Ninteen Days.

It's not the countdown to Christmas- I believe that is at 29 days. Just after Lucas returned to Portland, we recieved an email from our Lawyer saying that, although there was not much more to tell us, we would know something by December 15th. That's the next scheduling date for interviews starting in January. At this point in time any news feels like good news, even if it is still out-of-focus and imcomplete.

I am very excited, but also a little disapointed. The excitment is for obvious reasons. The disapointment is because I will have to miss out on going to Florida with Lucas in early January. He's headed to this really exciting week-long audition oppertunity. I guess I just wanted to be there with him to be his stage-manager and cheerleader. Wife stuff. Looks like I will be preparing for something of my own, and trusting God that He will do His thing even without me there. A lesson in humility on my horizen?

Figured you should all know :)

Krissy

Okay, so optimism took a bit of a holiday for me yesterday. Seems to be the way it is right after Lucas goes back home- especially when there is no more news to provide a glimmer of the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. You ladies out there understand how things can spiral downward on days like that. Suddenly, it is not just about Lucas going back home, it is about not being finished school, having a pile of dirty laundry, how I once failed to complete a book report in grade five, and the fact that I don't like bananas. It's all connected and complicated and it really is the end of the world. Even that thirteen-year-late book report.

 However, a productive day has lured optimism out of hiding and into the light. And I remember now that no one loves me less for disliking bananas or being 5'9 or what-have-you. That's right: I have turned off my girl brain and am clawing my way back to normal. This morning I accomplished more than I expected, and that makes me feel really good. It also helps that the weather is lovely and there are few signs of winter's impending arrival.

So today, I just want you to know that I am alright. I would rather be with Lucas, but if that can't be for now, then this is okay too. I  would hate to miss the blessings that are right in front of me.

Love,

Krissy

There is a great difficulty that comes with aquiring a new notebook: I always want the first page to be something beautiful or monumental- preferably both. And thus, I am virtually paralyzed with fear that causes me to avoid the notebook, no matter how desired or ergonomic. Some of this fear come from the fact that I am picky with notebooks. Some kinds I like only for note-taking, some for journals, some for creativity. None of those categories ever overlap in terms of the type of notebook I like for each. For note taking, I like generic spiral bound books, with multiple dividers for category seperation. For journals, I like hard-cover, spiral bound books with smaller-than-standard lined pages. For creativity, I like blank plages and something that denotes an air of privacy and neutrality- no words or pictures anywhere.

Although I am currently facing this great difficulty with a lovely journal-style notebook, I mention it because I have a new blogspace. The trouble is that, though I have held the blogspace for several months and am completely happy with the title, I cannot bring myself to post a first entry. I want the blogspace to be something beautiful, monumental, interesting, honest, and artistic. And so, I find myself with pleanty of ideas of what the blog should be, how it should begin, what it should mean, and none of them is enough to convince me to write. 

I would also like to point out that it bothers me a little to be comparing a blog to a notebook. It seems oddly perverse somehow. Nothing will ever fully replace the connection of mind to pen to paper.

Krissy

For as long as I can remember, I have considered myself to be a person of few regrets. But, here I am at the end of more than two weeks without writing, and I find myself adding a regret to the very short list accumulated until now. When I lose my way, I lose my words. The last few weeks have been marked with good days and bad days- the none so bad as to warrent much thought. I celebrated my twenty-third birthday, worked, raked leaves, went to church, saw Cirque du Soleil, dressed up for halloween. Everyday passed unrecorded and words were lost when I sat in front of blank screen or sheet.

Not to be contrite, but what is done is done. It cannot be taken back, only learned from. So here I am writing to you to tell you that I am still alive and well.

In these last few weeks, a lot of things have been floating around in the back of my mind. And, it seems that they all suddenly made sense yesterday. I woke up knowing what needed to be done- whether you want to call it subconcious intuition or God-given direction. I have been longning for structure or predictability- something I have not had for nearly a year. I need less distraction and more space for creativity. Believe it or not, those statements do not contradict in my mind.

The plan is less hours at work and signing off facebook for a month or two. I think this is the best course of action, but it also has the unfortunate possibility of limiting my contact with some people. That being said, in recent months I have felt like people are my lifeline- a notion which bothers me a little.

I think you'll be seeing me around here a little more often, but I make no promises.

Krissy

I am lacking in self-restraint when it comes to some things- usually things my mother warns me about ahead of time. And, though I really do not need her warning because my common sense tells me the exact same thing, I probably should listen.

Apparently, my life aspirations are not super high as the top two include living with my husband and getting a cat. Shoot for the moon right?  I have lost count of the time I have wanted both of those things- one possibly longer than the other. Seeing as there is nothing I can do about moving to the states until the government gives me the go ahead, I have focused my energy on the cat. I can't have the cat until I move anyways, so I am not sure this strategy is good one...

So, against better judgement and advice, I left behind my self-restraint and did a google search for the Portland Humane Society. I spent about an hour (okay, maybe two) pouring over the pictures and biographies of all the residents needing a loving home. I cried for every cat over the age of six knowing they need the most love, and looked longingly at the kittens wishing I could prevent them from growing old in an institution.

And then, at the bottom of the last page, there was Winnie.

It was love at first sight. She has become the face of my long-lived desire for a cat, and I can only hope that she might be mine someday. If not, I hope she will go to a good home and be happy.

*sigh* Daydreaming can be dangerous.

Krissy