"For God speaks again and again though people do not recognize it." Job 33:14
Sometimes I get scared that I've missed it. Or am missing it.
And it makes me wonder if it's because I don't know Him well enough to know what He sounds like...or if I'd just rather not hear what He wants to say.
Either way, I don't want to miss it. Quite the contrary--it would be a welcome relief to hear something clearly and know. What to do. Where to go. How to get there. But is that fair? Is having all the answers the answer to faith?
I already know that answer to that.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Really? I mean, really?
This is an actual email, sent into manuscript review for the company I work for.
________________________________________________
How are you doing today? I read your guidelines, and I don't have an agent. They are very hard to find, but I am a published writer.
My most recent book is published by Published America. It is about forgiveness and the spiritual and emotional growth of a woman.
I would like to introduce my latest book entitled, The witch that stole my husband and the Mother -in-law that helped. I am using witch as a metaphor: The other woman, seductive, luring and how they are able to entice our husband away from us. It teaches a woman to understand what happened to their marriage and why.
This book is Christian oriented, and I would like to find a publisher that would like to take a chance on a new author.
Actually, I have several articles, and shorties published including a book on e-books. This one is fiction. I hope to hear in the near future.
Sincerely,
One of the many uneducated, foolish women using the name of God, and the insecurities of other women, to capitalize on the trash she calls printable material.
(Um. That's not her real name. I made that part up.)
________________________________________________
How are you doing today? I read your guidelines, and I don't have an agent. They are very hard to find, but I am a published writer.
My most recent book is published by Published America. It is about forgiveness and the spiritual and emotional growth of a woman.
I would like to introduce my latest book entitled, The witch that stole my husband and the Mother -in-law that helped. I am using witch as a metaphor: The other woman, seductive, luring and how they are able to entice our husband away from us. It teaches a woman to understand what happened to their marriage and why.
This book is Christian oriented, and I would like to find a publisher that would like to take a chance on a new author.
Actually, I have several articles, and shorties published including a book on e-books. This one is fiction. I hope to hear in the near future.
Sincerely,
One of the many uneducated, foolish women using the name of God, and the insecurities of other women, to capitalize on the trash she calls printable material.
(Um. That's not her real name. I made that part up.)
i did it again...
um. so, my friend jess is throwing a leap year party. i wanted to make something for it. so i thought...'what leaps?' and then i thought, 'frogs. frogs leap.'
so i made these:
so i made these:
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
It's a sad day here in the 'Burgh...
RIP, Myron...
(Those of you who have no idea who Myron Cope is--go here.)
In the words of my friend, Chris--no yois today.
Monday, February 25, 2008
It's like Oregon Trail...
...without the dysentery.
On Saturday afternoon, my sister and I were on Route 30, heading out to shop for new pillows for her new couch. Traffic was suddenly backed up and right about the time we started wondering if there was an accident, we drove up alongside this guy:
Now, unfortunately, I didn't get a shot of the front of the wagon. Where there were 3 horses pulling it. Apparently, this guy set out from Montana, is heading to Boston, and then onto California. And he's basically just doing it for kicks.
Anyway, if you want to know more about it, go here.
On Saturday afternoon, my sister and I were on Route 30, heading out to shop for new pillows for her new couch. Traffic was suddenly backed up and right about the time we started wondering if there was an accident, we drove up alongside this guy:
Now, unfortunately, I didn't get a shot of the front of the wagon. Where there were 3 horses pulling it. Apparently, this guy set out from Montana, is heading to Boston, and then onto California. And he's basically just doing it for kicks.
Anyway, if you want to know more about it, go here.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Yeah. It's like that.
Some years ago I worked at a college as the Assistant Director of Student Activities. Mostly, my job was, well, planning activities. For students. We did concerts, coffeehouses, laser tag, carnivals, karaoke nights, film fests...you get the point. One year, my boss came up with this "Mystery Overnight Bus Trip" event. Students boarded a bus at 11pm and we promised to return them by 8am. That was the deal. They had no idea where we'd take them, what we'd do, how we'd do it...it was good times.
So, this particular year, the first stop was the Monster Truck Jam at Mellon Arena. Susan (the boss-lady) got tickets for us to go early, tour the...pit...or whatever you'd call it--meet the drivers, see the monster trucks up close....yeah, I think there's a photo of me somewhere, kissing the side of "Predator." Actually, I think it ended up in the yearbook. Whatever. The important thing to know is that I'm not a monster truck type of girl. And incidentally, and maybe more importantly, neither were some of my friends that had come along with us. They were artists, poets, writers. One even ended up being a pretty successful filmmaker here in Pittsburgh.
Anyway, all of that is to get to this--at one point, after we were all in our seats, waiting for the rock-'em, sock-'em, down and dirty fun to begin--my friend Lucas turned in his seat and leaned in, close to my ear.
"I'm nervous, Carly."
"You're nervous? Uh, I don't think we're in danger. I'm fairly certain we're out of shrapnel range."
"No, no. I'm nervous because...what if I like it?"
"Oooh...that. I'm nervous, too."
And we were right to be. We liked it. I mean, my ears were ringing when we left and I don't think I ever really got the smell of diesel fuel out of my jacket, but...it was really fun. Really stupid. But really fun.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I had that same exact feeling again, today when I watched Ghost Rider.
So, this particular year, the first stop was the Monster Truck Jam at Mellon Arena. Susan (the boss-lady) got tickets for us to go early, tour the...pit...or whatever you'd call it--meet the drivers, see the monster trucks up close....yeah, I think there's a photo of me somewhere, kissing the side of "Predator." Actually, I think it ended up in the yearbook. Whatever. The important thing to know is that I'm not a monster truck type of girl. And incidentally, and maybe more importantly, neither were some of my friends that had come along with us. They were artists, poets, writers. One even ended up being a pretty successful filmmaker here in Pittsburgh.
Anyway, all of that is to get to this--at one point, after we were all in our seats, waiting for the rock-'em, sock-'em, down and dirty fun to begin--my friend Lucas turned in his seat and leaned in, close to my ear.
"I'm nervous, Carly."
"You're nervous? Uh, I don't think we're in danger. I'm fairly certain we're out of shrapnel range."
"No, no. I'm nervous because...what if I like it?"
"Oooh...that. I'm nervous, too."
And we were right to be. We liked it. I mean, my ears were ringing when we left and I don't think I ever really got the smell of diesel fuel out of my jacket, but...it was really fun. Really stupid. But really fun.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I had that same exact feeling again, today when I watched Ghost Rider.
Friday, February 22, 2008
circa 1970-something: part two
i really love old family photographs. so sue me.
aren't my parents the cutest? 
this is one of my favorites. no, i'm not adopted.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
circa 1979
me and my daddy-o. our family had just moved from california to wisconsin.
you wanna talk about my knee-socks or what?
you wanna talk about my knee-socks or what?
more 70's goodness...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
POP QUIZ!
You Are a Powdered Devil's Food Donut
yeah. i'm totally down with being decadent & daring.
A total sweetheart on the outside, you love to fool people with your innocent image. On the inside you're a little darker, richer, and more complex. You're a hedonist who demands more than one pleasure at a time. Decadent and daring, you test the limits of human indulgence.
yeah. i'm totally down with being decadent & daring.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
my biggest fear...
...is that i'll be the cherry in the back.
or maybe that he'll be the cherry in the back. and propose publicly. like on a jumbotron or something.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Dino-mite!
On Saturday, Jess, Chris, Max & I went to see the dinosaurs at Carnegie Museum. I love dinosaurs. Here are some highlights:
MaxWellington when we were leaving the house. As you can see, he dressed for the day.
A (sort of random) picture I took from the inside of a huge sculpture outside the museum. But I liked how it turned out.
This is "Dino-Soar." He's one of the 100 fiberglass dinosaurs that were painted by local artists all around the city as part of DinoMite Days. They're pretty fantastic. 
Heck yes.
Max, checking out the "alligator dinosaur."
Chris & Max thinking that the other is really funny.
From the second floor.
Max wanted "to climb up there." We told him it wasn't a good idea.
So, after the dinosaurs and after we took a group vote and the three of us decided against the Hall of Botany (we didn't give Max a vote), we went up to the third floor where there was an exhibit called "The Scoop on Poop." Yeah.
The Scoop on Poop! leads visitors on an investigation of what poop is and how animals use it—to build homes, hide from enemies, attract mates, send messages, cool off, and, yes, even eat! A blend of science and fun, The Scoop on Poop! also explores the ways veterinarians, paleontologists, field biologists, farmers, Maasai tribesmen, and power companies make use of animal waste.
It's really hard to be adult about something like that. Everytime I saw Jess or Chris, one of us said, "Come here. You have to see this." Things like how a hippo marks its territory. And how rhinos poop. And also, things like this:
And this (Sorry. The phrase "turd trivia" makes me giggle. I can be impossibly immature.):
MaxWellington when we were leaving the house. As you can see, he dressed for the day.
A (sort of random) picture I took from the inside of a huge sculpture outside the museum. But I liked how it turned out.
This is "Dino-Soar." He's one of the 100 fiberglass dinosaurs that were painted by local artists all around the city as part of DinoMite Days. They're pretty fantastic.
Heck yes.
Max, checking out the "alligator dinosaur."
Chris & Max thinking that the other is really funny.
From the second floor.
Max wanted "to climb up there." We told him it wasn't a good idea.
So, after the dinosaurs and after we took a group vote and the three of us decided against the Hall of Botany (we didn't give Max a vote), we went up to the third floor where there was an exhibit called "The Scoop on Poop." Yeah.
The Scoop on Poop! leads visitors on an investigation of what poop is and how animals use it—to build homes, hide from enemies, attract mates, send messages, cool off, and, yes, even eat! A blend of science and fun, The Scoop on Poop! also explores the ways veterinarians, paleontologists, field biologists, farmers, Maasai tribesmen, and power companies make use of animal waste.
It's really hard to be adult about something like that. Everytime I saw Jess or Chris, one of us said, "Come here. You have to see this." Things like how a hippo marks its territory. And how rhinos poop. And also, things like this:
And this (Sorry. The phrase "turd trivia" makes me giggle. I can be impossibly immature.):
Good times, people.
Friday, February 15, 2008
stuck.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment.
-Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
Some days I forget where I am. I forget that this wasn't really what I had in mind. Those days, it's a kind of welcome temporary lapse of judgement that allows me to settle in and refuse to be bothered by my circumstances.
Today is not one of those days. Today I am devastatingly aware of this amber moment. Stuck. Trapped like an insect. Something seemingly insignificant held, suspended, in stone. And after a while, you don't feel seemingly insignificant anymore, you are. Because being trapped, feeling trapped, doesn't lend itself to purpose. It doesn't translate passion.
So here I am. Too scared to run. Too sad to stay. Buh.
quote of the night...
"i can't imagine anything being better, anything topping, this fried cheese."
my best friend, B, said that last night. shortly after she high-fived herself. she was in rare form and it was the best thing ever.
some other highlights:
"wha--i mean, am a pregnant with a "feelings" baby right now?!"
"that thing is frozen from the inside out."
"just like your heart."
my best friend, B, said that last night. shortly after she high-fived herself. she was in rare form and it was the best thing ever.
some other highlights:
"wha--i mean, am a pregnant with a "feelings" baby right now?!"
"that thing is frozen from the inside out."
"just like your heart."
Thursday, February 14, 2008
my funny valentine...
this is me and max. maxwellington. swells. swellsly. he's my valentine. his mom says it's true because "he likes my rack."
she's a sicko (i love you, jess).
YAY!
it's valentine's day! i love this day. L-O-V-E it.
and because i love it, i mailed out my homemade valentines yesterday and last night i made these for my friends & coworkers:
it's kind of like my second christmas.
and because i love it, i mailed out my homemade valentines yesterday and last night i made these for my friends & coworkers:
it's kind of like my second christmas.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
it's not you...it's me.
i was driving to work this morning and a commercial came on for vermont teddy bear company. they went on and on about how a girlfriend/wife would be SO THRILLED to get one of these bears.
and i thought..."really?" i mean, REALLY? then out loud in my car i asked myself, "do grown women like getting teddy bears? fifteen-year-old girls like getting teddy bears, but grown women?"
that's when i started to worry a little. because i'm guessing the answer is, yes-they do. if it wasn't, this teddy bear company wouldn't be so successful, right? then i wondered if they're successful because women like getting teddy bears or because men think women like getting teddy bears.
(i'm telling you--my mind is a terrifying place to be. it's like that all the time.)
i worried because it made me wonder if something is intrinsically wrong with me. because i think teddy bears are gay. and it's not just teddy bears--it's this goofy idea of romance that's associated with things like them. those kind "romantic" gestures make me kind of gaggy and super uncomfortable.
a bottle of wine and a copy of rushmore will get the job done.
disclaimer: i mean no disrespect to girls who like teddy bears. although, if you do, you're probably the kind of girl who wears/would wear one of those pink football jerseys. and, honestly, i judge you for that. a little. but we can still be friends. maybe.
and i thought..."really?" i mean, REALLY? then out loud in my car i asked myself, "do grown women like getting teddy bears? fifteen-year-old girls like getting teddy bears, but grown women?"
that's when i started to worry a little. because i'm guessing the answer is, yes-they do. if it wasn't, this teddy bear company wouldn't be so successful, right? then i wondered if they're successful because women like getting teddy bears or because men think women like getting teddy bears.
(i'm telling you--my mind is a terrifying place to be. it's like that all the time.)
i worried because it made me wonder if something is intrinsically wrong with me. because i think teddy bears are gay. and it's not just teddy bears--it's this goofy idea of romance that's associated with things like them. those kind "romantic" gestures make me kind of gaggy and super uncomfortable.
a bottle of wine and a copy of rushmore will get the job done.
disclaimer: i mean no disrespect to girls who like teddy bears. although, if you do, you're probably the kind of girl who wears/would wear one of those pink football jerseys. and, honestly, i judge you for that. a little. but we can still be friends. maybe.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
in six...
i'm passing this one along. because it's awesome.
so, according to smith magazine:
Legend has it that Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only six words. His response? “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
because i love hemingway, and because i could do with a little bit of brevity in my life--and my stories--i love this.
"Everyone has a story. Can you tell yours in six words?"
i'm tagging mike, chrissy & adam. but if you read this--leave one, i want to see it. here's mine...
life is worth what you risk.
so, according to smith magazine:
Legend has it that Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only six words. His response? “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
because i love hemingway, and because i could do with a little bit of brevity in my life--and my stories--i love this.
"Everyone has a story. Can you tell yours in six words?"
i'm tagging mike, chrissy & adam. but if you read this--leave one, i want to see it. here's mine...
life is worth what you risk.
speaking of hell...
...welcome to mine.
this is what i was faced with on my way to work today. the best part is, i came in late. this isn't a picture of the road at 7am before the trucks had a chance to hit it--it's NOON.
i know what you're thinking--you're thinking, "but car, there isn't anywhere to DRIVE on that road! no tracks, no plowed areas, nothing!" and i would say to you that i know. it was awful. and i'm raging. i hate this. i hate snow. i hate being so dang cold. i hate ice. i hate trying to get my ass to work without a.) dying or b.) wrecking the hell out of my car.
i need to get out. call me crazy, but this crap actually affects my mood and my general overall satisfaction versus dissatisfaction with my life. not to mention, like i tell my mother--palm trees and sunshine don't kill people. this nightmare? yeah. the roads were a mo-freaksta death trap this morning...i don't need that stress.
oh, and the good news is that i work until 7pm. fabulous, right? because by then, after the additional 6 hours worth of snow and freezing rain, the temp will drop, the sun will go down and every road home will be solid sheet of glorious ice...buh. and double buh.
this is what i was faced with on my way to work today. the best part is, i came in late. this isn't a picture of the road at 7am before the trucks had a chance to hit it--it's NOON.
i know what you're thinking--you're thinking, "but car, there isn't anywhere to DRIVE on that road! no tracks, no plowed areas, nothing!" and i would say to you that i know. it was awful. and i'm raging. i hate this. i hate snow. i hate being so dang cold. i hate ice. i hate trying to get my ass to work without a.) dying or b.) wrecking the hell out of my car.
i need to get out. call me crazy, but this crap actually affects my mood and my general overall satisfaction versus dissatisfaction with my life. not to mention, like i tell my mother--palm trees and sunshine don't kill people. this nightmare? yeah. the roads were a mo-freaksta death trap this morning...i don't need that stress.
oh, and the good news is that i work until 7pm. fabulous, right? because by then, after the additional 6 hours worth of snow and freezing rain, the temp will drop, the sun will go down and every road home will be solid sheet of glorious ice...buh. and double buh.
Monday, February 11, 2008
why am i in this handbasket?
someone just called in and asked me for knee pads.
i'm sorry-i can't stop giggling about it...
i'm going to hell.
i'm sorry-i can't stop giggling about it...
i'm going to hell.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Let them eat cake...
I like to bake. And, I mostly like to bake because I really love decorating something and making it special for whoever it's for.
So, back in November, my friend Erin asked me if I would make the cake for her daughter Ella's 2nd birthday. I said sure and then Erin told me that Ells had been talking about me making her a "tunkin cake." Which, loosely translated is, "pumpkin cake." She's way too cute to say no to--so I made this:
She still talks about it. It was very fun.
So, back in November, my friend Erin asked me if I would make the cake for her daughter Ella's 2nd birthday. I said sure and then Erin told me that Ells had been talking about me making her a "tunkin cake." Which, loosely translated is, "pumpkin cake." She's way too cute to say no to--so I made this:
She still talks about it. It was very fun.
At Ella's party, my friend Jess pulled me aside and told me, not asked me--if you know Jess, this makes perfect sense--that I was going to make Max's (her son) cake, too. Then, I think she pinched me. I can't be sure, but it's something she'd do.
Anyway. Max is way too cute to say no to, as well--so, I made him his cake this weekend. I have to say, folks--this was crazy. To make that pumpkin, I had to be brave. To make this train, I had to be fearless. I spent Friday night and Saturday night working on it and I've decided that cake-making/decorating is art. And I dig it.
Here's Thomas:
And here's Swells blowing out his candles (and that little blondie behind him is Ella):
If you're interested, I have more pictures and you can see how I did it step by step HERE.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
um...
Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff could get you killed.
because i feel like it...
i'm sitting at my desk and here's what i think...
-this coffee is being REALLY good to me right now. have you ever been drinking a cup of coffee and been sad when it was gone? cause i'm there. i might try to replicate it, but i'm not sure it'll happen.
-someone just asked me if we stock a dvd by michael english. which begs the question--who in the futt still listens to michael english? and worse yet, who wants to watch him on a dvd?
-i was processing an order for a customer earlier who, after every title i repeated back to him he'd say, "yes, please." it was completely excessive. at one point i was mouthing the words "just stop" at my phone. i don't think there's ever a reason to be that polite. it just makes people dislike you.
-my back is kind of achey.
-i was typing in a title to do a search for a book and it was "way of the wild heart." well, i'd been searching for a bible before that for a customer and one of the fields said "stud" because they were looking for a study bible. so when i started the next search, i ended up typing in "way of the wild stud." it was awesome. ps...we don't carry any such title.
-i wish i had some twizzlers. but i can't be trusted.
-i need a haircut.
-this coffee is being REALLY good to me right now. have you ever been drinking a cup of coffee and been sad when it was gone? cause i'm there. i might try to replicate it, but i'm not sure it'll happen.
-someone just asked me if we stock a dvd by michael english. which begs the question--who in the futt still listens to michael english? and worse yet, who wants to watch him on a dvd?
-i was processing an order for a customer earlier who, after every title i repeated back to him he'd say, "yes, please." it was completely excessive. at one point i was mouthing the words "just stop" at my phone. i don't think there's ever a reason to be that polite. it just makes people dislike you.
-my back is kind of achey.
-i was typing in a title to do a search for a book and it was "way of the wild heart." well, i'd been searching for a bible before that for a customer and one of the fields said "stud" because they were looking for a study bible. so when i started the next search, i ended up typing in "way of the wild stud." it was awesome. ps...we don't carry any such title.
-i wish i had some twizzlers. but i can't be trusted.
-i need a haircut.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
tiggity-tagged.
well. so mike wanted stories--but he wanted people to use his words. i think that's how this started. he tagged sara and sara tagged me--but she gave me new words to use. namely: fireplace, calligraphy, green, picture, float, fur, scar, birthday, fresh & magic.
i'm tagging stacy, chrissy & dennis.
and here's my "story..."
“No, seriously, it was fur. Not hair, fur.”
“Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.”
The axiom came from my mother, holding a vegetable peeler, potato scraps floating in the sink in front of her. She turned, wiping her freshly-manicured hands on the ratty green apron she’s had long as I can remember. I stared at her.
“You do know that makes very little sense, right? You’ve been saying it for years and it’s never made sense to me.”
It was her answer to everything. Well. That and, “Carly Denise, you operate on the principal that it’s easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission.” I heard that one the time my friends and I got caught roasting marshmallows in the fireplace—sans parental supervision. I heard it when I accidentally trashed the calligraphy set my sister got for her 12th birthday. I used all the ink and bent the nibs. I heard it at 16 when my parents went away for the weekend and I took the car into the city. But I’m pretty sure it all started when she found out that I’d been shaving my legs in secret at age 10. There’s a three month span of time where every picture I’m in I have knee-socks on.
“It makes perfect sense. Don’t believe everything you’re told, Carly. Especially when the source is questionable at best.”
I laughed. “That wasn’t very nice. He’s not a completely unreliable source. Besides, I get that part. I don’t get the ‘half of what you see’ part.”
“What’s not to get? Looks can be deceiving. You just don’t like that part because then you become the questionable source of said information.”
“Geez, Ma. Anything else you want to point out? I haven’t been sufficiently scarred from my upbringing.”
“You little shit.” She threw a dishtowel at my head. “There was nothing wrong with your upbringing. Your father and I can’t help it if you were rebellious.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. So, you’re saying that I don’t like it because then I’m the one who is possibly inventing information. Magically seeing what I want to see? Not seeing what I don’t?”
“You got it, kid.”
“Well. I still think it was fur.”
i'm tagging stacy, chrissy & dennis.
and here's my "story..."
“No, seriously, it was fur. Not hair, fur.”
“Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.”
The axiom came from my mother, holding a vegetable peeler, potato scraps floating in the sink in front of her. She turned, wiping her freshly-manicured hands on the ratty green apron she’s had long as I can remember. I stared at her.
“You do know that makes very little sense, right? You’ve been saying it for years and it’s never made sense to me.”
It was her answer to everything. Well. That and, “Carly Denise, you operate on the principal that it’s easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission.” I heard that one the time my friends and I got caught roasting marshmallows in the fireplace—sans parental supervision. I heard it when I accidentally trashed the calligraphy set my sister got for her 12th birthday. I used all the ink and bent the nibs. I heard it at 16 when my parents went away for the weekend and I took the car into the city. But I’m pretty sure it all started when she found out that I’d been shaving my legs in secret at age 10. There’s a three month span of time where every picture I’m in I have knee-socks on.
“It makes perfect sense. Don’t believe everything you’re told, Carly. Especially when the source is questionable at best.”
I laughed. “That wasn’t very nice. He’s not a completely unreliable source. Besides, I get that part. I don’t get the ‘half of what you see’ part.”
“What’s not to get? Looks can be deceiving. You just don’t like that part because then you become the questionable source of said information.”
“Geez, Ma. Anything else you want to point out? I haven’t been sufficiently scarred from my upbringing.”
“You little shit.” She threw a dishtowel at my head. “There was nothing wrong with your upbringing. Your father and I can’t help it if you were rebellious.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. So, you’re saying that I don’t like it because then I’m the one who is possibly inventing information. Magically seeing what I want to see? Not seeing what I don’t?”
“You got it, kid.”
“Well. I still think it was fur.”
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