15 June, 2007
Educational Public Service Announcement
I'm not a man so this didn't revolutionize my world, but I still thought it might be useful to some of you out there:
VideoJug: How To Give A Great Man To Man Hug
VideoJug: How To Give A Great Man To Man Hug
12 June, 2007
Stranger in the Night
So tonight we went running again. At about 11pm at that one soccer field up the hill. It was gently raining and too warm and muggy, but we haven't gone in, oh, I don't know, forever. And it is time to get back on that wagon.
Anyway, we were spread out, running around, when I passed a weird little stump-like thing on the track. It was pretty dark, and it kind of looked like it could have been an animal, but it didn't move at all when I ran by about 1 ft. away, so I figured it couldn't be. After another 1/2 lap, Allison waved me over because she and Sunny had discovered that it was a HEDGEHOG.
We hassled the poor creature with the lighted screens of our mp3 players, trying to get a closer look and cursing ourselves for not bringing cameras. Eventually it awkwardly scurried away. I'm not sure if it was a pet or what, it was definitely fat, though. My brother had a pet hedgehog for a while, named Louie, and he was a lot smaller than this guy. And in case you have ever wondered, watching a hedgehog climb stairs is no ordinary experience, let me tell you.
Anyway, we were spread out, running around, when I passed a weird little stump-like thing on the track. It was pretty dark, and it kind of looked like it could have been an animal, but it didn't move at all when I ran by about 1 ft. away, so I figured it couldn't be. After another 1/2 lap, Allison waved me over because she and Sunny had discovered that it was a HEDGEHOG.
We hassled the poor creature with the lighted screens of our mp3 players, trying to get a closer look and cursing ourselves for not bringing cameras. Eventually it awkwardly scurried away. I'm not sure if it was a pet or what, it was definitely fat, though. My brother had a pet hedgehog for a while, named Louie, and he was a lot smaller than this guy. And in case you have ever wondered, watching a hedgehog climb stairs is no ordinary experience, let me tell you.
06 June, 2007
Best Day Ever!
A couple of Saturdays ago a group of us spent the day at a children's home not too far from Rijeka. We had an amazing time hanging out with the kids and tie-dyeing some t-shirts, playing soccer and frisbee, eating ice cream, and swimming. At the end of the day I think we made a pretty much unanimous decision to return as soon as possible.
Here's everyone working hard...
This could be trouble...
This little guy had limited mobility but we played a very respectable and long-running game of Keep-The-Latex-Glove-Balloon-Up-In-The-Air-For-As-Long-As-Possible-Without-Letting-It-Hit-The-Ground. And I got to sign his cast.
Igor was very popular.
It was incredibly warm that day, and, well, the sea was refreshing.
03 June, 2007
The Internet = Good or Bad? You choose…
Real-life things I have looked up:
• How to tie-dye clothing
• The Croatian word for ‘goiter’
• James Hetfield
• Statistics on foreign drugs imported to the Netherlands
• Bird clip art
• Infanta
• How to shotgun a beer
• Homeless World Cup
• The plot of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (this was after viewing the film)
• Oxycodone and its uses
• The definition of teetotaler
• The Legend of Zelda FAQ
• Whiffle bat
• The ins and outs of correct apostrophe usage
• Brain
• How to tie-dye clothing
• The Croatian word for ‘goiter’
• James Hetfield
• Statistics on foreign drugs imported to the Netherlands
• Bird clip art
• Infanta
• How to shotgun a beer
• Homeless World Cup
• The plot of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (this was after viewing the film)
• Oxycodone and its uses
• The definition of teetotaler
• The Legend of Zelda FAQ
• Whiffle bat
• The ins and outs of correct apostrophe usage
• Brain
Redemption Song or Kutless Is My New Favorite
Osijek: Final Installment
As the sun rose Sunday morning, we collapsed into bed. While falling asleep, I remember trying to make sense of some of the more minor interactions we had as the night turned to morning. It had been requested that the kitchen prepare boiling water and cups for everyone at departure time, and in reality only one person actually drank any. Someone else was annoyed that the pre-packed lunches we sent them off with contained apples, not bananas – I guess we scored some points with bananas that first afternoon on the bus. I think my favorite moment was when a disgruntled traveler emerged from the elevator and headed towards the door. Looking for all the world like an oversized toddler unwillingly roused from a nap, he paused before he reached the automatic sliding glass doors. He started again, but the open doors had started to close in on him. He stepped back and directed the EVILEST look of disgust at the door (which, if I may remind you, is an inanimate object) before plodding out to the waiting bus. It really was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.
So, anyway, we slept for quite a while. Too long, actually, since checkout was supposed to be at 12:00. We talked with the cleaning lady and she kindly waited to do our room last so we could pack up and get out. After some lunch and coffee we got a ride to the festival once again, where we had little to do for most of the afternoon. In the evening we got to hang out with the wife of one of Kutless’ band members and help out a little at their merchandise table. They are from Portland, and also spend time in Seattle pretty regularly, so it was great to hang out with someone from close to home. Plus, she was just amazingly kind, genuine, wise, and honest in general. Hearing her talk about the band’s philosophy and goals, as well as her own, was incredibly refreshing. Their attitudes and actions in the face of several tricky/frustrating situations at the festival were very gracious and humble. In short, our time with her was tremendously encouraging.
We were lucky enough to be able to sort-of-sleep during the drive home, which miraculously only took about 4.5 hours. Then we had a few hours at home in our beds before a day of summer project briefing on Monday. It was definitely a whirlwind of a weekend, but we had a good time and learned a whole lot in the process. I enjoyed the change of pace, and the way that being thrust into a completely new environment gave me a different perspective on life and values and human beings and the way we behave. It shook me up a little and broke down some of my assumptions, but ultimately reinforced my core beliefs, passions, and desires in a new way, which was kind of cool.
As the sun rose Sunday morning, we collapsed into bed. While falling asleep, I remember trying to make sense of some of the more minor interactions we had as the night turned to morning. It had been requested that the kitchen prepare boiling water and cups for everyone at departure time, and in reality only one person actually drank any. Someone else was annoyed that the pre-packed lunches we sent them off with contained apples, not bananas – I guess we scored some points with bananas that first afternoon on the bus. I think my favorite moment was when a disgruntled traveler emerged from the elevator and headed towards the door. Looking for all the world like an oversized toddler unwillingly roused from a nap, he paused before he reached the automatic sliding glass doors. He started again, but the open doors had started to close in on him. He stepped back and directed the EVILEST look of disgust at the door (which, if I may remind you, is an inanimate object) before plodding out to the waiting bus. It really was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.
So, anyway, we slept for quite a while. Too long, actually, since checkout was supposed to be at 12:00. We talked with the cleaning lady and she kindly waited to do our room last so we could pack up and get out. After some lunch and coffee we got a ride to the festival once again, where we had little to do for most of the afternoon. In the evening we got to hang out with the wife of one of Kutless’ band members and help out a little at their merchandise table. They are from Portland, and also spend time in Seattle pretty regularly, so it was great to hang out with someone from close to home. Plus, she was just amazingly kind, genuine, wise, and honest in general. Hearing her talk about the band’s philosophy and goals, as well as her own, was incredibly refreshing. Their attitudes and actions in the face of several tricky/frustrating situations at the festival were very gracious and humble. In short, our time with her was tremendously encouraging.
We were lucky enough to be able to sort-of-sleep during the drive home, which miraculously only took about 4.5 hours. Then we had a few hours at home in our beds before a day of summer project briefing on Monday. It was definitely a whirlwind of a weekend, but we had a good time and learned a whole lot in the process. I enjoyed the change of pace, and the way that being thrust into a completely new environment gave me a different perspective on life and values and human beings and the way we behave. It shook me up a little and broke down some of my assumptions, but ultimately reinforced my core beliefs, passions, and desires in a new way, which was kind of cool.
02 June, 2007
Till The Morning Comes
Osijek, continued...
The evening was fun and relatively uneventful. We got to watch most of the sets and play with some of our favorite kiddos.
This is one of our friends who is going to CM2007 with us!
Around 1:30 or 2:00am we rounded up all but the last performers and rode back to the hotel. After we got there we rested a little and searched for anything decent to watch on TV (Bridget Jones' Diary dubbed in German, for instance, didn't make the cut). Then we met various groups that were departing for the airport at 3:30 and 4:30 to make sure checkout went smoothly and take care of some last minute details.
By 5:15, our beds were a very welcome sight.
The evening was fun and relatively uneventful. We got to watch most of the sets and play with some of our favorite kiddos.
Around 1:30 or 2:00am we rounded up all but the last performers and rode back to the hotel. After we got there we rested a little and searched for anything decent to watch on TV (Bridget Jones' Diary dubbed in German, for instance, didn't make the cut). Then we met various groups that were departing for the airport at 3:30 and 4:30 to make sure checkout went smoothly and take care of some last minute details.
By 5:15, our beds were a very welcome sight.
Somebody’s Gotta Do It
More about the weekend in Osijek...
Around 8:00am Sunny’s phone rang and we were told that the bus was leaving at 10:00 instead of 9:00 so everyone had a little more time to get ready and eat breakfast. It had been a late night, so this was good news. Everyone else had apparently been notified, so we felt content and relaxed while getting ready for the day, and headed down to the lobby for a quick breakfast around 9:30.
We greeted a few of our compadres, scoped out a table to sit at, and headed over to the self-serve coffee station – clearly a high priority. Sunny had the carafe of coffee poised in mid-air above her cup when she was interrupted by one of our less-than-favorite people, who demanded that she go outside to the bus immediately to deal with a situation that had arisen. Later, when asked how she felt at that moment, she confessed that her entire being had been filled with rage. That can’t be good for the lifespan. [This might sound like an overreaction, but, trust me, if I could really go into detail about some of these events I am confident you would empathize with our frustrations.] Even so, she proceeded calmly to the tour bus and dealt with the issue, which basically amounted to some miscommunication about timing and schedules. Due to her masterful diplomatic work, by the time I got out there everything seemed calm so we went back in and ate a quick breakfast. In the short 30 or 40 minutes between leaving our room and boarding the bus, there had been a number of small interactions that led us to believe it might be a pretty stressful day, so the half-hour ride to the festival site was a perfect time for some reflection, prayer, and personal preparation.
It was weird to be thrown into such an odd set of circumstances, dealing with so many emotions and sensations and issues and powerfully asserted egos all at once. Everything seemed to be colliding, and while I looked out the window, the setting of all of this chaos started to become clear. We were staying in Vukovar. It is considered the most war-devastated place in Europe since WWII, and evidence of the damage from the war in the ‘90s is still visible all over the town. Among wrecked and bullet-riddled homes and buildings there were old men on bikes, and children playing, and women working in gardens.
As we drove the distance to Osijek through fields of grass and golden grain, the landscape was punctuated by beautiful bunches of bright red poppies. There were also signs every hundred yards or so sternly warning everyone to stay out (because there are still land-mines in the fields), illustrated with skulls and crossbones. Seeing these things, and thinking about what they meant – especially for the people who lived through it all – lent an element of gravity to my general state of mind, and by the time we arrived I felt sobered and somewhat softened.
We received our ‘Organizator’ identification badges and got the lay of the land. The venue was actually a Franciscan monastery, with a big tent and stage set up in a large field. While everyone went through their sound checks we spent most of our time in a dining/waiting/hangout room that served as the green room. We were doing such an awesome job fetching coffee and delivering messages and such that some people – understandably – wanted to take pictures with us. Or maybe it was because Sunny looks like a “Hollywood movie actress.” [This is an actual quote, admittedly taken slightly out of context…]
As the sound checks wrapped up, one of the performers informed us that he needed a razor. We found out where a few drugstores were, and another guy we know from church offered to drive him. Unfortunately most of the stores were closed by that time, but the driver didn’t know exactly what the passenger needed and the dramatic demeanor and mannerisms that characterized his quest led the driver to take him directly to a hospital, believing that he truly needed urgent care! Eventually they made their way back to the waiting bus, sans razor, and we headed to the hotel for some food and a few hours of rest before returning to the festival that evening.
Dinnertime brought a new round of challenges as some of the food was deemed unacceptable, with replacement dishes suffering the same fate. Sunny and I got to enjoy some downtime toward the end, and had fun watching people play PlayStation2 soccer.
Soon it was time to get back on the bus. We were already tired, our patience was wearing thin, and the evening had yet to begin. Fortunately we were armed with angry music guaranteed to get us pumped up. I started off with some long-forgotten Fiona Apple, and Sunny trumped that with what became our theme song for the weekend- The Roots’ Somebody’s Gotta Do It. Here’s an excerpt:
Somebody's gotta be there when it gets ugly
Somebody's gotta be there when it gets bloody
Somebody's gotta get their hands dirty
Yo, it's a ------ up job but somebody's gotta do it
Somebody's gotta come up with a plan
And be there when the ---- hits the fan
I hope ya'll out there understand
Look man it's a ------ up job, but somebody's gotta do it
Around 8:00am Sunny’s phone rang and we were told that the bus was leaving at 10:00 instead of 9:00 so everyone had a little more time to get ready and eat breakfast. It had been a late night, so this was good news. Everyone else had apparently been notified, so we felt content and relaxed while getting ready for the day, and headed down to the lobby for a quick breakfast around 9:30.
We greeted a few of our compadres, scoped out a table to sit at, and headed over to the self-serve coffee station – clearly a high priority. Sunny had the carafe of coffee poised in mid-air above her cup when she was interrupted by one of our less-than-favorite people, who demanded that she go outside to the bus immediately to deal with a situation that had arisen. Later, when asked how she felt at that moment, she confessed that her entire being had been filled with rage. That can’t be good for the lifespan. [This might sound like an overreaction, but, trust me, if I could really go into detail about some of these events I am confident you would empathize with our frustrations.] Even so, she proceeded calmly to the tour bus and dealt with the issue, which basically amounted to some miscommunication about timing and schedules. Due to her masterful diplomatic work, by the time I got out there everything seemed calm so we went back in and ate a quick breakfast. In the short 30 or 40 minutes between leaving our room and boarding the bus, there had been a number of small interactions that led us to believe it might be a pretty stressful day, so the half-hour ride to the festival site was a perfect time for some reflection, prayer, and personal preparation.
It was weird to be thrown into such an odd set of circumstances, dealing with so many emotions and sensations and issues and powerfully asserted egos all at once. Everything seemed to be colliding, and while I looked out the window, the setting of all of this chaos started to become clear. We were staying in Vukovar. It is considered the most war-devastated place in Europe since WWII, and evidence of the damage from the war in the ‘90s is still visible all over the town. Among wrecked and bullet-riddled homes and buildings there were old men on bikes, and children playing, and women working in gardens.
As we drove the distance to Osijek through fields of grass and golden grain, the landscape was punctuated by beautiful bunches of bright red poppies. There were also signs every hundred yards or so sternly warning everyone to stay out (because there are still land-mines in the fields), illustrated with skulls and crossbones. Seeing these things, and thinking about what they meant – especially for the people who lived through it all – lent an element of gravity to my general state of mind, and by the time we arrived I felt sobered and somewhat softened.
We received our ‘Organizator’ identification badges and got the lay of the land. The venue was actually a Franciscan monastery, with a big tent and stage set up in a large field. While everyone went through their sound checks we spent most of our time in a dining/waiting/hangout room that served as the green room. We were doing such an awesome job fetching coffee and delivering messages and such that some people – understandably – wanted to take pictures with us. Or maybe it was because Sunny looks like a “Hollywood movie actress.” [This is an actual quote, admittedly taken slightly out of context…]
As the sound checks wrapped up, one of the performers informed us that he needed a razor. We found out where a few drugstores were, and another guy we know from church offered to drive him. Unfortunately most of the stores were closed by that time, but the driver didn’t know exactly what the passenger needed and the dramatic demeanor and mannerisms that characterized his quest led the driver to take him directly to a hospital, believing that he truly needed urgent care! Eventually they made their way back to the waiting bus, sans razor, and we headed to the hotel for some food and a few hours of rest before returning to the festival that evening.Dinnertime brought a new round of challenges as some of the food was deemed unacceptable, with replacement dishes suffering the same fate. Sunny and I got to enjoy some downtime toward the end, and had fun watching people play PlayStation2 soccer.
Soon it was time to get back on the bus. We were already tired, our patience was wearing thin, and the evening had yet to begin. Fortunately we were armed with angry music guaranteed to get us pumped up. I started off with some long-forgotten Fiona Apple, and Sunny trumped that with what became our theme song for the weekend- The Roots’ Somebody’s Gotta Do It. Here’s an excerpt:
Somebody's gotta be there when it gets bloody
Somebody's gotta get their hands dirty
Yo, it's a ------ up job but somebody's gotta do it
Somebody's gotta come up with a plan
And be there when the ---- hits the fan
I hope ya'll out there understand
Look man it's a ------ up job, but somebody's gotta do it
29 May, 2007
Awkward Is A Way Of Life
Part A:
Last night we all went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3. It pretty much totally sucked. I was tired to begin with, and my hopes that Johnny Depp would be enough to carry me through the movie were unfortunately falsely optimistic. I tried very hard just to go to sleep, to no avail- I just couldn’t get comfortable. Another added challenge was that the sound quality in the theater was pretty low so we couldn’t really get a grip on what was going on a lot of the time. Anyway, we lived through it and shuffled out of the theater, looking and feeling drab and unkempt from squirming so much while trying to find a comfy dozing position.
While exiting I sort of did a double-take as I noticed a local jazz musician (and Orlando-Bloom-with-a-slight-Euro-mullet look alike) that all of us girls have moderate crushes on. As I fumbled to alert Sunny without being too obvious, she was simultaneously trying to let me know that this other guy we recently met at a café was coming over. Well, it turns out they were together. Café Guy introduced us to Bass Player Guy, as we stood there thinking Hey, didn’t we just watch you on screen for 2 ½ hours? and Huh. Sure glad I’m wearing my nasty rain-soaked jeans and sloppy sweatshirt right now.
Part B:
Tonight I was emailing this woman who performed at Kristfest last weekend just to say hi and that it was nice to meet her, and that we might see her in Amsterdam if we end up making it out there in August. It was a semi-formal, testing-the-waters kind of an email, and when I pressed ‘send’, Gmail alerted me to the fact that I had forgotten to type in a subject line. I quickly tapped out ‘hello’ to serve as a rather bland but functional subject line and hit ‘send’ again.
About 3 seconds later I looked at my sent messages and noticed with some horror that my subject line had evolved in an unexpected fashion. The thing is, Gmail fills in the fields predictive-text-style with previous email addresses or subject lines you’ve used in case you want to use the same one again. It saves time and valuable effort thinking of new ones every time, I suppose. This time it backfired, though, as a previous email I sent to Taylor labeled, “Hello my little honey bunches of oats…” came back to haunt me. Yep, that’s how my email went out to Dutch rocker chick. Dang. Had to quickly follow up with an apologetic explanation. Hope she doesn’t think I’m a complete psycho.
Over and out. My work here is done.
Last night we all went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3. It pretty much totally sucked. I was tired to begin with, and my hopes that Johnny Depp would be enough to carry me through the movie were unfortunately falsely optimistic. I tried very hard just to go to sleep, to no avail- I just couldn’t get comfortable. Another added challenge was that the sound quality in the theater was pretty low so we couldn’t really get a grip on what was going on a lot of the time. Anyway, we lived through it and shuffled out of the theater, looking and feeling drab and unkempt from squirming so much while trying to find a comfy dozing position.
While exiting I sort of did a double-take as I noticed a local jazz musician (and Orlando-Bloom-with-a-slight-Euro-mullet look alike) that all of us girls have moderate crushes on. As I fumbled to alert Sunny without being too obvious, she was simultaneously trying to let me know that this other guy we recently met at a café was coming over. Well, it turns out they were together. Café Guy introduced us to Bass Player Guy, as we stood there thinking Hey, didn’t we just watch you on screen for 2 ½ hours? and Huh. Sure glad I’m wearing my nasty rain-soaked jeans and sloppy sweatshirt right now.
Part B:
Tonight I was emailing this woman who performed at Kristfest last weekend just to say hi and that it was nice to meet her, and that we might see her in Amsterdam if we end up making it out there in August. It was a semi-formal, testing-the-waters kind of an email, and when I pressed ‘send’, Gmail alerted me to the fact that I had forgotten to type in a subject line. I quickly tapped out ‘hello’ to serve as a rather bland but functional subject line and hit ‘send’ again.
About 3 seconds later I looked at my sent messages and noticed with some horror that my subject line had evolved in an unexpected fashion. The thing is, Gmail fills in the fields predictive-text-style with previous email addresses or subject lines you’ve used in case you want to use the same one again. It saves time and valuable effort thinking of new ones every time, I suppose. This time it backfired, though, as a previous email I sent to Taylor labeled, “Hello my little honey bunches of oats…” came back to haunt me. Yep, that’s how my email went out to Dutch rocker chick. Dang. Had to quickly follow up with an apologetic explanation. Hope she doesn’t think I’m a complete psycho.
Over and out. My work here is done.
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