Living Like Weasels

I must begin this with an opening completely irrelevant to my response just because it must be said and shared with people whom I feel can relate and appreciate this circumstance.

If you were a stranger, driving through a small alley (a resident or most-likely someone completely lost) as the rain pours down through the passing Southern California clouds and for some spontaneous reason you happened to look to your left, you would find an peculiar sight. Through the blur of your windshield wipers, you would probably squint and rub the fog from the window to get a better look. There, sitting in between two cars on a decrepit wooden bench in the shelter of my parent's balcony, is me. The only light seen is the soft glow from the computer screen illuminating my face and what manages to sneak its way out the crack in the front door. My ice cream bowl next to me (an ever so witty remark written in bold print upon it, "Cup of YO MAMA") and covered in a warm, blanket, I am set and ready for my final blog assignment of this week. Being a stranger though, you don't know this and think to yourself I am incredibly strange for sitting outside on this cold rainy night -if you were a grandmother or mother you might even spare another moment of thought to think that I could very well catch my death of a cold- at almost 11pm, then continue your journey on without a second thought.

Fun fact about Allie time; I love love LOVE to listen to the rain. And be in it. And the rain in general... you get the picture.

Back to Living Like Weasels...

First and foremost, when Jennette first assigned our humble writing class to read this essay, I found it an interesting piece but couldn't manage to shake my distaste for rodents. Most people often find mice, hamsters, and even rats to be cute. I am not one of those people. If the option is presented, I avoid touching or encountering rodents at my convenience. Otherwise, I choose to observe from a safe distance. Do not be mistaken, I am not afraid of our little "friends", I simply choose to avoid them... whenever possible. My best friend Claira has a younger sister Kate who just had the delight of buying a small hamster (joy!)... Kate seems to make it a point to bring her charming little animal in to crawl on me whenever I am over at their house. Seeing that she is obviously oblivious to my distaste, I indulge her innocent motives and grin and bear the small little claws that tickle my skin as they crawl up my neck and tangle themselves in my hair. Kate's happiness is worth more to me then my own personal comfort so this sacrifice happens to be made every time I am at their house now and I have reached the point of patient tolerance -who knows, maybe one day I will grow to like the little... thing. But let's not get carried away though!

On a more grammatically analytical perspective, Annie Dillard paints a wonderful description and makes the shift from a narrative and story-like sentence structure to an almost persuasive structure with smooth and easy skill -this I find to be a difficult talent to cultivate and therefore respect her for this. Kudos! (whatever that means, I believe it's positive though so I'm going to use it anyways because I like the word)

This is probably a very abrupt ending but this is where I sign off as my brain has slowly crashed from its sugar/caffiene peak in to a valley of a muddled daze... Goodnight :)

Home Alone

It is late, (around 10pm to be precise! Although not too close just yet to the time I usually surrender to sweet slumber) my parents have gone to sleep so in a sense, I am alone. All you can hear is the soft hum of the heater as it circulates warmth through our aging home and the tick-tock of my horse alarm clock as it dutifully warns me of each passing hour.

I decided there are two sides to being alone in one's house. The first is the joy of having the absolute freedom to do whatever you like because no one is there to have a different opinion and stop you (such as eating the last of the mint chip ice cream straight out of the carton or blasting Elvis Presley through the entire house...). Having the house all to yourself you are free to roam the halls, watch movies the rest of your family find extremely annoying and cry/laugh aloud shamelessly all the way through, or one of my favorites; read a book without interruption. The second though is the opposite of all these, being alone can stir a loneliness in your heart that is hard to shake (no matter how many Disney movies you watch and cartons of ice cream you down). You find yourself wandering through the house only to find empty rooms over and over again like something in an Alice In Wonderland movie... For me, I find that my senses tend to run suddenly into hyper-sonic mode (don't really know if that condition actually exists...) and every chirping bird is a burglar outside my door or any passing truck is a ginormous earth quake waiting to vibrate my house's humble foundation to rubble.

I haven't quite figured out the causes for each of these reactions... I think it is a matter of the time of day or of what I have occupied myself with at the time (obviously if I have seen an Alfred Hitchcock movie recently it would be the latter reaction) which is one fantastic reason why we need to follow Philippians 4:8 (Whatever is pure, right, and Holy...). It's amazing to me how God gives us verses that we read and then later there is a "hey! This suddenly makes (Jenette, I almost used "so" *gasp* the horror!) sense!" moment. Love those!

Goodnight! Tomorrow (or maybe even tonight if I'm feeling really zealous) I plan to write my response on Living Like Weasels... this could get ugly.

Home Sweet Home

John 15:19, "...but I have chosen you out of the world..."

As Christians, we are called not to be of this world, but to live in it and be a light of hope and joy for all to see. This world is not our home.

Being the daughter of a military man and therefore having moved around fairly often, I find it difficult to place geographically just where my "home" is. When asked where I am from or where my hometown is, my response is usually vague regarding a specific place but my answer to where I call home is solid. Home is where God calls me to be and where my family is. God gives us a place of comfort and of love, where everyday is a new adventure waiting to be embarked upon. Home for me is standing with my bare feet in the cool ocean water as waves lap rhythmically upon the shore. Home can also be sitting in a busy restaurant laughing with my family until my sides hurt, or standing in the pews of a church, worshiping my Savior with friends. My home can be anywhere as God is everywhere and therein lies my home sweet home.