Jeremy and I have been enjoying the music from the VW Touareg commercial, the one where a couple drives up in the mountains and take pictures for an elderly woman. Something about that music is very comforting and peaceful—and now makes me think of mountains. Anyhow, a little Googling revealed the song is Ariel Ramirez by Richard Buckner. Now my quandry is whether I should download just this one song from iTunes or whether I bite the bullet and get the whole album (either through iTunes or Amazon). What do y’all think?

This is not the first commerical-music search I’ve done. My first was for Wiseguys’ “Start the Commotion” which showed up on some car commercial. Their album, The Antidote is a lot of fun and is known to induce Jazzercise-level heart rates if used properly.

I can make a tight fist with both hands. Tight. As in, all eight fingertips press into my palms with enough pressure to leave little marks. And this is interesting because why? Because I couldn’t do it five months ago.

I hit the brick wall, my own personal cracking point, right about the time my dad graduated with his doctorate degree. I was in so much joint and muscular pain that I could hardly sit or sleep comfortably, much less ride my bike, garden or go for walks. And then, like I mentioned in an earlier blog post, I began to take prednisone and my life slowing came back to normal. (Actually, that’s not true. I never hit “normal” again because a mere two weeks after starting this drug Jeremy and I found out about a teeny baby who needed a home. Ha!—what is normal?!) Around the time I started on prednisone, I made a wisecrack to Andrew about how I couldn’t remember the last time I could make a fist. He commented that this was really sad. It was. It is. And that’s why I’m profoundly grateful to be making fists again.

By God’s grace I can unscrew jars again. I can drive easily, with no pain to my hands or elbows. I can garden, go for walks and probably ride my bike again—bike riding has been put on the back burner since becoming a mother, though I’m certain I could do it pain-free. One of the most beautiful activities—if you can call it an “activity”—I enjoy doing again is sitting on my legs. I love nothing more than to curl up on the couch or on the floor to watch a good movie or read a good book. Curling up cannot be overrated!

By God’s grace my lab work is normal again. My sed rate is perfect, down from it’s elevated levels last winter, and all other counts look excellent. By God’s grace I see a fantastic rheumatologist and nurse every few months to make sure I’m still healthy. (I say that this, too, is revealing of God’s grace in my life because doctors are like the rest of the population—some are good and some are terrible. Mine’s not just good, he’s great.) By God’s grace I’ll be off the steroids in a few months with good health maintained by only by one arthritis drug.

The interesting thing about God’s grace is that I was NEVER WITHOUT IT. Not for one sore-joint, achy-body, sad-hearted moment. Although I can’t understand why God allowed me to go through this suffering—and why He may allow me to suffer again—I can say with great certainty that He loves me the same amount each and every day of the week. His grace reached me when I was in despair and on my knees praying for relief, and it reaches me now as I wash dishes, play with Livia and fold the laundry. So today I praise Him for His unfathomable love and continuous grace… and the ability to make tight fists.

My Pottery Barn flag was stolen a few weeks ago so now the ShopKo version proudly waves from our front porch. Right around the time the flag was taken, I was thinking a lot about the concepts of mercy and forgiveness, turning the other cheek and truly loving your neighbor—thanks to the movie To End All Wars and a sermon Stu preached that Sunday. I don’t plan on putting a sign out front that say, “Please! Take my flag! It’s all yours!” But I’m finally chilling out about my recent stolen properties.

I wish I could chill out about other things in my life as well; namely, political discussions. Whew! Politics has the ability to get me really riled up. I covet a peaceful heart when someone begins slinging the mud at my candidate or the issues I consider important. The good thing about these discussions, though, is that they have forced me to research the issues and have allowed me to enter into discussions with people who see the world far differently from myself. Nonetheless, I have not yet figured out how to remain cool, calm and collected while debating politics. TGIF. This weekend I’m going to let the issues rest in order to reclaim my sanity.

By the way, if you’re in Lincoln and haven’t yet registered to vote, today is the last day to do so. Call (402) 441-7311 for registration locations. Check out this page for more information on voting in Lancaster County.

Something’s up with me these days. I don’t know if it’s lack of stimulation for my creative juices or if it’s just plain old writer’s block. Blog ideas keep popping into my head and I’ve even begun jotting words down in new Word docs, but something happens and the process is over almost before it’s begun. [Sigh]

I wanted to tell you all about RENT last night at the Lied Center and how the moment the actors began singing and dancing I realized how much I miss the stage. (Sometime, if you want to get on my good side, just ask me if I’m “still working.” God bless you, Christopher Cartmill.)

I also wanted to tell you how odd it was to wait in line for 90 minutes at a HyVee store in north Lincoln to receive a flu shot and how grateful I am that my dad cared enough about my health to drive all over town in order to find a location that was still distributing vaccines. How I was one of a handful of people in that line who didn’t have gray or white hair and how I imagined they were all wondering why a young whipper-snapper like myself needed a shot. How I stared first at Hallmark cards and Revlon lipsticks, then moved on to gazing at piles and piles of delicately sliced lunch meats and finally eased my way past rows of cheaply designed children’s toys and stacks of turtle wax. How the last aisle surrounded us with novels by Nora Roberts and John Grisham on one side and soy milk and Burt’s Bees products on the other — and how much I wished that aisle would’ve been first because I could’ve read an entire Grisham tale by now. How when I finally got the flu shot I felt like I had been liberated from both HyVee and flu germ heaven. And did I mention how grateful I am to my dad for helping me out?

Huh. I didn’t know I could type that much! Maybe my creative block was destroyed somewhere up there amongst all the ‘how’s’. Let’s hope so.

hebetudinous (heb-i-TOOD-n-uhs -TYOOD-) adjective

  Dull or lethargic, especially relating to the mind.

[From Late Latin hebetudo (dullness), from Latin hebes (dull).]

  “Examination of precedents led the judge to his conclusion, but he had something to say first: ‘It would be hebetudinous and obtuse to fail to be cognizant of the adverse consequences of a ruling in this case.”
-James J. Kilpatrick; A Clown And a Blowhard on the Bench; Buffalo News; Apr 10, 1993.

  “The audience waits in a kind of hebetudinous fixation, perhaps astonished at the perfectly sustained level of mediocrity.”
-Kevin Kelly; ‘Aspects of Love’: Unlovable; The Boston Globe; Apr 27, 1990.

“I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.” Those candid words of Samuel Johnson, lexicographer extraordinaire, provide a perceptive observation on the human condition. A language is a mirror of its people. As a disinterested record of the language, a dictionary serves as an accurate window to the culture. It’s not surprising that there are more words to describe people who fall on the wrong side than on the good. In this week’s AWAD we’ll look at words for people on both sides.
-Anu Garg
 anu@wordsmith.org

Trying out for the Cornhusker marching band? Oh my goodness. That one sentence gave me a good chuckle for the day.

Is it wrong to use “gifts” (in this case, return address labels) from a non-profit organization without sending a donation in return?

When I was little I actually liked the dentist’s office. I liked the whole reclining chair, spotlight on your teeth, staring at the ceiling posters gig. I liked choosing a flavor for the teeth cleaning procedure. I really liked one dentist in particular who was very funny and, this always helps, who really liked me. I loved going home with a brand new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste and floss. Plus, sometimes I’d get a coupon for a free ice cream cone (go figure!) after being a good patient! Loved those ice cream cones.

Then, one day, things changed. The reclining chair dipped too far back for my taste. The headache-inducing whiz of the dental tools caused my temples to reel in horror. And, this was the clincher, no more coupons for free dessert!

So with mounting dread, yesterday I found myself back in my dentist’s office for the long-awaited creation of a new crown. (For some odd, unknown reason, my first and only crown cracked, broke and fell off within one year of molar coverage. Grr!) My very kind dentist and my very kind dental hygienist kindly directed me to the reclining chair, leaned me back and got to work dabbing topical anesthetic on my gums. The rest of my 90 minutes appointment saw an internal conversation that went something like this:

Oh no! I’m going to have to get a shot! I didn’t know I had to get a shot! Darn. I’m going to be here awhile.

Shooting pains on back molar. Shot didn’t work at all.

Eeeeek!

Another shot is given.

Darn. I’m going to be here even longer.

Clausterphobia begins to set in. Mouth now full of tools.

Ugh. Not feeling so hot… Stomach’s kind of queasy. Can’t breathe very well. I wonder if anyone’s ever thrown up while in the chair? That would be so bad. So bad. Don’t throw up. Think nice thoughts. Cool breezes. Fresh air. There ya go.

Hygenist inserts thick gummy gook into my mouth for five whole minutes.

Five minutes? Five minutes? I can’t breathe for one minute, much less five! Alright. Gotta distract myself with People. Huh. Kevin Costner got married again. Oh dear. Can the man not smile even for his wedding pictures? He probably feels self-conscious or something when he smiles. I know some folks like that.

Hygenist returns and frees me from my bondage.

All done? That was the fastest five minutes ever!

Leaving denist’s office.

I’m a weenie.

I’m usually the one behind the camera, but today I asked my dad to take a picture of me, future blog in mind.

I have taken a position on “O” Street as part of the “Life Chain” for years now. In the early days I enjoyed taking a stand for my pro-life beliefs in a public venue. I can remember seeing the Life Chain for the first time and being floored at how many Lincolnites lined this longest main street in the U.S. (not sure if it still is) — and I wanted to be a part of it. As the years passed I grew more outspoken about abortion and desparately wanted to change the minds of pro-choice folks. But this year marked a change in my thinking… Though I’d like to somehow affect someone’s view of abortion, more than ever I just felt the need to voice my opinion. We live in an amazingly awesome country and our rights to free speech are important. Today, the sign I carried spoke my sentiments precisely.

And yes, that is Livia’s stroller at my side. There is a boy at my far left carrying a sign that says, “Adoption: the Loving Option.” He’s adopted. Livia’s adopted. I am profoundly grateful for the birthparents who chose to carry these pregnancies to term rather than abort them as teeny fetuses. Such self-sacrificing folk have given us wonderful opportunities for parenthood. God bless ’em.

Our Blockbuster movie dealio has come to an end. And for anyone who’s counting—yes, we did the deal for two months because, ahem, we didn’t cancel it in time. No real surprise there. I think we’ve ended our two months with two winners: Man on Fire and Winged Migration.

Man on Fire was interesting, violent, disturbing at times and yet hopeful. Sometimes I get a little tired of Denzel, but he did a fantastic job in this one and I really enjoyed his performance. Both Jeremy and I agreed it was one of the better movies we have seen recently, for reasons that I can’t quite articulate right now. Sorry… My movie reviewer skills are failing horrendously.

Winged Migration was beautiful. Jeremy and I are PBS fans and tend to be fascinated by documentaries of the natural world, which thoroughly explains why we enjoyed this flick. The actual movie portion of the DVD was a bit long; we watched it in two sittings. I highly recommend viewing the featurette on the making of the film—very, very cool. I felt every inch the non-filmmaker that I am as I saw what took place behind the scenes and said, “Oh! So it wasn’t just dumb luck that they caught that scene on camera?!?” The movie is due back sometime this week. Hopefully I’ll get to watch the featurette on the film’s music before returning the DVD.