This is the scene I happed upon yesterday morning. Too cute. TOO cute that it's DISGUSTING.
No, I'm just making fun of 'too cute'. What does that mean anyway? Can something go from being cute to TOO cute and therefore hideous? I'm indifferent.
&
Last night I said goodbye to my Little Dancing Cheesecake, Naomi, along with her cousin Alison. We danced the night away at a seedy little bar in downtown Hamilton--Absinthe. Tacky, eh? But when the tunes are from Al Green, Blood Sweat & Tears and Stevie Wonder you really can't go wrong.

We danced the night away, literally and it wasn't until I crash in bed at 3:45am that I remembered that I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30am in Ancaster. Miraculously I got to Ancaster in time only to get very very lost for 45 minutes. Google done me wrong. Real wrong. In fact I wrote those rat bastards a letter.
Anywho--it's not 10:13am and I'm dying a slow death. But I can't sleep yet. An unemployed person's work is never done.

36 hr crash-parenting...

My brother and sinister-in-law (ha...just thought that up, but it's not true. She's great) have gone to Vegas for a few days and have entrusted the care of their 3 boys into my capable hands.

I'm so domestic.

Here are a few things I've learned:
1)being 2 minutes late to pick kids up from school is borderline child neglect for a 6 year old.

2)children ARE cuter when they're sleeping

3)no matter what you're having for dinner, you WILL be making different dinners for as many children as are eating. Ie. three boys= three different ways to make speghetti and meatballs.

4)on average it's impossible to escape to the bathroom for no more than 7-8 seconds before your absence is detected. Then the rest of your time in the bathroom WILL be spent watching and praying that the lock on the bathroom door handle won't give in under the weight of a 3 year-old hanging on it. And sure enough, upon exiting the bathroom minutes after repeating 'Just a sec....just one more second...' over and over again there WILL be items lined up at the threshold of the door--items such as dinky cars ("These, these, these, these, these....these are my favowits.") In the event of a meltdown (most likely) while you're in the bathroom sure enough there will be a child cowering against the door who inevitably forgets all woes once the door opens.

5)in the dead of night it's possible to be aware of a child in your room staring at you sleeping yet not actually wake up.

Those are just a few gems I've picked up in the last 36 hours. Who knows what's to come!

So, in the mission-field front, I am NOT going to South America for Christmas. Annnnd I think it's pretty unlikely I'll be going to South Africa for a month either. But, seeing I'm not the matriarchal figure in the family I'm stil trying to arrange a christmas get-away (from family) trip to Oregon. We'll see.

Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday anyway.

Goodbye Summer. You were a hot lover.

This is my farewell salut to summer---blueberries in hand.

I want to be napping right now, but I'm not. Naps on Sunday are mandatory for all childless people, as far as I'm concerned.

I don't really have much to say--I just felt obligated to write.
At the moment I'm suffering from eating-too-much pains---consisting of Jalapeno Doritos, pizza and iced tea. Needless to say I feel pretty hot.

An opportunity to go to South Africa has come up. Through my traveling-buddy Ames I've been offered to apply for a position as a medical person (whoa...) on a month long mission trip to work with AIDS orphans and vulnerables. Sounds pretty good. That, however, would mean I couldn't go on my trip to South America over Christmas.
Sigh.
Well, TECHNICALLY I could go to both, but that's just asking for trouble.

Right now it's raining outside mixed with bursts of semi-tempid air. I'm reluctant to see summer go. I only got a month of it, remember. Gerrit told me winter was coming no matter what so I'd better deal with it. His words struck my core like a snowball hitting a frozen flag-pole. Yup. That's my analogy.
He's right of course. But there's nothing more satisfying than running out the door in flipflops and a sundress. There's no need for coats, and boots, and gloves in summer. No extra bulk. Just...freedom.
This post sucks.
I'm going to have a nap and hopefully the Lord will impart something radical that I can add to this post later.

As dots on a trendy dress--these are the days of my life...

Hello my little gnag...ha! gang of phantom bloggers--I know who you are.
You are my blog-gnags.

Today's post is...gag me...deep and reflective. A little evangelical prose mixed with some good ol' cynicism and doubt.
My issue is with ... whoa. Wouldn't you believe it: I've forgotten. The Lord spake and proclaimed I shant speak against the evangelical church nigh again so he smote my short-term memory and it is still that way to this day.

No really--I sat down very purposed to write and it's just gone. I can't even tell you what it was about. Perhaps if I go back to where I was and what I was doing when I thought of it...so, I should lay back down on the carpet spread eagle and start crying while examining the crappy plaster-job on my ceiling. Ah yes. That's the ticket.

I guess I'm just confused. I feel like there's this 'key'; this particular phrase, sentense, prayer, thought, action, prophecy, PROPHET, or license plate that will make it all make sense. Something that will click in my head, heart and soul. Something other-wordly that will strike me when I'm least expecting it and despite it's simplicity will connect all the dots. You know?

Which dots? Friends, the giftings, interests, hobbies, skills, knowledge etc that I have gleened over the years is as numerous as the dots on a trendy polka-dot sun dress from last season. The dots, albeit 'cute', have no real purpose--they're just dots. They don't express anything; they don't convey an image or message; they don't work--they're just dots. Until they're connected.

And that's what my 'key' is--it's the sentense, or prayer or dream that will give me the insight into how the dots connect. But this 'key' is the most elusive, cryptic, complicated thing I've ever searched for--just when I think I have it, I realize I've been deceived. But that's the truth--isn't it? That there isn't a mystical 'key' that we just need to seek out and obtain or recite--God doesn't play games like that, (yes, He does).

No he doesn't.

(Oh, silly Claire, I can assure you he most certainly does.)

But that's not the God I want to know.

(Don't be so naive. It's the God you've chosen and you know it. You're just going to have to keep striving to get that key--until you figure out the magic words that heal you and forgive you and redeem you and give you purpose and destiny that get you a husband and a sense of wholeness. Good luck though. )

The instantaneous internal debate is unsatiable. I fight between defending God to MYSELF and doubting his character TO myself. I am my soul's own devil's advocate and it's exhausting.

Can I get a 'whoop whoop' if you're picking up what I'm putting down here?

I don't want to run through the 'hoops' anymore. I'm tired of the disciplines my other-half calls 'games'--like fasting and intercession. I want to understand these things so that they're not games--they're either a way of life or just a bunch of crap that never interests me.

I feel like I'm in highschool again and I have my main courses of interest but now I need to fill up my electives--should I choose prophecy and worship after 2nd period, or should I take a spare after lunch and end the day with a tongues class? But then that prophecy class is a real bird class, so I could potentially bullshit my way through it and it will help my average.

What exactly AM I intersted in? How exactly do I pull all this together into something cohesive and fluid? Show me how to connect the dots. What's important and what can go? What's the TRUTH and what's the lie?

Oh, look at me--little shit-disturbing Clairice. Just give me a 'whoop whoop' if you can relate at all.

The long days of summer are fading...

Oh--that's a sad title. I'm sorry.

Yesterday a bunch of us moved my sister Catherine and her family to Niagara On The Lake--a posh little village nestled in the heart of wine country. It's a dramatic change from East Hamilton (come on guys--admit it. You were essentially living in East Hamilton).

As the story goes--my brother-in-law Chris was at the new place in Nottle painting the rooms when a neighbour came by to 'get the painter's business card'. She needed her place painted too and assumed Chris was the painter. Sigh. This is what it's come to.
(saying goodbye to the hardwood floors in the Hamilton house...)

Hell must have indeed frozen over after Chris and the family moved THEMSELVES into their new home yesterday. I can just imagine the outcry the rose from the village.

But the place looks great--we're happy for them. Just sad they're almost an hour away now. Despite our best intentions I know we won't be able to visit as often as we'd like. Thus is life. Unpredictable and often upsetting.

The night before moving I attended a film festival in Toronto. No, not THE film festival, but the Bicycle Film Festival. I...just keep making myself weirder and weirder. I am aware.
But this festival was hosted by my old cohort of friends The Winking Circle. IN FACT, I'm actually IN one of the film fest movies---so how could I not make an appearance? I couldn't disappoint my fans. Clearly.
This is Ruthi and I at the festival:

I successfully ran into two sort-of-exes during my short stay in Toronto. I was batting 100 when I thought I saw a third, subsequently had to grab onto Ruthi for physical support, then, as the blood did not completely drain from my head to my vital organs (such as my breaking heart) I realized, it wasn't who I thought it was.

To me, Toronto is this...frightening city of ghosts. I don't like it one bit. Around every corner, on every street-car, over my shoulder riding by on a bike named Sarah, at every turn I am this close to facing my personal torture: broken relationships that I wish weren't. Weren't broken, that is.

Unrequited love, romantic and platonic, isn't the melodramatic prose I was hoping for.

I don't have time to eat well but I have time to blog.

Yikes! It's almost been two weeks since I posted last! Remember the days when I posted daily? Almost too often? Those days are gone, my friends, for now.

Today I have a hilarious audio clip for you courtesy of my brother in law, Chris Jones via his blog buddie Kevin. Yup, not Chris. Just Chris Jones. Check this out--if you don't choke, cry or suffocate laughing I will likely do nothing except be very disappointed (and isn't that the worst? Disappointing someone?)

What do I have to say today...hmmm let's see...I feel like there was something really important (aside from the links above...)
Well, here's a funny picture I took at my sister's last night of me, Catherine, Jenn, my niece Anna and nephew Caleb. This is our horrified face. Classic really.

On that note, Chris and Catherine are moving to Niagara on the Lake, also known as NOTL, or Nottle. This is a sad thing. However last night Catherine told me they're not changing churches! Which means I'll still see them all at least once a week. I mean, come on! How could you stay away from a face like this:


Last weekend I was at a family reunion and this was a highlight:


I was dreading the reunion but it went well as only half the family showed up allowing the rest of us to actually talk and laugh with those there. It was nice.

Well I suppose I should stop rambling and actually get some work done. There is no lack of it.
In parting, here is a verse I read in the Message (2 Sam 21) this AM that sums me up...at least sums up what I want:

God made my life complete
when I placed all the pieces before him.
When I cleaned up my act,
he gave me a fresh start.
Indeed, I've kept alert to God's ways;
I haven't taken God for granted.
Every day I review the ways he works,
I try not to miss a trick.
I feel put back together,
and I'm watching my step.
God rewrote the text of my life
when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

Mickey Mouse boob hats and disecting purpose from chance.

(Sorry no spell check today...won't work. A thousand pardons.)

Today was an ordinary day.

I drove home from Port after visiting with my Mum, who's just returned from the Philippines, avoided traffic at all costs, sped, bought Timmy's--the usual.
When I got home I unpacked from my long weekend in Perry Sound.
Checked my email. Returned a couple. Deleted more.
Had a dental appointment at 2pm. The hygienist I had was probably the worst I've ever had.

She was chatty.
Can someone please explain to me HOW I'm supposed to talk when I'm being 'hygiened'?

Anyway. It was almost laughable how this woman was able to pin-point and address every single f-ing sensitive area in my mouth and life.
So, are you on vacation?
No. I'm not working right now.
Oh........
Oh, you sure are crowded in front, eh? Does it bother you?
No. (Does it bother you?)
Have you concidered seeing an orthodontist? (jab, jab into my gums)
No.
.......
Well, if you do need that root canal then your insurance won't cover it. You're on disability?
Yes.
Oh...back problems?
No......I have Crohn's disease.
Oh really? Wow. Are you on medication for that? (Gags me with that sucky air-tube thing)
No.
No? Why not? You manage flare-ups yourself? (Scratch, scratch of metal against plaqued teeth)
Yes. I don't like medications.
No? They have a lot of bad side-effects?
(Nod. Refusing to speak.)
Well, we're all finished up. You're sure you don't want me to book an appointment with an orthondontist for you?
Yes. (But if it makes you feel less queasy I'll stop baring my horrid teeth to you.)

And WHILE this is all happening, Chesty McGee, is mashing her boobs into my head while she probed my mouth. It was like I was wearing a Mickey mouse hat from Disney World. I'm not against breasts, per se, I just have an issue when strangers' nipples are millimeters away from my nose and mouth. Call me crazy. I was just waiting for her to say something like 'So, do you have a boyfriend?' or even better 'Have you considered joining the gym around the corner? I noticed you're fat.'

Then it was raining. Traffic was bad.

Seeking purpose in license plates is loosing it's charm.

Rejoining society has proven much more difficult than anticipated. It's nice to have my Mum home so at least I have someone who can and wants to talk endlessly about the Philippines and babies. I feel like I have this volcano of experiences, and relationships, and thoughts, and prayers and questions that's just simmering away. Soon it will turn into volcanic rock and that will be that.

All those experiences, relationships, thoughts, prayers and questions petrified by time and pressure.