Weekend schedule, revisited

First, rest assured, o faithful blog reader (s?). I am feeling better. There's nothing like getting good and pissed off on someone else's behalf to remind you how much you love them in the first place.

And this weekend was much better than I thought it would be, though not as good as you'd expect weekends to be just by virtue of not having to got to work. Scott canceled our visit with Richie and Sally, for one thing. And although I was initially P-I-S-T pissed that he, once again, changed our plans (without my knowledge, input, or consent), it was hard to stay mad when two whole evenings were cleared up for us to fight, and talk, and discuss, and hang out, and snuggle a bit, too. And what I really needed was time, y'all. So it ended up being just the right thing, if not quite the right way.

I do have to say, though: I am officially challenged in the mother in law department. She was a witch on Saturday, folks. Mean-spirited, condeming, and positively brutal towards her son. Even if I wasn't in love with the guy, I would have had to bite my tongue at the way she treated him. And this, after we brought her a special cake that she clearly resented, after I spent an hour oohing and aahing over her pictures of decorations she's made for Elk's dances for the last decade or so, and another hour looking at the durn things in person. AND after she made a big show of finding ketchup for me to put on my hamburger, as if I was the first person in the history of burgers to think of utilizing that particular condiment.

I keep telling Scott he has to keep his heart soft towards her and try towards forgiveness instead of bitterness. He seems to be doing a much better job at that than I am. I just wanted to shake her, especially when she started NAME CALLING after Scott offered a very honest and gracious apology for a long-ago wrong. I mean, have you ever?

Clearly I will need almost constant prayer intervention about this. Anyone reading this, feel free to put in a good word for me.

tired of typing in code

Maybe I'm just scared after all. Scott's surgery freaked me out last week. It reminded me of the fears I had when we first fell in love, the fear he would die and leave me alone in the middle of my life. And I got re-terrified. And then it seemed so crazy to go through with it, so crazy to marry someone who might actually die. Like, soon (realitively). And then I started to get angry - who was he to get sick, anyway? - and then I started to be annoyed by every little thing he did that was not exactly to my liking. And then the thoughts: "I can't live with that gesture for the rest of my life!" Or: "If he clears his throat like that ONE MORE TIME I'm out of here." Throw in too little sleep and lots of stress, and finally, I've arrived here: Scared he might die and scared he might live forever, and pissed off about either prospect.

I started this blog because I felt found. I felt like my life had arrived at some wide open space and I could get my bearings for the first time. I called it "City No Longer Deserted" after Isaiah 62:12: "And they shall call you sought-after, the city no longer deserted." And now I just feel blind again. Stupid, blind, and very grumpy about it.

lyrical interlude

Aimee says:

"but can you save me
why don't you save me
c'mon and save me
from the ranks
of the freaks
who suspect
they could never love anyone
but the freaks
who suspect
they could never love anyone"

What I need is an attitude adjustment

Here's my schedule for the next few days:

Friday: Work. Richie and Sally arrive. Dinner, visiting. Quell resentment and panic.

Saturday: Pick up replica of wedding cake in Amherst, NH, and drive to York Beach, Maine, to visit with the in-laws. Visit. Cake. Come back to Mass in the evening and produce dinner for Richie and Sally. Visit.

Sunday: Church. Bid adieu to Richie and Sally. Grocery shop. Clean like a maniac.

Monday: Work. Parents arrive in the evening. Produce dinner. Visit. Act like house is always this neat.

Tuesday: 3 hour wedding meeting with Carolyn of Gibbet Hill fame. Make it seem like I'm organized. Calm, cool, and collected. Don't mention hourly thoughts of ditching the ring and the guy and heading out to montana with the savings account. Make wedding decisions with family. Stay on budget. Don't let my mother freak me out. Produce dinner. Ditch small group. Visit.

Wednesday: Parents leave. Work. Lead small group. (Mis)Represent myself as confident Christian to impressionable group members.

So on Sunday, Scott and I got up early and went to 9:30 church service. The sermon was given by Charles Park, who used to be part of the staff here but moved to NY last summer to start a churchplant down in NYC. It was awesome to hear about his experiences as a church-planter, and I was struck at how good it was to see and hear him after a year of absence. Listening to Charles' sermon made me acutely aware of how different I feel now as opposed to a year ago, or three years ago when I started coming to the Vineyard. I was amazed to realize that the thought "There's got to be more to life than this" has not crossed my brain in I-don't-know-how-long, whereas it used to be a constant drone in the background of all my thinking all the time. Not to say that I've achieved all my goals (far from it) or even isolated what on earth I'm *trying* to aim for (yep, still shooting in the dark, for the most part). I guess what I'm saying is that the way I'm going after my life is different. More meaningful. I might not have all the answers but I think I've finally laid a finger on the process, which is looking to connection with God first. Remarkably, that might be all I need.

Tick tock

And just like that, a week goes by. I fear I do not have enough dedication in me to be allowed to keep a blog. It's not that I don't want to write, it is just that other stuff comes up. Like work. Stupid work, always getting in the way of my online journaling! And then, of course, the longer I go between posts, the more I am convinced that I need to come back in with a really kickass post, so that all you e-readers out there think "ahh, Lue was just working on this kickass post this whole time! and man, was the wait ever worth it!" But of course, as time ticks away, the only post I can think to write is the lamely apologetic one you have before you.

Some Pig

I've decided that although venting in my last post felt good, I'd rather not have a whiny blog. I mean, who wants to have the most interesting thing posted about them on the internet be a stupid conversation with their incredulous boss?

So. Here's to looking at the bright side of life. Here's to positivism. Here's to silver linings, rose colored glasses, and keeping your chin up. Here's to Humble, Radiant, Terrific.

(thanks, Charlotte)

one example of why my day is one of the stupidest on record

*Note: in the following conversation, the initials "LS" designate me, "AG" designates my coworker Adina, and "DH" would be my illustrious boss.

DH: adina, i think i'd like you to start follow up claims today.
AG: uh, i'm not sure i've been trained on that.
DH: you haven't?
AG: no, i'm pretty sure we haven't done that yet.
DH: really!
AG: yeah.
DH: oh.
AG: ...
DH: lucinda?
LS: yes?
DH: has adina been trained on follow up development?
LS: no.
DH: she hasn't?
LS: no.
DH: not in Baltimore?
LS: nope.
DH: oh.
LS: ...
DH: does she need to be trained?
LS: uh, my guess would be yes.
DH: she does?
LS: yes.
AG: i think i need to be trained!
DH: oh.
LS: ...
DH: so you think she needs to be trained?
LS: yes.
DH: hmm.
LS: ...
DH: ...
AG: ...
LS: probably the best way to train her on follow up development would be to have her sit with an experienced person.
DH: an experienced person?
LS: yes.
DH: hmm.
LS: ...
DH: so you think she should sit with someone to get trained?
LS: yes
DH: on follow up development?
LS: yes
DH: with an experienced person?
LS: yes
DH: oh.
LS: ...
DH: uh...
LS: what about lisa or kimberley?
DH: oh. yeah. i could do that. yeah. lisa or kimberley. i'll do that. (turns to adina, who is standing RIGHT THERE) Adina, I think I'll have you sit with an experienced person to learn followup claims.
AG: ok.
DH: lisa or kimberley.
AG: ok.
DH: great.

Somebody buy me a drink.

Shriek-guffaw-gasp

One of the unforseen joys of wedding planning is that it brings me into contact with people I love dearly but don't talk to very often. Take last night, when the search for my cousin Philip's address sent me straight to the source, and I ended up talking to my dear Aunt Becky for almost an hour. We have not so much as chatted since Christmas, and haven't connected in any real way since last summer, when our California vacations coincided and we spent six lovely days sharing a condo and bonding as only Gregg girls do. The Gregg family laugh is perhaps our most well known aspect. Each sister (Mom, Kathy, Debbie, and Becky) is individually capable of generating a shriek-guffaw-gasp laugh that is truly remarkable both for it's immense decibal range and the contagious effect it has on anyone else in a half-mile radius. When you put two or more Gregg girls in a room together, the combined effect can be deafening. And side-splitting. My cousin Anna and I have inherited the Gregg girl guffaw, and what was achingly embarrassing to us as children has turned into a blessing in adulthood. Some of my most precious moments have been spent shrieking on the floor with an aunt or cousin. Last night's phone call with Becky was no different: we giggled, we tittered, and by the end of the call I felt like I had done a hundred crunches and my spirit was saturated with joy.

A handy diversion

And here is the problem with blogging, friends. It is now all I want to do. Work? Puh-lease. Wedding planning? Nah. Staring out the window at Boston's misty harbor, wondering how humid it is? Well, that one is still pretty tempting, I'll admit.

I will also admit to a certian low-grade anxiety about my blogging faithfulness. Yes, I loved plans, oh so long ago (I even remember the ac.grin.edu days!) but I am woefully out of practice. I am inspired by those of you (Margaret) whose blogs never seem to run out of chatty wisdom, grab-your-side-and-shriek-humor, and those lovely moments of elegance and poetic turn of phrase. I will try to meet your standards.

Tentative steps

Ah, a blog! Navel gazing at its finest.