a confession from the midst of Babylon...

here's some stuff you might not know...

i love to talk on the phone...for hours...usually about nothing of great import. i have talked a full phone battery all the way down on one conversation, at least.

i sing, at the top of my lungs, in the shower. and i do smash-ups of my favorite songs, and there are occasionally dance moves involved.

i talk to my cat. i know he understands me. the only form of communication i've figured out from his end that is no-hair balls means "yes", and an abundance of hair balls means "NO".

the bulk of my netflix que are documentaries.

i really prefer the british-english spelling of most words.

i hate it when people call me "rach". i also hate how "rach" looks. seriously. hate it. but it's been going on for almost 33 years, so i've made a decision to just pretend it doesn't make me want to scream and throw things when people address me as such.

i compulsively sing harmonies in the car. i can't stop, and lately, don't even realize i'm doing it. this may or may not be a cool thing, depending on if you are in the car with me.

when i'm upset or irritated, and able to finally vent about it, i usually take ten to fifteen minutes to actually get to the part about what's upsetting me. there's a warm up lap, and then some sideways stuff, and then the real issue presents. it's weird. but it's how i do shit. knowing is half the battle, right?

i refuse to buy DVD's that do not include at least one commentary track.

the mix i made for winter 2010-2011 is one of the best music mixes i've ever made.

i will turn 33 on a business trip to new york. i hope like hell the meeting goes well, and i can convince someone in the publishing world to buy my idea, and help me be a real writer.

i will probably always vote democrat. people who know me know this...some of them agree, some of them disagree, and we all just kind of keep our mouths shut, and try to love each other, in spite of, and sometimes because of, our voting records.

i hate the fact that i'm installing cable this week...i've lived without it for ten years, but don't feel like it's reasonable to ask the renter to deal with my particular hang up...so...cable...eww. i'd like to tell you i don't plan on watching it...but i hate lying.

i can't walk into walgreens or half-price books without dropping forty dollars. i should just hand it to them at the door.

i really hate my new shampoo. but i bought it, and i'm going to use it until it's all gone. this is much like the time i though lemon flavored toothpaste was a good idea. i gagged my way through that tube, and i will wash/condition my way through these bottles. i never should have caved to the price point comparison, and totally cheaped out on my hair product...which is just something i need to get right with...because it's just hair. except that it's MY HAIR, and i like it to smell like flowers and feel soft and pretty. BUT IT'S JUST HAIR. i know, i know, i know. i still hate this shampoo, you guys.

i get to see bob dylan in six days. i will probably cry. i will probably dance like a fool. i will laugh, and close my eyes, and i won't care if it rains, because i've already planned out three outfits for weather contingencies.

i've been mentally reciting psalm 121 for the last three days.

i've realized that the cavalry is not coming. i am the cavalry. now, where in the eff is my horse?

i've played guitar almost every night for a month, just for myself. i love playing, again. i also drag out the autoharp, on occasion. i think i might even be ready to try and write a new song. two a year seems a little like a dry spell...surely, there is something else that needs to be sung...it's been nice to toughen my fingers up, to play, to sing, to feel like i'm making something that is unique in time and space, even if God and the cat are the only things that hear me.

all things shall be well. all things shall be well. all things shall be well. and all manner of things shall be well.

mil besos,
rmg

dry spell

You guys...it's so hot, here. But I'm so grateful to be here, grateful to be able to set the same number of plates at the dinner table as last week, I don't care that all the beautiful thunderheads that build every afternoon are a bunch of liars. Grammy had a major health scare last week, and we spent almost a week holding our collective breaths until Nurse Stacey figured the whole mess out, and things began to resolve. The doctor was so excited, he gave my mother a bear-hug.

Here's the real thing I learned, though. Even if this blog post were about telling you that Grammy had died, I'd still be grateful. God shows up, always. Even when you're not sure you want God to show up, and especially when you don't know what you want God to look like. We rise up singing. We are just visiting this life. We are pilgrims on a journey, and this life is part of the journey, but to imagine that this life is the totality...well, that just feels plain silly. At least today, that feels plain silly.

I think it's time to get out the poster paints, shuck the clothes, turn up Ritchie Havens covering The Beatles, and dance like a lunatic in my backyard...because I can't help it. I was praying a couple of months ago...really more just being quiet, and trying to listen. I remembered reading over and over "when you seek me with all your heart, you will find me..." and thinking that there came a profound point after my unconditional surrender when I realized I literally COULD NOT STOP seeing God's hand prints all over pretty much everything, and how that changed pretty much everything. So, in this dry dry dry summer, I find myself being grateful, all over again, and praying for rain, knowing that God is growing something gorgeous and delightful, in the mean time, just out of my sight. I'll know it when I see it. And when I see it, I'll know it.

mil besos,
rmg