The Downs

Downside #1 to living in Washington vs. Oregon.

(Poor) Katie must pump her own gas.

#2

(Poor) Katie must pay sales tax.

#3

Katie is coooold.

#4

Katie is close enough to her orthidontist that she has a healthy fear of not wearing retainers.

#5

One way streets exist. And Katie must drive on them.

It's All About Teeth

You wouldn't think anything so rock-hard could hurt so much. I mean, seriously. I don't suppose teeth look as dramatic as, say, ears, but they can crack nuts or shatter a cube of ice into a million pieces. My fingers can't even do that, and my fingers have all my arm muscles on their team. When it comes to the rough stuff, nothing really beats a good tough tooth.

Of course, I was a "metal-mouth" for about half of my school years. So in reality, I knew that teeth could hurt.

But unfortunately for me, I am a comfort queen. I will go to a bit of trouble to avoid pain. And I am a fan of letting the memory of pain fade away as quickly as possible.

And, of course, I would never do something like wear a retainer as maintenance to keep my teeth in place after the braces were off. That might hurt. It's inconvenient. It just doesn't work with the comfort queen persona.

To soften the picture, I really did intend to wear my retainers. I just didn't think they were that important. Initially, you know, my teeth seemed to be holding pretty solidly in place without much help. Anything that tough should be moderately stable.

A few months ago as I was pondering the fact that my lower teeth seemed to have shifted positions, it occured to me that maybe I should wear my retainers. And I might have been woman enough to follow through with it...except that they didn't exactly fit in my mouth any more. Twenty-four hours of trying to wear them relegated me to the depths of the soft food menu.

I returned to my comfort kindgom and looked forward to seeing my orthidontist...eventually...when I happened to be back in Washington.

Meanwhile, I secretly entertained high hopes of his diagnosis:

"Wow, Katie! You have incredible teeth. You have really good judgement too. You really didn't need those retainers. I mean, those amazing teeth haven't moved a single tenth of a millimeter since the last time I looked at them. You might want to see a counselor about your over-active imagination...."

So I saw him this morning.

And now I'm wearing my retainers and philosophizing on the subject of pain and teeth and...things like that.

Showtime!

You'll all have to forgive me...I've (temporarily) changed metaphors.

My life is a play.

My main thought at the moment is that I wish I'd had more than 9 months to rehearse before starting into stardom and that if I were going to re-do my contract I'd make someone else haul the sets around.

Yes, that's right.

With the intermission over and the curtains up, I am happy to report that everything we own is safely packed away in storage, and the family is safely hanging out at an extended stay motel while looking for a place to live. The new scenery is a lot more crowded than the last one, what with big-city buildings, brake lights, and stop lights. Add some uncertainty to the script and amid the confusion you might be as tempted to lose sight of the point of the play as I am.

Does anyone else ever find it way too easy to get caught up in the details, and hard to focus on the real purpose and direction of life?

Which Genre Are You?

Typical of my fascination with verbal communication, one of my favorite life-metaphors is that of a book. Equally typical of me, I wonder a great deal about what will be written on the next page of my life's story.

In literal life, I don't "do" suspense or mystery stories, as such. I actually enjoy these books a great deal more if I read the beginning, followed by the end, and finally the middle. Resting content while in ignorance of the future just isn't my idea of exhilarating.

Maybe that's why the Lord has chosen to consistently keep me in the dark about His ideas for my future these last few years...being much more likely to tell me what He wants me to do tomorrow than to give some awesome vision of what He has in mind for the next year. Because He knows that I needed to glimpse the depth of a joy that is found only in "resting content."

I'm not "there" yet. But I've glimpsed what quiet contentment can be. And I know I want it to be mine. Mine, always. Not just transiently.

For anyone else that happens to be taking an occasional peek at my life-book, the only thing I know about its current status is that a chapter is closing, and a new chapter in the offing.

New chapter to be titled "Seattle." Scene to be a new ministry for my family in a small church north of the city. Details unknown.

The imperfect heroine-wannabe is, as usual, excited at the hope of seeing where the road will go after it rounds the next bend. (FYI: she is allowed to mix her metaphors without notice.) Sadly predictable, she's also a little scared. As is further normal, she finds herself at one level admitting usual dislike of boxes, moving vans, and storage units--all born of too great a familiarity. And yet, at another level, she is finding stability and contentment. As usual, it's a contentment that comes only in knowing far beyond a glimmering shadow of doubt that the Author really does know what He's up to.

Really, I guess I couldn't say I'm a "thriller." Nothing so very unusual is happening after all....

I'm In A Haze

A menthol haze.

My throat hurts. My nose runs. My eyes have great, big dark circles under them.

Are you sorry for me yet?

Blog That!

Just so everyone knows, I officially joined the twenty-first century in the year 2006.

1) I kept a blog.

2) I bought a digital camera.

3) I used DSL.

4) I bought a laptop.

5) I instant messaged.

6) I packed my hoopskirts away in the attic. (Okay, now I'm kidding.)