So far I’ve learned a lot. Like:

• How to set up a “scratch” web-server on my local computer
• How to configure at least two (TWO!) different e-commerce plugins
• How to make Paypal play nice with the plug-ins
• and a whole bunch of new ways that Comcast and my Airport hate each other.

None of which I ever thought I’d learn back when I was goin’ to music school. Or seminary. I’m just saying.

In the mean time, spring is going gangbusters around Chez Journey. In fact, I have rogue lettuce growing in my “lawn.” See it there? Amongst the pig weed, the dandelion and the crab-grass? Beautiful little lettuce plants.

Is that Leaf Lettuce? Why, Yes! Yes, it is.

Don't talk to me about turf. Apparently Pig-weed is edible too. This is an Urban Farm, y'all!

More garden progress pictures later. It’s 70 degrees, humid and sunny and I’m done with configuring online shopping carts for the day. I’m going to go play in the dirt.

Last week kicked off with a late night with G and his colonoscopy prep. Turned out we had to abandon that plan half-way through because he lost his balance with leg cramps, toppled over and skinned his forehead. The on-call doc said it wasn’t worth it to continue and that if he rescheduled he could get a different/better prep process.

Monday and Tuesday night I worked past midnight both nights getting the project work done.

Wednesday was a grueling choir-school afternoon and I left before chapel choir started because I hadn’t packed a thing yet for the two day First Call education event.

Thursday and Friday were good – but tiring as I led the worship for the education event and of course, the lack of sleep when you’re in a strange bed with strange sounds and all that fol-de-rol.

I returned home Friday afternoon and then in the evening had to start cleaning the house. We didn’t get to wash the floors but at least we got them vacuum. For you see, G’s kids (and the grand-baby!) came over for dinner on Saturday.

So that meant Saturday included all the usual grocery shopping and errands (Farmers’ Market, dog food, grocery, butcher) PLUS finishing cleaning and cooking a ham dinner for eight. And people arrived early… which meant I was still showering when they arrived. Good thing I took my clothes into the bathroom with me instead of planning on streaking through the house like I usually do. Sort of.

They stayed until around 8:30. It was a fun time.

Sunday morning saw me at church at 8:00 to sing for the first service and staying on for the second because the kids sang. Then I went home and we had ham sandwiches and I collapsed for a post-liturgical nap. Well, after starting a pot of bean soup with the ham bone.

Ate a bowl of soup around 4:30 and then headed back to church for the prayer service (just to sit… not to lead) and then to lead the board meeting from heck for this non-profit I’ve gotten involved with which is in the midst of dissolving because no one (including me!) has more time to devote to it and we’ve run out of funding.

Anyway…. I got home around 9pm.

Monday morning, the coffee maker broke. Only pumped about 2 cups of water and then just quit. So I had to work from the neighborhood coffee shop in the morning. Home for a conference call at 1:00 and then more pounding out of storyboards for this project.

Last night, G and I went out to buy a new coffee maker. And of course the model we wanted was out of stock at the store near the house. G dropped me back at the house so I could “work” while he went to a different store. I ended up staring at the tee-vee in a stupor the rest of the evening. I wonder why?

One more day of pounding out storyboards and I should be done with this project. But it will be a late night again because I keep letting myself get distracted. It’s a beautiful day outside and I’d much rather be out working in the garden. I suppose tomorrow will rain, but at least it’s still only April. I’m not “late” yet.

I read a passing “story” the other day – I can’t remember where. Was it Twitter? Facebook? – that said that the term “blogging” was being replaced by Tumblr. Like Kleenex became the generic term for facial tissue, Tumblr is going to morph from a brand and specific platform to a generic name for blogging. And I thought that was weird for several reasons. One is that my experience with Tumblr is often frustrating because it crashes a lot (crashed? maybe they fixed it?) and is not that mobile friendly. I rarely click through a tumblr link on Twitter because of it. And when I do it’s often anticlimactic. The thing I’ve clicked through to isn’t much more than a few random thoughts. Or one random thought. Or a reference to someone else’s work, or sometimes just a tweet that took more than 140 characters to express. Really? I’m paying data rates for this?

Another reason I thought it was weird is because I don’t know what to call those tweets, status updates and tumblr entries. They’re NOT “stories”. They don’t  have a beginning, middle or end. They’re just an endless series of non sequiturs. It’s like we’re all channeling “Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy” or something. Constantly.

Blogs are long-form. Or at least they were back between 2004-2010 or so.

Neil Kramer is a blogger I’ve followed more or less closely since about 2006. We’ve even talked on the phone. I helped him with character development for some screen play he was writing. or said he was writing. You never really know, I guess. But Neil is a master at creating virtual community. His Interview project and annual Christmahanukwanzaakah concerts are prime examples. Neil wrote this last week:

“One of the reasons personal blogging is a dying art is because we now expect our writing to have the traditional beginning, middle, and end of a good story. To have a point. An opinion. A punch line if it is a humor piece. None of these literary techniques reflect real life, which is constant flux, funny one moment and sad the next. Most of our lives are the second act. The beginnings and ends of life are mere blips. We are born and we die. Everything else is the middle. We impose beginning and ends to our stories to capture the minds of our readers, but the more we are honest with ourselves, we see that our real lives have one very long middle, which makes it difficult to write about without embellishment. Or just dropping the personal completely to write tales of vampires.”

He may be right. We either expect this long form to comply with traditional rules of essay writing with a pattern to how the paragraphs (!) are constructed and build on one another, or we abandon it completely for trying to express huge concepts and reactions in as few characters as possible.

But another reason personal blogging is dying is because we’ve tried to break those rules. We’ve become addicted to the short, fast, punchy sound bites of Twitter, Facebook and yes, Tumblr.

Have we really accelerated to a point where we really don’t have time to think and reflect? What does that say about us and our times? Even if Neil is right (and I think he is. That’s why I stopped reading that post and came over here to write) and our reflections are just about this Act 2 in our personal tragic comedy, stories are what hold us together, what’s wrong with that? Stories, serial stories even, are what builds connection between people and makes community. Sure, sometimes an episode is boring. Sometimes all you can bear to share is stories about your garden.

But even that is something to connect about. Connecting is what makes us human.

There’s a lot of bad writing out there. And there’s a lot of bad stuff that comes from bad writing and inflammatory language and vilifying ‘the other guy’. But blogging has also done our society a great service. Everyone has trouble and difficulty in this life. It’s universal. It’s part of the human condition. But one of the most dangerous parts of that trouble is thinking that you’re the only one who has ever experienced it. Yes, that’s a very adolescent attitude, but if you’re honest I bet you’ll admit (at least to yourself) that at least occasionally you think that “nobody really knows how tough I have it.”

But blogging has changed all that. Not only can you tell them through your own blog, but you can spend your days following links and keywords around the blogosphere and discover that LOTS of people have the same challenges you do – and how they’re overcoming them. Or you can comment on their post and encourage and help them with your experience or just presence. I know that sounds maybe a little “needy” but the fact is that we all need that kind of connection. That encouragement. That community. And you can’t always get it from the people you see day-to-day. Because sometimes those are the people who are causing you all the trouble to begin with!

Ok. There. I’ve gotten that off my chest. Maybe now that you’ve read it you agree. Or disagree. Or think I’m a kook. Or that Neil is a kook. Maybe we are. Go ahead and leave a comment that tells me what a kook I am and how I could fix my stinkin’ thinkin’. Better yet, click over to Neil’s blog and tell him. Better than both those things… write a really long blog post about it on your blog and link back to both Neil and me. That’ll teach us.

Live your life. Write your story.

Last night’s low temp was something like 52. So all the collection of plants got to camp out on the patio table. And today, the rain is watering them. Hopefully, not too much!

salad tray day 4

The greens tray has sprouted. The arugula half sprouted first, but the mesclun side has pushed out their first leaves this week as well. Not bad for being planted on Saturday.

Looks like I have close to 100% germination on the pickle bush cucumber seeds. Sunflower and Hollyhock seeds aren’t looking that great. The zinnias and the annual basket from the Easter morning flowers seem to be doing OK. Because the containers are so small I’m finding I have to water them at least twice a day when they’re outside, even when it’s not that hot.

The long-range forecast is for a little snow/rain mix on Monday (!!!) after highs of 70s this weekend. I’m going to keep these plants out here as much as possible for hardening off, but I don’t think I’ll put them in the ground just yet.

As for beets and potatoes – they’re getting planted tomorrow. Even in a typical frost year I could/should have planted them last week.

March in Minnesota was a lot like March across the rest of the country – unnaturally warm and mid-spring to early-summer -like. We broke daytime high records and many, many overnight low “highs”… or however that sentence is supposed to go together to mean “IT WAS LIKE LIVING IN KANSAS CITY OR NASHVILLE AROUND HERE.”

Perennials sprouted, leaves came out. The elm trees have already finished their disgusting bloom (achoo! thankyouverymuch) and the maples are setting their helicopter seeds as I type. I thought we might even have lilacs blooming for Easter! I’ve been cracking the whip around here at Chez Journey and the G and DS2 have blisters already from the yard clean up that’s been accomplished already. I promised myself (again this year) that the weed trees along the fence row WILL NOT WIN!

Because of the draught around here, the ground wasn’t squishy and wet and so we’ve cleaned up what passes for lawn (read: cleaned up massive amounts of dog poop. Hey! At least Libby the Wonder Poodle knows to poop OUTSIDE. Which is still more than can be said for that rat-in-a-dog-suit Snowball.)

It has been so temptingly warm during this month that I’ve even been haunting the gardening stores. And as usual, my obsession with backyard chickens has re-sprouted. I swear it’s worse that crabgrass! This year it has taken me to a new favorite store Egg|Plant where I bought a backyard chicken book and actually took a class on backyard chicken keeping. And I’ve joined several online groups (backyardchickens.com and a google group called twincitieschickens).

Don’t worry. I’m not going to take the plunge — this year. I don’t think. The biggest reality is that neither G or DS2 are in the least interested or capable of helping with this sort of adventure… and DS2 leaves in the fall for school anyway. PLUS, I don’t really want a bunch of chickens running around the backyard when everyone comes over for the graduation party — or the Sept 1 wedding of DSS1. Ok, I really kind of DO want chickens running around then, especially because it will freak so many people out – that need a good freaking out.

The flats outdoors

So, in order to slate my chicken lust, I’m focusing on growing more food in the yard. Landscaping with edible stuff and not just pretty flowers. To that end I’m planning on more veggie and fruit gardening than I’ve done before. I’ve actually started some seeds and am planning on doing this what I hope to be an easier way — following some of the examples of Gayla Trail at YouGrowGirl.com .

One of the tricks I’m making up myself is that I don’t really have a lot of horizontal space sitting around empty in the house waiting to hold flats of

Tomato, potatoes and salad...but not yet.

seeds. And I don’t want to invest in a lot of technology – well, not lights, anyway. So when my first 1/2 flat of seeds (Cosmos and basil) popped their little heads up during the dog-days of March, I started taking the flat outside and putting on the patio table during the day.

To be honest, most of the nights have been warm enough (“lows” in the 40′s!) that I’ve left the flat out all night. But last night started a predicted week of “average” weather. Which means we’re going to be getting hard freezes at least twice this week.

As a result, I’m ever so glad I didn’t actually plant the potatoes a couple of weeks ago when the soil was warm enough and it looked like I might get another month of harvest.

And I didn’t plant some of the other veggies either — even the ones that like cold. Because really, they wouldn’t be planted around here until next week in an average year. And because I was too busy cutting up weed trees and moving compost piles. Every evening I’d think I should have done more and now all that procrastination will pay off with not having to drag big buckets of stuff into the kitchen every night. See? Aren’t I a smart northern gardener?

I’m back today, not so much because I have time for this process of reflection, writing, editing, etc. but because I need to again quickly jot a few things down so I can remember them later.

The last week or so has been especially hard. Thursday or Friday I felt like I had smash head-long into a brick wall. Or a mountain. I was angry, sad, (weepy even) frustrated and ready to yell and bite the head off anyone that came around. I still don’t know what triggered it. It was before the dreaded spring-ahead event. The weather has even been unseasonably pleasant for March in Minnesota. It’s really more like May! Why so bat-shit crazy all the sudden?

We may never know.

What we do know is that G didn’t run away and cower in the corner but has kept close and engaged and concerned. This is the single biggest blessing of my marriage. And well worth the price of all the baggage that came along with him – not least of which is the rat-in-a-dog-suit that STILL can’t be housebroken.

It’s going to be in the 70′s for the next week or so here. There is no snow left but the ground is so dry the gardens are like dust. I think I might as DS1 (who is home for spring break) to help me get the hoses and sprinklers out today.

Until he had a conversation with a pastor I know who is interested in coaching and who didn’t really know what a “360″ was. Of course he understood the concept, once explained, but as a pastor “360″ isn’t a commonly understood word.

So back to the website conversation. We’ve got some group learning events. We’ve called them workshops for corporate groups and that word would work for churches too but LN suggested “workshops and seminars.” I suggested “workshops and retreats” thinking of council/board retreats. He laughed and said “There’s another example of a word not translating. In business “retreat” is a bad thing.”

A rose by any other name.

BTW – our babysitting date with DGS1 was cancelled last night. Mom and Dad realized that the first day in daycare was kind of a big deal and they were worn out and just wanted to hang out at home. The boss will reschedule. So will Grandma and Grandpa. I’m glad they’re figuring this stuff out.

The academy awards were not very good last night. The whole thing seemed tired and slow. Still, I stayed up for the bitter end.

I made empanadas for dinner. Long process between prepping the crust and the filling, but it wasn’t hard. Not a quick Tuesday night dinner…except for the leftovers.

I should have drafted the sermon on paper this weekend. Now I’m feeling a little pressure. Not panic yet though.

I’ll write this morning for a couple of hours.

This afternoon, LN and I have a meeting with a potential client.

We baby sit DGS1 again tonight. This time at our house. I probably should run a vacuum cleaner before they get here.

I have been pondering this Friday Five over and over in my mind, but I am coming up with nothing, so I am wondering; what do you do when you feel empty of all creativity and unable to make/do anything? This is a completely open question, the only rule is name 5 things that fill/ inspire you:

And interesting question for me to answer honestly about how I get through the empty patches.

1. I sleep.
2. I pray which takes the form of weeping or whining and telling God that I can’t do it anymore and she better find a way to get it done, because I’ve got nothing left!
3. I focus on doing just the next thing. Just the next sentence or task. Something that can be done in 5 minutes or so. And tell myself “then you can take a break.”
4. I go do something completely different. If I’m stuck on writing, I go take pictures. If I’m stuck on a project I play some music. If I’m stuck on planning worship, I watch some television or cook or read fiction. Those aren’t hard and fast pairings, just examples. (Maybe that makes this a list of nine things?)
5. I talk it out with friends. Usually over a series of conversations, I see a way through.

Sounds fairly straight forward, don’t you think?

Yesterday was a great day to do that. Lots of motion, movement, 5 senses. The whole shebang. During the short Ash Wednesday service we hold before/during choirschool time, we start outside near a portable fire pit on the front patio. A wood fire is started and the kids and parents and whoever else from the congregation wants to attend (grandmas and grandpas, singles, prayer partners, teenagers, visitors, etc.) gathers with us.

We give the fire pit a nice wide berth because there’s always a little bit of a wind and besides the smoke, there’s sparks. It takes a minute or two to get “the shorter kids” toward the front where they can see the action. Moms and dads will hold the littlest ones up so they can see over the elementary aged kids. Yesterday, one of the grandpas pulled up in his wheelchair. Pastor starts with a brief explanation of what we’re going to do. We explain it every year. Because kids don’t know this story by heart yet. They don’t really remember last year until they’ve done it ten or eleven times.

“Today is Ash Wednesday and we use ashes in the service to remind us about death. Not a very pleasant thing, I suppose but everybody’s going to do it, one day. The ashes are traditionally made from the palms from last years Palm Sunday. Do you remember walking into church last year with palms?” (Some nod;  some just stare at him.)

“We’re going to burn these palms today, but we’re going to use different ashes during the service. Ones that aren’t still hot.” (Chuckles from the parents. Wide eyed I-got-a-crazy-idea looks from the 4th grade boys.)

“The Lord be with you”

“And also with you!” we reply

He reads a short prayer. The fire helper puts dried out palms on the fire. We ooh and aaah at the flare ups and dodge smokey bits of floating palm ash. I remind everyone of the ASL for “Jesus” and “Lord” and we sing a song as we follow the church administrator back into the building. She’s carrying the cross. The kids all love her, and hang out in her office on Wednesdays before choir and try to score M&M’s from her secret stash. Today’s her birthday and we sang happy birthday to her before we came outside.

Come into God’s presence singing Jesus is Lord! Jesus is Lord! Jesus is Lord!

Over and over we sing that little sentence. We enter the sanctuary through the middle doors and past the baptismal font. Before we started singing and walking I told the kids that they could stop at the font and touch the water. If they wanted to they could trace the sign of the cross on their foreheads and remember that was done when they were baptized. Big kids helped littler kids reach the water. Parents helped the littlest. Everyone found a seat.

It took a long time because there were a lot of people pressing to get close enough to dip their fingers in the water. And then they had to find a seat.

We switched songs.

You have put on Christ; in him you have been baptize. Alleluia! Alleluia!

This is a song we sing when people (babies usually, in our tradition) are baptized. The kids know it from being in church (and not sequestered in Sunday School.)

Finally, we’re all in our seats. I read a couple verses of Psalm 51. “This is the word of the Lord!” I sing. “Thanks, thanks, thanks, thanks be to God!” they sing back. They know this exchange because we’ve taught it to them – over the years. As they’ve grown up. They don’t need handouts or notes. They know it by heart. Because we’ve taught it to them. We sing it a couple of times to teach it to the little ones. they don’t know it yet. But they see the big kids sing it. Every little kid watches bigger kids. That’s how it works.

Pastor leads an “echo” prayer. Then he says “The peace of Christ be with you always.” “And also with you!” we reply. Then we get up out of our seats, look each other in the eye and shake a hand and say “The peace of Christ be with you.” or “God’s peace be with you.” or something like that. Earlier this year we showed kids how to do this. They’ve done it in church (because they’re not sequestered in Sunday School.) We keep doing this until it feels like it’s time to stop.

Then the pastor talks about the cross. We look for crosses in the sanctuary. In the windows, behind the altar, on the tablecloth, even in the ceiling fan! He tells us (again this year) that the cross is a symbol we use to remember how Jesus died and that even though he died, God made him alive again and that today we remember that. And we remember that we will die by tracing that sign of the cross on our foreheads with ashes. And we remember that even though we’re going to die, God is going to make us alive again, just like he did for Jesus. So if you want to (you DON’T have to) you can come up and one of us will put some ashes on your head in the shape of a cross and we will say “Child of God, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

The lines form. I trace ashy crosses on the foreheads of dear, sweet, silly children. And they run to the side where we have large mirrors propped up on the front row of chairs. So they can look and see what it looks like on thier head.

One little boy comes back. His cross is faint. “Sister, can you make mine darker?” “Of course!” I bend down and this time I say, “Child of God, remember: even when you can’t see it you are marked with the cross of Christ, forever.” Unfazed, he runs back to the mirror to see.

One of the elders of the congregation is pushed in his wheelchair to the front of the line. He doesn’t speak anymore. Can’t really raise his head and is lost to his wife of so many years through the ravages of dementia. “Child of God, remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.” The kids in the line look a little shocked. Did I just call him “child“? They soak it in.

A little later, a Mom holding little twin toddlers comes up. The one isn’t too sure about me. We haven’t really met before. One doesn’t want the ashes. One watches solemnly as I put ashes on Mom’s forehead and call her “child of God” and then nods when Mom asks her if she wants some too. And everyone goes over to the mirror to see what it looks like to be a child of God, marked with ashes.

It’s all a noisy mess. I can’t even really look to see what’s happening because I’m focused on each new person in the front of the line. The adults have the same look of hope and bewilderment and wonder as the kids. Am I really a child of God? What does that even mean? With a few, I can see recent grief or intimacy with the reality of death we’re talking about so casually here. Or at least I think that’s what I see in that look. A couple mumble “thank you” mostly because it seems like you should say something when someone puts ashes on your head and reminds you of your mortality.

Once everyone is done and back in their seats we sing another song – this time a Taize prayer song. Then we pray a short prayer, say the Lord’s prayer together and sing a sending song.

If anybody asks you who I am, who I am, who I am; If anybody asks you who I am, tell them I’m a child of God!”

And we’re done! Off to choir or dinner or whatever awaits for the rest of the afternoon/evening.

30 minutes. 120 or so people – 90% of which were children. Prayer, singing, teaching, Word of God, promise, praise and a little lament. All mixed together, turned to ash and smeared across our faces. Real and mysterious; tangible dust and intangible promise all rolled into one.