Hail Rushmore, reflect upon it.

We went to Rushmore on our trip out here. You can just barely see the four of us- mom, dad, j and me- in the bigger pic. You can also see that when I told J to hold still, he had to put his camera up and work on getting a shot, so you can see his lens and mine. And you can see that he has fabulous thick hair, but that's mine so back right on off, chikas.

After ridding the dang madison (still not sold) house of cardboard and garbage and goodwill items- literally countless trips in 2 cars- we finally got on the road just 6 hours after we had planned.

If we had rented our own recycling/dumpster we would have been fine. But you'd think that two little humans wouldn't need that much space for WASTE.

I'm in the Governor's Cup Coffee shop again. If you are ever near Salem, come here. The guy behind the counter is wearing cat-eye contacts today for halloween. At first glance he looks like an off-duty marine, but then he's sporting these wacky eyes. Kinda cool. Plus the bagel, steamed milk and bottle of water I bought cost less than a single drink as Fartbucks. (But still, God bless corporate America. How else could you count on the coffee driving through Kennewick, Washington?)

Are you circumcized?

Yesterday at Imago was excellent. We learned several things.

They do communion every week.
The kids ministry is amazing- lots of science and art projects and a very enthusiastic director.
The pastor here has got stuff to say.

He spoke about Romans again, starting with 2:17 about the Law and who has it and circumcision, both literally and figuratively. I love these passages because my Intervarsity bible study did them and we had several physicists who doubled as budding theologians leading it who really prepared every week. The discussions were not of the surface, they tried to explain several different views and since it was also my first real study I asked a lot about the nature of God and our relationship to him. I never felt they gave the Christianese answer.

What I loved about Pastor Rick's schpiel yesterday was when he started talking about how for the Jews, this outward sign of circumcision- given to Abraham as a mark of love- became instead an "I'm safe from Hell" pass. It should go from inner reality to outward sign, but they began going only as far as the outward display, relying on that alone.

Paul's point was that you are a "Jew" if you are inwardly- no matter your race, appearance, lack of other jewish things. This relationship is open to all mankind but it's for God alone.

And here's where it got even better: he started answering the "so what" question in our lives/times.

Religion can be just as dangerous as straight-up immorality.

Here's some tokens of it- in place of circumcision, these determine today in our religion whether you're in or out:
Have you prayed the sinner's prayer? Rick led tons of people in this who had never been and never did go to church or talk about God stuff afterward. Like the words themselves are magic- outward sign of inward nothing.
Are you "SAVED"? Focus on this puts our attention on the next life, not on the difficulties of living this one in a true relationship with God.
Do you know your Bible? Knowledge of the bible's great- with the purpose of knowing God. This one spoke to me, because I can so see myself feeling like I know some Greek root of something, or some cool interpretation of a verse and just deciding I've got that part "down"- no need to check in with what depth of knowledge God actually wants for me.
Do you take communion every week? Is it a hoop, a display, a sign your faith is all done?
Are you being busy for Jesus? This one has gotten a little more attention lately even in the more Dobson-y circles. Jesus doesn't want you busy- he wants you attentive to Him, which sometimes might mean lots of stuff on your plate- but not because it looks good, and not because then you're safe.

All of these have one thing in common: the aim is to keep you safe from God.. As in, I'm saved, I tithe, I'm busy, I know me some Greek: God can't touch me- I've done all the religious tasks and am in the clear.

Rick's answer to this kind of thinking was a simple concept, difficult for me to achieve. Honesty.

That includes prayer for God's work in your life- even when that might not be safe.
Maintaining focus on your purpose in life- to know God.
Asking constantly, "why would I rather have X than you?"

This changes every single one of the religious dangers into beauty and creates an honest journey.

Saturdays are for lazing.

I love Saturdays. J's home (but I can work around him) and there are as of yet no obligations here. We have plans to go to a park. That's it!

Takemitsu research actually happened this morning (that's like 3 days in a row- a new record) and I have some hope of actually writing this thing.

It's a little overcast today, but not pouring. The light is luminous on the trees leaves, which have turned and are falling into a mess on my parent's yard. One linguistic difference we noted in news weather folk is that they say "today we'll see some cloud breaks" rather than the "partly cloudy" we're used to. Emphasize the positive, good ol' northwesterners.

I'd post more of our trip pictures, but I'm at home now and the computer will basically grind away for a few promising minutes and then flip me off if I even try it. Maybe we'll spend some time in an internet-capable cafe today. The Cup (mentioned yesterday) is my dad's haunt- on weekend mornings it's packed full of runners who go from there to Minto Park which is a gorgeous place right on the Willamette river. If we go, we'll walk and then sit in the car & drive from the park and most likely also sit and eat cookies as big as our heads.

It's sort of a bifurcated group- those who run and take up very little space on the chairs and those of us who... don't. For now. But I'm much better about all that today. I did a prenatal yoga video yesterday and the 2nd and 3rd trimester models were actual people with boobs, bellies and everything. I felt better just looking at Britta and Poppy (hey, Betsy- another Poppy!) in their body suits.

Things we like about PDX- PICS!!

Simon and The Belly (looks a bit apprehensive, doesn't he?)

Bar-code rock on Mt. Hood

Holey Mt. Hood

Peas in a Pod.

Last weekend we went to Mt. Hood. Our top choices were Astoria and Hood- see, Goonies was filmed in Astoria and parts of The Shining were filmed at Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. Astoria, however, is quite a drive and Mt. Hood is only an hour or so from Portland so it won.

We took all the back roads- and I was really helpful with telling J where to go at all times.

The drive really was beautiful. I missed the smell and light from those huge forests of pine. And climbing in elevation- what a thrill compared to Wisconsin. (sorry wisconsin)

There will be pictures here shortly. I have to drive to civilization this afternoon in order to upload things. Done! The Governor's Cup Coffee shop is the best. There is a huge machine actually roasting beans next to me and something else smells a bit cinnamon-y, but not too much. Lovely!!

On a brighter note, the septic tank people are coming in about half an hour. Joy!

blahhhh and woe

I am finding myself without much to say. Unusual for me, I know.

I'm here at my parents' house- they are out of town for another 10 days or so and have been gone a week. J is gone for about 12-13 hours a day. I have a lot to get done; 2 papers and a lecture recital, plus preparing (yeah- right- prepare for that...) for a new human being to arrive in a few months.

I had a not-so-great couple of visits to the Midwives clinic at OHSU. It is a really cool program, reknowned and all that, and I really like the doc I've been seeing there. The problem is that I think I'm gaining weight too fast. Last week she said I was right within the range pounds-wise, but when she measured the bump- okay, mountain- she said it was large for gestational age. So this week we did the glucose-tolerance test and some other blood tests to see how things are, and I had also gained another 3 pounds (IN ONE WEEK!) and was measuring even bigger.

The sick thing is, I find myself hoping something comes up positive because then I'm not to blame.

Losing control is what becoming a mom is about, at this point. So my weight is sort of the symbol of all that, and I can't seem to stop feeling embarrassed. Yesterday some one asked when I'm due and I lied and said, "in a month" just because I didn't want him to think, wow- she's huge.

Weight and my self-image are so closely tied, it's hard to separate them, even for something as obvious as pregnancy. The midwife says not to diet, and I'm trying to eat well- like I did before- but it doesn't seem to matter.

We've been looking at apartments and houses in Portland just to see what's available. I don't know now whether I want to move away from Mom and Dad's before the baby comes or not. It would be nice to have decorating/nesting to do and to start trying to meet some people, but that would mean living really on my own every day, without my mommy.

I think some of this has got to be hormonal.

OH- perfect timing, the doc's office just called and said I passed the tests and am normal. So what do I do? I choke out, "thanks. Bye" and burst into tears.

I feel like a jerk- shouldn't I be all, wow- there's life growing here, gift of God, blah-blah-blah?? I am excited about this kidlet- I just don't know what anything will be like and I've got a bit of culture shock. I don't want to be a weird depressed huge pregnant juggernaut of a person.

Plunging into Dei.

The word "plunge" is looking entirely too strange on the screen.

Anyway...

We checked out Imago Dei last night. I think I expected NOT to like it, because... it's famous and young and could be pretentious. It's definitely very hip. Rachael would have loved the clothes on at least 60% of the chicks there, and that's very high for a Rachael.

The worship was good- they had a sort of rock/bluegrassy feel and did 3 great hymns. One of them they did in 4/4 instead of 3/4, which ironically was exactly what I had wanted to try on our last day of worship at Blackhawk. Because we were in the sanctuary that day the idea was shot down as too radical. This place, though, is like the Cafe at Blackhawk on steroids. White girls with oddly tasteful dreds, little kids in stripey tights and lots of carefully aged dark denim. Not a hugely diverse population, but we went to the 5 o'clock- probably the service favored by college brats.

So there was that hymn, just the wacky way I like it, and then in the sermon (seems the wrong word in this context- need something hipper) "Pastor Rick" played my favorite Sara Groves song, about the troubled girl laying in her backyard wondering if there's a God. Then the kids ministry must have gotten out because all these young hot things went and got their Gap-ad cute kids and brought them back to the service. I swear every one of them was smiling and adorable. It was a younger, gooder Bedford community.

We talked to the worship guy after the service and they do it differently than Blackhawk. (We knew we were leaving something unique and amazing, but different can be good...) They have 4 teams whose members don't really change and they rotate through the month. We've got our names on the list.

There are two things about this church that impressed me- on paper, anyway. One is the School of Theology they have where you can attend classes for free, and they even have daycare. The other is that beauty, art, and creation are a big part of their thing. Before going there in person I thought maybe that was for show- look at us, we're so cool we can even make God art- but I really got the impression they want the whole creative God, creative people thing.

Blackhawk was not esthetically pleasing. I have my doubts as to the new Blackhawk achieving that goal. It's just not a focus for them- and I'm sure there are other things they did well that this church might miss, but Dang! It's nice to see these things valued here.

So we are going for it. Why shop around further? The pastor was intelligent- not a hugely intense message, but a good "unpacking" (that's Christianese) of Romans, which by the way was what Pastor Chris was preaching on Jonathan's first day at Blackhawk. He had good ideas and I liked his illustrations. Like Chris, I did sometimes wish for a little more meat packed in to the time spent, but his theology is sound, he preaches from the bible and I am looking forward to what he's got for next week.

J and I were thinking afterward that corporate gathering is really not where we should expect to get our study anyway. It might provide over-arching interpretive spins and occassional morsels of deep study put in by the pastor, but its main purpose seems to be coming together as a body meditating on the same passages and publicly worshipping God. The serious consistent study part is our job.

So, looks like we go to the Blue Like Jazz church. That still grates on me- and I even mostly liked the book. I guess it's a superiority & individuality thing. I promise to get over myself any second now.

October the 17th

We are tucked in to my parent's place surrounded by fields of cows, rolling hills covered in hay and old oak trees. From where I'm sitting I can see 10 of my Mom's bird houses, and the little valley below their land is blurred with smoke from the neighbor's fall burn piles. Actually those are a little smelly, but don't let it ruin your mentally idyllic image.

Simon's curled up snoring on the office chair next to me- we went for a long walk this morning, the four-mile route up to Lloyd (as we've christened him) the Llama's field. He makes me hold the chair so it doesn't swivel when he jumps in or out.

J is up in Portland, working his first day at Sparkler. It's not really what the firm's called, but a mashing together of bits of parts of the name. He called me after driving the hour up there this morning to say he was walking in, and about to hit the Starbucks in the lobby. You have to hand it to Portlanders and their caffeine habits- they take it very seriously. He looked so hot in his dark suit this morning- even Dad noticed and joked that he "cleans up well".

Yesterday we were in Seattle at the Pikes Place Market and bought fish from the fish throwers. There's a famous seafood place there where they throw the goods back and forth when they're purchased. The guys were great- personalities like characatures of friendly fishermen. The lady in line in front of us was a nut-job proseletizing with Christian tracts and harassing the one Asian guy, screeching, "Buddha can't save you- Jesus can!!!!!!" She creeped me right out, and them too. When she moved on, the guy confided he's a devout catholic, and we fessed up to being Christians- but apparently not her brand. I think she was just a psychotic who happened to fixate on religion. Wonder if she saw that VeggieTales video about the fish-slappers in Ninevah and confused that with the fish-throwers of Seattle. Odd.

Gillian Welch was a great show. Crystal Ballroom's a neat venue with a floor that bounces when people move around and old fashioned decor with funky Venician glass chandaliers. They played two guitars, sometimes also a banjo and harmonica, for close to three hours with a twenty minute break. We were in the front row, tapping on the carpeted stage and drinking in every single thing they did. I like them even more now- they sound exactly as good as they do in studio recordings. I want to be a groupie. (Or is that how you spell that for the fish?)

So many fun things happened in the last week. We saw Rachael! and Tim (her Very Serious Boyfriend)! and we broke the Explorer's $2500 tranny! and the movers laughed at our snow shovel! and people now smile knowingly and ask me how I'm feeling! and my favorite pregnancy skirt is getting tight! and I broke a bra! Geez!

Arrival!

We have arrived in the great Northwest.

It's beautiful here, and our stuff is all ready to be loaded into storage from the truck. We made it in one piece, visited so many generous relatives I'm afraid to start thanking them because I'll be sure to leave one out.

We are going to a concert tonight. A NON-CLASSICAL concert involving no one I know personally. Yep, Gillian Welch is in Portland, at a cute-looking venue called the Crystal Ballroom. See, this town is being good to us already. We thought a trip to Nashville would be required to see her/him, but nope! I realized I don't think I've ever really been to a legit concert (rock! or rock-like!) ever.

I'll post more from the trip with pictures. We have to go to wireless friendly places because mom & dad's place is out in the dial-up-only boonies.

Lasts...and firsts.

We are packing. Now, most people would think well, yeah- you move in 3 days. But those who know us well are singing hallelu. We will actually prepare for this move. There won't be drawers full of stuff and boxes half jammed with things falling out.

We have labels. That's how serious we're taking this whole thing.

All of the junk- it should really just go away in a nice shiny truck like this one.

Shostakovich Memoir

Here's me in my first year of my doctorate. The quartet got to go to Norway and play for an alumni thing. Fjords ho, ho.

Tonight the Pro Arte quartet played Shostakovich's third quartet, which we had also played that year in a concert in Stoughton's Opera House and a few other places. It brought back memories- funny how they've been cleansed of 90% of the not-so-stellar moments. It must be like that with childbirth for most folks too- and pregnancy- otherwise how would we end up with folks signing up for a second tour of duty? Lets not forget the folks who insist they loved every second of being pregnant.

Although... I did have a moment of that tonight. We arrived late (shocker, I know) to the concert and stood at the back of the hall. I was standing there, belly sticking out in a new sparkly particularly pregnant shirt with the passenger pummelling away and for all I know rearranging the furniture in there during the third movement; guess he likes Shostakovich, too. And suddenly I realized that I wanted every person in that hall to know that I am growing a KID in there (and they most likely did).

The Shostakovich was the best part of the recital last night. One of my students- a high school boy from my hometown- said he just sat there with his eyes closed. It's that kind of piece. Almost all of his stuff is like that. I wonder what he would have been like to know- maybe like most traumatized sorts he would have been miserable. It's funny to say that one person's music is more personal or revealing than another's, but it is, and I would have so valued a conversation with him.

Ralph my luthier (Man, I love that word- he's my dealer. Y'know. Violas and other hardcore stuff.) told me today that he met Fjodor Druzhinin, the man Shostakovich wrote the sonata for, and he was "very dapper" and talkative. Hope he was a true friend.

He passed away in his sleep, having asked the nurses to wake him for a soccer match. Hope his team won.

Some lasts are better than others.

I played in studio class today... I know I've complained about this before, but this was the last time, so here it goes again.

It has been an interesting relationship between me and class in the last couple of years. I have never (NOT ONCE) felt like I really performed in class. My last big hurdle in my playing (for now) is what goes on in my head while I play. Thing pop in and out, like what people are thinking, what goofy thing I just did, how much better it could have been- and do the people listening know that?, etc.

It makes sense I suppose that playing in class for violists- who notice what fingering I choose, and have suggestions for me with my bow, have played these same pieces- brings out the critical in me.

If the room had one or two others in it, anyone... just some one I don't know- and who may not know the pieces inside and out- then I can forget about all of them as specific people. It's easier for me to just try to communicate as directly as possible, without filtering for who's listening.

Anyway... the Shostakovich is such a great piece. It's really fun to perform- which may sound strange if you know its darknesses. The Arpeggione is also a masterpiece- so many perfectly coifed phrases and neatly polished little twists and turns.

Shostakovich

Schubert

Flight Plan

Jodi Foster can hold tears in her eyes, on the brink of spilling down her perfect little bony cheeks for longer than should be humanly possible. I love her.

The movie itself has a great premise but it seemed as if the writers ran out of time or lost the love in the second half a bit. The first half is suspenseful in the old hitchcockian style, the second seems to have standard modern thriller written right in. Still watchable, though.

J's pilot friends were in town this weekend. They fly a jet owned by some guy who happened to have business in Madison. In retrospect, it made sense that they shied away from a movie about planes- if you have to get in one every day and you have to be the guy who knows everything that goes wrong, no sense in watching some one else's nightmare.

If you are looking for a movie to rent, see Crash. (The one made recently, I think there's an older unrelated one.) It is an excellent outworking of multiple creative plot ideas on race and culture in LA. I want to own it, and loan it to all my friends, like a good book.

A Plea for the End of Spurs to Violence.

Please.
Financial Aid Office, and School of Music.
Hear me.

I will not take to the bell tower with ammunition. I will not hire graffiti artists to redecorate the pathetic recital hall. I won't even take a "trophy" music stand from your fine institution.

Just please, SOMEBODY decide which department will approve my loan and GIVE IT TO ME. I did not plan time for this part time job, this "application process". I am not flattered and impressed that in a school this size the people at the financial aid desk know my name, and who I will be wanting to see as I walk up. It is no consolation that you hope to "streamline the process" for future applicants.

The matter is in your hands now. I have filled every line, gotten each signature and donated blood. Please...

Google monster- Updated!

I just googled one of our favorite name choices for the gentleman currently kicking at my spine with the occasional nod to my bladder region. I found a candidate for senate in South Carolina, the head of drug enforcement in Belize, several CEOs, an architect and some scholarly types. There were also a few lawyers, but you can't have it all.

Naming things- first job we were given, right?

It's funny the reactions we get from folks to the names we like. I have to say, most people like them, at least to our faces. I like them a lot, though I feel more interested than usual in what other people think. This despite telling J we should just name him Starbuck if that's what we like and to hell with practicality. (And, hey, Dad would HAVE to like that one.)

I was talking with the ladies today about how name preferences seem to be highly generational. Not just what people name their kids, but what they like for others.

There are the funny regional things, too. I liked Dexter, maybe, and threw it out in a list of possibles at my parents. Turns out, on the west coast, Dex is a phone book- complete with funny ads about "let's ask Dex" with a guy dressed like a yellow book. But then again, if we had really liked it, who cares? Maybe that company would have died by the time he's 6 and no one would have remembered beyond that. Barring names that double as male body parts, I think they should all be fair game.

****UPDATE!!!
I found another hit on his name: A nobel peace laureate, lawyer AND doctor, he was behind the start-up of the Hague. Unfortunately, his last name was Asser. Be happy we aren't working with that one, eh.

Recital 9/29

Betsy, Tiffany and Chloe just came over. I already miss Tiffany, since she's got that whole career thing started and doesn't actually live in Wisconsin and such. And Chloe- what a gorgeous rockstar she is, just like her mama. She charms everyone within reach of her glorious hair. Except for that rude thing the linoleum floor did to her forehead, I think a good time was had by all.

My last recital for this degree (except this wierd one where you give a lecture-recital and only invite your committee because... did I mention? Lecture.) will be Thursday at 8:30pm in Morphy Hall in the Humanities Building. I'm playing the Schubert Arpeggione and the Shostakovich Sonata and probably something else if my teacher Sally tells me to in my lesson today.

I had myself a serious freak-out yesterday when I first started really looking at the music. Now I've had a little more time and a rehearsal with Ilia, my new pianist, and I'm thinking maybe the audience won't feel too bad for me. I may be able to look Sally in the eye today in my lesson. I might even get by without tearing up like a freshman. (Unlike half of my lessons last year. Poor Sally.)

Things are finishing up. The kid, he's kicking more and more and reminding me that recitals, house selling and boxing every single thing I own are just the incidentals: the filler pieces on a program that's already nicely full.

"Sell This House" Madison Edition

Have you seen the cable show where people walk through a house and comment to hidden cameras on what they really think is good/bad/ugly, the owners then do a little work on the place with the help of professionals, and the same folks walk through again? I wish we could do that.

We had a family stop by today and they seemed to really like it, even though we were just starting to clean and it was a wreck. The tub had a smudgie looking floor, there was all sorts of pillows, laptops and detritus all over the living room, my STILL unpacked luggage was in the bedroom and the kitchen was a mess of cook-out leftovers from this afternoon. But their 5th-grade boy loved Simon (one situation where having your dog around isn't bad for a walk-through) and the mom said her bedroom is the exact shade I painted ours. Wild. Or lies, who knows.

Did they get in the car and say, "Who are they KIDding?" Or are they actually going to consult their realtor/advisor?? Real life could use more hidden cameras and long distance mics.

Tires for Tots

Did you know that 70% of new car smell is in the tires? I didn't either, until we replaced ours this weekend. Yummy, and hey- the things that the whole car sits on actually do seem to make a difference in the ride.

We saw an ad for a beautiful apartment complex just west of downtown portland. It looks like a craftsman home and actually has a Max metro station entrance INSIDE the building. Even with the poshness we could save up for a house with a little bit of land, as soon as we're done mooching off the impending grandparents. Hope our house here sells and we can live somewhere like that for a bit. We saw it in one of them free apartment finder books. By the way, does anyone know what the heck a "Tot Lot" is? Daycare? Lockers with little pastel straight-jackets, juicy juice and legos inside? A free tater-tot stash? I like that option best, gosh.

Psalm 4

Here's how my friend Kent Duit lived his life:

PSALM 4

Even in the midst of great pain, Lord,
I praise you for that which is.
I will not refuse this grief
or close myself to this anguish.
Let shallow men pray for ease:
“Comfort us; shield us from sorrow.”
I pray for whatever you send me,
and I ask to receive it as your gift.
You have put a joy in my heart
greater than all the world’s riches.
I lie down trusting the darkness,
for I know that even now you are here.

He passed away Tuesday night and I'm heading back to Madison tomorrow to play at the funeral Saturday. I wish everyone could have met Kent and his wife Carol. They make everyone feel like family.

It's hard to describe a person. But I remember one of my first conversations with him was about marriage. He said, You're going to love it. I mean, I'm not sure how my wife might feel (twinkle in his eye)- but it has been amazing. That's so neat that you met here in Madison. You're going to just love it. People say the transition is tough but we really didn't have that at all. It's been incredible, and yours will be too.

Pretty much any time he talked about Carol was like that. And she's the kind of person who would be with Kent in the hospital for 12 hours and then come play piano for a picnic that night. I talked to her on the phone yesterday and she seemed so calm. And I will miss his funny comments at Stephen Ministry- he always cut in with something when it was getting too self-serious there. You could tell where he sat by the perimeter of giggling.

I'm awestruck by them.

Comin' right at me!

Yesterday mom and I were walking back home after having a drink with Molly and Gary down the street and there was a fawn in the road. He just stood there for a bit, flicking his impossibly big ears, then headed into mom and dad's yard. He was in fact headed right for me (south park fans?...) even though I was talking to him and calling him a dummy the whole time. He stopped about 15 feet from me and finally turned back to where he'd come from- probably his ma was somewhere over that way. Mom gave him a hard time for eating all her tomatoes and he slunk off in shame.

We went to the gym last night and I swam laps for the first time in 97 years. Molly's daughter gave me a maternity suit which looked too cutesy (it's white & blue tiny squares with a little row of daisies sewn where cleavage would normally go) but didn't look half bad once I was actually wearing it.

There was a little Chinese (Hmong maybe? Definitely Mandarin speaking) boy in the hot tub quietly scooping up bubbles with his hands. I hope we get one like that. His brother was running around the pool, striking weightlifter poses and yelling for his mom to watch. I suppose that'd be alright, too- though like J says, a Kenny-G loving, raging progressive school hater would be poetic justice for us. I do notice more kids now- as I'm told I'm destined as a pregnant human- but a lot of the time it's not necessarily in a wistfull, awwwww kind of way. It's more like Man, I hope ours doesn't talk to us like that obnoxious brat over there.

But then, J and I were always such angels- surely this one will follow in our perfectly behaved, quietly endearing footsteps. Surely.

This place is idyllic.

I love my parent's place- I'm typing by the window that looks over their field (no cows just now) and past that to a stand of black oaks below. The way this little draw is shaped the silver morning clouds gather at the bottom and sift through the trees. Very Oregon.

In the afternoon the sun covers the whole view with shapes of clouds and shadows of bigger birds floating by every now and then. Nothing better than sitting out back with a tall glass of well-water after a nice long jaunt.

We went to church on Sunday (another Lyle Lovett song jumps to mind...) and I love their pastor John Moody & his wife Gail. Dad runs with him and we get to hang out on non-church stuff pretty often. We will have to visit their church every once in a while. We'll probably find another place to call our own, just because of... well... the music (think hymn-style piano and the occassional soprano sax). But it's a sweet church, and John & Gail are the type you'd want to have live next door, have over for a beer and grill up a little bit of the cows.

Hey- a stellar jay just landed outside. If I was back in the land of real internet (there is only dial-up in the paradise-boondocks) I'd find you a picture and put it here. They are cool birds.

Well, missing all of Madison already. I'm soldiering on, though- got to get ready for the next audition and also make time for napping and mom's oatmeal raisin cookies. I went for a little walk with some running thrown in yesterday and it weren't too bad a'tall. We're about to go for a swim- it's so nice to be pregnant in a swimsuit several state lines from anyone I know.