W-H-Y

I don't know, Lord, I don't know.

Why quicken something in my heart? I have obeyed except for once. I have obeyed even when it's hard and confusing. Except of course those times I forget I need to know what you want!.... Except, except, except. But why when I have obeyed, it still has not come through? Why! What did they do that I haven't done?

Like - why was the nun raped in Orissa this week? Why was the one most precious thing to her, precious because she'd given it to you, taken away from her? Why was she allowed to eat dust before her assailants while the police watched on?! Like - why? Why her, why that, why now? I ask forgiveness for ever letting the thought cross my mind that she 'deserved it less' than anyone else. No, that is not my point... Just... Sometimes it's as if we're clinging to you hardest, and you train our fingers to cling even closer. Is it because we - you and I - get closer and US is the most important thing there is? Or is it that you know something about my reaction to the blessing I ask for that I can't imagine?

Probably both.

God, I hurt. And I love you. So much.

And yes, my prayer still is - you. You're all I want.

I'm special

Me. Just me. I'm special!!!!! G-a-h.

Even in the most innocuous of situations, I have the uncanny ability to find a way to embarrass myself... It's a gift.

So we're all sat in this family gathering as is frequent this time of year, and my chitthappa whom I haven't seen for ages is visiting from the US of A. We were all glad to see him, and I was glad I'd made it to see him too. At least one part of this family winter migration I have managed not to miss. Ever since he went there, there's been a slight improvement in English I must say, because he probably has had to use it more intelligibly to people who are not used to our endearing errr nuances... We are Tamil. We seem to have a tendency to mix our ahs and aws. Well, a good number of us do at least. We also drop our aitches in the best British traditions since the East India Company saw the light of day. My uncle was vehemently denouncing this virus that had got into his software. All because someone stupidly gave the computer to some unlicensed bloke. So in answer to queries, and in emphasis, he repeated the name of this virus. And I was intrigued... I mean, I'd never heard a virus called that, it sounded quite racially derogatory. And my uncle seemed to emphasise the second word too! It was called - The White Horse virus.

And I said aloud what I'd heard to check. "White er arse virus???"

My mum and cousin laughed mercilessly. The rest of the family just ignoooooooooored me with what was left of all our collective dignity.



Well, I'll try not to be an ass next time, but thanks for listening.

Hotchpotch

Well, I still have too much to blog about to really blog about what I want to blog about - does that make sense? Do I ever?

It is Sunday morning and I am feeling blessed and slightly over-rested! Will go to RoL but also visit SE, although I might be a bit late. RoL is home but the students are at different churches and I'm still waiting on God for that one.

If you read my spiel about 'Facades, Inadequacy...' you'd be expecting a certain tone to my blog today. If you haven't, don't even think about it! I am very happy to be here, and I said that. But I may have sounded like I didn't mean it. I did though. I am where God wants me to be - and that's just perfect. It was just that I had noticed a few attitudes that I was ranting off about. EW wrote to me and said he thought maybe attitudes at OU had changed since his day. But that wasn't very long ago considering he also stayed and taught here for aeons! But I have met some of the loveliest people, and not just at Bible House... It's just that, having lost my luggage and staying at Marston way off from the city centre and Uni and all that, I guess it took a bit longer for me to meet... errrr... 'the race that knows Joseph' ;D. And while you do meet posh f-s, b-b's, some of them are great to talk to! And you meet all sorts anyway, like in any other place.

Let me illustrate:

So I ask directions from someone somewhere around Marston, as I am, not unusually, rather lost! And they are a bit UNwarm and unsmiling about this street I'm asking after. As if to say, 'I have no idea where students exist and have no desire to... the vermin!'... Lol. Then, I mention College upon which said someone snaps to attention... I get directions pronto! It suddenly dawns on me that they have assumed I'm at OB.

A few days later, I laughingly relate this to someone else who goes to the same college as I do. And their reaction? 'Well, I think it was really rude of them to assume you were from B right away, don't you??!' And I'm going... errr. Well, I think it was rude of them not to be nice in the first place - even if I didn't go to Uni at all. To be fair when I mentioned this take on the thing to her - she was impressed and said 'Well, now that we know where it is, we can make that difference.' Gah, however, gah!

I have all the proper respect for OU, and for higher education and everything else. I mean I was involved with all the events they had promoting it for local schools et al constantly like I had no research to do in the previous place! And I love the beauty of O and the grandeur of OU and its history. But people are people, and they deserve respect... at least at first, hehe. Innocent until proven guilty and bleh! No seriously though...

The CU has been great. More active than a few others I've known. And the president of it blogs (about it) here. Made quite a few friends. They have some fantastic clubs and societies at the University. Joined in quite a few. Volunteer work most of it - and I am pretty sure I cannot do all of it. But some of it is brilliant - and it's working with kids and I miss the old ones so much, I'm glad to find more near where I am. A lot of music going around too - and although I will probably mortally embarrass myself if I attempt to read music, I've signed up. Should have kept up with it. And whaddya know! Signed up for rowing - can you believe it? Well, actually I am generally consistently crazy. But lookign forward to it.

I also have this very annoying inability to say NO. Simple monosyllabic skill that eludes me. Which is why Freshers' Fair found me in the middle of a face-off between pro-animal-testing and anti-it. And found me smiling and nodding and taking leaflets from both!! Ah sometimes it is convenient to pretend you don't speak English very well!!

Facades, Inadequacy and a kitchen table conversation

I'm in this place with people I completely sympathise with and am ready to love entirely. So are they. And I am part of another place where people try to be friendly. Some of them succeed, some don't. Homesickness is a funny thing. I am, after today, more homesick for Bangor than India at the moment, I do believe! But then I miss India. I am honoured to be a part of OU, but wondering if it just could be that all the offhandedness is only imagined. It is not snobbish - but it is not protective or helpfully forthcoming either. It is very hard to be away from home and on your own, and not have people coming forward to help or look after you. I am finally required to grow up. Just when I was afraid of growing old. But people are people. Everywhere.

And I do feel inadequate as I have absolutely no idea how to begin and no idea if I can ask how either. It doesn't feel like I can - or sound like it. It is a beautiful city as I remember it. My friends here are lovely - they are so warm and welcoming. Will I find friends who like me for me - or will I have to morph into this posh fashion-swinging brain-box.... I could try - I wouldn't succeed or at least not very well. Let's face it - I am inadequate. God isn't. And let's face it - I knew I was taking all this on before I came here. I miss the fatherly EW, the motherly PM, the hundred little family things of BCC, the completely open friendship and little-brother person's role GJ played and just the number of people I could call on if I didn't want to wallow in some emotional warp. Yes, I can call on people here but they wouldn't know what I need because they don't know me. These people at home here though know I need God's love and we give and take of it - and for that I am infinitely grateful.

I am here and I have no idea how to begin. But I will do it.

Added to what needs no addition is my mother wondering if I will find Prince Charming. I can't afford a Prince Charming and spending quality time with royalty at the moment ;D but even if he were to show up, I don't want one if God doesn't want that as His first option. And I am worried about how much our desires may be able to skew our vision for where we're going... Besides it's hard enough getting over imagined Princes Charming, he he... But seriously - hard enough getting over hurting Princes not-quite-charming or charming-but, and then ripping oneself apart now and then to see if you really really do have a 'but' in the picture and then ripping oneself apart because you had to rehash it for the nth time and not realise how happy you are and that there is no need to have felt guilty in the first place. I think conscientiousness can be a hard driver sometimes... And there's a difference between your conscience and conscientiousness if the Lord's in it.

Thank you because it is lovely to have this conversation with all of us - mum, Sunflower Girl, Grafx, Ta'fxkz (heh they rhyme!), Dinesh, Greeta, Switchblade... hmmmm dunno if anyone else would on the offchance read my blog but that seems to cover it - and you listening to it, Lord. Thanks for chipping in too.

26th September 2007

Couldn't publish this on the day I wrote it:

Might never get a chance to blog from anywhere other than India and the UK - well maybe not from Kuwait anyway :D. Uh huh that's where I am at the moment sitting with all these businessmen florid from the sun and mostly shaven-headed, for pretty much the same reasons I guess, and these sheiks florid from just natural colour and health, tapping away at their laptops probably checking the news from the stock market or something! I'm just glad I can talk to my folks for free ;) - he he, and I don't have any of the local currency and I jolly well am not changing as much as they say I've got to to make one phone call or two.

Kuwait looks pretty neat from an aerial view - a bit more man-made than most countries from air but in very good taste I must say. Neat little inlays and driveways, yes driveways, into the sea and back. First time I'm landing over a desert area. Arid, yes, and much less populated than I expected but very beautiful. The gulf is gorgeous-looking.

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It's a bit strange, my homesickness this time. I had the usual pre-homesick feelings and everything. But I didn't cry as much except when I thought about it. Maybe I had much more time to think before. This has happened very fast and not quite expected a few months ago. Okay, I had a couple months' notice but I'm sorta slow. Stupid Tassi didn't come to say bye - she can't be woken up for any money... Of course she came and chattered afterwards - but heck what's the point? LOL - 2:30 am found me weepily walking into Shadow's and saying 'Bye, sweetheart, I do love you, you know'... to a - ermmm - shadow. Not mine though - not by the light or by the species. She was under the stairs where I found her later - only this time I was giggling like an idiot.

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Prince-ah's thingummyjig no 2 has dropped!! After like a year and a half - about a year later than it should have. But hey, who's complaining... And Becki and amma did call Abraham and Sarah in as witness ;D.

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Missing amma and appa somewhat terribly now - moved from '-ish' to 'definitely', paragraph by paragraph! Looking forward to going to OU though although I'm pretty nervous so that I don't know where to start with being concerned about things. I'm also pretty sure there's no need to be despite what things look like. CD said something like there will be storms, when Jesus is in the boat. But yeah, that's the good thing about those storms, hey?

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I am, I have concluded, simply NOT cut out of business class flight material. The man came over with a tray full of croissants and Danish pastries and I was quite sure I wanted the half-sweet, pineapple one on the top. So I smiled a business-class hopefully-blase smile and went and picked the croissant with my hand instead of waiting for the guy to use the tongs he'd so skillfully covered in a towel over his arm! What'm I supposed to do? I was deprived of proper butlers during my formative years!

And then I woke up with a hurting nose probably dry from the inflight temperature, and also went and sniffled my nose in the wet towel in desperation as I couldn't find my tissue and couldn't leave my seat!

It would have to be the law that the guy in the aisle row was as suave and chilled out as he possibly could be. And here I was thinking I would be the ice princess to any commoner who smiled at me...

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Please pray that I will be able to stand in His perfect will and have my head about me with the research and everything else.

Room 101

Okay this is going to be one of those '101' things I just can't GET and which drive me insane!


1. When you meet an Indian acquaintance, and you do the mandatory hug and they say "Oh it's been aaages" and you go "Yeah, I know it has, hasn't it? How are you??? Soooo glad to see you" and generally gush because Q.E.D. they have just brought it to your notice that it has been ages - why oh whyyyyyy do they then turn around and say "Why have you come back?" as if they were enquiring about a terminal illness of a mutual acquaintance!! I mean - how rude is that?! And why should I not be in India if I want to? And why do they then follow it up with "When are you going back?" Can they be any ruder? And they're mostly the aunty-uncle grade, with all the best intentions for a 'successful future'. It's just us who think it's a downgrade to be back in our country! Gah! I have extreme reactions to some of the sub-species. I feel like reaching out and yelling and clawing my hair apart and giving them a tight one, and just laughing with the absurdity. Thank goodness I'm not the impulsive kind. My mum and dad would have had to move a long time ago...

2. Nighties and sneakers. This one always makes me laugh. I mean okay you need a daily walk, or run or whatever it is that fights that fat, sister. But give over the fashion statement. Saris and sneakers are alliterative but secondary offenses.

3. Bad grammar, bad spelling... It just means you haven't read over what you've written or thought about it. I mean you can do without grammar if it makes sense. Phrases instead of sentences. Stream-of-consciousness writing. Okay, I can handle it. But don't ask me to "Let she open the window". Just don't. Okay. And if you do know the rights and the wrongs of it, please see the humour of the mistake with me. Thanks.

4. Getting told to do the same thing twice or three times over. Enough said on this one!

5. Why do people in Inner Circle (that's a socio-linguistic term) countries like the USA and UK etc assume that if you speak English and did not grow up on their native hemisphere, you must be some sort of prodigy???! Did they think the colonisation was just a dream (bad or otherwise) that lasted a couple of days? Or do they not see that people are more cross-cultural now? I mean get out of it.

6. Talking to me when I'm reading or just generally monosyllabic. I am probably in a moodswing or in deep introspection. If I were you, I'd leave the grouch to herself... she deserves it.

7. People who agree with me and start the sentence with 'No'. 'I think the hype's a bit much.' - 'Noo noo, they are over-reacting'. Er, YES, some people do that. Arrrgghhh. If you agree with me, just come out and say it! I do ;D.

8. When different is assumed bad - keep guidelines if you choose to see the world in a dichotomy. Or even if you choose to see part of it as one. It is I think. I do. Mine's the Bible. But not everything different is bad - not everyone who eats with their hands is unhygienic, and not everyone who goes out to a club for recreation is amoral. I'm sorry - different cultures, different rules. Live with it.

9. Indian public toilets. There's more usage outside those Corporation walls than inside. Again - when you're entirely modest and conservative with everything else, whyyyyyy this???!!

10. People who ask me how I manage my food. In a commiserating tone. Round eyes, shaking heads, and "Must have been very difficult. But you get 'our' ingredients easily, lai??" To which I always replied, "Er not really. It was rather on the expensive side." Then they'd say "Appo then how did you manage??" Errrm, I ate what was readily available? And liked it and survived? And if I thought about idly once in a long while, I didn't starve for it. Again I can't get the "Can you cook?" question. No, I can't or rather don't a lot. But I survive. And yes, I can put something together if I wanted to. Comprende?

11. This must be a tangent to 10. I CANNOT understand mothers who want cooking machines for their sons. Can she cook? Veetu velaiyella seivalaa??? Flippin' rubbish. Annoys me the sort of stuff people look for in finding brides and grooms. Nothing against arranged marriages. And I've known Casanova-wannabes also start off the stalking with the brilliant pick-up line 'So you can cook, huh? I'm sure you'll do better than me.' I don't know - many women would take pride in their culinary skills but so would men - and don't flippin' assume I can cook and better than you. It's the pressure, eedjit!

12. Dog-haters.

13. What makes me really grumpy, although if I'm with someone I just have to laugh! - the fact that India is slowly converting to the Western style of toilets... Errrr I have no problem with either EXCEPT that ummm India tends to wash and Europe and America tend to dry-clean!!! And the toilet goes with the territory. I hate hate hate yucky, wet WCs as we call them here - and I just don't understand why they won't have both like the good old days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Finally I am a nice person. Really. Just now and then on the occasional night, when the time's right I become a monster of insane intolerance... in the cyber world. Fiiinneee, don't believe me!

Who let the dogs in? - Misty

Long ago - well, not so long if I didn't feel so old - we had a dog called Misty. She was hilarious. She also took it into her gorgeous Alsatian head that I was the younger member of the pack and that I could therefore be bullied.

Misty had a name for me - when she wanted me, it wasn't 'bow-wow'. It was, for some odd reason, 'Ya-woo'. Misty also pulled the warning stick out of my hand any time she wanted to. Misty jumped on me, pulled me and wouldn't let me go downstairs from the terrace when I wanted to. I mean, who was I kidding? Let it be known - she called the shots. I just called mummy. Misty never apologised - she just grinned. Elsa, my special sweetheart, scratched me in an enthusiastic frenzy just once in her life and then nuzzled me for a long time afterward in my lap with mournful eyes. Misty was always daddy's dog. But hey, we were siblings after a manner, and she was born with the right to bully me. No, she came after me but dogs come with this whole octal thing, huh.

Misty was also my protector from crows. We took an intense dislike to their violent and hostile antics from the days of our romps on the terrace. Shadow took the baton after her. Shadow, my Shadow, defender of the corvidophobic (yeah, I just looked it up), and all-round good dog. I will write about her. She deserves it.

But so does Misty - I cuddled Misty and once in a while she agreed to cuddle me. When she was much older, and just a teeny bit wiser, the girl would smile a more gentle smile instead of that war-cry-like grin she greeted me with. It was like we were playing Red Indians all the time (not that I've ever played it, and not that I don't know they're about the most peaceful people you could look up - so much for hashed metaphors).

Recently this memory came up again - when I was rehashing an old sin, fearing an old fascination, brooding over words whether two days ago or two decades/ and enjoying the feel of victimisation. Misty had another very curious habit.

We often tied her up with a leash instead of putting her in a kennel because it gave her much more room to move about. Rest assured we only ever did this when people visited. Er, Misty didn't mind tasting their ankles with of course the friendliest motives. What's a little nip between friends - she'd say. Her fashion sense was impeccable. Any uncool sunglasses, people walking about in night-clothes as if it were the fashion on the day, big straw hats in your yard - Misty was on it like a bullet. I mean, we've got to maintain some standards, puhleeeze.

So the friend who brandished his sunglasses in his hand got nabbed. As did any of us venturing out in those very fashionable hussif-y nighties, or me with a hat on ala my mum. Also as a pup, if anyone was leaving casually, they had it. Who did they think they were leaving without so much as a mention to the members of the family? - in Misty's opinion.

Well, yes I am coming to the curious habit... So with this propensity of Misty's to be law-maker, police, friend and terrorist in one, we would have to tie her up. There were times when, as a creature of habit, she would insist on it. Mealtimes. When Elsa was in. After a bath, maybe.

Misty was weirdly wary of her freedom though! When we let her out or untied her, she would just stay put. Much as if she had never been freed. I mean, we could stand outside with treats and cajoling but she would look at us quizzically from that entrance to her kennel with an eminently kissable face. We could have called all day but Misty would not have left for most of the morning, I suspect. No, she was used to being inside. Also she was suspicious in this one thing only. She never really believed the chain was off. Misty's special kink, this was!! Dumb dog! Bleh.

We had to put the end of that leash over the top of her door just where she could sniff it. Then she would sniff it and satisfy herself that it was gone. She never accepted it when the chain was just off her. I understand though - I mean she must have acclimatised herself in the space of those minutes to thinking she was a tied dog. Like me with my fears and guilt-trips! And you couldn't know for sure, you couldn't just believe that it was off without definite proof. So she would wait patiently - she must have concluded we were so stupid - and she would stay inside that kennel until that chain was under her nose, reminding her that it was the same one she'd been tied with.

All she needed to do really was step out of the kennel, just a little further than the leash would let her. But she had to see to believe. Dumb dog!

But it was finished.

Slurps, sighs and spaces inbetween

Sluuurrrrp. Fish fry and chicken curry, appam and fish molie, praline souffle and chocolate mousse, bacon and chicken foccaccio with chicken cheese paratha, chocolate icecream, amma's curry and mangooooooes, kalappam and honey dosais, sapotas, pasta and a whole load of Mars bars. I repeat - mangoes.

I repeat, with just so many rs and us - sluuurrrrp.

Siiigghhh. Starting with the perfect bamboo bag of old blogdom, I have had a satisfying look at all the little arty knick-knacks you could imagine, and then intense shopping like saris and salwars and kurtas and tops and jeans... I have had a rummage through the library - notwithstanding the fact that the idiot told me there was some problem with my membership and I couldn't take out any because I couldn't produce the little tiny square piece of paper he gave me at least 7 years ago! I have had an elephant ride with my nicely nervous father - Malathy decided to poo as soon as we plomped our behinds on her! I have shopped for smellies - which are a lovely girly-girl thing to shop for and spices.

I repeat, with just so many is and gs and hs - siiigghhh.

And I have no slurps or sighs, just speechlessness for the awe that comes upon you when you realise that God's actually so much more beautiful than the wonder He's created. Bird-watching (one of them composed a new tune every day, he was the Malabar whistling thrush), elephant-riding, spice-trailing, exploring, mountain-walking, deer-spotting, photography and family.

And here's a random, bizarre conversation...

Appa: Hello? Yes, this is room 503.
Voice on other end: 503?
Appa: 503. What? 503. Er, 503 - 50... N, what's the room number again??
Voice: Right, 503.
Appa: Yes well, we have a problem - we have no hot water and we need to be at the airport in a couple of hours! (Btw, it was freezing.)
Voice: Oh, hoat 'oater? Should be there sir...
Appa: No, it's not. Is there a certain time when it'll start?
Voice: No time. All the time.
Appa: But I've asked and we still have no water - see, if there's a problem with the water -
Voice: No proablem, sir.
Appa: No, if there is - what I'm saying is... you just send up two buckets of hot water, no??!
Voice on other end: To drink, sir?

My bizarre goings-on

The most normal activity for the average girl and law-abiding citizen in your average family friendly neighbourhood in the late hours of the night - climbing down a ladder and a drainpipe onto a window to redeem a razor because it is the last remaining one before we can get to a shop tomorrow!! Yes, that would be normal, thank you...

LOL.

We have had an interesting weekend as A & M have arrived and I'm doing the touristy thing with them. We have a week of travelling ahead of us as well and are so looking forward to it. It's brilliant to be able to remember what a lovely place you live in too.

So we took a drive down to Mahabalipuram and went round all the monuments and carvings... we gave the shore temple a miss. My dad walked into the Five Rathas and was promptly stopped. Rudely. Then my mum and I. Now my dad was dressed in jeans, my mum in a salwar and me in jeans without anything er Indianly amiss... i.e. no tank tops, no halters, no tights, nothing remotely ramp-esque, no rolled up sleeves or trouser legs.... I mean I looked Indian... And I know it. Lol, the ultimate proof if you needed it, for instance - I am not of course suggesting for an instant that you don't believe me. Believe me!! I am so right ;D - I did not even have straightened hair! Ahhh, now I see your eyes rolling. Vanity, vanity - yeah, Solomon, you're the man ;).

Lol, anyway seriously - the man did not think we were Indian. Because we came with two people who were not Indian, so no 2 + 2 does not make four, really... No no no. So we had these tickets that he was not going to accept because he wanted us to prove that we were Indian and this is a half-hour down the road from our house! And my mum kindly informed me that I simply did not understand that in India they don't take to youngsters disagreeing. I don't understand that - I understand some people do wherever they are in the world... But er I still disagree :( I mean a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, eh?

Well, after that we found a cute little monkey whom my dad took on his lap... The story of the monkey is however that he was rather attracted to me :(. Yes, the life and loves of Pilgrim. Born Anno Domini___ , lived___, deeply mourned by Mr Monkey........

Oh and I got this perfect little bamboo bag that M bought for me for a present. It is gorgeous and a good size to carry when I'm going out for the day! It is just right, not too posh, not too tacky... and veeery in, ooohh yeah ;D

There were loads of things I wanted to put down on this blog but have no time. In fact, I'm so preoccupied it's taking longer! Bleh! So final news story for the day - one of these networking sites had my attention one jobless evening. So I messed about with the relationship status thingy looking for options - as in 'single but committed' or 'single and in a relationship with God' or 'in healthy relationships with friends and family' but er Booong Gutter Ball... So I went back to my old one, but the stupid interface put it on the news which means my church back in B has been in a state of furore (well, by church I mean girls' cell because it's the kind of thing you yak about between Bible studies and wellllllll after :D)... Did NOT know they were until a couple of days ago when RM finally broke it to me, asking me to 'put them out of their misery' and a day later M arrives to have a word with me about what did I think I was doing :D... Siiiiigggghhhh - and Darcy is either in P&P or in the process.

And by the way, just so you know God has been working out things in my life:D Wehey!!

Bubble and squeak

Here I sit in my little Christian bubble, using 'faith-speak' and hoping to speak to the uninitiated. I don't want to 'convert' people, I am not trying. Yet I am inadequate in expressing the vastness of a love that is beyond telling. A love that flows into you and makes you love other people. A love that is so strong that it changes the definition of 'unrequited', and always nullifies it.

When I blog of these feelings, are they too intensely private to share with everyone? I am not talking of this post at all. If they are, am I being exclusivist? I don't mind making this URL my little confession box of sins and non-sins. But I do mind making my visiting preachers feel left out in the cold.

Here I sit in my little Christian bubble, with the colours that make me happy, rolling around inured to the air around me. Maybe there is bubble-time and broken-time. I suspect God prefers broken. I break it, and I am me. As much me as I was inside the bubble. But bubble-squeak and bubble-gloss are gone. And the people happen.

Randomness

Hmmm, why on earth would you listen to 'Ahuh, uh huh (good girl gone bad)' to make you feel better?? I mean why?

AB's having a bad case of nearly love again. AB's a darling.

Beautiful weather. There is absolutely nothing unlovely about rain. Or clouds.

I just might change to a new blogspot for complete anonymity. Just might be fun, seeing how people find me then or joining blogrolls and the like. Besides anonymity is necessary for a confession box - which is why I've never understood the parish priest's role... I mean look what happened in Zorro ;)

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Barking at a memory

Tassi, our 'middle' dog, is a feisty little dachshund. She is like one of those people who never run out of interesting things to say - interesting, at least to themselves (I wonder where she gets it from, not me for sure ;D)... So she's always talking, not just barking, but in a continued non-bark syntactic sounding sort of way. And she will never stop barking at people or animals outside our gates. Usually she calms down a while after they're inside the house - except for some people.

But I will write about Tassi in length, another day. There's a little story I want to tell. There is a family with three little boys near here. Whenever they visited, Tassi's whole day was ruined. Her world would crumble into dry, sour lemon flakes before her very beautiful eyes. She could get used to most people, but not the three boys. It must have been a season of peace for her when the sight of those three boys became a rarity. We loved them - they stayed here for hours, eating, hearing my mother's and my stories, playing with Shadow, chilling with my father, even sleeping on the odd occasion... perhaps to Tassi they were competition. Their presence was a bitter pill. To her, they had no right of entry. She felt victimised. I think we were good with her on that score - we made sure we petted her and played with her. I usually talked gibberish to her afterward so she'd understand my tone. I was basically asking her why she had to feel let down. It is inexplicable and extremely funny too - no one else had such an effect on her, and the three boys did not have that effect on any of the other dogs. They were just children, when she was a pup herself. They were therefore the enemy, a threat to her favoured position. She resented it, she was hurt, she was angry and she was not going to forget!

A few days ago, the oldest boy came over. I guess Tassi never did get over them. She had a lot to say. She stood at the gate and tortured herself by watching her hated enemy constantly; she denounced him, abused him, rebuked him. Maybe he wasn't the enemy at all. Funny. Because when S left, Tassi was allowed inside the house, to make up for her bad morning. She came in, the wrinkles on her worried little forehead and snout clearing cautiously. And then her eye fell on the armchair and she rushed to it in fury, her hair bristling along her spine! It was laughable - she was so cute and funny, but so nonsensical! It was the chair S had been sitting in. And she barked at that chair for all she was worth. Make amends she said - I was angry, redeem that time!! Perceptive little girl, she knew she would get a cuddle if we saw her hurt. Funny little sweetheart, barking at the old chair! LOL

I am like Tassi sometimes, barking at memories, old hurts, pain I carefully preserve to give myself a feeling of righteous victimisation. But I know my Redeemer lives.

Famous Last Words

Why am I writing at ten past one am? Because I am mad. Insanity I suppose has run in the family - I'm sure I've heard covert, oblique references to a single aunt somewhere who was slightly off it. Pity she didn't know me - and pity she probably wasn't rich... I'm mad but not stupid ;) Maybe even two mad aunts. And they weren't even in the attic - Gilbert and Dubar, eat your heart out. He he he *eeeviiil laugh* No, not evil-evil... jus' Cruella without the surname. Heh... Told you - goin' round the twist.

Besides I want to appeal to you, my peeps. WHY is pudding pudding? I mean - why isn't it p-uh-dding?? This is my Facebook (guilty as charged!) status and it is now here. I mean, cuddle is cuddle, budding budding, muddle muddle and thudding thudding... But pudding?! No, it must go and be contrary.

By the way, anyone take a guess on the meaning of 'defenestrate'...?? You 'defenestrate' someone? Don't cheat with Wikipedia though. Or cheat but spell out the process for me. But you - I know what you're thinking! Let me put it in context for you - you defenestrate someone... Woah, hold it right there - wash that thought with soap water - you should be ashamed of yourself... gasp He he.

Bah, I shall probably be mortally embarrassed by my entire ignorance of style and cohesion and by my madness and confessional-but-pointless prose here. But I speak with the heavy eyes of one who faces sure but temporary nocturnal extinction. In English then, I'm going to be out like a light. *Giggle*

Pease (parsnips and potato)

pilgrim

Ancient paths

I just read a post by 'Lord Veritas' called Heaven Without Christ and it hit home. Reminded me of something I have always held a dear cause... Why preach if you don't preach Christ? Surely philosophy and theory and opinion have their place - but I'm guessing people already know or have their own opinions about it. I am probably going to go off on a completely wide tangent here - but hey, hence this blog's convenient title ;) This is perhaps not a take on Lord Veritas' but just the expression of something it triggered in me - which is what good writing does.

I have a friend (whom I always seemed to be arguing with, until God decided I needed to hold my ahem peace!) - and he believes that God has called him to provide for the intellectuals. And that they can only be reached through expositions of philosophy. My issue with this friend is not that he is right in not including me in the band of intellectuals ;) but that he often makes assumptions of situations, that I (perhaps arrogantly) claim to know better of simply because I am in them. Sometimes even assumptions about being female, or being in my family - in good spirit, he explains what he believes is Truth. LOL Yes, he capitalises the T ;). But that is my point - I would only capitalise it if in reference to Jesus. Some things are absolutes - I live in a country that reminds me of that everyday. The Bible is. But there are interpretations and opinions that are militant against another's - they are not salvation-stealing or power-pilfering, but they are discounted nonetheless. I suppose I have been guilty of having rejected another's view summarily, without listening for God's take first... But in our urgency to give our truth to the people we meet, we forget to give God's truth; forget that at the foot of the cross the same God changes and speaks; forget that the Spirit's discernment is far more understanding than our own. And we are also guilty of universalising personal revelations - no, we do not just share them. We 'absolutise' them. To me, the Bible remains the bottom-line on drawing lines... as does the God of the Bible. No, I am not speaking for those arguments that allow and liberalise everything the Bible says - face-value is not dispensable in our search for depth, is it?

I am, in fact, arguing for the ancient path. I am no post-modern, although there are remnants of truth in nearly every philosophy. I don't entirely hold with co-authorship... I long and hope that the Author will speak sooner than the readers of the Text. But that capitalised Truth? Lol, I believe we will find it here. Here in India, I belong to a church that because of its structure has someone at the top giving it its sermons. And because of its structure, there are several visiting pastors and theologians who preach. Theologians who preach philosophy... forgive me for the pun on those two words, but the wisdom of man is foolishness to God, and vice versa...

Many times you will find me ranting on the opposite side of the track (I have said I was a BoC) - that face-value foolishly forsakes the Spirit for the letter, but not when the Person is lost for the principles. The reason Christianity is different is because it is personal. In my responses to my Muslim students who chose to take the offensive on quite a few occasions, the one point at which they balked is when I told them fuss-free that I knew this fantastic, wonderful, entirely lovable and so-let-down-able Jesus - and that He loved me even more. And the gospel of Christ and the cross, God's love and sacrifice cannot be compromised. God's love not ours... I think that our relationship with Jesus is the centrifugal force that gives our Christianity its validity. Call me old-fashioned. I probably am. But the Bible is never out of fashion. And the Bible has copyright on love, not you or me. When I think of 'old-fashioned-ness', it's not about ideals and values - fashions are much more about the self.

Yet in my worship and in my meditation - if life and truth are not real, then I have lost my way.

Funny English

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I talk too much - faaaaaarrrr too much. Tis a far, far better thing to shut up than I have ever done before... but unlike Carton I don't think I'm going to follow through. You might also guess that I am in another of those silly moods, somewhat like my ramble about a month ago ... maybe I'm just well-timed. Or you might notice because of the wealth of wisdom I display (now if I could just say 'my minions' it would complete the desired effect for that sentence - but I can't cos you're not and you'll be mad and I love you anyway :( )... *Giggle* Ah well...

I want to rant about another of my favourite subjects - the general widespread culture of abuse of that innocent (well, not really) victim - the English Language!!

I mean what can you do with someone who misspells 'maelstrom' so grotesquely (yep, it has been my IM status for the past coupla days!) as to call it 'male-storm'?? And no pun intended... Well, LOL, serves me right for reading a tepid, trashy, mushy first-thing-I-found-online-because-library-was-inaccessible book! And the idiot's mind was on a man - so malestorm might have been right. But then they just misspelled it right through with a grace and aplomb you would have to see to believe :O And then things like 'I had to give him a peace of mind for my piece of mind' - first, I didn't know minds were dissectable, and second it sounds slightly cannibalistic! *Siighhh*

I know, I know what you're going to say - the drama-queenness is overdone, pilgrim. LOL. Fffine :P But these errors really make me laugh and wind me up at the same time. Siiiiggghhh, it's probably why I love teaching English (more so when I'm not doing it;O).

Here's another one which only made me laugh. It was a friend and she's quite nice and hey, she's not undertaking to write a full-length novel and misspell in its first language, is she? Okay here goes - My dad had a provisional store. No, the store wasn't optional just in case other stores didn't work out. LOL.

I've already given you one by the famous college principal in my Those Random Things post. But here's another one - "I have two daughters, both girls".
I, most emphatically, did not make that up. *Giggle*

Another thing - why do so many people (these are mostly native speakers!) use 'I should of' instead of 'I should have'?? Bothers me no end ;) So yeah, the unstressed form of both words is [əv]... so? It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever - LOL LOL the funniest bit is when they actually stress the unstressed words in speech and it comes out 'I should OF'...

Okay rant over. RIP :P

Driving Lessons

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None of these are in sequential order and none of them make me sound very nice I'm afraid, or us. LOL. But we can be, sometimes ;)



Appa: TURN RIGHT. Turn right, I say! Why don't you listen??
Me: *Why does he start out sounding annoyed?* I am turning right.
Appa: No, you're not. Ethirthu pesathae (equivalent-but-not-quite: don't talk back. literal translation: do not speak against me/ in rebellion)
Me: I'm not!! *In fact, I'm too sleepy to bother to rebel!*
Appa: See? Ethirthu pesathae!




Appa: You're not taking the turn properly. I told you you had to move left and then turn right.
Me: Well, I did.
Appa: No, you did not.
Me: Grunt. (equivalent and literal translation: here we go again!)
Appa: You have to move left *I must really make her understand, and after all she has to see that I do have a point!!! I am teaching, after all.*
Me: Grunt. (equivalent and literal translation: yeah whatever...)

Some moments later...
Me: I did move left but you said to-
Appa: This is the problem. Ethirthu pesathae!!!
Me: Ethirthu pesalae!
Appa: Ethirthu pesathae!
Me: Pe-sal-lae... (no exclamation mark you will please note, to ensure correct tone quality reception) *He said to move to the opposite side indeed. But yesterday when I did he laughed! And reminded me that in India people drive on the left! And when I said he had asked me to move, he said yes but when turning, I didn't need to use the centre of the road like other practice times, but use the opposite side of the left track. I am confused BUT ETH-IR-THU PESA-LAEEEEE!! I am also sleepy. Therefore I will focus and shut up.*

Several minutes later...
Me: *Gasp! I shut up!! I'm such a good girl, Lord! Errrrrrrrm, now I really should shut up.*




Appa: Good turning.
Me: Grunt. (equivalent: thanks. literal translation: oh thanks, that was good to know, but after being not-bad-but-not-nice-either how can I now be effusive about it? I'm too sleepy to think that out but I hope the tenor of my grunt showed I feel appreciative and affectionate.)

Another ramble

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I was reading another blog recently and he (the blogger) complained that he had begun to blog just for the people who read his blog, instead of for himself as he had started. It's funny, I suppose, you keep wanting people to read it and then your line is crossed and you're going to have to start all over again. At least that looks like it's a long time coming by this way...

For the record, I have declared myself a pig! For the last ten days, I have been such a TV-watching, couch-dozing, juice-swigging, on-the-way-to-fat pig! Okay, okay I'll hold out on the verbal abuse, but it is true. Mum cooks all this fantastically mum-elicious food (and she can cook!) and when it's on the table I just sit there and keep finishing it ably aided by my sympathetic father. I've gone so used to the idea of finishing the serving on the table at home, because that's how I would cook, or RM or any of my single housemates would!

It is not helping. About three days ago, I weighed myself and I was a kilo more than I was before I landed here. Which makes it one kilo in seven days! Which makes it 'orrible!!!! If I keep this up, I shall be waddling up the drive in the uncanny semblance of a giant milk chocolate Swiss roll! No wonder, one of the dogs is a fat, but cute, sausage. Waaaahhhhh - so I dutifully promise myself I shall not eat as much. But I do, simply because I can't be bothered to be a perfect weight. It never mattered to me, but the trouble is I am also nearly entirely sedentary what with the job search and my happily retired dad who is always wanting to do something and therefore drives out everywhere and drives me everywhere I want to go too. It is fantastic. I LOVE being chauffeured by appa - ahhhh, luxury! And I do not always 'enjoy' bus rides. But this inactivity is sometimes stifling, LOL. I felt as if I had achieved greatness by moving my ahem and getting a bus and sitting in a hot, dusty, crowded van. I also now appreciate the space that some places have! In the bus, I had forgotten, everyone's hair is for sharing, as are everyone's peeves and foul language... Thankfully I was not standing and have not been reminded what else can be to share, however much one might protest. But I do not think I can actually go back to some of it now, it makes me wince and want to cry. But other bus phenomena I recognise with familiarity and not quite as much pain. LOL - it was great getting on a 29M again, and that feeling of thrill - with lines such as Ha!, Thank You, Lord and See what comes to those who wait, some of better tone than others, running through your brain, when you have missed your 29C and are rewarded with a 29M - had the smiling, silent recognition of a very old acquaintanceship without a disturbed history.

Ah well, that old feeling ;)

But this evening we watched a couple of Gaither DVDs. That is one bunch of blessed and talented people. And the feeling of family is so strong, it reminds me of BCC sometimes. It must be such a privilege to sing together and grow singing together. I wish one could ;O I hope at some point we will have people to sing with, and that we might stay together. Actually, you know what, we do :D and God asks us to make a joyful noise after all, doesn't He? But some of those songs are very insightful, as songs have a trick of being. And he sang "Thanks to Calvary, we don't live here any more". Sometimes it is so easy to let a reaction to what used to be creep up on you. Most times the reaction is fear - and fear can be so pervasive in satan's use of it, that you hardly notice it come. But it does, and you react as if redemption never happened and there had been no forgiveness, for you or for another person. But I pray that God will help me remember (for I know it already) that the old is really out.

We don't live there any more. I don't live there any more.

Ezekiel 47:9

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I know, I know...

I said I would tell you all about my flight and my little airport miracle (well, my big and God's little, rather...) Or did I not mention the miracle factor? Tsk tsk, should you not always allow for it anyway? So (pilgrim said conveniently, letting herself off the hook), it is not as if I let some fat, skulking cat out of a dark, tied-up bag - the miracle factor with my God must always be reckoned with ;)

But I'm not here to blog about that really. I think I have said it to so many people and many of them had been praying it in, that I am now considering resorting to the lowest, scummiest act of all un-bloggerly acts... (drum roll as suspense builds, a crash of drums, a flash of light...) COPY and PASTE... and the fact that I am telling you of it bears witness to the kind of blogger I am. I am a blab, a blab-blogger, a blablogger... Sigh. Groan. Sigh. Giggle. Before I start shooting off with even more absurdities, perhaps I should inform you that I am writing at an unearthly hour of the morning, with the prospect of an early wake-up call to church, and the final shred of the remnants of the jet-lag excuse already dragged away from my unwilling fingers. I see it's retreating back with sorrow - now my only reason is that I have the hours of an owl (I do try to be wise, I promise).

I shall now shut up with the ridiculousness and progress to matters of more serious import - mainly, isn't God just brilliant?? I mean, ain't He simply fantastic!!! Don't you let anyone tell you any different either :D

And also this blablog is most probably my reaction to this blog I found (nominated for best design etc :O) by "lemonade" called withnowheretogo.blogspot She was spieling (in a very interesting and engaging sort of way, of course, being the great blogger she is) about how she was thinking about whether she would ever get to live a 'full' life... Hmmm, now that is just waiting there and asking to be challenged :D I sort of empathised with the rest of her statement... Yes, if I ever do have a husband, I want a 'drool-worthy' husband too - and I don't just want twin boys, I have a whole list! And yeah, he'd better be the fleshed-out Darcy and Gilbert Blythe and ... well, no. He can be him so long as he's nearly perfect (perfectly imperfect too) and just exactly the guy God wants for me... And no, I'm not hunting down Colin Firth look-alikes, I'm thinking more God-chasing, intelligent, listening, focussed, and in-love-enough-to-ask-twice-or-wait (like my fictional heroes, as I am being very PC here) kinda guy! nah, my needs are simple ;) And yes, I want kids that ask interesting questions maybe... The kind that'll enjoy my mum's make-believe series... They might even play cricket with my dad and enjoy his gadgets, without the interests being mutually exclusive. Yes, they will also throw tantrums so that suddenly I can be the hard-put-upon 'mother person'... Lol, actually maybe I won't do that deal, I might end up giggling! Oh, throw a career in too - and with the adorable kids and husband and already-lovable family, I will not look haggard and baggy-eyed, I will look like front-page material. LOL. Seriously though I do not walk around all moony-eyed and saying 'Wherefore art thou, Romeo?' or any such sap! It annoys me when people assume one must be looking, if you are single; or that you must be looking for a husband sooner or even eventually. I don't actually pine at all. LOL. And I'm up in arms in a trice if anyone is on about being dependent! But I am not being sarcastic at all here - I am dreaming and no, any dream will not do!

The trouble is I don't want any dream. I don't even want mine (above included) if they are misguided. I want the vision...

So do I not have a full life? I do. Absolutely. The fullest of full lives you could possibly expect to live. And it's because fullness of life doesn't come from a husband, gorgeous or otherwise, or a fast-paced career, or a perfect family... I haven't got any of those. The first I just don't see in sight. The second I suppose I have weighed in the balance. The third we are simply not. We are not perfect, but we are a family and that is certain. And I love us. I have also found 'us' in other parts of this little globe and I still love 'us'. But I have fullness of life in Christ like the Bible speaks of... and this is probably why I have never actively desired the money or the 'success' by the yardsticks of the world today or the husband or the ideal height-weight-ness (;O) or the general picture-perfectness (you get my drift)... because I already have and have had for some time and find it hard to replicate or add on to this abundance of life that I have been given. It's an Ezekiel 47:9 kind of life and it's definitely here!

A big long sigh and a few giggles

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This is going to be a hard one to write. Nevertheless one must endeavour and I am convinced I shall write it (although I will probably come back for a hundred edits but no one must ever know I told you that!).

This is only my second night and already we have had a family ahem 'argument'. You think you've grown up and then things hurt that shouldn't, and you think - gosh, where has all that change flown to?!

My father called me out to discuss something. Ominous words those, as you can guess. I just brought my worship music out to keep playing and was summarily told by my appa to put it off as it would distract him. Little things like that now suddenly I find even more strange... not because I have a problem with authority (I know when I do unfortunately :( ) but simply that it is something I would never think of telling someone else. I would probably hold on for a couple of minutes and then if it really really ran my head in a tight twist I might suggest it. But that was only little and my father is really amusing like that. And he's so funny when he says 'it's for me' but you know, if you didn't want to do it, he wouldn't be so obliging! And it's just like me!!! In so many ways! So I did really laugh then. But later - I really wanted to cry and I wished so much that I had that outward aid of focusing my mind on God - it's only a prop, but I have had a hard time tonight. I think we all have had. If God weren't hugging us in our individual, in-all-probability-self-imposed miseries, He might be amused at our thickness...

But we were talking about a huge decision that appa and amma seem to have taken. Tomorrow the ad will be in the papers to sell our house which I've lived in for nearly all my life (if you count the last two years too, lol!). Not something I was anticipating, at all LOL. Ah well, like I always say, at least life's never boring:D I have been provided for by miracles sometimes. And I have tried to help. But my father I believe is hurt that he cannot give and others give. This is strange to me because part of it is scholarship money and part of it is the bank and part of it is simply the family of God in fantastic ways. And hard as I panic when I am waiting on God, I still cannot believe appa is responsible for the fact that God provides. But I have never lacked - I have never not had enough and needed to ask for it from people. But the provision has always been just in time. My parents have been running out of money for sometime. Yet God provides in an amazing way but I think appa feels day-to-day faith is okay but perhaps just maybe he is not being responsible enough. I understand - and being humbled is hard. Appa then said "So we, as a family, you, me and amma have taken this decision and we agree don't we?"

LOL LOL LOL

Earlier on in the conversation he had said it was amma's insistence that made him tell me. And I'm thinking Hang on 'ere! So in a month when the house is sold you will tell me to pack my bags because we're moving??? It is ridiculous, isn't it?! But it hurts like a tweezer pressed on the ripest point of a tumour! And I am even finding it a bit ridiculous and funny that it hurt like that... but maybe it has a purpose in leading me to find out what God wants of me next... And he then told me that in his day his parents would take the decision and the children would silently pack their bags and follow without a moment's notice and no questions asked. If they heard, they would know. If not, so there... Appa has so often brought up to me this idea of his father and how he thinks life can be ordered the way thatha might have had it. Military, no questions asked, charge without counting consequence, no involvement, friendship or accountability. It didn't matter when I was growing up and I couldn't be called a child anymore... LOL, it still doesn't matter when I'm considering whether to believe people when they say I'm all grown up :O But you know, maybe it has always been my fault that I expected more... that I always looked forward to the day that my father would maybe treat me as someone-who-would-understand... It didn't bother me when he was like that until, long ago, a paying guest in our house was called to the table to 'discuss' things. Said paying guest being my age and she and I having been chatting on the sofa until that point. She did not know the language yet - I was her teacher. However, when she asked if I couldn't come and help, my appa simply said "No, she won't understand, she's only little... I don't want to involve her". I take full credit for being 'only little' - I was seventeen or eighteen I think :) And I still haven't become a 'big' girl... Siiiggghhhh

Anyway back to business - it has often been like that with appa. it is as if he suddenly never saw me! I suppose I must be like that to him too. I must be completely unsympathetic and I must seem immature to him - actually, this I must seem to both my parents. The trouble is I don't know why, and every other person I am with, if I am immature to them - I know it.

But it wasn't just that. Some other things were said that hurt. And I had no idea. And at this point, I don't know which hurt more then - the fact that my father said and thought what he said and thought or that my mother just couldn't accept that my reaction was a hurt one! To me, it seemed painfully obvious that I would react that way. To my mother, apparently, not. And I was not angry - and my mother who I usually assume understands, believes I was. I know some of you know me - BO, GJ, AB etc... But I'd just like to say for the record - when I react immediately, it isn't always because I am angry or defensive. It is simply because I have verbal diarrhoea or that I am stressed or like a complete idiot I actually want to let you know that this flippin' hurts and I'm wondering, like the beautiful non-grownup I am :O, whether God will use someone listening there to make it go away! I felt so small and tiny and all I wanted to do was go back to my room and listen to KK's Spanish worship music again. But I only moved to do this when everything was nearly over and my head was splitting in a pounding headache and I could see no point in trying to drive it home that 'we-including-me' did not, in fact, take the decision my father then off-the-bat-ly said we had 'all' agreed upon. But amma took it that I was just 'reacting' and protested. Maybe it was just that she panicked and didn't want to let me go off when she hadn't made me feel better - maybe she was being 'mum'-ish. But she couldn't have - and all I wanted then was to be alone with God... But hey, we're all messed-up humans and even worse communicators so it was probably me that got that wrong...

Appa also says 'I know this is the will of God... why not let me be happy in doing this and why not believe me when I say this is the will of God... because I have tried everything else... if it is not the will of God, you should tell me... if it is not the will of God, some man of God will tell me...
...' And I'm thinking Woah, do you hear yourself?!

Mixed signals and then I get told off again on this count - I am partly responsible here because I said unless God specifically told me to 'GO and TELL' or He made His sovereign will (as in command-ish) I would never tell them if God revealed something to me... simply because it would complicate matters further and God can redeem. Also having been told that I was in danger of believing myself the only one who hears from God (and amma and appa argued on this one! LOL while I killed mosquitoes and tried to stop crying so annoyingly!), I did not think they would want me telling them. Also having been told that amma got annoyed (unknown to me LOL... I was well amused when my appa described that as he has a clever knack of putting things in very laughable ways that sticks to him albeit in a different tone even when he is angry) that I kept repeating that if I didn't know, I was going to wait on God... I really did not think it was a good idea to take it on myself to be the happy bounder and tell them unless I was meant to! But I was being cautious and, as can be expected, appa said but this is a family - and you discuss things - and you're not being accountable for each other and engaging with each other as people in a family do. By this time, I was hurt and amused (impossible state) to do anything else but sit there instead of saying 'Exactly'! But I was so blessed because even with me being flippin' me - I didn't argue or say things I could have now regretted or say anything that wasn't right in the eyes of God. So obviously the whole of the three hours! Unfortunately me being an Indian family member - I did raise my voice, as we were all talking at once - as, of course, you do ;O LOL

Anyway I am sorry I offloaded all of this on you - whoever is reading this! You didn't stop by for a whine! But I came back crying 'I want to go back already and even more today' - but I ended up listening and I know He's right, of course, I can't run away. And I know tomorrow I will enjoy my parents' company and love having the dogs around... They are gorgeous, my puppies! I also know there is a reason He's brought me here and, at least the ones I know, I'm waiting to fulfil.

Tomorrow I will tell you all about my flight maybe... Today my head just needs paracetamol, no contact lenses and to 'be still and listen'...

Love y'all

pilgrim

Goodnight from Ivor

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I'm sitting here with Ivor, the cat, warmly stretched out on my denim-clad legs that are easy to ever so slightly dig into with his claws. This is good. Oh, he's purring so loudly... and the mug of hot chocolate in my hands is perfect. Mmmmmm I have had a chocolate overload today... Ivor's kicked off my hot bottle but who cares - the cat is warm.

It has been some time since I unwound this way. Sleep is not always unwinding :/ Just relaxing, without a deadline and without a specific academic or job-related task, is a good break now! I've had a good day. Lots of laughs, lots of chocolate, more worship music.

No, Ivor says, if you aren't going to give me all the attention (oooohhhh look, the big softie's going all gooey-eyed and doing his little silly face now as I stroke the fellow:O) I'm outta here. Nope, can't have that - warm cat definitely better than laptop - but just to tell you I am loving this moment of cat, hot chocolate and leisurely browsing in the quiet peace of the night - even the local pub is shut which is good.

God bless you all and goodnight

xx