Hungry.

Show me Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your Truth and teach me . . .for You are the God of my salvation. On You do I wait all the day. Psalm 26:4-5

Considering seasons and times and windows of days gone by ~ the beautiful ways in which the Lord has drawn me, and taught me, as I sat at His knee.

Considering the seasons and times and windows of days to come ~ may the Lord be pleased to continue the good work He has begun; may He yet teach me and show me His salvation, as I wait on Him.

The Game Show Nearest You

The premise of the major network's newest reality game show (the one of which my son, the actor, is shaking in his shoes to promote) has a simple premise: How well do you know your family members? What quirky knowledge and intimate acquaintance do you hold as understanding as you tread the walkway of life?

As of late yesterday afternoon, I confess, I would have lost Round One.

It went down like this:

Gram sent an email which contained an incredibly fantastic over-the-top idea (in my estimation) of the perfect gift with which to bless the birthday boy: an afternoon of sand and surf . . .on a SURFBOARD! the quintessential Californian thing to do. Who could possibly pass up such a grand outing??

I queried my now 14 year old son in a quiet moment.

"Gram is offering you surfboard lessons. Wanna take her up on it?" I asked, with anticipation of his excited, eyes gleaming positive response.

"Hmmm. Nah. I don't think so." came his dry and detached reply.

"WHAT?!" I could hardly contain my incredulousness! Did the boy have a fever? Check his forehead! Then, taking a breath, and calmly bewraying my suprise, I asked, "Why not?"

"Just 'cuz. I'm afraid of the ocean."

At this point, I'm about to fall over.

{clearing my throat} "You are afraid of the ocean?" I, still hiding my amazement, inquire.

"Yeah."

"Uh, may I ask why?"

"Sharks, Mom. Sharks."

***********************************
Who knew? {laughing}

Learnin' my family, one day at a time . . .

And you?

Banner Day in Hollywood

So, yesterday my son, the actor, and I had the priviledge of being on the grounds of two major production companies. What fruit those two endeavors will bring remains to be seen.

It's quite an event, walking the grounds of the source of too-numerous-to-be-counted creative works that have influenced the culture of America, and even the world. Movie posters . . . er - billboards looming larger than life, making bold declarations of their existance and impact from bygone eras to the movies of tomorrow. These places are little cities unto themselves, complete with studios, golf carts and security personnel on every corner.

Oh. And squirrels.

We were enamored with the squirrels. Amidst all the behind the scenes activities and preparations belonging to a major corporation, the little creatures became our focus, delighting us with thier inquisitive request for foodstuffs.

They were only slightly hesitant. Like a cat, curious, but not willing to be picked up. And, of course, if they discovered the 'uman didn't actually have any treat to hand out, they'd quickly chatter and retreat.

From his cozy spot in the sling, Keller took in the antics of these little guys time and time again.

He watched and watched intently . . .up until it began raining nuts on our heads.

Yep. A squirrel, obviously miffed at us for not giving out any goods, ran up to an overhanging branch and began to shake it, causing nuts to fall everywhere. At this, Israel jumped up, and began to call to the squirrel on high.

Mr. Squirrel could not be appeased.

He nailed Israel in the arm with a nut he had been holding.

I am not kidding.

The squirrel threw a nut at Israel and nailed him!

Egads.

**********

Meanwhile, upon returning home, we discovered the latest commercial up and running. Have you seen it yet? ABC's Opportunity Knocks promo.

Way cool.

He's the one with the laptop.

Again.

:D

Mysterious

For a whole week my computer system got to rest.

No demands on its functionality.
No insistence that it speed across digital wires to retrieve snippits of information.
No downloads or uploads.
No refreshing of the display window or settings.

Nada.

A total week of nothing but sleep.

So why, then, have I returned to a cantakerous model that won't comply to otherwise normal course of duty requests?

I'm sorry to report that hundreds of images are locked within my camera, failing to respond to the orders sent via USB.

It is maddening to say the least.

I've got to get to the bottom of the problem, and pronto.

I might implode if I can't pull up pictures of my grandson. Or my daughters. Or Zeke the horse.

Drat.

Just One More Sleep

My Love ~

About now you have been zonked on the white sofa, your 'other lover' as we joke, for at least two hours, maybe more.

Since speaking with you on the phone - as you drifted of to dreamland - I have packed up the dog, and the baby, and put the stroller in the trunk of the car after being in the park; driven across town to the NoHo district, circled [name of street] twice, parked on [name of street] for 10 minutes whilst Keller protested loudly, then driven to the alleyway where Aubrey and Israel raced down the staircase to earn the priviledge of being in the front seat.

Then, I drove home in twilight, only to have the children leap out of the car in an attempt to find their California friends before those citi-fied chil'ens had to tuck themselves into bed at the insistence of their mommas.

I have settled in to comforting Keller, changing his diaper, nursing him, playing with him, and coaxing him to speak to me in sign language or baby drivel. Then, I have checked my email, only to find that answers to my questions asked were only answered via a troubleshooting sheet, and not because someone took the time to read what I wrote in educated fashion. I've resent my request, in another format, hoping for a better response in the morning.

I've perused my online communities with a sense of disconnected boredom. Not because I don't enjoy them, or my friends there . . .but because my heart is aching from the knowledge that our time was too short and our obligations many. Tonight, not even a cyber conversation can put a bandaid on the hole in my heart that misses you. A telephone call to anyone other than you? Way too late, no thanks to this crazy west coast time zone.

Aubrey has come in the door and left again. Soon she and her brother will return, and for a moment, I'll be distracted by thier antics and or demands of teenaged dreamed up must-have-now necessities. The clamour won't last long, however, and I'll task them on the chores, and the preparation for another day.

Then, I'll end up phoning you.

Again.
Our nightly routine.

The night owl and the morning glory, paired for life.

What joy.

You'll awake, or attempt to awake in a slumbered stupor that will mark the transition point from the sofa to the bed. We'll exchange a couple of niceties that serve to fill me with auditory committment of your love for me, and then we'll hang up the phone.

The silence will once again envelope me, and I'll be alone again, remembering but a mere week ago, when our words to each other seemed so much sweeter and decadent:

Just one more sleep, and we'll be together.

Perhaps tomorrow I won't be so aware of the distance that spans us. Perhaps the traffic of tomorrow will wash away the sense of neediness on my part and lonliness on your part.

Perhaps tomorrow you'll phone me with a chirpie morning voice that is full of love but very tasked, and I'll get with the program; the plan; and shake off the emotion of parting in favor of the things to do.

Perhaps.

One thing is certain: I'm counting down the days until it is one more sleep again.

I love you.

Je t'aime.



Your Dove.

He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. Song of Songs 2:4-6

Konversation Korner Volume 7: Krazy Keeton Kwickie

"Pssst!" Hey you guys! I haven't seen my Uncle Keller in six weeks! I'm gonna surprise him! Watch!" Keeton said, mischievously.

"Oh, Mom! Must you always take pictures? Can't you see I'm busy playing, walking around this table?" said the unsuspecting Keller.

"Huh? What was that noise? Whassat???! Umm, something moved down here! MOM!!"

"SURPRISE KELLER!" said Keeton triumphantly, popping up from under the table, Cheezit's in hand.

"Man, that was fun!" said Keeton.

"You are too cute for your own good!" said Gram.

:D

Stay Tuned

It was a long night filled with fevered babies thrashing, midnight hunts for infant pain reliever, resignation at finding none.

At day break, it appears as though smiles have returned to jubilant, none-the-worse-for-wear miniature faces.

The Mom has to function on fog-brain whilst accomplishing many important tasks. The result?

A delay in the latest edition of Konversation Korner.

Too cute for words . . .stay tuned!

apPEARances matter

Last week Friday seems like an eternity ago. Our clan had juggled flight schedules to accomodate the demands of employment, and we found ourselves on set for a rigorous day of filming.

In the unique position I am in, caring for both autonomous teens and a nursing infant, I often hold the balance of the two by the skin of my teeth. (Not to worry, however, as SuperMomsRUs renewed my license.) What exactly does one do, you ask, with a baby on location whilst big brother is filming?

The obvious answer?

Feed him.

Yes, Keller was the picture of perfect babyhood, and I? I was launched into the role of patron saint of Momdom, by mere association.

Not only did Keller behave incredibly well, but he was easily deterred from any loud, obnoxious baby behaviors (read: crying) by simply passing the platter.

While we spanned the hours in the little corner of the cubicle on wheels, the L'il Man partook in the highest delicacies offered. His favorite by far, though, was the pear half his size, and juicy to boot!

His decision to eat the pear without the help of Mom slicing and dicing, managed to secure the attention of the administrative staff, also sharing space on the little cubicle on wheels.

Keller took this as his cue to do nothing more than entertain them, thereby reducing their stress levels.

Yes, it is my estimation that company morale was lifted that day. My concerns that the baby would be a deterrent to successful completion of the project melted as Keller was embraced among all: from the Producer, to the Director, to the Cook, to the Cable Crew. Deemed the new mascot, I daresay the staff will remember the baby with the pear for many, many projects to come.

Heck. Keller might even secure himself a side job. Who knows?

Mascot, anyone?

Frontier Days

Horseback riding has a unique twist in the Mississippi sweltering heat and humidity. One major difference is that jeans tend to stick to tacky skin. This factoid only served to compound my comedic attempt at making it into the saddle successfully, since, evidently, I'm not *quite* as limber as I once was.

Unique twist Number Two? My daughter, not me, is the horseowner. That in and of itself makes me stand in awe.

For the record, I DID make it into the saddle. (Just give me a few days, will ya? I'll stretch back out in no time!!) And we had a very enjoyable evening of riding Zeke and Ginger.

My enjoyment began the moment I slipped on my cowboy boots. An action I've not had the pleasure of enough, here in Mississippi. I thought I'd grab a toe self-portrait, in honor of the Queen of Toe Self-Portraiture, Pioneer Woman:

Then, it was head out to the pasture to round up them rugged steeds! this would be rugged steed Number One:

Zeke was in a bit of need of grooming. Comb-over, anyone??

Grooming commenced here:


And then, out to the arena for some get-to-know-your-horse action! Here is proof that I actually made it on board:

And here is one brief picture of artistic expression:

However nothing prepared me for watching my baby girl put her steed throough the paces. Here she is, in action:

Ah. It's a sight to behold. Warms my heart right to the very core.

Bridging

I've often said that our current California adventure leaves me standing, Jolly Green Giant fashion, with my feet firmly planted in two worlds. One world is constant, secure, nurturing, and dependable. The other shifting, simple, and fluid.

Bridging those two worlds has been accomplished by phone up until our very first window of opportunity to travel back home, ever so briefly. Bridging those worlds in geographical format was highly anticipated. Therefore, I felt unprepared when we encountered what could quite possibly be the most difficult travel day I've ever experienced in my zip-here-and-there life.

I dare not to bore you with one of those horror stories such as you've had to endure from, suppose, a complete stranger, bent on venting their angst upon any unsuspecting passer-by-style-victim that might simply ask, "How are you?" Followed by the Questioner walking away, shaking their head, wondering why they asked in the first place.


No. I won't do that to you. But in many ways I feel as though I am still recovering. So, if you will allow me a brief synopsis to set the stage, I'll move to more productive measures of sharing some pictures with you. (Since I've taken ownership of the USB cord, that is!)

The curtain was drawn on Friday morning, when Israel was scheduled to arrive on set. His work day closed out at 10:30 pm. We hadn't yet packed. Our shuttle was set to arrive at 2:30 AM (yes, I said AM), so we decided to forego the immediate sleep in exchange for a couple of hours shut eye at the airport, on a bench.

Well. If only.

The shuttle arrived early. A half an hour early.

Did you know that at 2:30 AM on a Saturday morning, the only presence of life in an airport is the sleeping passengers who unfortunately missed their connecting flight the night before? We entered the ticketing foyer to find nothing, noone, not even an electronic check-in available. And all (three) seats taken. Hence began our hours-long wait, in an upright, standing position . . .Keller in the mayawrap [translate: in a sling, around my shoulders].

Choosers, my body did not find a seat until 6:15 AM, after the bomb sniffing dogs had determined the coast was clear, and we could take off ~ late, of course.

Then began the missed flights, the interminable waiting because of a torrential downpour, and continued frazzling and fraying of nerves and emotions. As I mentioned yesterday, we were in airport, plus a two hour drive to destination, for 18 hours.

Egads.

One discovers things about themselves, when they are pressed against their limits. Aubrey said it best when she said, and I visually quote:

I'd say that pretty much sums up the experience of the day! Normally very patient, I had very little left by the time I handled this situation with two teens and a ten month old.

Israel had chosen to carry on both his laptop and his skateboard. I wanted to clock him with both items numerous times.



Overall, Keller was a trooper. He managed to capture the attention and delight of other stranded travellers. Perhaps the only bright spot in an otherwise dreary day.

Getting off the plane for the last time was such a relief . . .we were overjoyed. Until Aubrey asked me what I had done with the Very-Important-Documents that I had stowed in the seat pocket in front of me . . .

They were, of course, still on the plane.

:sigh:

It's been awhile since I've been faced with dying to self on such a grand scale. I do not begrudge the lesson. I just wish the length of the bridge hadn't been so long.

Drat and Double Drat.

In light of an 18 hour (!!!) travel day on Saturday, my current predicament is a drop in the bucket.

Alas, the usb cord to upload my [fantastic!] photos to Choice Central today just happens to be in the attache` at work with my beloved GilGuy.

Some stories simply need visual aid to deliver the full import. :sigh: I'll be back.

Love,

me.

Whoops!

Man o man! The bundle o' joy, Keller St John, managed to wake me up before the sun rose this a.m.! by the time I coaxed him back to sleep, my internal body clock had reset itself . . .and now, I've overslept! YIKES!

It's a workday for us ~ if ya lift up a prayer (and perhaps make me a bagel?) I think we're in good shape!

Subtle Shift

As per our previously scheduled plan, I would be on the second leg of a flight by now. Plans change, they say. The only constant in our lives to be counted on IS change.

So, I've rolled with the punches.

I've leaped over tall buildings (and major airlines) in a single bound.

I've successfully rearranged and recalculated and reassessed.

We're "on board" with the new plan.

I'm keenly aware that the Lord has wired me for situations like this. The ability to bend and flex and go with the flow is innate. I've spent my life on one adventure after another due in part to this trait. It's curious to a degree, it's comforting, it's refreshing; it's amazing to some; and maddening to others.

I'm appreciative of the Lord's gift. I really am.

Yet when the sun peeked through the shade this morning, I immediately had to reset my expectation clock ~ without doing so, the imagination of the warmth of Gil's arms around me; the squeal of delight at seeing KeetBeet again; the deep, loving, hug that says 'I missed you' to my big girls would seek to swallow me up. My emotions would run amok, and who knows how I'd function today.

Thankfully, the readjustment was swift. We've got things to do, people! Places to go! People to see! Chop! Chop!

Once again, time marches on . . .

TensionWire *Update*

So, as time marches forward, the list of details to be accomplished dwindles.

When are we leaving you might ask?

Um, we're not sure.

As is the norm of our existance for the past 105 days, we are held in delicate balance between our time being our own, or belonging to someone else.

I *think* we're in the clear.
******
Update, Wednesday afternoon:

{cough, cough}

[dialing the airline]

"Hello, Friendly Skies? I need to reschedule . . ."

A Tough Act To Follow

Somewhere between Raven's declaration, my administrative task sheet of preparatory items to do for the new academic year, and the myriad of teen antics coupled with baby needs, I've been left bereft of any witty, profound, or otherwise valuable information to bring to your cyber doorstep this morning.

Can it be?? I'm speechless today?

Egads!

I really doubt that is the case at all.

Perhaps the truth of the matter is that my heart is elsewhere, very pointedly looking forward to a quick trip home . . . yet my hands are busy, taking care of the continued wash of places to go and appointments to meet.

Not that I mind. I'd rather be busy than languish in the final countdown of hours until the boarding of a big 'ole jet airliner.

Perhaps it behooves me to ask you to lift us up in prayer, for surely our heart's cry remains the same, regardless of the activity of any given day:

Lord, may we be vessels of honor in Your hand, unto Your perfect will and purpose. May we be the light of Christ in a dark place; the servers of the Bread of Life to a hungry people; the witness of Your Truth amidst a deceived world. May You have Your way with us, as the Master Potter, fulfilling all Your counsel and will in our lives.

Thanks, Choosers. You are the best.

Yeah. That's So Raven.

Well, so much for my well planned Sunday afternoon pool party. Appreciate me, Choosers . . .because today, instead of taking you on a two part journey filled with anticipation and squeals of dismay, delight, and drama, I'm splaying it ALL out for you. Here and now. All 85 -pared-down-to-12 pictures worth of the saga that took over my day. And my best laid plans. :D

I've been wanting to do this for some time ~ take a picnic lunch poolside after Sunday fellowship, and enjoy an afternoon with the children and any company, frolicking in the water for hours. I'd finally made an executive decision to Just. Do. It. for pete's sake! and gathered the initial supplies to make it happen. That is, all except for the bucket of fried chicken. Determining that to ease my time in the kitchen, I'd pick some up from KFC, or perhaps Wal-mart.

At the last minute, I toted the entire fam, plus Aubrey's friend Cami into the "city gates" (a loving nickname for WM) for the said such chicken.

We didn't even make it past the foyer.

Aubrey eye-spied, loomin' large, a massive banner hanging across the walkway. It read:

RAVEN-SYMONE` DVD SIGNING: 3:00 PM AUGUST 10!

Suddenly, emotional choas broke out in unprecedented form.

"Mom! Mom! PUH-lease! Can we stay? Can we stay, huh? Can we?? PUH-lease?!?!?" And, for those of you with children, you can fully imagine the press that I was subject to for the next, oh . . .THREE hours, even after I'd fully stated my position that we go home, eat, and return.

So, we did just that. No picnic. No swim. No fun for Mom. Just a constant ramping up of teenaged anticipation, complete with declarations of just what, exactly, was going to be discussed, once the teen-with-stars-in-her-eyes approached the star-with-pen-in-hand.

We arrived thirty minutes early, to a line that snaked out of the Garden Center and almost onto the parking lot. Egads.

A DVD purchase snafu ensued, but I'll spare you the gruesome details of my numerous treks across the Wal-Mart storehouse of goods to secure the *proper* DVD for signing. Trust me, you are glad I am doing this. :D

FINALLY, proper product in hand, I joined the fibrillating girls to wait.



Oh, my, the wait. It seemed interminiable. Hot. Full of teenaged angst and antics. Here, a picture of said such angst:

Aubrey, demanding an instant photo-shoot, plops herself down on the stack of patio chairs. I comply by taking out my camera.



However, the young man in front of us decided to move at *just* the right moment, thereby walking in front of the lens. As you can see, Aubrey is now disgruntled at his *obvious* lack of judgment:

As a matter of fact, I do believe those are daggers in her eyes. Or at the very least, a proclamation of: "RAWR!"

Cami was the easier going of the two. She took every blessed sweaty moment in stride with quite the pleasant attitude.

But, as you can see, Aubrey continued her dramatic flair of angst. It's all in the eyebrowns, people. All in the eyebrows:

At the juncture in which we moved out of the Garden Center staging area, into the air conditioned garden supplies staging area, everyone's ability to cope shifted a bit. It was much easier to tolerate the teenaged anticipatory antics.

About this time, Israel, who had relulctantly tagged along, showed up, deciding he was interested after all . . .but, mind you . . .not because he was in any way shape or form supporting Disney, their cast of characters, or (in his mind) their music [insert gag-me reflex here, on his behalf]. Of couse, as the mother, I was fully aware that in his deepest heart of hearts, he was intrigued. But, don't tell him I knew. He has a reputation to protect, and he wouldn't appreciate me spilling the beans!

We finally arrived at Gatekeeper #1. Her job was to check receipts, and approve initial entry:

Then we met Gatekeepr #2. His job was to send the children one direction, and the parent/camera the other direction.

Cami and Aubrey met Raven, exchanged pleasantries (which, of course, included *none* of the aforementioned day-dreamed conversations!), and posed for a pic.

Meanwhile, Gatekeeper #2 has been trying to figure out just how, exactly, Israel fits into this whole family gathering. Finally, he sends Israel, (dvd-less) to the table with Raven, who is finishing her signing of Cami's product.

That's when it happened.

The amazing moment that forever sealed The Day I Met Raven Symone` in the memory of two teenaged girls and one teenaged boy.

Raven did a double take when Israel approached her.

Looking up at him; returning to the dvd; and looking up again quickly, with an expression of awe.

Then, she said it.

"Dude! You're CUTE!"

Words of immortal import.

Evidently (I missed it because I'd been shuffled behind the photographer with the bright pink hair) Israel flashed her his infamous smile at this comment in reply.

To which I am certain Raven thought to herself, "Be still my beating heart!", as I, his mother think, every time I watch that smile wash over him.

I'm not certain that this event challenged Israel to suddenly come forward with his secret enjoyment of all things Disney. But it certainly made for a day worth marking as *much* better than the pool party Momma planned!

Point Of View

The late morning sun beaming over an industrial section of Santa Monica was held at bay by a lumbering wooden structure that encased, of all curious things, a tiny cafe. Diminutive it sat, among the warehouses sporting tin walls and steel underpinnings.

Israel and I entered briefly, purchasing a soft drink as down payment rights to the little table outside of the front window, whose once glossy pane was now filmed with a golden brown haze from years of fried foods being prepared a few feet away.

Blinking as we stepped onto the sidewalk, gulping in large gasps of fresh air after being subject to the staleness of meals long since eaten; then, gingerly seating ourselves, in preparation for a solid hour's wait.

The sidewalk held no particular width as sidewalks go. Thus, sharing the space with unusually placed parking meters tightened the walkway to a hairbreadth. Passersby turned themselves just so, to manuever the gap, while we nonchalantly ignored their presence when eye contact was not returned. The hustle and bustle of business and industry and deadlines and commitments written all over their face as we held time as our luxury.

Continued was the tension of surroundings, magnified, as my son pulled out his laptop and agenda notebook, scribbling notes to self in margins. Caught between the world of tomorrow and yesteryear, I sought to busy myself upon the baby's gentle succomb to sleep.

Solace was found in an old friend, that I'd neglected of late. We chatted of visual acuity and texture; of softness and subtle shades of light. We spoke of uniqueness of subjects, the composure of such in one frame. We spoke of potential to bend the mind's eye, causing the viewer to stop and wonder, "What exactly is it I'm looking at?"

Our conversation was rich, between my friend and I. Together we compiled a vantage or two, and determined to share.

Perhaps the reader will be transported to the little cafe, tucked away on a sidewalk, in an industrial section of town. Wondering all the while ~ "Is this out of place and time and continuium?"