IMG_4588
Originally uploaded by ohine
November 6, 2009
September 20, 2009
Guardians Of the Gate
Ken Hopper and Kerry Davis
Ironworkers Kerry Davis (L) and Ken Hopper (R), who have been working together for 25 years, talk about rescuing suicide jumpers on the Golden Gate Bridge.
Click the link above to listen to their story on Story Corps.
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I'm Alive
Most of the people I know about that read this blog know other ways of reaching me, but just in case-- I'm alive! And I most definitely have NOT abandoned this blog. I've just been swamped with schoolwork, and probably will be for the next couple months. That's not to say I won't be posting at all...just less.
I am, however, posting on a blog for my reporting class, so if you really really miss me, or are interested in town/gown relations at Syracuse University (c'mon, guys) then you can visit my news beat blog: towngown.blogspot.com
Coming soon on my Flickr page (and maybe I'll post a couple here, too) are photos of Jonas' first day of kindergarten!!!
In the meantime, here's something I've been exploring today:
Transmission Arts
I am, however, posting on a blog for my reporting class, so if you really really miss me, or are interested in town/gown relations at Syracuse University (c'mon, guys) then you can visit my news beat blog: towngown.blogspot.com
Coming soon on my Flickr page (and maybe I'll post a couple here, too) are photos of Jonas' first day of kindergarten!!!
In the meantime, here's something I've been exploring today:
Transmission Arts
September 4, 2009
September 1, 2009
August 27, 2009
Health Care Reform for Dummies
A friend posted this on Facebook. I love it. Super simple, a la Story of Stuff. Someone left a critical comment below the movie on my friend's profile, and for some reason I felt it necessary to engage in an all-day argument with her. It's pathetic how much I enjoy arguing, and hate it at the same time. It's probably more accurate to say I hate arguing, but am bound to it by my even greater hatred for being wrong.
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
I was just sitting here doing some work, and heard a faint, sleepy "Mama" coming from the boys' room. I peeked in and there was Escher, who has been sleeping through the night for quite some time now, laying there on the bottom bunk squinting up at me. I picked him up and he put his head on my shoulder, and I stood there with him, feeling incredibly lucky, knowing that my heart will someday, very soon, ache for moments like these.
And it reminded me of something, of the first time I ever felt the presence of God.
When I was a little girl, I wondered about this God thing from time to time. My father is an atheist, and my mother is Episcopalian. I went to church a handful of times with my mother. I remember loving the singing, but I don't remember much else. We also went to church when we visited Grandma and Grandpa in Indiana. But I don't remember much from that, either, just putting on nice clothes and the feeling of being on display. (My grandmother got to show me off to all her friends; I didn't mind.)
I remember I used to lay there in my bed at home, and I would say things (I'm not sure if it was in my head or out loud) like "Okay, so if there's a God...make that curtain move right now," or "Make that star twinkle." It never did. I remember hoping that didn't mean there wasn't a God. I wanted there to be. But I didn't know anything about it.
It wasn't until after I showed up in Alcoholics Anonymous at the age of 25, that I was around people who really taught me how to find a God. And they didn't care who or what that God was, or what I called it, and they didn't tell me what to do to find it, or what to do with it once I did. They just told me how they did it. Everyone had their own story.
So there I was, probably a couple months sober. I had just moved into the apartment I live in now. My parents bought this duplex so I would have somewhere to live with my little baby Jonas, who was not even walking yet. Was that ever a giant leap of faith...or love...or insanity! Judging from past behavior, I was the last person in the world who ANY reasonable individual had ANY business buying a house for. But there I was, in this big apartment, with not much more than a bed, a crib, a couple of dressers, a table & chairs, and this baby. I pretended I had a plan, that I knew what I was doing. But really, I had no idea.
I got sober January 11, 2005 (I think it was actually the day after that, but I wisely chose to call it 1/11 so I would remember it better) and we closed on the house a week or two later. I think I moved in sometime around Valentine's Day.
And one night, in that stark, drafty house, baby Jonas was crying in his crib, just him in his tiny crib, in this great big room, echoing. I went in to pick him up. I loved that baby so very much. There was nothing in the world I had ever loved more. It was for him that I desperately wanted to turn my life around, a life that had been in a downward spiral for years. I really didn't give a rat's ass about myself. But that baby-- that baby was worth it. I could take care of his mother, until I learned to take care of myself.
I picked him up and I stood there rocking him, and he put his head on my shoulder, and I felt incredibly lucky. I had nothing, and I had everything. And that's when I felt it. I felt this warm, beautiful, all-enveloping love all around me. It was within me, but it was also beyond me, beyond us. It was God's presence. He hugged my baby and I, as we stood there in that room, and I knew we were no longer alone.
"Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power - that One is God. May you find him now." --Alcoholics Anonymous "Big Book" Chapter Five: 'How It Works'
And it reminded me of something, of the first time I ever felt the presence of God.
When I was a little girl, I wondered about this God thing from time to time. My father is an atheist, and my mother is Episcopalian. I went to church a handful of times with my mother. I remember loving the singing, but I don't remember much else. We also went to church when we visited Grandma and Grandpa in Indiana. But I don't remember much from that, either, just putting on nice clothes and the feeling of being on display. (My grandmother got to show me off to all her friends; I didn't mind.)
I remember I used to lay there in my bed at home, and I would say things (I'm not sure if it was in my head or out loud) like "Okay, so if there's a God...make that curtain move right now," or "Make that star twinkle." It never did. I remember hoping that didn't mean there wasn't a God. I wanted there to be. But I didn't know anything about it.
It wasn't until after I showed up in Alcoholics Anonymous at the age of 25, that I was around people who really taught me how to find a God. And they didn't care who or what that God was, or what I called it, and they didn't tell me what to do to find it, or what to do with it once I did. They just told me how they did it. Everyone had their own story.
So there I was, probably a couple months sober. I had just moved into the apartment I live in now. My parents bought this duplex so I would have somewhere to live with my little baby Jonas, who was not even walking yet. Was that ever a giant leap of faith...or love...or insanity! Judging from past behavior, I was the last person in the world who ANY reasonable individual had ANY business buying a house for. But there I was, in this big apartment, with not much more than a bed, a crib, a couple of dressers, a table & chairs, and this baby. I pretended I had a plan, that I knew what I was doing. But really, I had no idea.
I got sober January 11, 2005 (I think it was actually the day after that, but I wisely chose to call it 1/11 so I would remember it better) and we closed on the house a week or two later. I think I moved in sometime around Valentine's Day.
And one night, in that stark, drafty house, baby Jonas was crying in his crib, just him in his tiny crib, in this great big room, echoing. I went in to pick him up. I loved that baby so very much. There was nothing in the world I had ever loved more. It was for him that I desperately wanted to turn my life around, a life that had been in a downward spiral for years. I really didn't give a rat's ass about myself. But that baby-- that baby was worth it. I could take care of his mother, until I learned to take care of myself.
I picked him up and I stood there rocking him, and he put his head on my shoulder, and I felt incredibly lucky. I had nothing, and I had everything. And that's when I felt it. I felt this warm, beautiful, all-enveloping love all around me. It was within me, but it was also beyond me, beyond us. It was God's presence. He hugged my baby and I, as we stood there in that room, and I knew we were no longer alone.
"Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power - that One is God. May you find him now." --Alcoholics Anonymous "Big Book" Chapter Five: 'How It Works'
August 24, 2009
Reusable lunch containers made from repurposed garbage!!!
THISIS
SO
FAB
U
LOUS
!!!
I'm always trying to figure out ways to reuse containers, and just end up with piles of them in my cupboards "just in case." It's my own private landfill! The only thing you need to buy to make these, is a bit of Velcro. The sandwich container is made from a plastic milk jug, and the snack box is made from a juice/milk carton :)
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