SEASHELL NELL

This is my Camino. Welcome.

Stuff I’ve been working on

Here is a picture of Paul doing garbage stuff.

Paul

This morning he took the trash out and this afternoon he took it back. No one asked. Bam. Adulthood.

Thanks, Paw.

Paul and I are the only normal-job ones in the Casa. My dad kind of counts, but he also kind of doesn’t considering he earns, like, sixteen weeks of vacation time plus opening of deer season plus every holiday ever observed by the U.S. of A. plus every day most people take off plus those days in January when engineers gather and talk about cars. He usually wakes up after us is what I’m saying.

So, more often than not it’s Paul I see at 6:15 in the a.m. In case you were wondering, he usually eats omelets or cereal. I usually eat PB&J.

Sometimes he asks me what he should take for lunch.

I usually default to “salad” or “sandwich.”

Teamwork.

Anywho. You weren’t asking or wondering, were you?

Today I saw some peeps and Maffeau (this is your new name spelling, MS) was like, “How’s it going?”

And I was like, “You know, I feel like I’m running at a hundred miles an hour…but I need to be running two hundred.”

(For the record, most of the time you should participate in something adults like to call “small talk” by saying something like, “Fine, how are you?” But I didn’t do that. You can change it up if you’re feeling like keeping it real. And, he’s a grad student so he understands.)

Here are some things I’ve been doing and some areas I’ve been failing!

These are actually Christine's Flamenco shoes. Note the super cool nails in the bottoms for extra pizazz/ loudness.
These are actually Christine’s Flamenco shoes. Note the super cool nails in the bottoms for extra pizazz/ loudness.

I started taking Flamenco dance again with my sister after years off of the floor. I love Flamenco. We both do. I feel like most dances have a certain spirit to them. Swing has the spirit of exuberance and energy, and I love this about it. Flamenco, though, has a certain feminine strength that I don’t see elsewhere. Most of the time in our culture, strictly-female dances are supposed to be provocatively sexy…but Flamenco features a strong, expressive woman dancing because she can. So fun.

This is a book I'm reading. I'm almost done with it, though.
This is a book I’m reading. I’m almost done with it, though.

I’m also working on a social media plan at my workplace.

Nothing definite yet…but if you’re into blogging and Jesus and people like Pope Francis, maaayyyybe you should let me know, OK?

And then I’ll totes read what you have to say about such matters.

I’ve also been working on a play.

I should have been working harder all summer, but it’s been one of those things I’m so excited about that I’m too afraid to work on it.

It’s kind of like when you like someone so you avoid them at a party…because you may screw it up.

Or something.

Anyway, I made progress this week and I’m happy.

This is what my handwriting looks like because I don't know how to write in cursive.
This is what my handwriting looks like because I don’t know how to write in cursive.

Also! Tomorrow! We’re having the progressive dinner bike ride and I rode the practice route today. I’m super excited, it’s a lovely, lovely route.

Christine rocking some Flamenco.
Christine rocking some Flamenco.
Christine and I have learned a lot on the process. Namely: we didn’t budget enough. Oops! LEARNING EXPERIENCE.

Would you like to read some Christine quotes?

I texted her today, “There is a WASP the size of my THUMB in my office.”
She texts back, “At least it’s not the size of your bu**.”

Indeed.

Homegirn wonders why I have body issues, sheesh.

She’s sitting next to me right now, making mittens out of upcycled wool.

“I know you’re more into sewing than I am,” she said, “and that I’m more into crafts. And let me tell you something, I’m REALLY good at crafts. I mean, look at this.”

Indeedio part dos.

Hey, also, because I’m at 666 words and I’d rather not leave it there, I’m going to write about mass today.

I went to mass today.

To set the stage, there were your usual business-people-on-lunchbreak crowd in the church. The guy struggling with inner-demons. The guy who was off on the prayer responses (bless his heart). Plus me, the one who should pay attention harder and go to confession more frequently and a million other things.

Led by the priest who is dying of cancer.

Have you ever been offered the sign of peace by someone who is dying?

What about when he prayed the words, “May the Body and Blood of Christ bring us all to everlasting life” and you realize just how close everlasting life is for this man?

I sat there in my pew, surrounded by the broken people of God, led to the cross by a man dying every day.

I lectored today. The reading was about Jesus and, in true New Testament fashion, comprised of a series of run-ons. But this is the line I liked, “…making peace by the Blood of his cross…”

The priest offered peace to all of us, personally and sincerely. He offered peace in the midst of his suffering.

There’s something deeply wonderful about that.

That’s all I have to say at this time.

Thank you for sticking it out through this word-vomit. I promise I’ll do my best with a better post soooooon.

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