I feel like a blog bum. Part of me wants to just put up an audio of crickets chirping. Lately, though, my days are filled with bleary eyed-dinner making and box unpacking and way too many decisions about whether or not to keep the sculpture I made in my college ceramics class of an egg sitting in a tree that actually looks more like a certain part of the male anatomy than the surrealist art is was supposed to be. (It's in a trash box right now.) On top of this, I still have no Internet at home, so my typical wee hours of the morning posting time is mute (or is it blind?). There's a lot in my head right now, but not enough time to process it. Last night, I took the puppy out for a hike. In my front yard. We walked across the road frontage and I stared at the stars. The night sky is one of the best features of my new neighborhood. We're surrounded by a giant farm and wildlife preserves, so the sky is incredible! When I was a kid, I used to drag a blanket outside and lay down...

Four years ago today I received a phone call from my cousin, Rachel, who sobbed into the phone, "Grandpa's dead." He had been sick for a few years, and we knew this day was inevitable, but it still sent shock waves through my soul. I'd love to tell the story of his funeral, and perhaps I will sometime this week, but for now I just want to share some of my memories of this remarkable man. He was a big man with a gruff voice that scared me when I was younger. I never wanted to make him angry for fear of what he would sound like. And yet, I can also still see him standing next to me in church singing worship songs in that baritone. I can also still hear his voice blessing Sunday and holiday dinners. The year before he died, we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on the front p orch swing. He told me war stories about Navy ships and German torpedoes and how isolated and frightening the South Pacific is in the middle of the night. I also remember wondering that ni...

Pain. This four letter word is comprised of so much more than the four letters that form it. In fact, in our culture, pain is quite the abomination. At the first twinge of a headache, we pop some pain killers. It's easier than addressing the stress or poor nutrition or even exhaustion responsible. When a child cries, we shut them up with humiliation--"Big boys (or girls) don't cry." Our mantra is to "suck it up" as we carry our excruciating burdens with a smile plastered on our face. Why are we so afraid of pain? This aversion to pain is even more amazing in the context of relationships. It always seems that when we break up or end a friendship or even face a death, we do whatever we can to eradicate any proof of it's existence. Photographs are cropped or destroyed or packed away in boxes. Friends and family are sworn to secrecy, no longer allowed to utter the offending names. Gifts are returned or exploded in a backyard bonfire. All this in the name of ...