Experience Imagination

What's in a Name?

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 16:54:00 +0000

Originally published December 20, 2008

I had a philosophy of naming for quite some time before I ever conceived a child. Because my given name is simply Amy, rather than Amelia like the great-grandmother after whom I was named, I always wanted a long, classic name that had more nickname options. I decided my kids would have nice long names. Three of them, in fact.

My three-name system included one name each based on

family tradition
the Bible
our own desires

None of the names should be after living relatives, with the possible exception of a "Junior" named for his dad. I didn't particularly want a Junior in the family, but I was willing to give my then-unknown husband rights to one son named for himself, if it was really important to him.

I determined that none of the names would be invented. Before I was married, my middle name was a hyphenated compound of my father's name and my grandmother's name. It was unusual and always looked funny to me--to this day, I can't remember if the second half of the name is supposed to be capitalized or not. In any case, I didn't want my poor child to be saddled with an invented name such as mine, which I'm sure sounded hip and groovin' in 1975, but by the early eighties, I was an odd duck in my grade-school classroom full of _____ Janes, _____ Maries, and _____ Elizabeths.

Any names up for consideration were required to have a strong positive meaning, not spell strange words with initials, and not sound like anything obscene or hurtful. Official naming could not take place until after birth, as I wanted to meet my child before bestowing a name upon him or her. Once Adam and I got married, I added another caveat: No names that start with "A"! I really didn't want to be that family.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, we'd chosen a name to call the baby in utero. We hadn't specifically declared that we would incorporate that name into her given name, but I didn't want to rule out the possibility either.

Really, when I think about it, it's a wonder we managed to find any names at all!

At my behest, we took the scientific approach. Adam and I each went through the name-your-baby book individually. We collected all the names we really liked and noted their origin and meaning. Because no names from the country of Adam's birth were included in our book, we added a few of those to his list as well. Once we'd completed the collection phase, we traded lists. Each of us had the opportunity to veto names that we wouldn't consider because of personal connotations. Then the real fun began.

I put all the names into a priority comparison tool and printed out two copies, one for Adam and another for me. We spent a day or two (or twelve) comparing each name to identify our personal top 10. By the time I went into labor, we had narrowed our list of girls' names to just 18 (from which we needed to choose three). We still had 60-some boys names because I never did finish the prioritizing exercise with those; Adam had given up and just circled ten he liked. I actually brought the folder to the hospital with us so I would have it for reference, in case we had a boy.

In the end, we did give our daughter three names. One of them is a family name, one is appropriate to the nickname we used in utero. One is just for fun. Her initials don't spell anything scary. The worst problem we've had is that her first name is quite unfamiliar to Americans and almost no one pronounces it correctly.

Since I'm not telling you my daughter's [real] name, let me share the three most popular names in the US for the year she was born (2005): Emily, Emma, Madison.

The most popular names for 1975? Jennifer, Amy, Heather. In fact, Amy has been in the top 200 most popular names in the US since 1951.

1973 (the year Adam was born)? Michael, Christopher, Jason.

Want to know the top names from your birth year? Check out the Social Security Website. They have lists of the 1,000 most popular baby names each year since 1880, when the top names were John, William, James (for boys) and Mary, Anna, Emma (for girls).

Keep the Fire Burning (or Not)

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 01:02:00 +0000

Originally published November 13, 2006

I haven't made a real home-cooked meal in a while. Mostly because our kitchen is a mess and one of the things I seem to have caught from Adam since we've been married is his aversion to cooking in a messy kitchen.

But tonight I felt like making something new and different. So I thawed some chicken and paged through my More-with-Less and Extending the Table cookbooks looking for chicken and rice recipes. I finally settled on a peanut soup recipe from More-with-Less to which I added chicken, rice, and garlic (since the books are copyrighted, I won't post the recipe here, but you can purchase your own copy, here. Peanut Soup is on page 217).

The real fun could now begin. First, the knife I had wasn't working well with the chicken. I already had a Band-Aid^® on my thumb from an earlier run in with a knife (no pun intended), and now I was getting raw chicken juice all over my hands. Yuck.

Next, I was searing the chicken a bit when I noticed a small flame outside the burner ring. When I bent down to investigate, I saw a ladle that had once been neatly situated in the center of the stove between two burners was now melting into the flame under my sauce pan. I pulled up on the pan, immediately turning off the flame. When that didn't solve my problem, I reached up into the cupboard for an open box of baking soda, remembering the dire warnings my home ec teacher had given us about spreading a grease fire with water. Since I wasn't quite sure the content of the plastic-looking handle, I didn't want to take any chances.

Unfortunately, sprinkling baking soda over an open flame is not the most efficient means of dousing it. Once the box was emptied, the flame continuing unabated, I decided the best course of action would be to grab the ladle from the serving end and plunge the flame into the sink.

The problem with that plan was a simple matter of unfinished laundry. Both of our oven gloves are in the wash. I tried grasping the metal end with a dishtowel, but I wasn't able to get a decent grip on it. Additionally, by this time, the melted portion of the handle was dripping down onto the chrome plate below the burner. I was not at all certain that lifting up one end would ensure the other followed.

Finally, in a moment of inspiration, I remembered that we have a fire extinguisher on the shelf above the microwave. I pulled it out and searched quickly to find the directions for use. (As an aside, this is not the course of action I recommend. If you have a fire extinguisher in your kitchen--a wonderful idea in itself and highly recommended--make sure you know how to use it before you need it.) Following the instructions on the label, I stood six to eight feet back and squirted a short blast of whatever was inside onto the stove. Instantly the flames went out. It was kind of fun, really.

Once the excitement was over, I still had dinner to make. I briefly considered throwing my hands in the air and letting Adam finish it, but, by then the meal was nearly complete, so I scooped out the half-cooked chicken, washed the excess baking soda out of the pan and began cooking again.

By the way, the soup turned out pretty yummy. I'll have to repeat my experiment again sometime. Minus the steps involving runaway flames, of course.

The Worst News for Chickens Since Col. Sanders

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 01:55:00 +0000

I was served this wonderful breaded-chicken dish at a friends' house one evening. When I raved about it, they directed me to Rachel Ray's website for the Cheddar-Crusted Chicken recipe. I had Adam make some for me posthaste. Yummy. But, since I can never leave well enough alone, I had to play, making the recipe just a little bit tastier. I also came up with a great variation for a Parmesan breading, which I've posted below.

Oven-fried Cheddar Chicken Fingers
serves 4-6

2 lbs skinless, boneless chicken (about 4 breasts)
3 c salted baby pretzels
4 oz cheddar cheese, grated or cubed
1 t thyme
¼ t pepper
1 egg
2 T water
¼ c flour

Slice chicken into fingers (approx. ½” x 1½”).
Grind together pretzels, cheese, thyme, and pepper until they resemble coarse bread crumbs. Place in a shallow bowl.
Beat egg and water in another shallow dish. Pour flour into a third dish.
Dredge chicken through flour, egg, then pretzel mixture.
Place fingers ¼" apart on a greased cookie sheet.
Bake at 375° for 20-25 minutes or until juices run clear.

Variation: Chicken Parmesan Fingers

Substitute

1½ c dry breadcrumbs for baby pretzels
2 oz Parmesan cheese for the cheddar cheese
½ t oregano for one-half the thyme

Add

½ t salt

Serve warm, with marinara sauce for dipping.

Thanksgiving with a Twist

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 16:59:00 +0000

Originally posted November 19, 2006

I had never heard of the concept before this year. Suddenly, I keep seeing references all over the place, but when I tried to Google "third world thanksgiving" I only found information about one organization's fundraising banquet, an article about daily life in poverty-stricken countries, and one site that had a video link which didn't look quite savory, so I left before I figured out exactly what it was showing. Therefore I offer you my own primer.

How to host a Third World Thanksgiving

Basically the idea is twofold: better understanding of and offering tangible assistance to those living in poverty (whether in the Third World or not).

Step one...Invite lots of friends over. And don't forget your family, too. Make sure everyone knows you are having a non-traditional dinner to raise awareness, as well as funds, for the hungry.
Step two...Shop for food. Go to your favorite grocery store with a list of all the ingredients you would need to buy in order to host a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for all the people you now have coming to your house. Price all of the items on your list. Buy only rice.
Step three...Cook dinner. Measure one cup cooked rice per person.
Step four...Enjoy the party. Spend a few hours sharing with family and friends the many blessings in your lives for which each of you can give thanks.
Step five...Share the wealth. Write a check for the amount you would have spent on your traditional Thanksgiving dinner (as calculated in step two). Send it to a worthy charity working to combat poverty and hunger in the Third World or right here in North America. Suggest to your guests that they make donations of their own.

Not sure which charity might be worthy or who is working in the part of the world where you're most interested? Check out a charity evaluation website, such as GuideStar, Charity Navigator or JustGive.org.

Not Quite Auntie Anne's

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 04:27:00 +0000

I love Auntie Anne's pretzels. I ~~have~~ could eat them as a whole meal. Sadly, while they aren't terribly expensive, they're not something we can afford to keep in our regular monthly food budget. And during months like these, when the food budget is already overburdened with stocking up for postpartum meals, even a special treat is out of the question. So, I made my own. The original recipe knock-off I found was created by Todd Wilbur of Top Secret Recipes. While his was pretty tasty, I humbly submit that mine is even better.

Pretzel Dough
2¼ c all-purpose flour
1½ c whole wheat flour
2¼ t yeast
¼ c sugar
1½ t salt
1 c very warm water (approx. 120°F)

Stir together dry ingredients
Add water and stir together until well mixed
Knead until smooth and elastic (5-10 minutes)
Cover and let rise one hour or until doubled in size
Divide dough into 12 equal pieces
Roll each into a rope at least 2 feet long and twist into desired shape

Salt Bath
2 c warm water
2 T salt

Dissolve salt into water
Dip each pretzel into bath and shake to drain off excess water
Place pretzels ½-1" apart on a greased baking pan
Bake in a preheated 425°F oven for 10 minutes or until golden brown

Toppings
2 T melted butter
-AND-
2 t coarse salt
-OR-
¼ c brown sugar
1½ T cinnamon

Brush warm pretzels with melted butter
Sprinkle with coarse salt or dredge in cinnamon sugar

Why Drive to a Homebirth?

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 23:03:00 +0000

Once you've looked at the research, you know that out-of-hospital births have similar outcomes to births in hospitals. So, without the comfort factors of being in my own home and not having to drive while in labor, why am I still planning a homebirth away from home?

As you may recall, if you've been a long-time reader of this blog, attending a homebirth as a Certified Professional Midwife (CPM) is illegal in South Dakota. However, CPMs are the only certified professionals in this country who are trained to attend natural births outside a hospital setting. Obstetricians, Certified Nurse Midwives, and other certified birth attendants are all trained in the medical model of birth. Medically-managed births are all about monitoring and procedures which are intended to reduce the risk of mothers and babies dying or being injured during birth. Sadly, studies show that in most cases, medical management does little to reduce these risks, and in some cases, it actually increases them.

There's really more to it than that, though. Most hospital-based practitioners have never seen a truly natural birth. They are so used to their standard procedures and interventions, they don't know what really natural birth looks like. Compare that to a CPM, who sees unmedicated, unhindered births almost exclusively.

Let me share a quote with you from a book I've been reading the last couple of days. It's written by Judy Kay Jones, a local CPM and former RN who spent time in jail for attending homebirths within the state of South Dakota.

A medical perspective sees birth as a dangerous situation--a complication waiting to happen. It operates in fear. True midwifery approaches birth from a natural perspective, not in fear, but in respect.

I compare it to the preparation of Treasury agents to spot counterfeit money. They do not study the counterfeit. Instead, they study the real thing. They know every detail of the real thing so well that a counterfeit immediately stands out as different when they see it.

Why would I want to trust my birth to attendants who'd primarily, or ONLY, seen counterfeits of natural birth? I did that once before and was unsatisfied with my care. This time, I chose to seek out a professional who specializes in natural births. And, in a few more days or weeks, I hope to come back and be able to share firsthand how different it is.

A Little Lesson in Unity

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 14:50:00 +0000

Originally published January 30, 2007

I went to Brazil four years ago with a group from my church. We worked with an organization called Project AmaZon, or PAZ for short. They work along the rivers in the Amazon Basin. Our group, we had been told ahead of time, was going to be on a health boat, visiting several villages along the Amazon River.

Our first morning in Santarém we each purchased a rede (Portuguese for "hammock" and pronounced "hedgie") and went down to the public line boat that would take up out to meet the PAZ boat at the first village. And when I say "down" I really mean DOWN. I can't find a photo of it right now, but trust me when I say there was a big huge high sea wall and a rickety spindly little ladder.

Down and I are not good friends. I have no problem with heights, but going down from heights is pretty anxiety inducing for me. I spent several minutes at the top of the wall, watching everyone else head down, including several local workers who carried large boxes on their heads while they fairly danced up and down the steps.

When I finally made my descent, complete with sweaty palms and shaky knees, I realized that there was no way I would be able to repeat this journey later that evening with my luggage. I hadn't even been able to carry down the plastic grocery-sized bag with my rede in it.

On the dock beside the line boat, I spoke with another member of our team, sharing that I was a bit nervous about the return trip down the ladder. I asked him if he would be willing to help me with my suitcases. "Of course," he told me. "We're a team. We'll take care of it for you."

Climbing back up the ladder, it started to rain. I was grateful, because it helped to hide the fact that I had tears streaming down my face. At least, it did until I got back to the van and completely broke down sobbing among the rest of my teammates. Several of them hugged me, told me it would be okay, and prayed for me. I managed to stop crying, but I didn't really feel any better.

That afternoon we had a rest period to recover from our overnight flight into Brazil and to prepare for the overnight voyage on the line boat. I was supposed to be napping, but whenever I tried to lie still and close my eyes, I felt completely unsettled and upset about my experience that morning.

Finally, I asked one of my teammates to please finish up in the bathroom because I needed to be in there right away. My urgency wasn't because I was desperate to use the facilities, but because I really needed some time alone, without anyone else intruding on my space. At the PAZ guest house, the only personal space to be had was in the bathroom.

I sat on the floor and spent several minutes simply crying out the rest of my tears. When I'd finished, I began to pray. "Why?" I asked God. "Why am I so upset about this? It's not that big a deal. What's going on?" As I prayed and pondered, I began to understand that I wasn't so upset about the wall or the ladder or the down, but what was really bothering me was my inability to do for myself.

I'd been raised as a typical American, full of determination and independence. Like a small, stubborn child, I sat there on the bathroom floor saying, "No! I want to do it myself." Yet, I couldn't. The realization left me feeling very vulnerable and frightened. I decided to go back to bed.

While I was trying to fall asleep once again, I heard a message from God. This doesn't happen to me with any regularity, but I was pretty sure God was talking to me, even though it sounded rather a lot like just talking to myself inside my head.

God told me to look at my hand. "Huh?" I looked at my hand.

"Look at your fingers," He instructed. "See how they move? Aren't they beautiful?"

"Okay, sure."

"One finger, all alone, can't really do much, can it?"

"I suppose not."

"But, when all the fingers are together, working in concert as your hand, think how much more they can accomplish."

"Well, yeah, I can see that."

"You and this team are like your hand. On your own, you can only accomplish small things, but when you open yourselves up and work together, you can do so much more."

And that was all God had to say about that. The rest of the trip was really pretty uneventful for me, by comparison. But the image of all my fingers working together has really stayed with me.

And ... I'm Off!

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 14:43:00 +0000

With the official start of NaNoWriMo today, and the impending birth of the newest little Gray, I have decided to take a blogging break for a while. If I have the energy, I may be back now and again through the rest of the month, but maybe not.

I've scheduled some of my favorites to run while I'm gone, just to keep you interested. If you'd like to follow my novel-writing progress, you can check out my author page on the NaNoWriMo site.

Until next time ....

I Just Made the Yummiest Soup!

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 21:41:00 +0000

I've made a similar soup before and thought I'd just change it up a little. I had no idea it would be this good. I'm glad I made a double recipe!! Leftovers, mmmmmmmm ...

Potato-Bacon Chowder
serves 4-6

4 strips thick-sliced bacon
1 medium onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 small carrot, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
3 T flour
3 c chicken broth
2 medium potatoes, diced
¾ c corn
¼ t thyme
1/8 t oregano
¼ t salt
1/8 t pepper

Fry bacon until crisp. Drain and crumble, reserving 1 T grease.
Place onion, celery, and carrot in a saucepan with the reserved bacon grease. Heat at medium-high, stirring occasionally, until onions are translucent.
Add garlic and cook for one minute more.
Stir in flour until fully absorbed, then add chicken broth. Bring to a boil.
Add potatoes, corn, crumbled bacon, and spices. Reduce heat to medium.
Simmer 20 minutes or until potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally.
Eat with a great big smile on your face!

Is There an Emergency Stop on This Elevator?

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 01:06:00 +0000

Let's start with overnight, since, as a heavily pregnant woman, I haven't slept through the night in months. Last night I had a whole series of disturbing dreams. In each one of them, I had gone into labor, but I wasn't ready. I had to pack a suitcase to return from vacation or we were in the middle of a move from one house to another or labor itself was stopping and starting while I hung out at the "birth house" hoping for my turn while 20-some other women with more efficient labor patterns bumped me down the waiting list.

Once I got out of bed for the day, Adam told me his paycheck had come through. Hooray, we can afford groceries! In fact, the amount of the check was higher than I'd expected, and we can actually afford to pay all but one of the bills that's due before his next check.

Because it's Friday, and I really didn't want to contemplate going grocery shopping on Saturday, Rosi and I took Adam to work. The way there isn't too bad, it's picking him up at the end of his shift (two hours past Rosi's bedtime) that's the bear. He tried to find a ride home with one of his coworkers, but no one was able to do it tonight.

After dropping Adam off at the office, we sputtered our way to the nearest gas station to fill up our desperately thirsty car. Thankfully, no pushing was required to make it all the way there. After filling up on gas and oil, my 13-year-old car was happy as a clam once again.

We headed back home so I could work out a menu plan for the next few weeks and actually purchase appropriate foods to feed us within our budget. It took me about two hours longer than I'd expected, but finally, I got a list made out. My estimated cost came to within just a few dollars of our budget.

Before we left for the shopping expedition, I made a sandwich for myself. I offered one to Rosi as well (several times, in fact, because I knew she ought to be hungry), but she refused. Were I a brilliant mother, I would have brought an extra with me, so that when she started melting down in the pasta aisle, I could have pulled it out of my magic bag Mary Poppins style.

Unfortunately, I'm not practically perfect in every way, so instead of feeding her in the middle of the aisle, I pulled her out of the cart, left the food melting in the aisle, and we came back home--half-shopped with nothing to show for it.

I've spent the last 25 minutes trying to convince her that, yes, she does need to take a nap before we go get Daddy because she will be up for at least 2½ hours past her bedtime. At this precise moment, she's sitting on her bedroom floor, humming to herself to stay awake.

Aaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhh!

Calgon, take me away! And, could you possibly send somebody else in my place for a couple of days while you're at it?

Cleared

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 18:12:00 +0000

I had an appointment with my midwives yesterday. I've officially made it far enough that they are comfortable catching this babe at home and wouldn't send me off the the hospital were I to go into labor today.

Woo-hoo!

Wait ... do you know what that means? Sometime in the next month and a half I'm supposed to be having a baby.

Yikes.

How did this happen? Wasn't I just four months pregnant a couple of weeks ago?

How come my house isn't all cleaned up? Why aren't all the baby clothes sorted and washed? Whose job was that?

Oh, right. Mine.

Darn.

Guess I better get off my duff and get back to it then. Time's a wasting.

Anybody know where I put that nesting instinct?

Talking to Myself

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 05:08:00 +0000

I really enjoy taking time once in a while to read through old journals I have kept. Sure, they contain a lot of nonsense, but scattered throughout are wonderful gems that speak to me again months and years later. I like to think that indicates brief glimpses of wisdom. Maybe it just means I don't learn my lessons well, and God needs to keep showing me the same things again and again. This evening, I was reading through a journal I kept in 2003. The following passage really stood out to me.

When I try and I try and I try to do what it is I just can't do, I despair that I'm not living up to my potential. Ooh--were scarier words ever invented? Just like an egg is a potential chicken, I feel like I'm a potential good person. If I could just try a little harder, do a little better; if I would just listen to what God is trying to teach me.

I give up on myself ... I was going to say, "I give up on myself way more than God does" or "I give up on myself long before God will," but neither of those is true, because God will never give up on me!

Even when I'm sitting at the bottom of the mud hole, God doesn't throw down a rope, tie it to a stick, and walk off, waiting for me to climb out. He climbs right down next to me, because He knows I will need a shoulder to cry on long before I will be prepared to get up and let Him lead me back to the verdant pasture.

Somebody Won!

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 16:48:00 +0000

I finally chose a winner in my secret giveaway ... but I don't know how to contact her. When I asked for one comment number, Random.org gave me #4.

Susan2009 of Fruitful Words, please send me an e-mail. You won! I visited your site, only I couldn't find a way to actually contact you. I'd love to find some pretty cupcake wrappers for you ... but I don't know where to send them. :)

To everyone who didn't win, thanks for playing, and I'm sure I'll be hosting another giveaway in the near future, so keep reading.

On Sisterhood

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 00:26:00 +0000

The power of one understanding woman who opens her ears and her heart to another woman should never be underestimated.
~Robin Jones Gunn, Peculiar Treasures

Memo to My Favorite Football Team

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 04:08:00 +0000

RE: Your long-distance fans

My friends,

I have been a fan of the Chicago Bears since I was 10 years old and watched you beat the pants off the Patriots. When I moved to New York a couple of years later, I showed my team spirit by designing a piñata in the shape of William "Refrigerator" Perry for Spanish class. You played in one Monday night game late that season. In my honor, you lost to the 49ers 41-0. Thanks.

Oh, and the boy whose locker was next to mine was a Niners fan. Yes, he lorded the outcome of that game over me the rest of the school year.

A dozen years later, I had the opportunity to move back to Chicago. I was overjoyed to be able to watch every game of the season! And I did watch nearly all the games for the next decade, including Superbowl XLI, which at least started out well.

One year ago, I had to drive a rental truck full of my things away from Illinois for the second time. I quickly discovered that, though the move was to South Dakota, I had landed smack dab in Viking country. And, no, I can't believe they had the audacity to sign Brett Favre either.

So far this season, I've been able to watch two complete Bears games as carried on national TV. Those would be your two losses so far.

I understand you are a hometown team and I appreciate that you want to save your best play for your local fans. But, please, keep in mind that some of your fans, for various reason, can't be local. We still want to watch you win!

Thank you for taking the time to consider those of us who support your franchise, even when we no longer live in your fine city. Oh, and have a nice flight home from Atlanta. Maybe you could practice holding on to the football while you're on the plane.

Happy Birthday!

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 17:17:00 +0000

Sound the trumpets: Today is my third blogging anniversary. It's also the last day to enter my secret giveaway, and given the response so far, you still have an excellent chance of winning.

Meanwhile, it's Friday, which means Adam has gone back to work for the week and we need to get back to homeschooling. I've been somewhat lax in that area since my in-laws were here, so I'm feeling itchy to get back into our routine.

I was realizing, just before the hiatus, that my "lesson plans" were getting a bit too elaborate for preschool. I'm now trying to limit our focus to one concept throughout the week in each subject. I'm also trying to get a little more unschoolish about the whole thing and let Rosi lead herself in the direction of which subjects to study. I've been doing that somewhat, like for science we've been learning about animals she likes, but I've been much more strict in the way I've been trying to help her learn reading and math concepts. Unfortunately, in my stricture, we seem to have lost some of the game-playing aspects of learning--you know, what makes it fun in the first place.

Remembering

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 22:18:00 +0000

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

Please take a moment to remember those whose lives have been touched by little ones they knew for too brief a time. Thank you.

Holy Cow, It's Snowing!

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 02:19:00 +0000

Yup. That about says it all.

Mark your calendars, folks. Sioux Falls had its first snowfall of 2009 on October 9th.

Frankly, it wouldn't bother me so much except that it hasn't even snowed in Anchorage yet!

Remind me again why we moved here. Anybody?

Thanksgiving Dinner

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 02:27:00 +0000

I read somewhere recently that no one who says he wants to write really wants "to write." Instead he wants "to have written." I'm not sure I entirely agree with that--I do actually like to write. By the same token, I can see how it does get frustrating to write. Sometimes, things just don't flow.

Lately, as I've mentioned, I've been preparing to write a novel for NaNoWriMo. So far I have a plot and a bunch of characters whom I am trying to get to know better. It's a little odd to me, never really having gotten this deep into noveling, that the characters are creatures of my imagination, yet they're starting to have ideas of their own.

In order to get a better feel for writing the main characters, I decided to interview them. I wrote out some questions and I'm having my characters answer in their own voices. It's a really interesting experience. I started with the main male character, since I figured he'd be the hardest for me to get a handle on (never having been male myself). I definitely have seen a difference in the way I would explain his answers than the way he needs to do so. I keep running things past Adam to make sure my character has a strong enough masculine identity. I've started writing a few of his answers and had to stop, go back, and begin again because I was using my own voice and making him sound too prissy.

As for the dinner aspect (from the post title), I made a discovery the other day. Writing a novel is like making Thanksgiving dinner. To make a real, traditional meal from scratch, you need to start at least a couple days before the holiday, spend hours chopping and stirring and baking, getting everything just right. Then the meal is served and your houseful of guests eats everything up in 45 minutes. To make a good book, so you need to choose just the right ingredients, spend days (or weeks or months) letting everything simmer together, then when it's finally done, your readers gobble it up in a few hours.

Sorry, Folks

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 14:44:00 +0000

After having to delete my last dozen comments--all from the same spammer--I have decided to turn on comment moderation. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Carry on.

October is Clergy Appreciation Month

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 13:27:00 +0000

Most of the time when I think about the pastors in my life, it's with consideration to how they can best serve me. Maybe you're the same way. The only problem is, if I'm thinking that way, and you're thinking that way ... well, who ministers to the ministers?

Since October has been officially designated as the month to appreciate you pastors, I figured I'd share some ways for you (and me) to do just that.

Here is an article from the Christianity Today archives entitled Eight Ways to Encourage Your Pastor. It's a good place to start. For #2 ("Pray regularly"), you might find the prayer list below useful. You'll notice it's conveniently divided into 31 topics, one for each day of October.

Let's not forget to continue blessing our pastors once October is over. We need to encourage and support these leaders every month!

31 Prayers for Christian Leaders
Pastor, I am praying that you would

recognize your accountability to God for each decision and act. (Colossians 1:16)
have wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. (James 1:5)
protect your loving Christian witness. (Romans 10:14)
be strengthened and encouraged in your faith. (Ephesians 1:17-19)
know your own limitations and pray, seeking the will of God (Proverbs 3:5-7, Luke 11:9-13)
be open to the Spirit's conviction of sin, transgression, and iniquity (Psalm 51:17)
heed your conscience, confess your sins, and repent (Proverbs 28:13, James 4:7-8)
read the Bible and attend prayer meetings and Bible studies (Psalm 119:11, Colossians 3:2)
value and regard the teachings of Christ (Psalm 19:7-9, John 8:31-32)
honor your own parents and those who have provided a spiritual legacy (Ephesians 6:2-3, I Corinthians 4:15)
respect authority, and practice accountability (Romans 13:1-5)
pay attention to godly counsel and advice (Proverbs 24:6)
be honest and faithful to your spouse and children (Malachi 2:15-16)
participate in worship, and help to those in need (Hebrews 10:22-25)
desire purity and avoid debauchery, perversion, and drunkenness (I Corinthians 6:9-20, Titus 2:11-13)
practice timeliness, reliability, and dependability (Matthew 21:28-31)
act honorably in financial, tax, and ethical matters (I Corinthians 6:10, I Timothy 6:8-10)
recognize your own needs for pastoral care and counsel (Hebrews 13:7)
develop and nurture godly friendships (Proverbs 17:17)
have generosity and a compassionate heart for the poor and needy (Psalm 112:9, Luke 10:33-37)
keep or seek to restore unity with other Christians (John 17:20-22)
use your time wisely and know true godly priorities (Ephesians 5:15-17)
show honesty, integrity, and loyalty (Psalm 26, Proverbs 11:3)
resist manipulation, pressure, and the fear of man (Proverbs 29:25, II Timothy 1:7)
be protected from occultism and false religions (Isaiah 2:6)
adhere to a godly worldview and biblical principles (Ephesians 3:9-10)
encouraging families toward divine order and morality (Ephesians 5:22-6:4)
work to discount false teachings and foolish divisions in the Church (I Timothy 1:3-4)
be willing to serve and cooperate with humility and meekness (John 13:14, Titus 3:1-2)
accept valuable instruction and correction (Job 22:22, Proverbs 10:17)
be prepared to give account to Almighty God (James 3:1)

Let the Wild Rumpus Start

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 02:30:00 +0000

As a child, I was never really a big fan of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are. I don't know if I was too sensitive or imaginative or what, but I found it scary. Nonetheless, the idea of creating my own "wild rumpus" sounds like fun. Especially if I'm looking for a way to celebrate my 500th blog post.

Yes, folks, it's true. This is post 500. I've finally gotten a high enough count that I would have to look up the roman numeral to cover it (in fact, I did: it's "D").

To keep my rumpusing on the wild side, I am hosting a secret giveaway! I don't actually know what I should give away, so to enter, you need to leave a comment recommending a fabulous, but, ya know, smallish, prize that you would like to win. As always, you'll get an extra entry for linking to this giveaway on your own blog (leave me a second comment if you do this, please). I will choose one winner at random from among those prizes I can accommodate. Comments will close on my blogiversary, Friday October 16th at 11:59 PM CDT, and I'll announce the winner the following week.

Good luck!

Notes from Far-Flung Corners of the World

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 17:59:00 +0000

Well, not quite. They're all from right here. But, hey, depending on where you live, Sioux Falls may well be far flung. I haven't had a "real" post for quite a while ... so instead of offering one now, here's some highlights from the past few weeks.

I'm interviewing characters for my book. I'm trying to help them ... or, maybe they're trying to help me ... find their voices. So far, I feel like I have a pretty good start on the male lead (is that what you call them in books?--I'm used to theater talk), but I have at least a dozen more interviews to finish before NaNoWriMo kicks off November 1st.

We found a great deal on a new digital camera, so we are now officially back in business, picture-wise. Unfortunately, the USB port on my computer is buried way in the back, under the desk and I am too ungainly at the moment to attempt such acrobatics. I keep forgetting to ask Adam to plug it in and I don't trust Rosi with it. You'll all have to wait a few more days (weeks? months?? I hope not!) for new pix.

Did you know you only have 88 crafting days left before Christmas? I've completed 3 gifts, started 2 more, and only have another 19 to do after that. Hmmm ... some of you may not be getting your gifts until Valentine's Day. Or maybe Easter.

Last night I got a call from Adam as he was on his way home. He asked me to listen to a noise the car was making as he turned the steering wheel. It didn't sound good, but I suggested he try to make it home (he was only about half a mile away) and we could take a look at it once he got here. Five minutes later he called back to say the car now wasn't steering at all. He called to have it towed to the garage and walked home. This morning we got the estimate for repairs. It's twice as much as we were hoping, but less than half what we were afraid it might be. Thankfully, we'll only be carless for a day or so. Adam was able to get a ride in to work this morning and he's off for the rest of the week, so, all things considered, now is as good a time as any for the car to break down.

Tomorrow my in-laws arrive. This is the first time they've been able to visit since we moved here (almost a year ago, now). We've been trying to make a list of stuff we'd like to do together, but keeping it low-key so as not to exhaust everybody and their pocketbooks. I may or may not be up for blogging while they're here, but I'll try to take some pictures of our adventures to post later.

The Last Thing

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 03:37:00 +0000

I found this on a discussion board this evening.

What was the last thing you ...

ate? Plain french bread.

said? "What?"

drank? Water.

laughed about? "And Then My Six-Year-Old Had Her Tattoo Removed..."

touched (besides the keyboard/mouse)? The french bread.

cooked? Frozen egg rolls.

bought? Yarn.

cried about? Tim Hodge's CaringBridge journal entry for yesterday.

took a picture of? A bag I crocheted.

wrote? "A bag I crocheted."

gave as a gift? A crocheted cowboy hat and cowboy booties.

broke? The seal on the bag holding the French bread loaf.

fixed? The stapler.

washed? My hands.

turned off? The light in Rosi's bedroom.

read? Tim Hodge's CaringBridge journal.

watched? National Geographic Video's collection of snake clips.

changed? My mind.

threw away? An apple core.

Nesting

expimag@gmail.com (Amy @ Experience Imagination) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 17:05:00 +0000

Third trimester. Check.
Feeling like a whale. Check.
Brains turned to mush. Check.
Emotions on overdrive. Check.

And for today? Nesting. Check.

Yup. As of this morning, my nesting instinct has officially arrived. I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and decided the toilet needed to be scrubbed right away. I then started having distressingly similar thoughts about the bathtub. I managed to wait until after breakfast for that project, though.