My husband and I recently acquired a copy of, " The Intellectual Devotional" by David S. Kidder and Noah D. Oppenheim, and have begun to pledge ourselves to each day's entry. For those of you whom haven't heard of the aforementioned book, it is a secular compendium in the same tradition of religious daily devotionals and includes the topics of history, literature, visual arts, science, music, philosophy, and religion. Each theme has a specific day and the overall goal of the book is to , as the authors claim, "Revive your mind, Complete your education, and roam confidently with the cultured class." For some time, I have greatly anticipated purchasing this book and am now greedily absorbing each day's subject. Today's passage was on visual arts and covered the Lascaux cave paintings, shown above. After contemplating the topic, I used the web to research more about the paintings and was struck firstly, by the beauty and craftsmanship of these paleolithic creations, and secondly by the thought that it seems as though man has always needed to have some form of self-expression. Even before the creation of any kind of alphabet, man needed a way to inform and explain his thoughts, beliefs, and daily life. I find a kind of solace and kindership with these ancient people, through the idea that even though there are eons seperating them from us, the bridge of man's compulsion and desire to be heard and understood spans the great divide of time. If you haven't checked it out before here's a websitehttp://www.culture.gouv.fr/culture/arcnat/lascaux/en/index3.html that will give you more information about the paintings and how they were discovered. Enjoy!

A Lesson in the art of humility

It never fails to surprise me, how quickly you can be humbled. On the trip to our new perch, my husband and I were both persuaded that we were absolutely going to despise living here. We were after-all, leaving behind friends, our home, and a part of the country that we had grown to love and respect. Once here, issues arose with family housing and forced us into a two-week stay in a dinky motel room. Needless to say, that did not serve to change our rather churlish opinions and in fact, left us feeling more disenchanted than before. We did not venture much from our little room at first,(partly from fear that the dogs would make a fuss and get us kicked out), but slowly and surely we began to make short excursions into the surrounding community. We found a tempting morsel of a combination bookstore and coffee cafe(more on that later), a shop dedicated to world culture, a restaurant that serves up the most transcendent smoked brisket in existance, and a sundry of other delightful establishments.

Notwithstanding, we still felt a bit like vagabonds, wanting only to have a shingle that we might call our own and were not entirely transformed in our moods and opinions. Finally, break-through! We were given keys and a welcome to our new residence. How eagerly and excitedly I packed our bags, and we bid the motel a not so fond farewell. With a bit of trepidation and a sense of childish giddy, we turned key in lock and opened the door to a new beginning. Astonishment and marvel at the perfection of our new abode. It was as if someone had reached into our heads and pulled forth almost exactly everything we have ever wanted in a home. We both felt quite meek and thankful, that even if only for the next 7 months, this be a stopping place for us. Each passing day continues to reveal how decidely narrow and inutile our prejudiced opinions were. Our move here has become an ardent reminder that in all things, you should go into the unknown with meekness and an open heart. Very humbling indeed!

Just a quick note!

I know that I've been away awhile and will be for just a bit longer. The dear husband and I are in the process of finishing our move and getting him ready for going away to school. This following Tuesday we've scheduled for the cable to be installed, so I will definitely be back in force after that! Hope everyone is doing well and for those of you in the northern regions, I hope you aren't snowed in. I've so much to blog about and can hardly wait to get back. Till then...hope you all have peace, love, and whatever makes ya happy!

All I can say is WoW!

I was messing around here on the web a bit and just had to share this. Imagine being a parent for the first time at 111!

Henry the Tuatara: He's Still Got it at 111 Years Old
Henry the Tuatara is 111 years old and has successfully mated to the tune of 11 eggs.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/934779/henry_the_tuatara_hes_still_got_it.html

A minor miracle has occurred! I am up, at this hour, and though I couldn't claim full brain function, I'm at least somewhat cognisant. Those terrible invaders(alright it's just the packers) have arrived and I'm sitting in my bedroom, "hiding" with my dogs(thanks honey for dealing with them). Oh what I wouldn't give to be all snuggly in my bed right now! I was up till late hours last night trying to get some last minute things taken care of...so I'm just downright, out-and-out tired, not to mention, feeling a bit resentful at having people in my house, touching my things. I'd love to hole up here and just hibernate the rest of the winter! But fate has other plans for us and I'll be leaving my quaint little home here and striking out for parts unknown...yay! I guess though, I really am looking at this from all the wrong angles...it is going to be an adventure and hey in the next day or two, I'm going to get to sleep in a nice hotel where I don't have to make the bed!

We just got a call from the people who are going to be packing up our belongings tomorrow. They'll be here at 7a.m. and as much as I don't want it to, it's all starting to become real to me. I feel so unprepared for this move and every nerve-ending in my body is in rampant rebellion! Neither my husband, nor myself, actually want this move, but when you are in the military you have to go when and where they send you. I think my husband and I have been doing everything we can to avoid the reality of the whole mess and now here it is...staring us blankly in the face and we can't hide our heads in the sand anymore. I know moving is something that almost everyone faces at least once in their lives and that, for the most part no one likes, but it feels like each time we do, it gets harder and harder. I moved almost constantly, growing up, and sometimes we were never in one place more than 6 months to a year. I also know that my husband is in the wrong occupation to exactly expect to be able to put down roots, but I crave stability. I have an almost obsessive compulsion for sameness and order and when the least little thing throws that off...well it, quite literally, almost completely destroys me. Right now, I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and scream for everyone to just leave me be. However, I can't do that...I've got to force down my disgust and get up and see to it that everything gets done properly. Have I mentioned that I HATE moving??!!

A love letter to my mother

Last night, I sat down and wrote a rather passionate letter to my mother. She and I have never been that close and it is something that, upon much reflection, brings a great deal of dissatisfaction to me. While I was growing up, if you'll forgive the cliche, we were like oil and water...we definitely didn't mix! I'd always taken more of a fancy to my dad and she knew it and felt snubbed somehow. It was never that I didn't love my mother, we were just two totally different people on two entirely different planes. There was a lot about my mother, I've never really understood and quite frankly, I don't know if I ever will. Things between us, did not get any better by my parents divorce. Even though I was almost the age of being a legal adult,when they seperated, I chose to live with my father and helped him to win custody of my baby sister. Believe me, that didn't win me any brownie points. I had several reasons for doing what I did, and though I won't go into all the details, suffice it to say, it was mostly because my mother, who'd always been somewhat of a stranger to me had suddenly become a total alien. The next few years we barely spoke, but slowly and surely we've tried to rebuild some kind of relationship. I realized though, the other night, that I honestly don't know all that much about my mother and she doesn't know that much about me. It's something that I do want to change, hence why I wrote the letter. I asked simple questions about the little things and tried to give her some insights into what makes me tick. From my obsession with women authors, my love of Russian literature, my favorite artists and colors, music, guilty pleasures(yes, I must confess I do like some reality-TV shows),my love of british comedy, to the most mundane of things, my favorite candy(happens to be Turkish Delight). I tried to instill the letter with the essence of who I am and it is my fondest hope that she'll do the same. I want to get to know my mother better, want us to be friends...good friends. After all you only have one mother.