During a recent hike at Sugar Hollow, my friend and I stopped at a stream to play around on the rocks and explore. I told him how the last time I hiked in the area, my friend acted timid around the rocks and I had to show her the pathways. Thinking about her weak rock navigating skills made me realize what strong skills I possessed.

“You know,” I thought, as I soared from rock to rock, “I really am good at this rock thing.”

I became bolder with my rock moves, impressing myself and causing me to conclude, “if this grad school bit doesn’t pan out, I can always became a river-rock-jumper-guide.”

Then the unthinkable happened. That’s right, my Lewis and Clark skills failed me, my aged Chacos gave way, and I found myself sitting next to some tadpoles in the cold stream water.

I couldn’t comprehend my situation. Not only did the whole fall happen so quickly, but I had begun to think I could just be the best rock jumper this side of the Mason-Dixon line. Stunned, I sat in the water longer than what most people probably would and finally jumped up when I thought my digital camera might be getting wet.

This is not the first time clumsiness put my ego into check. I remember walking around my house one night in the dark. “Wow,” I marveled, “my night vision is quite amazing. Like a cat, really. I should submit myself for study at MIT.” As I picked up my speed, I ran into a table, stubbing my toes.

I could provide more stories as evidence, but I’ll save space (and my ego), and just let you know that they exist.

As a young whipper-snapper, it seemed I often stubbed a toe, tripped over a cord, etc. right after I fired a particularly sassy comment towards my mom. She would sometimes say “see, God got you back.” Up until my rock fall, I thought this was simply a funny phrase my mom used to help cope with a mouthy daughter. My recent fall got me thinking though and I’m beginning to wonder if my mom was on to something, whether she knew it or not. Perhaps God knows I am a stubborn lass and He has to physically knock me down every now and then to effectively get through to me. We all know prideful people are the worst. After all, pride is what got Lucifer kicked out of heaven, so it’s really for my own good. A little tough love, you know?

I’m kidding, of course.

Kind of…..

Here’s some pictures of a bruise from the fall. It faded in the most peculiar way. Really ugly. I became obsessed with the progression.

DAY 10: Monday - I arose this morning at seven to go running again with Andy. Yesterday's winds must have continued through the night because it was 39 degrees! Brrr. We chose a 4.5 mile route that we ran two days ago, but decided to run it in reverse. This posed a special challenge because there is a hill that is more than a mile long and ascends about 600 vertical feet, terminating at Brockway summit. Needless to say it was frickin HARD!

But as Andy says, once you complete something like this, you have the moral high ground and can do whatever the heck you want to your body! Think Sierra Nevada Pale Ale :)

Nancy and I deemed it too cold to take the kids swimming, so we played games with the kids. Ethan seemed fully healed. Mimi, Andy and their kids left to return home, but we will see them in another week at Lake Almanor. John's girlfriend also departed. Suddenly everything is quieter!

My Dad treated to a delicious lunch on the Sunnyside dock. Even after lunch it was chilly so we decided to drive the kids around Lake Tahoe rather than go swimming.

Yes, AROUND it, which is about an 80-90 mile drive. Tahoe is BIG: about 20 miles long and 12 miles wide. At 1600 feet it is one of the deepest lakes in the world. In fact, just a single day's evaporation contains enough water to meet all the water needs of a city the size of Los Angeles. Anyway, from Sunnyside we went South, past Chambers Landing (where I used to stay as a kid) toward Emerald Bay (in picture behind Nancy and Seb). It was terrific to watch the kids climb the rocks and marvel at the grandeur of the place. Everything is bigger here compared to the East: bigger water, bigger trees, bigger mountains. We circled 'round the South side of the lake, stopped at a lame museum, crossed the Nevada border, rounded up North past Sand Harbor, re-entered California, and finally reached Kings Beach. The whole trip took about two hours.

Arriving at Kings Beach I witnessed something I had never seen before on the lake: three-foot swells! The wind was blowing so hard I could have easily body surfed them. It looked like the ocean. In fact, these waves were rougher than most of the puny waves we saw in Florida over Winter break.

(This week on Hell's Kitchen) Before tonight's episode of Hell's Kitchen, I prepared a recipe from Epicurious: chicken with spicy tomato sauce. The aforementioned spicy tomato sauce was tasty enough (what with two whole tablespoons of chili powder), but I found myself wishing that it didn't call for blending the tomatoes. Perhaps next time I'll only blend half of them. As for the chicken, I

DAY 9: Sunday - We went back to Sand Harbor sans Ethan (fever), Alec (beached out) and Nancy. The wind was whipping pretty strong and clouds kept imposing themselves rudely between us and the sun. It was chilly! We did some swimming but the wind made it so cold when we got out of the water that by noon we packed it in.

Michele and Wyatt departed for home in the Sierra foothills.

I saw an old friend today. David Yardas, who grew up down the street from me and was even my babysitter once upon a time. He lives in nearby Truckee with his wife and three wonderful kids. This is the two of us.

Mimi and Andy made their famous linguini with clam sauce for everyone. Yum!

Dusty Followers of Jesus,

This week we took a look at Paul and Timothy. Paul was like a father to Timothy and it is that father-son language that points us in the direction of rabbi-talmid relationships. Who, in your life, has been a spiritual father/mother, a rabbi, to you? Are you a spiritual father/mother to those around you?

As you consider Paul’s choice of a disciple, reflect on these questions:

1. Why did Paul go into the countryside of Galatia to proclaim Jesus?

2. Why did the people of Lystra react as they did to Paul and Barnabas? (See Acts 14:8-20)

3. How did God use the pagan culture to create an opening for the message about Jesus?

4. Were there any disciples with Paul before he arrived at Lystra? How do you explain that? (See Matthew 28:18-20)

5. What happened to Paul and Barnabas after people from Lystra became interested in their message about Jesus? (See Acts 14:19-20) How did Paul and Barnabas respond?

6. How many times did Paul return to Lystra? (See Acts 14:20-23) Who is the disciple Paul chose there? What do you know about him? (See Acts 16:1-3; 2 Timothy 1:5; 3:14-15) If Paul had chosen you instead, would you have gone? Why or why not?

To follow up on this week’s lesson please read the following:

From Galilee to Asia
Lord of Lords
The Rabbi and His Talmidim
Gods of this World

Hide these verses in your heart:

“But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it and how from childhood you have been acquainted with the sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus.” – II Timothy 3:14-15

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you.” – John 15:13-16

To prepare for next week’s lesson please read:

1 Peter 1-5

Paul chose a mamzer to be his disciple. Will you also follow in the footsteps of Jesus like Paul did and look for mamzers around you?

Well, I think the title says it all for these pictures!

Q: You know what sucks more than a paper cut?

A: A cardboard cut.

Q: You know what sucks more than a cardboard cut?

A: A cardboard cut under your fingernail!

And thus… I have assembled the new carpet cleaner.

Peace.

Every time I sit down and hit a few keys I come across (old or new) something geektastic in the wild world of blogging.

So for those of you that need more of the Dark Night in your life. Just checked up on Archie Levine’s blog and it looks like he’s got a little something for ya!

Reading this… two questions arise.

1: Who would Osama be? Or Kim for that matter?

2: Though Archie don’t live in the C of Ville, what ever happened to C-ville News’ Blog Carnival? I miss not having to do all the legwork myself!

Peace.

Aw Keith… me and the opossums… we be a-swooned like spoon full of moony loony!

The world needs more 7 min. handclap solos… and songs about/featuring opossums.

Rock on man!

The pressure’s on to finish most of the programming. The Preview Guide copy has to go to the designer, Rick Montoya, on August 10. So I met yesterday with our writer, Sean McCord, to hand him a batch of titles to begin writing up. Usually, we drop in a lot of fake blurbs and give ourselves until early September to replace them with newer titles …but I’ve got this program mostly figured out. Some of the invited films have already announced their participation. Chris Hansen’s very pleased to have his Proper Care and Feeding of an American Messiah in the program, and I’m pleased we can present his hilarious and well-executed faux documentary. Avid readers of this blog will surely recognize Chris as a serial commenter here, but I swear his compliments didn’t sway me. (more…)

The pressure’s on to finish most of the programming. The Preview Guide copy has to go to the designer, Rick Montoya, on August 10. So I met yesterday with our writer, Sean McCord, to hand him a batch of titles to begin writing up. Usually, we drop in a lot of fake blurbs and give ourselves until early September to replace them with newer titles …but I’ve got this program mostly figured out. Some of the invited films have already announced their participation. Chris Hansen’s very pleased to have his Proper Care and Feeding of an American Messiah in the program, and I’m pleased we can present his hilarious and well-executed faux documentary. Avid readers of this blog will surely recognize Chris as a serial commenter here, but I swear his compliments didn’t sway me.

I’ve been hunting for prints of the classics. First, I checked the reliable distributors. Jessica at Kino had Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice. Sarah at Janus provided The Seventh Seal. So much for the easy finds. Where are good 35mm or even 16mm prints of Ordet, The Gospel According to St. Matthew, The Miracle, and DeMille’s The King of Kings? Throughout the week, I was in touch with the kind archivists I know (including Bob Harris, Ray Regis, Steffen Pierce, and Caroline Yeager). The first three films are still elusive. Anyone else have any clues?

The best part of the week was working on panel discussion topics. I drove to Washington DC last weekend to hang out and brainstorm with Pat Aufderheide. We caught the Sugimoto, Christenberry, and Kiefer shows on the Mall, and A Scanner Darkly in Bethesda, and only stopped talking while the movie was running. I first met Pat when she was writing film reviews for In These Times in 1980. We’ve crossed paths many times since then, and her Center for Social Media at American University has become an annual organizer of panels at our festival. This year, we think we want to gather a panel of media makers who reach beyond preaching to the converted, and now we’re calling around to gather the ideal panel members we imagined, including David Van Taylor and the Jesus Camp directors.

Pat also led me to some old friends--Bobbi Abrash, her Research Director, who also helps run, with visual anthropologist Faye Ginsburg, the Center for Religion and Media at NYU. Their NYU center is likely to host another panel at our festival, possibly addressing spiritual performances. While thinking about their panel, I experienced another one of those odd coincidences that are constantly occurring this year. I looked at a 1980 short film that DeeDee Halleck had sent me called Bronx Baptism, and the film blew me away. It was filmed by DeeDee with, believe it or not, artist Richard Serra and Babette Mangolte. I think it’s a forgotten gem, beautifully shot and filled with provocative cinematic, political and spiritual discoveries. I raved about it to Bobbi and Faye, and Bobbi wrote back: “You have unerring instincts!” It turns out Faye had presented it just after it was made as part of a program on the Bronx, a program that helped launch her career.

What would summer be without a county fair? We have one of the best right here in Albemarle County at the Fair Grounds in North Garden, VA.

Beginning on Tuesday, August 1 with the arrival of 4-H livestock, right through Sunday, August 6 and the last turn of the Ferris wheel, you’ll find everything you could want to make your summer celebration special.

We have traditional county fair events like the livestock and poultry judging, fruit and vegetable competitions, and home arts displays and contests. The cakes and pies are always popular, and you will see some of the finest examples of needlework and quilting.

Looking for something fun and different? We have that, too. Come for the bubblegum blowing and hula-hoop contests, but be sure to stay and hear how we call turkeys, hogs, and husbands! And of course, we will crown a new Miss Albemarle County Fair as part of this annual celebration.

Go to the County Fair website for all the information including a complete schedule of events. Then pack up the family and head for the fair – a summer tradition of farm, food and fun.

The tale of the E.T. Atari game is a classic among gamers and 80s geeks alike, but for those that have not heard of what befell the Titanic of games, Steve Whitaker has a lesson for ya.

I still have yet to master the art of leaping…

and missing the ground.

In the mean time…

Peace.

Sometimes a crumb falls
From the tables of joy,
Sometimes a bone
Is flung.

To some people
Love is given,
To others
Only heaven.

Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

****************************************************

It is one of my favorite poems. Eight lines that say so much.

Sometimes in the middle of all the noise and triviality of people jockeying for position at the pig trough, there

Anyone seen that Air Wick ad with the purple elephant that’s married to a centipede?

Yeah… you see this is what must have happened to the writers of 70s/80s children’s programming. They took too much acid and for some reason… now people believe it’s ok to give them jobs writing ads for air fresheners.

I mean really… how do you sanctify that shit?

Lord knows I’m an open-minded guy… but elephant centipede whoopee… is kinda wild. That’s the sort of shit that would make William S. Burroughs have to step out in the hall. Ya dig? Cray-a-zay… What kind of children do you get outta that? Is that where Salad Fingers comes from?

Are there adoption programs for that kind of union? I guess as long as they ain’t gay it will fly in Virginia.

These are the kinds of important issues we need to talk about people! Hot wild elephante slinky action… I mean centipede action… although… hmmm… maybe I should write a crazy drug novel with some wild slinky sex to shock the censors… yeah… what do you think of that Mr. Lee? HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM MAGGOTS?!?!?

Seriously though. What do elephants and centipedes have to do with air fresheners? I mean I get it: centipedes have a lot of feet for lots of stankay shoes… and elephants have big noses… but why married? And where can I get a centipede THAT BIG? The pet store tried to sell me a millipede the size of my fuck you finger (cuz what’s the deal with “middle” finger? Every other finger has a real name! So what? The taxi finger not good enough to have a REAL name? The viva New York finger not posh enough for you…. You… finger namers!!! (Better than “Pinky” I guess)), but I after I found out it sweat cyanide when it’s frightened I decided that wasn’t the more laid back kinda pet I was looking for. I mean when were they going to tell me it sweat cyanide? And why can’t I sweat cyanide? Are there certain fruits and veggies I need to eat? If I eat those chaps from Veggie Tales… then can I sweat cyanide? I could sick the opossums on them… yes… my babies… I mean I really want to sweat cyanide! I mean… that would be badass! That and cry blood like those horny toad things I saw on the discovery channel at 2AM when I was a wee lass… I mean lad… totally meant lad… but yeah… cause nothing says don’t mess with this Bob-fearing American blogger like crying blood at someone. Especially while wearing a My Little Ponies t-shit… to confuse them… all sexy like…

If I got a pet centipede that big… would it sweat cyanide? I’d think it would have to up the ante a bit… you know, to fight off those predatory ninja polar bears that are after the Coca-Cola piss. Because every knows that’s where Coca-Cola comes from… from the black aquatic centipede… always… Maybe they sweat something like napalm… that would be cool… all BACK OFF BITCH I’M ON FIRE like… that would be really cool…

And in other news… this is the last time I wash vanilla wafers dipped in peanut butter down with a glass of sangria while watching a re-run interview with James Carville… since I seem to do that so often… and it never ends in world peace… yeah…

Pancakes… muthafocker

I have held life long respect for teachers and the teaching profession. There are many teachers in my family and I’ve had the great fortune of having many great and memorable teachers at all levels of my education.

A few years ago, I was approached with the opportunity to teach a course in public relations at Fontbonne University. The teaching bug certainly bit that first semester, as I nervously stood before my first class of college juniors and seniors. Teaching what you know, while you’re living it, helps. As a public relations and communications professional, I was able to share with the class my daily work life one night a week. As a crisis would unfold or a creative challenge presented itself, the class had a front-row seat watching and participating in real-life PR.

As part of the class I offered some advice. Communications is about networking and keeping in touch. Get to know people, develop relationships and commit to learning not just the craft, but about the people who practice it. I ended every semester with the promise that any student could get in touch with me ever after and I would do what I could to answer questions and help nurture them in their careers. Several, to my delight, have taken me up on the offer.

I had to give up teaching when we moved from St. Louis to Charlottesville and while I’m happy to regain the time, I sure miss it. This week, in particular.

Today, I heard from one of my students from last year’s class. A gifted student, he was having trouble deciding his career path, plagued with too many choices and capabilities. He’s working as an intern in a PR firm this summer and absolutely loves it. He closed the e-mail by thanking me for being a great teacher and a good friend.

This is why we teach.

Last summer I took a condensed Russian course where we covered two years of material in about two months. This summer I have been spending my time with children and dogs. These two facts put together can perhaps begin to explain my recent dream where I held a little Russian girl who also happened to be part dog. She looked more girl than dog, but I knew she had canine in her from her nose and shaggy hair. In my dream, I busily prepared a vessel that would be launching her into outer space. I felt sad while doing this, knowing the probability of her returning alive was quite low. As I held her one last time and turned to lower her into the space capsule, I suddenly had a burning question to ask.

“Do dogs communicate in different languages?”

She looked at me as if I already knew the answer, cocking her head while giving me a slight smile. “Of course,” she replied.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to stick with not trying to analyze this one any further and chalk it up to random neurons firing while digging through the ‘ole brain files. I am, however, now curious about dog communication. Is “bow wow wow” heard differently around the world? Just one more question to add to my list of burning questions.

I rarely talk about neighborhood issues, but this is beyond the pale. One of my neighbors was hit by a truck this morning at 2 AM. Luckily, the front porch was between said neighbor, and the truck. I am becoming increasingly concerned about the truck traffic on my street. Making it a one-way south street might make some sense, since all of the truck accidents that I've seen (three, but I bet there have been more) have been north-bound.

Here are a couple of pictures of our "cousins" In this top picture are a couple of kitties named Brigitte and Moraine that Karl's mom adopted (Karl's sister actually picked them up in Maryland and Karl took them down to South Carolina). That picture's about 6 months old, so they're probably a lot bigger by now.



The big black cat in this picture is Princess. She's a cat that Karl's mom adopted from a foster mom. Apparently before getting found, Princess was living in a dumpster behind a KFC. She's much happier now living with Karl's parents.

Who knows, maybe someday we'll get to meet these kitties!

It’s been roughly two years since the last time our basement turned into a pond. But today, it decided to once again grace us with its watery serenity. Fortunately, the plumber was responsive and was out to our house within 2 hours of our call, on a Sunday afternoon, no less. Now, only $370 later, our pipes have been snaked, cleared, and treated with anti-tree-root stuff.

Bah. These pipes.

Fellow Disciples,

I was greatly encouraged and challenged by your renewed committments that you made to God with repentant hearts. I echo your cry to God for forgiveness and committed myself to walk in the footsteps of Jesus with all my heart, all my soul and all my might!

We looked at how Paul repented and turned to God. He learned a new way to interpret the Hebrew Bible and then he went to the ends of the earth.

As you consider Paul’s renewed committment and the steps that he took, reflect on these questions:

1. How would you describe Galatia? Does it seem a likely locale for Paul’s first mission tour?

2. Who was Paul (Saul) before he met Jesus? Would you call him a God-fearing person? Why or why not? How did his encounter with Jesus change him?

3. What was Saul’s first experience as a missionary? (See Acts 13:4-12) What’s the connection between that experience and his decision to go to Antioch? To change his name?

4. How was Antioch like Rome? What was Paul hoping for concerning Rome? Why?

5. Where did Paul go first in Antioch? Why? (See Acts 13:14-16)

6. What did Paul emphasize in his teaching? (See Acts 13:14-42) Who heard him speak? (See Acts 13:16, 43-44, 48-49) What was their reaction? (See Acts 13:42-45, 48-51)

7. What challenges did Paul face in following Jesus? Why? (See Romans 1:11-15, 15:19-23; Acts 19:21, 23:11) How does Paul’s experience help you in your walk with Christ?

To follow up on this week’s lesson please read the following:

From Galilee to Asia
Lord of Lords
The Rabbi and His Talmidim

Hide these verses in your heart:

“To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak.” – Ephesians 6:18-20

To prepare for next week’s lesson please read:

II Timothy 1-3

Paul loved God with all of his heart, soul, and might and walked in the footsteps of Jesus. Prepare your hearts and minds to see how Paul followed Jesus next week!

Last night, I dreamt that I’d lost a tooth. In the dream I pushed my tongue into the hole, worrying the space through the night. Upon waking, I ran my tongue over my teeth just to be sure it was a dream, and that all were intact.

Dream analysts probably have theories about missing teeth dreams. I don’t care for these so I will not seek them. It’s the space, rather than the missing tooth that intrigues me. It’s like the idea upon drifting off to sleep that you can’t quite recapture in the morning. It’s the brilliance after your fourth beer that later reveals itself to be ridiculous or worse, unoriginal.

Is the hole some gap I’m trying to fill with words, friends and work? Or is it just a symbol of the boy, who has left us for a week, leaving an empty space at the table?

I have been very fortunate. While living in St. Louis, I had the experience of learning from a number of great writers. In school, I learned from Kirk Curnutt, Mary Troy, Jerry Harp, Bob Earleywine and George Hickenlooper, Sr. (yes, the father of the famous filmmaker). Although they were not formally my teachers, I’ve also had the opportunity to learn from Jason Sommer and Wayne Fields.

My father was my first writing teacher, ever encouraging me to read, write and try. When I was in college, my dad took his first stab at writing a play. I remember this clearly as I was in Prof. Hickenlooper’s class, struggling unsuccessfully with my own screenplay. Today, just 11 or 12 years later, Dad is an accomplished playwright.

Recently, Dad, in his sixties-plus (he’s a very young 71) attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop (well, one of the shorter, summer programs, anyway). Again, doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I put my seething jealousy aside long enough to hear about the program, how great it was, how helpful the instruction, how cool Iowa City is, how much he got out of it, etc.

I really want to go. I’m looking ahead to the next few years and would like to plan to attend. I’d love to hear from other grads of the program and get your thoughts.

I’ve watched a LOT of movies these past few weeks. Like last year, the new documentaries on our theme are really strong, and there are going to be a lot of them in the program. Others have noted that the inadequacy of the mainstream news media is inspiring a renaissance of independent documentaries addressing social issues. Among the documentaries that could show up in our program are Jesus Camp, Deliver Us From Evil, Jonestown, Keep Not Silent, A Flock  of Dodos, God of a Second Chance, and Iraq in Fragments.

Narrowing down the classics is the hardest part. There are so many great classics of spiritual cinema, most catalogued here, and passing on The Decalogue, Groundhog Day, and Andrei Rublev will be painful. But I may have found the hook that will give shape to the program, and rationalize my exclusions.

The Virginia Film Festival and the University of Virginia’s School of Continuing and Professional Education are joining forces to sponsor an annual spring film travel program, part of the University’s Travel&Learn programs for adult travelers. In May of 2007, we hope to travel to Denmark and Sweden to look at the historical and contemporary film traditions of these nations, including the legacies of Ingmar Bergman and Dogme 95. (If enrolling in the weeklong program interests you, please contact joangore@virginia.edu for more information).

So I’ve decided to focus on Scandinavian spiritual classics, as a prelude to the Scandinavian trip. The region is obviously highly evolved both spiritually and cinematically. The Danish film professor who will be my teaching partner on the travel program is likely to come to our festival to introduce the films. I’m presently searching for good prints of Dreyer’s Ordet, Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, and Axel’s Babette’s Feast. The Andrei Tarkovsky film we’re likely to show is  The Sacrifice, filmed in Sweden and marked by Bergman’s  influence. I’d like to throw in a Dogme 95 film (the whole movement parodies religion), or von Trier’s Breaking the Waves, but may not have room.

Strange coincidences keep materializing with this program. Our opening night film is an American film with a Scandinavian fixation, and that’s all I can say. A famous Swedish émigré director may be premiering his latest film at the festival.  And Volvo has just signed on as a primary sponsor of the festival this year (really….it’s a happy coincidence).

Don’t worry. I’m still planning to show Rosselini, Bresson, and Bunuel, since I’m sure they visited and were fond of Scandinavia.

Back from the Caymans. What an adventure! The Caymans truly are an underwater Eden.

My favorite dives took place with dive master Paul, a.k.a, Shaggy. Shaggy wore gold chains, a Speedo, and his hair matted and bleached from the sun; I liked him instantly. He first took us to Little Tunnel where we dove to 100 feet. On this dive, we scooted along a sloping reef where you could look down into the deep, deep sea. You almost expected Jaws to swim up and say “boo.”

Next came a shallow dive of 30 feet in an area called the Aquarium. Shallow dives really are my favorite since you can have more play time on the bottom, and on this dive, we explored for about 50 minutes. I alternated from closely scrutinizing the nooks and crannies of corral, sponges, and other formations, to just looking around and being amazed at all of the fish. A French Angel, my new favorite fish, was very curious about us. He swam directly towards me and when I held out my finger, he gave it a little bite. How sassy. Near the end of the dive, I looked upwards to see the ocean surface dancing from an afternoon Caribbean rain shower, providing a most surreal feeling.

Since my return, I’ve been fantasizing about my next scuba adventure. Indonesia, the Antilles, New Zealand to visit the baby sis…really, the world is my scuba oyster. I’m hoping to meet some scuba diving folks or at least convince my friends to get their certifications so they can play with me in el mar.

Oh yes, something I’ve learned from this trip….in addition to having one miniature bladder and some tiny veins, I can add narrow Eustachian tubes to my list of petite body parts. These make for a special challenge for clearing my ears during diving, and I have a double dose of swimmer’s ear and a scab on my eardrum to show for it. Awwwhhh…..

Predive Confusion

Gearing Up With Shaggy


Ready to Explore

I finished reading Anderson Cooper’s book, Dispatches from the Edge. I found it a little weird. It was good, and interesting, but it had some holes, I thought. As a journalist, I like Cooper. I admire his daring and find his reporting from war zones thorough and in-depth. He seems to live his whole life as a journalist, though.

While the book shares much of his life with his mother (Gloria Vanderbilt) and the impact his father’s death and his brother suicide had on his life, there’s not much insight into his life, outside of the journalism, now.

If you have an interest in reading about Cooper’s coverage of Hurricane Katrina or any of the world travels and war reporting he’s done, pick it up.

A bit ago, Steve Whittaker posted a query about summer reading lists on his blog. (BTW, Steve, why is your blog showing up all super large print these days?) I love the idea of a summer reading list. I shared what I’ve got going between pages for these hot days, but I’m interested in what you’re reading, too.

I developed a habit of reading entire author’s works once I discover I like them. It all started the fall that everyone else went back to college and I, newly married, expecting my first child, incredibly lonely and depressed, did not. My writing teacher from the previous semester, Kirk Curnutt (great interview, here) had recommended two things: John Irving and A Prayer for Owen Meany. Since writing teachers have always held great sway with me, influencing more than I ever want them to know, I became acquainted with Irving that fall. I read everything. Chronologically, backwards, back to the beginning so I could appreciate the growth of the writer.

This style of reading set a precedent for me. Currently I’m doing the same with the work of Margaret Atwood. While I’m no where near as infatuated with Atwood as I am Irving, I do have an appreciation for her style, and enjoy the paperback editions as poolside reads (bought for $2.50 apiece at the New Dominion bookstore on the downtown mall).

Don DeLillo has reached into my reading life in much the same way. I read Underworld as part of a book club, and suddenly realized I’d read his work before, in the form of a short story, included as a chapter in the novel. The story? The Angel Esmerelda, written several years before the novel. It is a captivating, haunting story.

I have a theory that applies generally to movies about the squirm factor. If you’re wondering what time it is before the car chase or before our hero has gotten the girl, then it’s probably a bad movie. A similar theory, I think, applies to written works. If I still remember some piece of it later, and later still (years! eons!) then I deem it successful. If I can’t get it out of my head, then dear author, you’re mine and I’ll line up at the bookshelves head cocked to the side, seeking out your earlier and earliest works.

It’s always been in my nature to be distrustful of those who wrap themselves in the flag of religion and it’s morality. Perhaps that’s simply because most of my exposure to organized religion has been to the brand that tries to justify bigotry and hateful attitudes with the Bible. Then attempts to get that brand of religious bigotry codified into law. Most of the time my distrust may be