thank you, Shuffle, for knowing me so well and sharing things that bring me joy.

organization inspiration

2011-03-14T11:12:00.002-04:00

A light, playful and clever video for your Monday morning, via Barrie.

I especially love the credits.

i wish i had written this

2011-03-12T15:10:00.003-05:00

Unsaid

So much of what we live goes on inside--

The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches

Of unacknowledged love are no less real

For having passed unsaid. What we conceal

Is always more than what we dare confide.

Think of the letters that we write our dead.

-- Dana Gioia, former Director of the National Endowment for the Arts

Gioia spoke at Encounter 11, a conference hosted by International Arts Movement in New York last weekend, and I was impressed by both his thoughts on why we need the arts, and the precision and incisiveness with which he expressed them. Gioia also read a few of his poems, and "Unsaid" has been haunting me-- in the best possible way-- ever since. I recognize myself in this.

no margins. no railings.

2011-03-10T21:41:00.004-05:00

I'm taking a deep breath for a moment, both because I've been leading a semi-nomadic existence recently, and because I sense the coming months will require more nerve than I have summoned in a long while-- maybe ever.

I realized this afternoon that I am operating with very little margin in many areas of my life; there's not a lot of room for error or miscalculation without consequence. It's like walking on a tightrope or along a ledge without a railing. Ledges terrify me; growing up, I studiously avoided the ski runs where you could see the edge of the mountainside dropping off into what was surely oblivion.

And I suddenly think that's where I am. In some areas of life, this has been a choice; in others, it is not.

And I'm excited in some respects, to be taking risks, and going all in, and looking way, way ahead.

But I'm still nervous.

There are no margins, and no railings, but I have a lot of ideas, and dreams, and hopes, and prayers.

I just hope I also have enough guts.

Failure could be spectacular. If I figure out a language for all this, I'll keep you posted.

shorty pays her own tuition

2011-02-22T14:45:00.004-05:00

For about the past year, I have worked for a professor at a "venerable business school." I'm working in the elegantly-appointed library right now, and it just occurred to me that the entire time I have worked here, spending time in the library and dining rooms, sitting in on classes, roaming the halls looking for tech support, that I have only noticed one female student wearing a wedding ring. By contrast, I would say that close to half of the male students are married.

Now my observations may be slightly skewed by the fact that I'm a young single woman, and therefore more concerned with the marital status of the young men I encounter than I might be with their female counterparts, but what single young woman doesn't like to look at diamonds? Surely I would notice those on the hands of other women!

And yes, reportedly the admissions offices miscalculated with the most recent entering class, resulting in a much smaller percentage of female students than usual, but this is only one class out of three that I have observed.

So why, I wonder, are so many men at this school married, while so few of the women are?

sickness unto life

2011-02-17T17:35:00.001-05:00

It's only appropriate that I read this yesterday.

Mom's advice to me was shockingly similar.

gchat: a goldfish called neil

2011-02-07T18:49:00.003-05:00

11:41 AM did you rest this weekend?
11:42 AM M: i did
it was awesome
and i bought a fish
his name is neil young
me:
best news of the morning
M: obviously
he brings me so much joy
i hope i don't kill him
11:43 AM
M: so far we like to read together and listen to music. i ate my dinner at my desk last night where his fish bowl is too
11:44 AM he liked that
but doesn't seem to like his own music
which is odd
more of an MIA fish
me: that IS odd

M: i agree
i feel like i just stepped over the line to crazy
7 minutes
11:51 AM me: it's not you, it's neil

you know

2011-02-04T08:30:00.001-05:00

"They should remember the centrality, the weight, the humanness of what they're saying, and the fact that what they're doing is restoring a common possession, rather than, you know, speaking from a lecturn."

-- Marilynne Robinson on the responsibility of those who write theology. Emphasis added.

The woman who succeeded in writing the final days of a couple of pastors in a small town into two compelling and gorgeous novels continues to dazzle with her brilliance, even when poorly lit.

And apparently, this has become a video blog.

every chorus was your name

2011-02-03T15:44:00.004-05:00

I'm breaking radio silence to share what has been constantly on my mind for the past few days, "Laundry Room" by the Avett Brothers.

I love discovering a song that puts words to something I could not, but for now I'll spare you the navel-gazing. The Avetts said it all anyway, and managed to work in a Faulknerian sense of the past- is- always- present with the line, "I am a breathing time machine." Oh, aren't we all?

* I listen to the Avetts far less than their presence on the lady blogs would suggest, but I guess you'll have to take my word for it. Looking up the video to share the song with you is actually the first time I've listened to it in weeks; they're just that embedded in my psyche.

shake the dust (and maybe your hips)

2011-01-28T12:30:00.004-05:00

You've heard before my concerns about photography-- especially when it comes to producing images of those who are "less fortunate" -- so I need not rehash them, but I did want to share the work of photographer and filmmaker Adam Sjoberg. Adam is traveling the world shooting footage for a feature film abut break-dancing around the world. He recently released this teaser from his time in Uganda, and one of the boys in the video perfectly expresses some of my frustrations with the images we produce and propagate of people of other cultures living in poverty; the images are often far more concerned with the poverty than the person. Adam's video is a beautiful example that treats its subjects as more than victims of poverty, war and illness. Take a look (you may recognize Adam as the man behind the Alegria documentary).

Shake the Dust - Uganda Sneak Preview from Loose Luggage on Vimeo.

If you're the praying sort, take a moment today to pray for Egypt and the unrest spreading throughout the Arab world.

weak in the knees

2011-01-26T15:09:00.004-05:00

Shuffle's nephew Paul David (stage name: P. Dids) might be the perfect man.

Not even two years old and he's already wooing ladies with the harmonica. Somebody pick me up off the floor.

and sometimes, it's contagious

2011-01-24T23:40:00.003-05:00

"The first symptom of love in a young man is timidity; in a girl boldness."

-- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

tulips by nancy

2011-01-24T12:10:00.003-05:00

My mom started painting a little over a year ago, shortly after I unsuccessfully tried to get her hooked on knitting. (She finished one scarf. I had to take over 2 incomplete projects.) Painting seems to suit her much better and I am continually impressed with her progress. I don't know the title of the above piece, but thought I would share it anyway. I'm so proud of you Mom!

PS Check out some photos from the opening of Mom's first show at Anne Irwin Fine Art.

disturbing typographical revelations

2011-01-18T16:39:00.002-05:00

This article was blowing minds and vindicating editors all over the interwebs on Friday. Apparently, one is only allowed one singular space after a period. It seems the two- space rule my elementary school teachers taught me is a carry-over from the early days of typewriters and is actually, WRONG.

This is a pretty startling revelation in itself, but I was more alarmed that no one ever corrected me until this summer when I vented to Katie about a piece I was editing whose author had neglected to use two spaces. Katie kindly informed me that this is "newspaper style," designed to save precious page space. It now seems the one- space dictum is not limited to newspapers.

As an editor and writer, I'm embarrassed that I've been wasting spaces all this time, and I'm sorry to report that my thumbs are almost irreversibly conditioned to hit the space bar twice after a period. I'll be trying to correctly space my sentences in the future, but please forgive the lapses you see on this blog, and know that friends don't let friends type extra spaces; a gentle little reminder won't kill me or our friendship.

sick day

2011-01-17T14:58:00.009-05:00

See that bed in the photo on the right? That's where I've been for the past 36 hours, bonding with my humidifier.

I can't quite afford to take a true sick day as I have too much to do before a midweek business trip, but I've filled the hours with some fairly mindless, but tedious work (pretty much the only kind my foggy head can handle right now) and the album Longest Year by Hammock, shared with me by my kind friend, Hunter. Itunes has identified this album as "post-rock" and I'm hardly qualified to argue. All I have to say is, it is beautiful.

My other sick day must-haves include Mott's applesauce, and plenty of coffee and mint tea. The applesauce craving is partly fueled by nostalgia. The little individual cups resonate with my childlike whining of "I want my mom," and the texture of applesauce is just right for soothing my throat. Mint tea is a pretty obvious sick day choice, and the coffee is to remind me that life can still be delicious with a head cold. I know there's no real nutritional benefit from coffee, but I feel about it like I do about the harmonica: I just don't want to live in a world without it.

And that my friends, is my life today. Pardon the indulgent self-reporting. Happy Monday!

(Photo by my dear friend, Barrie, from her recent show, Come Home, Nancy. Impressive, professional website coming soon. I really need to figure out how to properly display photos on this blog. My apologies to Barrie.)

afternoon snack

2011-01-14T14:16:00.003-05:00

“How can I know what I think until I see what I say?”

- W.H.Auden

Just a little snack that has been resonating with me from Lindsay Crandall's piece on journaling fearlessly (in the Curator today). Enjoy with a big cup of coffee. I am.

anyone?

2011-01-06T16:16:00.003-05:00

Recognize this house?

Anyone? Anyone?

Bueller? Bueller?

Cameron's house in on the market. Heck, yes.

you know you need a lunch break when

2011-01-06T11:38:00.001-05:00

You internally whine to yourself "I'm getting cold and my feet are hungry.... wait."

Yep. Low blood sugar must be impairing brain function.

training guides, two ways

2011-01-05T12:54:00.003-05:00

One plan for the athletically-inclined.

And another for the more aesthetically-interested.

Plan two is much more feasible for those with the means and time to travel.

as seen elsewhere

2010-12-31T09:51:00.002-05:00

Good morning loyal reader(s). I'm heading North today, through Avett country on my way back to the Promised land, so I've no time to write something just for you, but for your reading pleasure, here are a few pieces by yours truly elsewhere on the web.

Try not to fall over from the shock, but I actually wrote something for the Curator today, and Maureen and I have a guest post on the Redeemer Arts blog.

Enjoy. And think of me. I'll be the one on 29 listening to the Crazy Heart soundtrack. Happy New Year!

cast the net on the right side of the ship OR money does grow on trees

2010-12-30T10:17:00.004-05:00

From Pilgrim on Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard:

I am coming around to fish as spirit. The Greek acronym for some of the names of Christ yields ichthys, Christ as fish, and fish as Christ. The more I glimpse the fish in Tinker Creek, the more satisfying the coincidence becomes, the richer the symbol, not only for Christ but for the spirit as well. The people must live. Imagine for a Mediterranean people how much easier it is to haul up free, fed fish in nets than to pasture hungry herds on those bony hills and feed them through a winter. To say that holiness is a fish is a statement of the abundance of grace; it is the equivalent of affirming in a purely materialistic culture that money does grow on trees. "Not as the world gives do I give to you"; these fish are spirit food. And revelation is a study in stalking: "Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find."

signposts: halo book club

2010-12-23T11:29:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I came across these posts by a friend on an unnamed microblogging site. This story pretty much made my day.

So I was playing Xbox and some kid starts calling people "f*gs" and I'm like, "Don't call people that, what are you reading in school?"

He says, "The Giver," and for the next 5 rounds, we talked about his interpretation of the book. It was awesome! First Halo Book Club!

take me in

2010-12-21T08:26:00.006-05:00

In a few minutes I'll be heading south for Christmas. As magical as a white Christmas sounds, nothing beats Christmas with family. Last night I flew through LaGuardia airport just after dark and New York was breathtaking. The twinkling lights of the city looked so seasonal, as if Manhattan were lit up especially for the holidays. Alas, I had less than 2 hours to spend in the airport, so it was a cruel tease, but it reminded me of something special I've yet to share.

A dear little girl at my church recently had a school assignment to write a few sentences using words from a specific list. She decided to write something special for her daddy.

Her teacher didn't appreciate her work, but her daddy assured her, this time "you have chosen the better part." I have to agree.

Rumor has it that this photo has already made its way to Seth Avett.

anticipation

2010-12-18T18:47:00.006-05:00

"Studies show" that the enjoyment people take in a particular experience is closely related to their anticipation of the event. That is, part of the joy is in looking forward to something and seeing it finally arrive. I imagine there are some caveats-- such as the need to have realistic expectations-- and I think my tendency is to pay more attention to the caveats than to the general phenomena that anticipation enhances enjoyment. I often fear disappointment and therefore, don't look forward much. But in the spirit of Advent-- an entire season of waiting in expectation-- here are a few things I'm eagerly anticipating.

Cooking in my parents' beautifully-appointed kitchen.

The annual Race family picnic-under-the-Christmas-tree, now expanded to include several neighborhood families-with-kids.

Watching A Christmas Story with my brothers during TBS' s 24-hour marathon. We have this movie on DVD, but every year, we watch it on TBS instead. (If I had to guess, I'd say we do this just to annoy my mother.) And then, watching whatever movies my brothers received for Christmas (I'm hoping The Other Guys is on the list.).

Puppy kisses from this little lady.

The 30+ person nativity pageant that concludes our neighbor's Christmas Eve party. Everyone under the age of 60 has a part. There are costumes (read: socks attached to a headband to signify sheep ears).

A candle light Christmas Eve church service.

Some really fabulous articles in the Curator.

Finishing a few books.

Curling up on the couch with Mom (and some knitting) in front of a fire faithfully tended by Dad, while the men watch football.

A few hilarious dinners out cutting up with my brothers.
The birth of Baby Boy McKelway.
Summer. Too soon?
Oh and lest you think I'm completely lame for posting on a Saturday night, I'm also looking forward to a Christmas party in about... 20 minutes. Guess I should get dressed.

Happy Advent!

gift guide 2010: for the yogi

2010-12-15T15:07:00.002-05:00

ok pals, it's far too late for a gift guide (personally, I get really anxious when bloggers stretch out their gift suggestions until mid December; I need to finish my shopping early, people! Don't encourage the procrastination!) BUT, I simply can't deny you the pleasure of this genius suggestion, courtesy of Lindsay.

Yoga pose cookie cutters!
(you can't click to enlarge. sorry.)

The perfect gift for the yogi in your life (or your yoga instructor) and way cheaper than anything from lululemon. Shop here.

rules for living

2010-12-11T11:02:00.004-05:00

Okay, so we all know Robert's Rules of Order, the essential guide to getting through meetings in, well, an orderly fashion. Today I present, Race's rules... for living.

1. Wear sunscreen everyday.

2. Brush your teeth after drinking coffee and carry a small thing of dental floss in your purse for emergencies.

3. Introduce yourself to your neighbors.

4. Don't make major decision when hungry, tired, lonely, sad or angry.

5. Ask for pep talks when you need them.

6. Listen to Johnny Cash.

7. Exercise-- even when you don't want to.

8. Never use hot water from the tap for cooking purposes.

9. When the phone rings, don't assume the long lost friend in your caller ID is mad at you for not calling sooner. Answer the dang phone.

10. Never set your car keys down on an unmade bed. Always use your keys to look the car doors rather than the little button on the car door.

11. Remember birthdays.

12. Say "thank you".

13. Don't pass up opportunities to hold babies or play with puppies.

Ok, that's all I've got for this morning. Pay attention, Race.

liturgy, music & space

2010-12-06T14:39:00.005-05:00

I find this vision for corporate worship satisfying and compelling on many levels.

Bifrost Arts from josh franer on Vimeo.

Want more? Check out www.bifrostarts.com and join us in St.Louis March 29-31.

Not a worship leader? Not to worry; it's a conference for pastors, laypeople, students, artists, music enthusiasts, architects, academics, writers, thought-shapers, worshippers, parents, designers, small group leaders and fans of:

Nicholas Wolterstorff
Bryan Chapell
Greg Thompson
John Hodges
Kevin Twit
Betsy Steele Halstead
Isaac Wardell
& The Welcome Wagon.

(not to encourage a cult of personality, but yeah, they'll be there.)

Mark your calendars and spread the word.

i have nothing to add

2010-11-23T11:54:00.002-05:00

because Joy says it all here: how to impress a boy by baking.

Obviously, this has worked for me (see: previous post on internet crushes).

family resemblance

2010-11-20T12:42:00.003-05:00

Confession: I develop what I call "internet crushes" quite easily. A few thoughtful blogposts, a laugh-out-loud-it's-so-witty facebook status, and I'm sold. My thoughtful friends will start dreaming up elaborate scenarios in which I fly cross-country, interview you "for the magazine", and sparks fly.

I don't actually do this of course, because the whole point is that it's an internet crush. I like your online persona-- whether this would translate into actually liking you, a real, living, breathing human being with opinions about my driving, is another question entirely.

Apparently, this is one of the ways in which my dear brother resembles me. Last night I received this series of texts from him about a writer whose work he admires:

I imagine her as this gorgeous nordic woman surrounded by mountains of books.

She is also wearing a peacoat.

Oh the fantasies of a young intellectual.

2010-11-15T12:22:00.005-05:00

Last night K. and I hit up the Gap on our way to a friendly fried food fest at the Pig- N- Steak (because obviously, this is THE place to meet a friend from London on a Sunday night*). I declared the print of the above blouse a "lip I can get behind".** (I think the mature, purple color palette keeps it from looking like something only Tavi could wear, as opposed to this one.) No sign of the horrid new Gap logo (pun fully intended).

On a completely unrelated note, this morning I clicked on a blog post entitled "Toughening Up Tutus." Before the page even loaded, I was exclaiming, what am I doing with my life?! Why do I care about this?! Fashion blogs capture my attention far too easily.

*False. It was like we stepped into the Twilight Zone. We sat at an enormous table in the middle of a room of silent, pork-consuming misery. We were a lone beacon of laughter in that place; apparently P-n-S is where you go to over-eat in the presence of people you wish to God you never had to see again. They even filled the jukebox with an eclectic (George Jones, Tim McGraw and Daft Punk) collection of music, and then broke the thing just tease us; I'm sure of it.

**Yep, just quoted myself. Thanks for noticing.

a summary of recent days

2010-11-12T12:30:00.004-05:00

Lately, I've been wearing leggings or tights with boots, and lots of the color gray; I'm reading Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino and Cash the Autobiography; listening to Age of Adz and gaping at Sufjan's staging; eating a mix of cabbage and broccoli slaw tossed with greek dressing and feta (allow to sit in the fridge for at least 2 hours. add halved grape tomatoes. eat.); stretching in yoga class, and longing for a massage; enjoying autumn sunshine; savoring Ghiradelli squares; editing the Curator, and thinking about being wrong.

Praying a lot.

anyone that's making anything new only breaks something else

2010-11-01T09:35:00.007-04:00

Good morning, folks. If there's one thing I'm sure of about our experience of life it's this: we are always in tension. A few years into that period of self-actualization and discovery known as COLLEGE (no parents!), I rebelled against the never-ending quest for "balance" in life. At that time, it seemed that my friends and I were constantly trying to balance relationships with work, being selfless with being a good steward of time and resources, being disciplined with being flexible. At some point, when I was on the brink of throwing in the towel and giving up on the whole balance thing, someone older and wiser pointed out that while perfect balance is a phantom we could chase forever, a perfection we can never attain, it might be more helpful to just acknowledge that we live in tension. There are always multiple valid things vying for our time and energy. We hold competing values that we want to honor equally. We know certain things to be true even as the experience of the moment would suggest otherwise; our emotions may be at odds with our convictions.

Living in tension has proved to me to be a better way. It's a way for me to acknowledge I don't have it all settled, that the desires and commitments pulling on me wax and wane in their strength, and that I cannot always equalize them. It's a commitment to valuing multiple things and using wisdom rather than rules to determine which value I should favor in a given moment.

This week I'm torn between my desire to be responsible and my desire to seize opportunities to experience excellence. I might rephrase this way: I'm vacillating between the inner voice that says that is just stupid and the other that argues you're only young once.

You see, Dawes is playing in Charlottesville at the Jefferson tomorrow night. I am flying out of Dulles airport early Wednesday morning for a business trip on the West Coast. Any sane, responsible person would drive to the DC area Tuedsay, spend the night with a friend, and wake up at early, but not unreasonable hour, to board a plane. Anyone motivated by intensely good music who is deeply nourished by live performance would stay in town to see one of their new favorite bands no matter the cost or inconvenience.

Currently, that is just stupid is winning out, but you can hear how hard this decision is.

Ultimately, I want life to be full of the music that resounds when the string drawn tight is plucked. Proper tension puts instruments in tune; I'd rather tune my instrument to the proper key that it may sing when stressed, than pursue a calculated clear-cut path (she says in a rare moment of sanity). If I actually had a balanced life where every commitment, value and interest had an exactly appropriate portion of my time or attention-- a life I so often crave-- I might find myself robbed of beauty that I cannot expect or imagine; I might never marvel at the resonance of air forced through a mouth harp, or a bow drawn against strings that protest in harmony.

What would perfect balance even sound like? I doubt anything so magical as a banjo, piano or fiddle.

i don't want to be friends

2010-10-29T16:58:00.001-04:00

but I do want to listen to this on repeat.

Lissie Bad Romance Cover from paulo reyes on Vimeo.

My enthusiasm for this video is so predictable.

Alegria's just teasing

2010-10-29T09:00:00.001-04:00

These children and this video are so beautiful...

Alegria - Hope Through Art from Loose Luggage on Vimeo.

but the glitter all over Nathan's face is my favorite part.

the complicated eye of the compassionate camera

2010-10-28T16:27:00.006-04:00

For the past year or so, I've been asking a lot of questions about photography. Most of them remain unanswered, and even so, I fear that my questions are just barely touching on the depths of the issues surrounding documentary photography. I'm not a photographer, or even a particularly enthusiastic viewer of photographs, but the circles I run in seem to be replete with photographers who give their talents in service to aid organizations, or who for various reasons, photograph the poor. (Actually, I should note that many of my questions could also be applied to practitioners of other art forms, but digital photography is so accessible, portable, and therefore widespread, that it is usually the medium of choice.)

I often wonder, when our cameras are aimed at the less-fortunate, if are our lenses objectifying or humanizing? Do the images we capture affirm the dignity and common humanity of the other, or is it exploitative-- does it some how make the viewer into a voyeur? Do our documentary, philanthropic photographs actually tell the truth, or are they telling a story that is effective for eliciting funds or emotion? Is photography the best means to help us see people in pain, poverty, or circumstances that are simply different from our own? Does the act of taking a photograph assume a position of dominance or superiority for the photographer-- or might snapping a photo be an act of humbly acknowledging beauty?

I suspect that the issues here are complex, but I hope to sort some of them out in time. Serendipitously*, Kettle & Cork is discussing some of these questions next week. I'm hopeful that this will shed some light.

In the meantime, I think that this is good photography:

Alain Delorme's Totems series is not strictly documentary photography, in fact I believe the photos have been altered to exaggerate the size of the loads, but it strikes me as a human and respectful way to look at a different culture and reveal something about life within it. Diverging from a documentary style may actually be more consistent with the struggles of a westerner to fully understand and capture life on the streets of Shanghai. Check out the rest of the images and read more about Delorme's project here.

I have a collection of articles and photographers that I'm in the process of reading and researching as I attempt to derive a way of understanding how we view others through images. Please share anything you've found helpful or intriguing.

* Ok, fine. Moe picks the articles. We discuss this stuff all the time. There is nothing "serendipitous" about this week's article discussion; I just love that word.

sign of the apocalypse or genius invention?

2010-10-26T16:00:00.000-04:00

You decide.

mini robo vacuum

The ideal Christmas gift for those in your life who do not have hands with which to brush the crumbs off their desk and into the trash can. I have to wonder how those people are eating bagels anyway.

gray hair is a crown of splendor

2010-10-26T11:45:00.000-04:00

I think this is so striking. My admiration for Dominique Browning (formerly of the dearly departed House and Garden) grows. I can only hope that as I age, my hair will continue to do the same.

things found in my inbox

2010-10-25T23:31:00.004-04:00

My father's response to my email alerting him to the fact that today marks 2 months until Christmas:

It is funny you sent me this. I was thinking the same thing this morning, only 60 days away!! I can't wait.

Love you

Dad

PS my surgery is tomorrow, pray for me

Yes, the man is a Christmas enthusiast. No, I had no idea what surgery he was talking about.

***

My roommate's response to my email inquiring after her weekend plans:

I promise to never use this phrase again, but, uh, I'm running out the door to a safari.

Yes, this was the opening line.

Email is so my love language.

let's go apple-picking this weekend

2010-10-22T09:50:00.003-04:00

I'm a big fan of choice and I'm suspicious of manipulation, but this school lunch room redesign is fascinating. It's startling what a difference moving a salad bar, placing fruit in a bowl, and giving kids a choice between veggies can make.

And to be honest, anything-- even gently manipulating students to better lunch choices-- is better than this. (ok the most recent posts don't look so bad, but there are some frightening "meals" in the archives.)

Eat your veggies.

overheard in my living room

2010-10-18T12:40:00.003-04:00

Kevin: Does Natalie have a TV?

Abby (Kevin's wife of 2.5 years and my quasi roommate for 4): No.

Kevin: What do they do when they're eating?!

In Kev's defense, I feel certain that he was just looking for the TV as a potential hiding place for a bomb (like any good former Secret Service officer) rather than because he less than enthralled by our conversations about skinny jeans and babies.

on terrorists, books, and finding a home

2010-10-14T23:19:00.004-04:00

Almost 2 years ago, Moe and I boarded a plane at LaGuardia for a quick weekend jaunt to Virginia. It felt like going home. Moe does not enjoy flying, so she requested a light-hearted book to distract her on the flight. I chose Bel Canto, that rare novel that is both enjoyable on the beach and satisfyingly substantive curled up on the couch. I have read Ann Patchett's book many times over, picking it up when I just need something beautiful to read. I thought it would be the perfect choice for Moe.

We made it to the airport avoiding any MTA debacles along the way and took our seats on the plane. After some deep breaths and prayer, Moe dug Bel Canto out of her bag and settled in to read. I pulled out my own book, extremely satisfied with my recommendation and looking forward to Moe's impassioned thanks for introducing her to so lovely a book.

YOU GAVE ME A BOOK ABOUT TERRORISTS?!

Oops. Bel Canto only lasted a few pages with Moe. In my defense, they were very nice terrorists (really), and nowhere near an airplane. I'm not sure a plane is ever even mentioned in the book.

These protestations were lost on Moe. In retaliation, she lost my book. It's probably still in the seat pocket of that plane. If you come across it, I'd like it back.

This winter I read an essay by Ms. Patchett in Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant. It was funny, insightful, and endearing; it reintroduced me to an author I ought to know better. This morning's NYTimes afforded me the opportunity. I am now in love with Ms. Patchett's Nashville home and her orientation towards it. (Isn't the light in this room gorgeous?)

I share Ms. Patchett's nomadic history: this was the first summer since high school that I have not moved (I moved in January instead) and compounding my early 20s rootlessness, my parents have lived in 4 houses in the same period; my childhood wasn't much more stable, geographically speaking.

I want to be home. I want to say with Ms. Patchett, "I understand the world is full of spectacular things I've yet to see, but I can't imagine any of them would satisfy me as deeply as this house." I don't aspire to be parochial or to not see beyond the end of my nose. In fact, my many moves have not managed to move my gaze from my navel long enough for my liking.

No. Rather, "home is then the stable window that opens out into the imagination."

I look forward to the day this is so.

a moment of self-consciousness

2010-10-12T15:05:00.003-04:00

a disclaimer/ explanation/ moment of extreme self-consciousness:

My most recent post may sound as though I am a) in denial or b) some sort of self-righteous Pollyanna (which is really another form of "a") or c) crying out for help. Or all of the above. What I intended was a moment of reflection, and of self-discipline. A choice to be thankful, to take a breath, to look for the blessing in the busyness.

I'm not drowning.

I'm not denying.

I'm still walking. Same as you.

there is blessing everywhere

2010-10-12T00:13:00.003-04:00

Stress is good for:

1. motivating me to run.

2. getting dishes/ countertops/ the bathroom clean.

3. midnight brainstorming.

4. acknowledging my insufficiency.

5. moving me to seek His face and not only His hand.

sister, don't test the ones you love

2010-10-10T17:58:00.003-04:00

I think my heart might be in London.

morning musings

2010-10-07T09:13:00.003-04:00

At 7:01 AM I turned off my alarm and rolled over for a few more minutes of cozy-bed-bliss.

7:08 AM. Text message from Holly: "Hey, it's Jay. Holly is having contractions/ in labor! Would you mind sending an email to the LMR girls for prayer? Thanks! She's not going to be at bfast. :)"

Holly would stand me up for breakfast because she's busy bringing Joel into the world.

Anyway, instead this morning I indulged in some peas cooked with leftover pancetta (and some crumbled feta) over toast. Yes, peas. In the past few weeks, I have eaten peas and feta on toast, usually with a fried egg, at least half a dozen times. It sounds strange, but I swear it is rivaling greek yogurt and honey as my breakfast of choice these days. And I hope I don't have to spell this out for you, but darlings, everything is better with a little pancetta.

This morning I'm meditating on what it means to pray for wisdom rather than to ask "show me the way."

wisdom- n. skill in the art of godly living

Yes, I could use a little more of that.

Prayers for Holly, Jay and Joseph Logan IV. Truly, the Lord loves us as a man has compassion on his son.

what are books for?

2010-09-30T21:41:00.006-04:00

I like to read. It's one of those things I see as a sort of identifier. I am a reader.

This year, I'm trying to read 52 books. I'm behind-- I'll probably have to have a book permanently affixed to my face for Thanksgiving and Christmas vacations. Within that 52 books, I decided that this year, I would finish reading all the books listed in the Oxford American's 10 best Southern novels of all time. I'm currently reading the final remaining selection, Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. It is not going well.

I have thoroughly enjoyed reading every other book on the list--though some were challenging or less enjoyable in some places-- but it is taking a good deal of self-discipline to pick this one up again and again. The writing is actually quite captivating in places, but a little over 100 pages in, I'm a little disoriented and completely repulsed by the detailed (though not graphic per se) description of an act of incest about 30 pages into the story. I admit I had to skim that section to make it through. My struggles with this book have led me to wonder why I'm reading it-- which is simple enough: for the sense of accomplishment of meeting my goal-- and further to wonder more generally about why I read. Period. Why read something I don't really like?

After all, what is reading-- and what are books-- for?

Consulting no experts of any kind-- though who knows what sort of theories I've absorbed in my education-- I assembled a few ways of approaching reading and books.

1. We can read for information. Duh, this is a prrrretty important assumption of education. If you can't read to learn, you're in some big trouble and will likely meet an early death in an unfortunate hairdryer- bathtub accident. This is a very good argument for reading books that aren't terribly enjoyable.

2. We can read for entertainment or as a means of escape. Books can serve as a nice respite from day-to-day life. Becoming engulfed in another time or place can be magical-- and despite the pejorative implications of "escapism"-- can give us new eyes for our own place and time. That said, too much brain candy doesn't do anyone any favors.

3. We read to build empathy, and to become better human beings. This is in some ways derivative from the first two approaches, but reading fiction in particular allows us to see the world through another's eyes and thereby builds our capacity for empathy. According to studies by the NEH or NEA or something, this is not theoretical-- this increased empathy actually translates into our interactions with the people we encounter outside the pages of a book.

I like all these reasons to read, but recently, I've found myself reading for another reason altogether: to quiet my mind. Somehow, I am losing my ability to focus or conversely, to let my mind relax and let go of the myriad things bopping along in it. (Yes, bopping is a technical term for thought pattern. Go ask your neurologist.) A few weeks ago, I had a massage at a luxurious day spa in the mountains in celebration of my mom's birthday. Lying on the massage table, halfway through my session, I realized I wasn't relaxed. My body was being tended to and knots were being kneaded out of tired muscles. Tension was leaving that nexus of shoulders, neck, and back where it so frequently takes up residence.

But my mind couldn't stop. I lay there remembering upcoming birthdays, scheduling time to edit magazine articles, feeling guilty about not having finished a volunteer project yet, brainstorming projects for the late fall, then wondering when law school applications were due, remembering another birthday. I couldn't stop to think about just one of these things, much less calm my mind enough to not think of any of them-- much less pray in full sentences.

A half hour later, I was sitting on the porch wrapped in a robe, rereading Gilead. Within a few pages, my mind was quiet. All of my attention was focused in one place. Even with a book that could never be mastered with a "mindless read", I was finally resting.

So for now, I am reading to quiet my mind, to focus, and for a short period, to submit my attention to only one claim-- to THIS book. There is rest in submission.

like mother, like daughter

2010-09-21T21:48:00.003-04:00

Penelope wants to be Mom's little painting apprentice.

You see, we are a very creative family. It's really too bad I don't have a picture of Aaron's elementary school bust of Claude Monet.*

*This was a real thing... until Aaron destroyed it with his friends on the bus home from school.

coffee and greek yogurt in the morning...

2010-09-21T09:32:00.001-04:00

is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. -- Ben Franklin

apples to oranges

2010-09-20T14:07:00.002-04:00

Last night during a rowdy game of Apples to Apples, the round's appointed "judge" looked at the cards in his hands and said, "Well, it's a toss-up between Lenin's tomb and baked potato."

Anyone care to guess which adjective these submissions were intended to exemplify?

Closest guess wins a prize-- a really good one.

on the miraculous

2010-09-17T09:36:00.006-04:00

Last night, I was able to convince (with very little begging) two dear friends to eat pancakes with me at 10 pm*. They listened to me talk about the things I carry around with me, and did not dismiss me, and gave me words of hope and of wisdom. They reminded me of what love does. They did not laugh at me nearly as much as I laugh at myself.

Today, in the Curator, we published an issue of work exclusively by people I know entirely apart from their willingness to write for very little compensation. Friends, you might call them.

My friends do, write, and say very beautiful things. This is a blessing that I must not overlook.

*Caedmon's Call reference intended.

REVISION:

The friends of mine, who write eloquently on the miraculous, deserve better billing. So...

Today in the Curator, Erica and Stephen reflect on the music of Andrew Peterson through words and illustration. On the one year anniversary of her move to Detroit, Kate writes a perspective-altering response to her new hometown. And Casey responds to the NYTimes Magazine article "What is it about 20- Somethings?" by reminding us of the "miracle of solace".

That's better.

productivity levels are plummeting...

2010-09-14T11:17:00.004-04:00

thanks to the blog, Unhappy Hipsters.com. I am dying over here. I may as well give up working for the day.

This is perhaps my favorite entry (and bears a striking resemblance to my mornings, if my mornings were furnished with Eames chairs):

The Monday morning routine: hunting eBay for Raymor vases and firing off snitty missives to NPR about their recent foray into celebrity tabloid coverage.

(Photo: Jasper James; Dwell)

my lovin' arms are for you

2010-09-11T09:47:00.000-04:00

Friends, if you don't know Green River Ordinance yet, you really, really should. They're just a group of guys from Texas, making great, incredibly likeable pop music, who had the courage to say "see-ya" to their big label and strike out on their own.

At first listen, you might think "ok, this is good, but not life-changing" and then, before you know it, Out of My Hands will be the only thing you listen to during your commute. For months.

The uber-talented Eric Ryan Anderson hung out with the GRO boys on tour this summer and produced this video.

Boys, if you didn't have me before, the harmonica completely won me over.

Go check out their new EP, The Morning Passengers, and consider helping the band GROw.

beauty-induced amnesia

2010-09-10T21:34:00.005-04:00

Today I just had to wonder: when the sky is this perfect, how can anything in the world be wrong?

Photo by my friend Jenni. (It's New Mexico, and I'm in Virginia, but today made me think of this photo.)

i also gave myself a pair of running shoes

2010-09-01T22:28:00.005-04:00

Friends, for my birthday, I gave myself a trip to San Diego to visit KJ. More accurately, sweet Kaely gave me the gift of her hospitality, generosity and a whole lot of fun. Let's just say I think I absorbed more Vitamin D over the weekend than during my entire summer in Charlottesville and I sweated a lot less.

Let's also say that I woke up to banana pancakes on Sunday morning, and that hours before boarding my red-eye back to reality, we took a yoga class on the beach.

And that KJ treated me to ocean kayaking and a Frank Sinatra tribute concert featuring the San Diego Symphony and Michael Feinstein. Outside. Complete with fireworks. And a picnic. Can you spell bliss? I almost felt like I was cheating on Johnny Cash.

The blog has officially crossed over to random, self-indulgent, life-reporting posts. You're welcome and I'm sorry. Obviously, I don't take pictures.

online dating makes humanity look lame

2010-08-25T10:34:00.002-04:00

“Research presented last week at the annual meeting of the American Sociological Association found that 22 percent of heterosexual couples surveyed met online, and researchers believe the Web could soon eclipse friends as the primary means of finding mates. As dating interactions have moved from the privacy of bars and social gatherings to the digital world of websites and e-mails, they are generating an unprecedented trove of data about how the initial phases of romance unfold.....”

For men, they found, a woman’s most important feature was body mass index. “It turns out that men like women who are slightly anorexic,” Ariely says. And unlike a man’s height, there’s no amount of money a woman could earn to offset the effect of higher weight. Pursuing degrees doesn’t help either; education beyond a bachelor’s degree for women or a master’s degree for men did nothing to increase desirability. Another surprise: Smoking cigarettes actually increases a woman’s popularity on dating sites, which Ariely speculates may be because men associate smoking with promiscuity.

From More Intelligent Life Feed: http://www.boston.com/bostonglobe/ideas/articles/2010/08/22/data_mining_the_heart/

This post brought to you by Maureen, who has abandoned her own blog, but still writes great emails.

quiet desperation

2010-08-24T16:40:00.005-04:00

This article in the NYTimes is just the latest blip of information about how our information-rich internet age impacts our attention spans, sense of well-being and how our brain functions. What really caught my attention was this paragraph:

Cellphones, which in the last few years have become full-fledged computers with high-speed Internet connections, let people relieve the tedium of exercising, the grocery store line, stoplights or lulls in the dinner conversation.

I read exercising as existing.

I have to wonder if there isn't some truth in my slip (is it freudian?)-- are we really so bored by the existence we lead? What would The Moviegoer say?

southern gothic = southern comfort

2010-08-13T16:42:00.004-04:00

Bizarre as it may sound, nothing says "home" to me (in an aesthetic and artistic sense) like a good dose of Southern Gothic literature. I love the Russians and, of course, Ms. Austen, but Mr. Faulkner, Flannery, and their ilk speak to something primogenitive in my literary loves. I've often said that I wouldn't know who I was without their work as reference point; it is background, setting, and catechism all at once.

Apparently the affinity runs in the family*. Today the Curator proudly published Adam's first essay, Arise, Southern Gothic. Enjoy it as Mr. Faulkner would-- with a glass of bourbon.

*nope, noooo nepotism going on around here.

recommended by Kaely

2010-08-12T10:22:00.003-04:00

I believe it was last fall that my very dear formerly-fiction-disdaining friend Kaely recommended Olive Kitteridge in an email to our Lewis Mountain Road roommates.

I read it. I loved it. I wrote about it here.

Many thanks to Katie and Moe for their feedback, and Katelyn Beaty at CT for her editing.

it's only a matter of time

2010-08-10T12:07:00.002-04:00

Maureen: When are kites going to make a comeback?

Natalie: When the hipsters start breeding.

This post brought to you by gchat and the idea that writing in the third person is a lost art form.

this is an art opening you should skip

2010-08-06T16:02:00.005-04:00

I'm currently trying to work from J---J--- downtown. The barista just made a phone call to the artist whose work is on the wall. She apparently reached the artist's mother and asked her to inform her daughter that "some of the wire on one of her pieces has fallen off and she might want to bring something to re-attach it" in preparation for tonight's First Fridays opening. The mother must have asked a clarifying question because the Barista replied, "Oh- which piece is it? Um, it's like a woman with wire boobs."

That ought to say it all.

dear "singer-songwriter"

2010-07-29T14:10:00.002-04:00

If you appear to be a millenial and you perform with a guitar bearing a sticker proclaiming you are "STILL PISSED AT YOKO", I will not respect you.

Just a friendly heads-up.

please weigh in

2010-07-28T10:43:00.004-04:00

Confession:

For the past two days, I have worked from home in my pajamas until well after noon.

Question:

Does this make me a more legit Writer?

Evidence in favor:

This tax form.

Evidence against:

I just used the non-word "legit".

I don't have another food blog. Or twitter.

Coming soon:

My other food blog.

on Inception and "real life"

2010-07-24T13:28:00.002-04:00

Last night I saw Inception, a film that posits that the most dangerous, insidious parasite in the world is an idea. It can grow almost unnoticed and is largely self-feeding. Once it has been accepted by the mind, an idea can radically shape a person's life.

It's a position that I doubt can be refuted. Once a belief has produced an attendant set of emotions, its power is enormous.

Inception was highly entertaining, if at times taxing. Over time, the music becomes oppressive, and the plot requires some mental gymnastics to keep track of the ever-deepening layers of dream worlds. These dream worlds cannot be dismissed as mere projections of the mind, because in Inception, what occurs within the dream has lasting consequences for the dreamer even after returning to reality-- often tragically so. The end of the film is ripe for conjecture; I don't believe the filmmakers give us enough evidence to make a strong argument about whether the film ends in a dream or in reality.

What is so tragic about the film is the content of the idea that has unravelled the lives of Cobb and his wife, Mal. It isn't inception as an act of violation that is the real evil, but the idea that grew from it. Mal has been undone by the idea that where she resides, her world, is not reality and that death is the only escape. It is unsurprising where this thought eventually leads her.

* * *

A few days ago, I sat in the Mudhouse downtown across the table from a friend who has seen a few more years than I have. I struggled to explain the driving need I feel to constantly be making progress, to live intentionally and not on auto-pilot, to believe that I have not defaulted to where I am, to be certain that I am on the road to somewhere, to something for a purpose. It's a bit of a curse, yet I defend it fiercely. My friend looked at me kindly and asked "well, Natalie, do you feel this way because you constantly believe that real life is somewhere other than where you are?" She graciously continued, giving me other options to explain my compulsions.

Of course, within me is a mixed bag of motivations. Do I have some innate belief that I have not yet proved myself and that I will only experience real life when I have published a book or gotten married or had children or successfully launched a non-profit? Yes. Resoundingly, yes I do. But somewhere in there is something good. A part of me that isn't ugly. A desire that is rightly motivated out of love and a belief that my life is bound up in the resurrection and therefore there is a victory to be won. Life is worth struggling through rather than accepting.

Far too often, I am afraid. Like Mal Cobb, I doubt that where I am is real life. Just around some bend in the road, I could be doing what I should be-- something that really mattered. If I could only get there. The way to escape to real life is not death, but more success. Achievement. Finally understanding what my heart desires. Choosing where to apply to grad school. Writing that novel. Writing anything.

* * *

This week, by very happy circumstance, I am housesitting in the country-- a retreat house of my very own with a labrador and four hens to keep me company. My first evening here, I wandered around the house acquainting myself with this family in one of my favorite ways-- by examining their book shelves. On a shelf on the sunporch, I caught sight of a paperback, The Jesus Prayer. It seemed a rather silly and simplistic title for a book, but then I realized it was authored by Frederica Mathewes- Green.

Frederica Mathewes-Green spoke at a Veritas forum at UVa when I was a student. I recalled being impressed with this maternal woman with long grayish hair who spoke with intelligence and compassion about the reasons women choose to have abortions and how the Church can approach these women in love. I had never read anything by Frederica (I have a strange habit of calling my favorite female writers by their first names as though we are a part of some sisterhood, which is rather bold of me come to think of it) so I picked up the book and headed out to the hammock with it to observe the sunset.

The Jesus Prayer turned out to be not a bit silly. Frederica, an Eastern Orthodox Christian, has written a lovely little book about a very old spiritual discipline as the Jesus Prayer has been prayed by Eastern Christians-- especially monks-- for centuries. It is a fairly short and straight-forward prayer but it is prayed in the expectation that God uses it to transform the supplicant. It is not the words alone that change the pray-er, as a mantra might, but the connection that the prayer invites with the Living God. (As I write, I'm hesitant because I fear misrepresenting the discipline out of my scant knowledge of it. Take my words as only the impressions of an outsider.)

Most of the book is written in the format of questions and answers to help the new practioner of the prayer. This morning, Frederica offered some help to those who struggle with distraction during prayer. "It can be clarifying to realize," she writes, "that you are being distracted by thoughts. The idea is that gradually you will get to recognize these thoughts when they first pop a head over the horizon, and reject them with no further fuss." It sounds too simple and yet it is freeing. That idea which distracts me, which could take root and direct my emotions and actions, is a thought. and I have other thoughts. Good thoughts. Thoughts that reflect what is real and what is true. Thoughts that can stand up for me.

She continues,

Our natural capacity for attention has been affected by the presence of the Internet, I think. It gives us the sense that where we are right now, the place where our bodies are situated, is not real life. Real life is out there in cyberspace, where celebrities are doing things worth gawking at, where political enemies are saying things worth deriding. [where my 600+ friends on facebook are doing things more fun, saying things with greater wit than I am.] The Internet is so vibrant it puts our ordinary lives in the shade. It feels as though where we are right now is going on backstage. Even while we sleep, the Internet is charging ahead, scintillating and alive, it never stops[...] The mechanism by which this is healed it that you begin to build up and develop the part of your mind that watches your mind. Instead of being helplessly swept off by a memory, a thought [...] you begin to develop a little patch of interior real estate where you can stand beside the Lord and observes all that comes and goes.

While Frederica's advice concerns specifically the attentions of our heart during prayer, I am encouraged by her reminder that the ideas that drive me (unhealthily) to seek real life in achievement and approval-- in a book deal and a perfect spouse and friends who think I am funny-- are just thoughts. I can choose what I do with them. And by thy mercy, Lord, I'll not accept without challenge the idea that real life is anywhere other than here. In this town, in this hot summer, in this tenuous job, among these people where you have led me.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

we need more signs like this along the Journey

2010-07-23T13:23:00.004-04:00

via http://www.iheartyoublog.com/

two reasons to not despair over the minds of young women in america OR on feminism*

2010-07-15T18:39:00.005-04:00

You surely have heard of Tavi**, the young fashion blogger behind www.thestylerookie.com who has become both a sensation and point of controversy. I've often found myself in awe of Tavi's powers of perception in both fashion and culture at large (she's no intellectual slouch) and her ability to say what she thinks with both teenage enthusiasm and a level of sophistication that I am required by law to describe as "beyond her years". I was particularly envious of her recent ode to Courtney Love on July 11-- and I've never heard Ms. Love's music.

But the reason I find her so encouraging today-- in sharp contrast to the girls writing all over Bachelor Kirk's fan page-- is her recent open letter to Seventeen magazine. She stands up for herself as a teenage girl without being whiny; its refreshing to hear from someone who can use her public forum to celebrate fashion and still say "teenage girls are worth more than looks" without the words sounding hollow. Go read it.

Also, via Tavi, I discovered this: www.theseventeenmagazineproject.com***, another indication that young women in America have not all lost their minds. (Though it does make me wonder if perhaps those who haven't, simply take themselves too seriously.) 18 year-old Jamie spent a month living her life by what Seventeen magazine said in their June/July issue and blogged about her experiences. So far, I've read the first 6 entries. If you read with a sense of humor and sympathy for a budding social activist, I think you'll find it highly entertaining and thought-provoking.

*Have you noticed that I like long titles?

** reason #1.

***reason #2.

I promise to return to posts that are not all about "internet things" soon.

people are crazy: further evidence

2010-07-13T15:29:00.004-04:00

exhibit c: This fan page for Kirk from the Bachelorette. I am now officially worried about the mental state of young women in this country.

exhibit d: These parents who are trying to marry off their adult children. Subtlety has never been a high value for this demographic. (Single ladies, you are welcome.)

my hero

2010-07-09T22:53:00.004-04:00

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Marilynne Robinson

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor

Tea Party

The Daily Show commenters clearly have no idea who MR is. Just because you can't comprehend something, doesn't mean it is incomprehensible. Perhaps the fault lies in your inability to understand, eh?

Maybe The Daily Show wasn't the best forum for MR but again, she is brilliant, poised, and sparingly funny.

Also, Absence of Mind is on my bookshelf. Sheer genius.

on tex-mex and the way things ought to be

2010-07-06T21:06:00.003-04:00

There are only 2 things that could make Chipotle better:

1) delivery.

2) lime slices (though they do still have these in a few select locations).

Thank you, Chipotle, for being delicious, ethical, and open until 10 pm everyday.

this post brought to you by NPR

2010-07-01T22:55:00.002-04:00

Separation

Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

-- W.S. Merwin, the newly-named U.S. Poet Laureate

thesis : people are crazy

2010-06-30T09:58:00.004-04:00

exhibit A: In the April issue of SELF magazine, Ellen Pompeo says "I don't believe in putting on airs. I call it like I see it. I am who I am, a [Boston] Southie. I guess you can call me real. I hope that's what Stella is, too."

Wait, you named your daughter "Stella Luna" after a children's book about a fruit bat and you're concerned about her being "real"?

exhibit B: James Fallows's brilliant and hilarious piece on The Atlantic's website last December, "At last there's proof: 44% of Americans are crazy". Thank you to KTP for the tip.

exhibit B1: a hipster illustrates this particular brand of crazy-- or "krazie". (Also a useful blog for those of you secretly wondering who are the hipsters? or is it still unchill to wear creatures?)

Feel free to add further examples-- or counter examples-- in the comments section.

waste not your words

2010-06-28T10:46:00.003-04:00

Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all sentences short or avoid all detail and treat subjects only in outline, but that every word tell.

--William Strunk Jr. in The Elements of Style. Emphasis added.

oh fantastic words!

2010-06-10T10:50:00.003-04:00

eschatology

incandescence

etymology

blanche

forsythia

dew-drop

Just a few words that are reminding me of the beauty of a broad vocabulary and good diction today. Aren't words fantastic things? If only I paid them more mind.

*If you work for GM, add Chevrolet to the list.

a challenge to christian dualism OR on how fasting makes us more fully and rightly human

2010-06-06T12:30:00.005-04:00

"I do not want to be a pure soul [without a body] because that is not what a person is."

"Stoicism is pagan because it teaches us to deny what God has taught us to embrace: the world."

-- Greg Thompson

Where do you need to recover the role of desire-- and of denial-- in your faith?

more here under "A Community that Feasts on God" 3/14/2010.

i feel certain you care about this.

2010-06-01T16:07:00.002-04:00

Dear reader(s),

I have an exciting announcement. As of today, I am the new "associate editor" of the Curator Magazine, a publication of International Arts Movement. You may have read my past pieces in the magazine extolling the virtues of Bryant Park, knitting, and Varasano's pizza (or not), but you'll now be seeing my work on a more regular (though, I hope, less obvious) basis as I take on editorial responsibilities. We have some really fantastic writers who are graciously sharing their work with us for mere pennies; I do hope you'll make it a habit to stop by www.curatormagazine.com and enjoy their words. We publish every Friday at 6 am ET.

And if you have a special talent and love for the written word, please send your work my way. You know where to find me.

love and thanks for reading,

Natalie

love is the new black.

2010-05-25T11:50:00.003-04:00

If these sell out before I can convince myself to pull the trigger and purchase one, I'm going to be very, very upset.

blue star museums

2010-05-24T19:15:00.002-04:00

I once heard Mako Fujimura suggest that perhaps we ought to send in artists on the front lines during conflicts-- a reference to the power of art to recognize our common humanity, and reconcile us to one another. The Blue Star Museums initiative is a practical step in that direction. The initiative offers free admission to 600 museums in the U.S. this summer to active duty military personnel and their families.

The organizers may intend this gesture primarily as a "thank you" to our service men and women, but it strikes me that a museum visit is also a reminder of our ability to create as well as destroy, to collaborate as well as engage in battle. It certainly requires imagination to envision the good-- the peace-- that can come out of military engagement.

And who knows what budding artists might be inspired by such a visit? Perhaps, indeed, there are artists on the front lines.

For more information visit : http://www.arts.gov/national/bluestarmuseums/index.php

Thank you, military families. And thank you, NEA.

more of the same

2010-05-20T14:59:00.003-04:00

But hold on to what you believe in the light

when the darkness has robbed you of all your sight.

-- "Hold on to What You Believe" by Mumford and Sons

Let us live as though in the light.

a choice

2010-05-05T18:17:00.007-04:00

Cynics seek darkness wherever they go. They point always to approaching dangers, impure motives, and hidden schemes. They call trust naive, care romantic, and forgiveness sentimental. They sneer at enthusiasm, ridicule spiritual fervor, and despise charismatic behavior. They consider themselves realists who see reality for what it truly is and who are not deceived by "escapist emotions." But in belittling God's joy, their darkness only calls forth more darkness.

People who have come to know the joy of God do not deny the darkness, but they choose not to live in it. They claim that the light that shines in the darkness can be trusted more than the darkness itself and that a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness.

-- Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son.