Like I mentioned before, Arizona is so cool because it is so very different from home. For example, we do not have palm trees in Nebraska. Say nothing of the fact that 99.9% of Lincoln front yards contain grass, not rocks or gravel.

Our backyard also does not contain a trampoline. My child loves trampolines. A friend recently acquired a tramp (with a net!) and I’m considering sneaking into her yard on a regular basis to let Livia burn off some steam.

Finally, we do not have orange trees in the backyards or front yards or even side yards of Lincoln, Nebraska. I’ve forgotten how lovely it is to see oranges growing on trees around town. When I was a kid, and we were moving from Georgia to California, we prayed for an orange tree in our yard. Oddly enough, I can’t remember whether we had one or not. What I do remember is praying hard for pool, which we did not get. Later on I found out that Mom had been praying against the pool. I then learned that mothers have a special connection to God. ; )

Her arms kept spasming at her sides in excitement. First we waited for friends, then waited for the lights to go down, then waited for the actors to walk onstage. It was almost more than she could bear. But then the orchestra began to play, and the Darling children were in the stage lights, and her attention was caught.

I tend to get nervous when I see high school performances. Fourteen years of growth is gone in an instant and I’m quivering inside, just like I did before acting in my own high school’s shows. But tonight was different. Tonight my attention was focused on my child and I sat back and enjoyed the show like any other patron. And when Peter Pan made his entrance at center stage, literally flying in amidst sparkly fairy dust, I gasped like a kid—it was awesome. And Tinker Bell? Brilliant. Clearly, I’ve never seen the Peter Pan the musical before because I believe the staging was like this all along, but Tinker Bell was so well done. For the life of me I couldn’t guess how the director would pull off a pint-size fairy, but they didn’t have to. Tinker Bell was a little green light that “spoke” in xylophone-like tones. To further the magic, toys and drawers and dollhouses were rigged to fall over, open and close, and light up every time Tink came near. Great, great idea. And so well-executed by the crew tonight. The kids around me fully believed—or let themselves delight in believing for a few hours—that the green light was Tinker Bell. Livia’s friend Amani, during the audience-participation moment where clapping is needed to keep Tinker Bell alive, looked absolutely horrified at the small “dying” blinking light in Peter Pan’s hands. Peter begged the audience to believe that fairies were real, and Amani’s passionately concerned face was something to behold. Fortunately, the audience wholeheartedly believed, Tink lived to see another day, and Amani looked greatly relieved.

The student who played Peter Pan was a find. He could sing, act and fly like nobody’s business. He had the gregarious youthful charm needed to play the boy who refused to grow up, but he carried the show like a man. Bravo! My personal favorite, though—and perhaps the favorite of many others—was Captain Hook. It was hard to believe that the same actor who played the droll nincompoop Mr. Darling also played hilarious, weenie-with-bravado Caption Hook. Why are the best lines and moments given to villains, I wonder? At any rate, Hook was wonderful tonight. Also worth a huge mention were the ensembles. Pirates, Indians, Lost Children, all—the scenes where ensembles sang and dance were the best of the entire program. The choreography was phenomenal (Courtney Piccoli, whose name I’ve seen on the Lincoln arts scene time and time again) and the Indian/Lost Children dance number was my absolute favorite.

The show is at Lincoln Southwest High School and I believe it runs through next week. Support the arts—and the awesome Koenig kids who graced the stage tonight—and go see a magical musical.

My art is in words. The swirling watercolors and acrylics can be founds in letters in print, in between black and white lines, both casually and purposefully painted across a screen. Today I’m ready for more. I long for art to be splashed across the pale walls of this old house, and I know that someday these blank slates will be filled with the creative works of kindred spirits. My soul is dissatisfied with the flickerings of television and computer screens. I want paint, thickly applied to a canvas. I want sculpture I can caress and wrap my fingers around. I want to feel the rhythmic churning of the pottery wheel controlled by my right foot, my hands tight around a sloppy glob of clay. I want to sit quietly, breathing in and out, as I create. As I cut out shapes for a collage, make marker strokes on a bookmark, or artfully wrap a birthday present. I want to inhale aromas of fresh mountain air, salty sea breezes, pastries from a bakery or coffee so strong it stays on my skin all day. I want to encourage artists around me, tell them they are amazing, and wait with anticipation to see what they do next. I want contribute to the world, make my mark on it, be proud of what I create. I want to be meaningful, purposeful, strong and beautiful in my pursuit.

My thoughts, swirling and enriching and outward-focused, are wrapped snugly under a down blanket next to the sleeping form of a sick five year old. Her deep breaths, slowly in and out around the two fingers tucked in her mouth, lull me, comfort me, ground me. Peacefully sleeping, she radiates the glory of a God who delights in making beautiful things like soft foreheads, wispy little girl hair, and tender downy ears that look like seashells. The day is dark and overcast and my mood, too, has been dark and overcast until the excitement of creative work and the sweet peace of a sleeping child spread joy to scare away the shadows.

Today I create with words. I’ll go in search of sculptures and paintings tomorrow.

This is me watching the Oscars all by myself.

This is me, terribly excited to be watching the Oscars.

This is me… blogging… because I am an extrovert, and as previously mentioned, I am watching the big show by myself. So. Who looks great tonight? Who are you rooting for? What do you think? (And yeah, I’ll totally delete this post if there aren’t any comments. lol)

While I don’t personally know anyone in Haiti, friends from Grace Chapel have been traveling there for years and I know they are terribly concerned about friends and loved ones among the earthquake’s devastation.

If you’d like to send monetary aid, consider the agencies from the blog posts of Pastor Mike Hsu and Renee Welstead. Thank you!

I’ve been juggling—juggling bits and pieces of life in the air and hoping to successfully catch them all, one at a time.

I’m used to juggling motherhood, friendships and church work. And every so often I’ll pretend to do some domestic chores in order to keep everyone in clean clothes. I won’t even pretend I cooked last week, but that’s a different story and I’m trying to do better this week.

Recently I’ve begun to juggle two very cool, very exciting life bits: freelance writing and photography. This past summer I began to feel it was high time to fully pursue my gifts and talents in these areas. When I’m writing or taking photos, I feel like I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, and I delight in worshipping God through these activities. I’ve always known that “whatever you do, do it all the glory of God,” but I’m experiencing that in a very new and quite satisfying way right now. I could probably say a lot more about this line of work and how much I’m enjoying it but I won’t… at least not in this blog post.

So the juggling.

Turns out, I’m not a world class juggler. Imagine that! Or perhaps it’s just that I’m juggling too many bits and pieces at one time. That’s fine, really, because I’m in a transition stage right now and have plans for the future that will involve putting down some of the bits and settling into a less juggly-type routine. And oh, I do love routine. Consistency and comfort zones are two of my favorite things. Apparently, juggling is not.

But you must excuse me, I see that laundry in the air and I’m contemplating tossing up some freelance writing work as well. That amount of juggling I can handle.

I’m locked out of Facebook for the time being. So if you get any weird messages there from me, know they’re not from me at all! I wonder if a lot of people are receiving these security alerts. Jeremy did, and I changed my password when that happened. It’s a tad annoying if you ask me.

O Nebraska Winter, how you torment me so! One day it’s delightfully warm, your wind dying down to nothing and the sun shining in the clear blue sky. And the next, oh the next sees 4-5 inches of white snow piled upon my sidewalks. The snow is charming in its icy, cold, harsh kind of way. And I sense perhaps the last opportunity to earn a Good Mom Badge by taking my daughter sledding, but really, it’s time for you to go. It’s time for Nebraska Spring to make its blustery entrance. If I fill the basement emergency kits for impending tornadic storms, will you be tempted to leave? If I start dressing in capris and sandals, will you take a hint? If we install the screen in the front door will you understand that its time for you to move on? March comes tomorrow. Sayanora, Nebraska Winter! (Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.)

A quick glance around the first floor of my house reveals how very much I’ve fallen behind… in about every way. That’s how things go after the entire fam has been sick, but still, it’s now driving me crazy. Couscous under Liv’s seat at the dining room table, garage sale clothes stacked a few feet away from the couscous, the old stroller returned by my sister-in-law only a few feet away from the couscous and garage sale clothes. Yikes! Can we either call Merry Maids or find something all-consuming for Livia to do for about eight hours solid?

This is life. Sickness and organization rotating in cycles, with no need to get all worked up about either. The couscous will get swept up, the clothes will make their way to the basement prior to their eventual sale, the stroller will eventually be placed in the garage.

All this to say, if the status of my dining room is any indicator, then you can imagine what my email inbox looks like. If you are waiting on a response to an email, please don’t feel ignored. Or at least consider yourself in good company. You and the couscous have something in common. And goodness knows I love couscous. ; )