backyard miracles

i went to a craft show a few weeks ago.  before i went i had the thought "way to go Janet!  way to support local artists!"  i've been to this show once before and loved it.  it's held in this old warehouse in what looks to be the middle of nowhere (in the middle of a city) and i think it's organized by a local screen printers guild that actually works in some other section of the building.  anyways, beautiful stuff.
i found my new favourite pair of earrings there for five dollars.  yes!  you read that right.  they are angel wings, made of something silvery.  they make me feel like i have a tattoo hanging from my ears and they make me think of my beautiful friend Cheri, and they're long enough that when i move my head quickly they tap my neck.  tap tap tap go my angel wings. 
today i wore them (again) and was in Rona when the cashier said to me (cue troubling music)
her: 'oh, i totally have those exact earrings.  did you get them in a make-your-own-earrings set?'
me: 'no, i actually bought them at a local craft fair' (at this point i think she must be mistaken)
her: 'oh, cause i bought one of those kits and they have the same pair in them'
me:  'well, i probably paid much more than you then..... five dollars'
her:  'ya, well, i paid four. 
       (hmmmm)
but, i mean, there was a whole bunch in the kit...."
       (grrrrr)
me:  'did you get the kit on-line?' (please say etsy please say etsy)
her:  'oh no, just at walmart'


you have got to be kidding me.


icing on the cake:  the girl beside her leans over and says "ya, you can totally get kits like that at Michaels".
nail in the coffin.  how many other coloqualisms can i write here? 

my angel wings have lost some angelic presence, i must confess.

on a brighter note, my husband made me a square foot garden box for mother's day this week.  i actually have a bonified garden in my bonified backyard.  i planted lettuce, spinach, mint, beets, carrots and peas this week. i feel so domestic i'm hankering for a new apron. 

there is something so pleasurable about putting a seed in the ground, covering it up, giving it some water, and watching a miracle.  i mean, there's nothing i can do but give the seed the right conditions for growth, i can't personally make it grow.  it's a beautiful reminder that God is absolutely in charge. 

i was listening to an AWESOME sermon the other day while painting.  i was painting chain mail (as in the armor not the annoying letters) and a horse, but that's another matter.  the sermon was from Brian Buhler at Pacific Community and it was on Psalm 3. 
first, let me say that i was filled with thankfulness that so many of my dear friends and Parkside sojourners now attend this church.  i pictured cori and leah and dawn and jaclyn and vanessa and jenna all sitting and hearing what i was listening to and i so wished i could have been there as well. 
my favourite part of the sermon was when Brian talked about those passages in the Psalms that we all cringe at: the inappropriate, bloodthirsty, bargaining, theologically incorrect parts.  and how he explained that these prayers are a part of our holy scriptures not so much as examples of prayers to pray, but examples of honesty in prayer.  they give us an invitation to prayer those desperate prayers that in other circumstances we would never pray.  "God, if you just....then i promise I'll....".  prayers of anger and loss and bitterness and disillusionment.  like God is saying "i can take it.  tell me how you really feel".  and then, after we've laid it all out on the table, God reminds us of his truth, his wisdom, his timing, his goodness.  something we fail to grasp when we continue to stuff our true selves behind veneers of piety.

hey, do you want to listen to it?  here it is: the transforming friendship.  it's the april 16th one.

tomorrow another backyard miracle is taking place here in saskatoon:  my husband is going to build a play set for our kids.  yes.  scott's never been a handy man before, but it's been something simmering in him somewhere - fanned by summer jobs and inspirational friends (eddie!).  we got a play set for free off kijiji which we took at first to be an incredible miracle, then found out in the midst of dismantling it that the wood was half rotted.  so, now we have half a play set (and a backyard big enough to hide it!), a neighbour with tools, and all the right elements for my husband to break out of the anderson family tradition and build!!!  i will definitely post pics when it's done.  i can hardly contain my excitement.  two things built in one week!!!

saskatoon has finally greened up, there are buds on my pear trees and tulips in neighbours gardens.  how would we ever survive without the promises of spring?  i lay on the hammock in the sun today in complete happiness, with my little boy rocking me back and forth. i think that i will meet the goodness of God many times in my backyard this year.  i pray the same for you.

today feels like a turning point. 

first, it was my little man's last day of being three years old.  sigh.  i picked him up into my arms at the grocery store and said "pretty soon you'll be too big for me to do this!" and he said "i can stand on a chair and hug you."  he's been using big words lately like 'familiar' and 'appreciate'.  i can't believe my youngest is four. 

secondly, i started attending a bootcamp class with two friends today.  i've really been asking God for this (i can NOT believe i just wrote that, but it's true) and it was such an awesome answer to prayer to have friends to work out with.  for some reason i can motivate other people to exercise much better than i can motivate myself.  but i was actually excited for boot camp.  miracle!  i remember in BC watching my friend Leah, and how she would be so excited to exercise and i thought (sorry Leah) "coo-coo".  exercise has always been a painful process for me, albeit necessary:  like fasting, or breast-feeding, or small-talk.  but now...nothing beats that endorphine rush, or the satisfaction i feel knowing i've worked hard at my health.  and i'm proud of the example i'm being for my kids.  and secretly proud of my thighs.  don't tell.

third, it was 18 degrees in Saskatoon today, and i felt the incredible sensation of being hot.  ahhhhh.  we barbequed steak for dinner and splurged on corn-on-the-cob.  we walked along the river and explored the foot-bride near the wier.  we saw a pelican!  a big white one bobbing up and down on the water.  who knew?  and i got my first saskatoon misquito bite.  it's begun.

fourth, carter started his first soccer class today.  i think his team name is going to be the "little monkeys" and their chant is a very cute "oo-oo-ahh-ahh".  yes, he cried at least twice in the practice because someone else was using the ball he wanted, but he also trapped the ball with his foot quite well a few times and managed to listen to most of the instructions.  baby steps.

i guess today feels like i've settled in an inch more in this new home.  like i've wiggled my hips and sunk down a bit deeper.  new rhythms, new appreciation, new discoveries.  it feels great (except for the misquito bite). 

the other day scott and i were talking about a church in the area and their approach to leadership and i had the thought "maybe that's the answer for Parkside!", then quickly realized we are no longer at Parkside, and there no longer is a Parkside, and,well, that's hard. it's hard.  there are some wishes and wonderings and what-ifs in my soul that i continue to stuff down.  no answers in this life i'm sure.  but some scars that i tenderly stroke as dear friends, as beautiful memories and deep loss.

on saturday night scott pulled out his guitar and i pulled out my paintbrushes and we sang and painted for an hour.  songs we haven't sung in a long time.  prayers we needed to remember.  it was lovely.  i'm currently painting someone's vision of the kingdom of God - a huge battle scene actually - and it's inspiring and terrifying all at the same time.  inspiring in the vision, and terrifying in the fact that i'm painting chain mail and horses and a castle.  !  i'll post it when it's done in four months.  seriously.

i also went to a class on the weekend that taught me how to plant and tend succulents (one of my favourite variety of plants).  the teacher was a sassy homosexual named roger who was wonderful and said things like "a rounded teaspoon ladies, we're not baking here" and "you'll find my succulent tips on the website".  succulent tips.  i love it.  so, i'll leave you with some of my own succulence: 

• don't skip rope if you have poor bladder control (learned that one in bootcamp today)
• bbq your steak for 2 minutes, each side, on high heat - then tent with foil for 10 minutes and perfection!
• if your kitchenaid mixer falls on your foot don't watch the blood pooling under your skin because it will make you want to pass out.
• prioritize sabbath
• my new favourite author is Laurie R. King (not to be confused with Laurie King who does erotic photography - this one learned at the computor kiosk in the middle of indigo)
• try Stash's double bergamot earl grey tea
• live thankfully

blessings to you all

ps. could someone hug leah for me?  and dawn?  and vanessa? and could someone encourage bethany that she's an incredible mother and artist? and could someone rub Jaclyn's belly for me? and tell Kandy she's beautiful? and kiss my mother-in-law on the cheek? thank you.

Good Friday

today is Good Friday.
For some reason i prefer this day to Easter Sunday.  although, truthfully, i am always left disappointed at my inadequacy to enter into either fully.  Good Friday speaks to me of disappointment, loss, sadness; the revelation that sometimes the Christian life looks empty of God's presence, looks confusing and ridiculous and embarassing. 
maybe it's because of the frustration of my upbringing in the Pentecostal church - always encouraging me to find the joy of my salvation, to trust that everything will work out!  Blessing!  Health! Christ Conquers!    truths, but not the Truth.  How does one reconcile personal pain with such a belief system?  and habitual sin?  and crippling fear?
enter Good Friday.
and dark Saturday.

it is such a gift for me to see the Messiahs moment of absolute strength, His action of defeating sin and conquering death, clothed in humility, in humiliation, in pain and grief. 
If God is in the business of using such things for His beautiful purposes, then surely there's a chance for my life to mean something extraordianary.  As a Christ follower I don't have to put on a happy face, i don't have to pretend to have the 'joy joy joy joy down in my heart'.  I don't have to wipe over my sin and failures and feign perfection.  I am called to be real.  as real as a man bleeding and broken and desperate on a cross.
i am called to share my pain with others, so that I can share my healing with them too.  I am called to admit when I feel forsaken by God, so that He can awaken me again to the grace of each breath and heartbeat.  I am called to expose my wounds, so that others may see their woundedness in me, and follow me to the source of Life. 

pretending to forever live in the resurrection, while denying the reality of the crucifixion, and the dark day of abandoned emptiness, left me in a place of skin-deep religion.  once i removed the masks of happiness and confidence i forced myself to wear, i was amazed to find there was nothing underneath them.  and the amazing miracle of my life took place when i started to embrace my lack of trust, my brokenness, my fears, my idolatry - once i started naming these things and sharing them and taking steps away from them - i found the joy!  blessing!  wholeness!  Christ conquers!  resurrection can not happen without crucifixion.

so, dear friends and stranger alike: die today to the masks that you wear.  come clean.  and tomorrow you will live.

denouement

my in-laws were just in town for a few days, and now they've left and i have this dull after the climax feeling.  denouement.  who likes denouement?  maybe people who enjoy endings.  i, for one, am always saddened when i near the end of a book or a (good) movie.  i hate packing for a vacation early because that hour of waiting between the zipping of the suitcase and getting in the car seems to suck all the excitement out of me.   give me tension and drama and suspense!!
my in-laws walked out, i closed the door and turned around to.....silence.  i've been teetering over grumpy ever since.

i severely put my foot in my mouth the other day.  want to hear?
i took my guests to the saskatoon farmer's market and immediately hit a stall that was selling  sea buckthorn berries.  never heard of them?  well, they're the most tart thing you've ever tasted, and supposedly are the best thing in the world for your immune system and overall health.  you heard it hear first, don't forget.  well, i had just purchased a little bag of these gems for smoothies and happened to glance down at the literature on the table, with graphs and charts promoting the seabuckthorn for all it's glorious qualities.  i noticed the line:  president Betty Forbes.  i said "ha!  betty forbes!  that's funny!!" (thinking, of course, of betty ford) and immediately noticed a silence illuminating from the other side of the table.  i looked at this lovely woman, who was now staring at the floor, and quietly asked
        "are     you       Betty        Forbes?"
she nodded.
poop.
i tried to dig myself out but fear i was unsuccessful.

i had a friend invite me to be on the church's slopitch team.  at first i was flattered, then quickly realized she had never seen me play any sport whatsoever, which then quickly led me to remember that i suck at competitive sport.  the fact that i first read the invitation as "would you be interested in playing slop-itch" should have been the first clue.  i thought it must be a card game i had yet to hear of. :)  i declined the offer, stating that it was in her best interest.

my daughter's principal informed her school today that we are in the season of "sprinter".  translation: 'stop pretending it's spring out there and get your winter coats back on.'  the snow has almost completely melted however, and i have joyfully discovered a flower bed in my backyard, as well as some patio stones making little paths here and there and a firepit circle.  we are using the barbeque more than the oven and i've packed away the long-johns.  you don't scare me sprinter!

one of the most magical moments of my last week was holding my friend lindsey's newborn baby in my arms.  he led out a big poop - i was so happy!  it is always a breathtaking experience to be reminded again of how helpless we enter the world, how completely devoid of understanding, how completely dependant and fragile...and that this was the path Christ chose.  it speaks to me of strength in weakness, beauty in dependency, honour in parenthood, blessing in helplessness.  and what a gift to walk beside Lindsey.  this is her first baby, and it feels so fulfilling to be able to say "this is normal" - the words i so wanted to hear every hour in the first weeks of my daughter's life.  i often add "i'm sorry it's normal", because truly, the hormonal imbalance, the discomfort, the panic, the confusion, the sense of drowning and losing yourself....why oh why does this have to be the norm?

i tell myself it's because motherhood is a sacred and incredible calling that cannot be entered into lightly.  we literally tear ourselves open for our children, and should continue to for the rest of our lives.

yet, my son eskimo  kissed me tonight (sorry that's so not politically correct), and my daughter held my hand and taught me a song about elephants, so the trade off is comparable.  they will fill my denouement with new climaxes and adventures and tension, i'm sure.

thank God.    

a quieting

i feel quiet.
those of you who know me well, or have spent more than three minutes in the same room as me, will know that this is not an often felt feeling.  but tonight i have this desire to wrap myself in down and sit under the stars and rest in peace.  i can almost imgine myself back at camp as a teenager, the heavens displaying the glory of God, lying on top of a rough picnic table, the smell of campfire and lake and the feeling of slightly burned skin, the taste of salt and vinegared french fries lingering on my lips.  and crickets.

spring has sprung in Saskatoon, just when i was beginning to think it would never.  there are streams of melted snow running down the driveways and roads, expertly engineered to tilt into the waiting sewers.  there are also massive puddles, that freeze and thaw each night and day.  i was standing in one such puddle, picking up my daughter from school, when i began to notice that EVERY child on the playground was in rubber boots.  i didn't get the saskatoon spring footwear memo, and was holding the hand of my very wet son, in sneakers.  it will take a while before the rhythms become my own.

one rhythm that is becoming louder and clearer to me is that of Sabbath.  this week we experienced it.  it was a day of breathing deeply; no lists, no "shoulds", no demands.  we sunk ourselves deep into the day and joyfully explored it as it unfolded around us.  we finished putting together our new barbeque.  we held a newborn baby.  we sat and listened to God.  we played.  we even shopped.  it was lovely. 

here's what i'm seeing worked for me last week:  i vacuumed on Sunday and tidied the house so that i wouldn't feel like it was falling  in on me on my sabbath.  clean floors and a clear kitchen sink somehow give me the impression that my whole house is clean.  i didn't make a to-do list.  i didn't sleep in.  i spent time with God.  i spent time with friends.  i played with my children.  i prepared part of dinner the night before, and didn't bother with dirty dishes. i tried to be attentive to God's leading.  i let go.  i enjoyed myself.

i wonder if that's why i feel so quiet tonight, maybe my sabbath rest is lingering in my bones, calling me to sit and listen and reflect. 

i've been reading snippets of works by Charles de Foucauld this week, and here's one for us tonight.
When one loves one longs to be for ever in converse with him one loves, or at least to be always in his sight.  Prayer is nothing else.  This is what prayer is: intimate intercourse with the Beloved.  You look at Him; you tell Him of your love, you are happy at His feet, you tell Him you will live and die there.

je veux crier l'Evangile toute ma vie.
(i will shout the gospel all my life)

yes, Lord.  even in this quiet.
   

attachment

i've been feeling detached.
travelling to BC, travelling back home, three bouts of strepp, three rounds of antibiotics.  i'm stretched and a little less than i want to be.  i'm asking God what He wants of me in this day, with the express hope that His desires for me are:  bed, a novel, some chocolate....and, a lenten confession: tv.
it's been hard to dive into lent when i've been diving into my pillow, but i have been really enjoying spacious and quiet evenings, increased listening and reflection.  and monday i embraced sabbath more intentionally - dirty dishes piled up, unmade beds scoffed (i ignored), and a little more space was collected.  tuesday morning's kitchen reminded me sabbath rest does not come without cost.  hence, six days of work are also part of the commandment.

anyways, despite the travel and the sickness, God has been speaking and teaching me, specifically through the tuesday morning women's bible study i've been attending.  it's called "aiming for excellence" and although some mornings i'd settle for mediocrity, it has been a gift to gather with some friends and some near-strangers and dig into God's truth.    we've been working our way through Francis Chan's book "forgotten God", about the Holy Spirit.  this week we looked at Galatians 4:1-7, and verse 6 reads:
and because you are sons,God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba!  Father!"

I've read this verse many times, probably heard a number of sermons about it, but this week it clicked. 

i've been adopted.
and now the spirit of my Father lives in me, making me legitimate, to make me feel like a child of God.

i began thinking about the process of adoption, and the necessity of attachment.  i watched a dear friend walk through the adoption process, and saw this attachment issue up close.  adoptive parents are coached on the neccessity of "attachment", are encouraged to take time off work and spend as much time as possible with the new member of the family, to have lots of skin-on-skin contact, to try and make the connection that a parent would naturally make with their baby.  sometimes it doesn't work however, and, as in the case of my friend, the family had to move on without that attachment - and therefore a child in the family who feels they don't really fit, and a parent in the family who feels like a failure.  hard.  desperate. 
then, months later, during the summer something just clicked, and parent and child attached and became mother and son.  it was beautiful to see.

this "attachment" can't be forced, coerced or manipulated.  it is not rationally won.  it is intangible and vital.

i have been adopted into the family of God.  and the Holy Spirit has been placed in me to attach me to my Father.  He is there so that i can relax in trust, so that i can walk in confidence that I am loved and cared for and wanted.  isn't that beautiful?

so i'm trying to nestle into that attachment, with the desire to completely stop living as a slave in my Father's house - worried about messing up, grovelling to please, waiting for punishment, feeling powerless and fearful. 
it's time to be a daughter.

and what does this mean in the dishes and sickness and toilet training of my daily life?
well, i have a hypothesis:  right motivation.  love vs. guilt, honour vs. duty, confidence vs. control.

May the Holy Spirit dwell in you richly, and reveal to you your status as child, and gift you with your Father's embrace.

mindy mccartney, where are you?

this is going to start with a confession. 
i just came home after being in BC for 10 days.  those of you who have reason to be mad, PLEASE forgive me.  we came out for Scott's final Arrow class, which i was invited to attend three days of, so there really was not enough time to see everyone that i needed/wanted to see.  therefore, i kept it a secret.  a mistake?  perhaps.  but let me tell you right now that we're coming out again in August, and hopefully for long enough to have coffee/tea dates with anyone willing.  (jenna?  karen? crista?).  again, i am really sorry if i've hurt you.  can i tell you a funny story to make up for it?

scott's been in a leadership development program for two years now (the Arrow Leadership Program).  there are four week-long classes he's attended, and last week was the final week, so i was also invited to attend the last few days and graduation ceremony.  the class is held at Barnabas, a Christian retreat center/camp on Keats Island. for some reason i did not received any communication about how i was to get to this Island, so I called up my friend "Mindy" [pseudonym used for upcoming apparant reasons] and asked if i could just tag along with her.

this is all Mindy was told : meet at the horshshoe bay terminal before 3:45.

okay, no problem.  we decided to rendezvous at the starbucks in cloverdale and drive there together.  my mother-in-law and kids dropped me off.  i had to litterally remove my eldest child from my body (why oh why?) and get them all buckled into the car.  i reentered Starbucks, watched out the window as they began to drive away and took a big breath.  'this is going to be great' i thought. 
and then i thought 'where's my suitcase?'

in the trunk of the car.

i ran out the door, almost colliding with a woman, and thankfully stopped the car before it left.  got my suitcase out and into Mindy's van and we were off!

a side note:  let me introduce Mindy McCartney to you.  i've known her for 17 years now, not closely, but as acquaintances and now friends.  our husbands are best of friends.  i have always looked at Mindy as overly competent, cool, organized, ridiculously strong and purposeful and beautiful. she has 5 children, the oldest being 11 and the youngest (twins!) are 5.  in short, i really look up to her and am the teensiest bit jealous of her.  do you have a Mindy in your life?

well, first thing i noticed when i entered the van:  it wasn't spotless, in fact, far from it.  HALLELUJAH!  i thanked her and she confessed that she almost vacuumed it but didn't, and i thanked her again.

we had a lovely chat driving to the bay, feeling a little giddy about being child-free for a few nights, and relaxing back into our friendship.  we arrived, parked, and began lugging our suitcases to the terminal.

i didn't pack light.
in fact, i purposefully packed heavy because
       a) my husband was not there to tsk tsk
       b) i did not have to board a plane
       c) i wanted to bring the extra book and knitting and toiletries....

we got to the ticket counter and asked if the Arrow group had already boarded.  the ticket agent had no clue what we were talking about but informed us that if we wanted to catch the ferry we had 4 minutes to buy a ticket.
we deliberated, decided that they must have a bus or something on the ferry and we'd meet them on board, or, they were stuck in traffic and we might as well go on ahead of them

we bought the tickets.

they were not on the ferry.

we were headed to Bowen Island, which, frankly, is gorgeous.  i was feeling like a tourist, snapping pics with my phone out the windows.  we were chatting away, texting our husbands, waiting for some clarity and Mindy's phone rang.  this is basically what i heard:

"we're on the ferry..."
"no, we're ON the ferry..."
"WHAT?!!"
"OK, OK, OK, bye."

we weren't supposed to get on the ferry.  there was a water-taxi that was hired to take us directly to Keats from the terminal.  crap.  the phone rang again to tell us that now another shuttle was being sent to pick us up.

let me interject here with another important background piece:  Mindy had had a hard week. She had dropped Jim off on Sunday for Arrow, then went home to take care of their five kids, and get the house ready for selling - including the requisite cleaning and painting two rooms.  She was tired.  she was stretched.  she needed things to run smoothly. 

they didn't.

we disembarked from the ferry and stood on the dock waiting for the next phone call.  it came, and this is what i understand the phone call to contain:
"hello Mindy, when you get off the ferry, go to the right of the..."
"we're already off"
"what?  you can't be"
"we're standing on land.  we're off the boat"

"where are you?"
"Bowen Island"
"WHAT?!!"

i guess they thought we were on a different ferry going to Langdale, which is now where the second shuttle was heading.  Mindy began gesturing to me to get back on the boat.  i stood there staring at her, not comprehending.  she said "get back on the boat.  run."
i was running down the dock, lugging this ridiculously big suitcase.  i was wearing a cloche hat that a friend had given me, and dress pants and black boots because i just got my haircut and it looks awesome and i wanted my husband to immediately salivate...in short i looked highly high maintenance.  i could see the captain up on the top of the ferry and he picked up his speaker and said
"people running on the dock,... garble garble garble...the next ferry is in one hour".

here's where dear Mindy could handle life no further.  she started screaming "PLEASE!!  PLEASE!!"   the ferry has now pulled away from the dock.  "PLEASE!!  PLEASE!!" Mindy is now frantically waving her arms and signing please (hopefully the captain knew sign language, or else he must have thought it quite odd of her to be rubbing her chest in a circular pattern).  "PLEASE!!  PLEASE!!"

true confession:  i was dumbfounded.  this was Mindy McCartney!  Mindy always strong and put-together, screaming and begging and pleading.  the world was shifting.  this was unsettling.  and, sorry Mindy, totally awesome!

we decided to lick our wounds with a cup of tea.  we lugged our luggage (hey! that word makes sense now) up this hill and sat down for tea in a small shop that was already closed but took pity on us.  we were telling our story and someone helpfully informed us that the ferry was a dangerous goods passage, and therefore did not allow foot passengers.  ahhh.....  that helped.  i looked at Mindy and said "i think she is dangerous goods at the moment".  she agreed.

it was a wonderful cup of loose leaf earl grey.  and a small Cornish pie called a "pastie".

lugged the luggage back onto the ferry, and up the stairs again (Mindy calling out "use the other arm so that you tone evenly!").  just before docking back at the horseshoe terminal, we stopped to allow another ferry to dock first.  the Langdale ferry!  we realized that we were getting off the one ferry at the same time as the other would be leaving again.  ahhhhh!!! 

i said "Lord, it would be so nice if we could just see a whale right now.  that would be a gift on a stressful day"
Mindy said "what are you doing praying for whales!!  pray for the ferry!!!"

we talked to some passengers who informed us it would be better to disembark at the same level as the cars, because we would be closer to the ticket counter.  okay.  down the elevator (yes!  there was an elevator!!).  we run out of it, directly into the glare of a ferry worker explaining we could not exit until all the cars were off.

Mindy:  PLEASE!!!  PLEASE!!  (did she sign?  probably)
he ignored her.
PLEASE!!  PLEASE!!  SIR!!  this is like a guttural moan.  this is seriously coming up from her boots.
nothing.

finally, another worker takes pity on us.  he asks, we explain.  he says "why didn't you buy your tickets on the boat?"

at this point something must have shifted in the appearances of Mindy and myself, because from here on we were escorted by various ferry employees wherever we went. :)

up the elevator.  run run run.  buy the tickets.  "where now?"  escorted back down the elevator. 

as soon as those doors opened me and Mindy were off like a shot.  lugging.  sweating.  up up up the hill down down down to the adjacent ferry.  almost smash into the next worker. 

"WE NEED TO GET ON THAT FERRY!!"
"where's your tickets.          hmph.               sit there."
"CAN WE GET ON...WILL WE GET ON?!!!!"  [totally panicking]
"the ferry hasn't boarded yet."  [here the idea of me appearing totally high maintenance reenters the psyche].

we are escorted to the elevator.  i'm just starting to think, 'alright, we're on the right ferry, we're good', and i hear this sound behind me.  it was a very soft unidentifiable swish, and then an "UGH".

dear dear Mindy, devoted wife, had been carrying her husbands dry cleaned suit around all day, on a hanger that incidentally had been digging into her hand (note this Jim).  the pants had slipped off and onto the filthy car-level floor.  and here is where Mindy McCartney threw a fit.
she was also dressed quite nicely (probably in hopes of salivation as well) and had heeled boots on.  she stomped her feet BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! and made short syllabic sounds I-CAN'T-TAKE-IT-I- DON'T-IT-CAN'T with every foot pound.  it was loud.  it was unsightly. 
the man next to me looked at me with these wide scared eyes.  i probably looked the same.  Mindy stomped her way to us and into the elevator.  we lifted in silence. 

after sitting down Mindy calmly turned to me and said "i tell my kids not to have temper tantrums, but clearly i just did".
yes, you did.  and i would pay to see it again!

all ended well, thanks to a handy norwex cloth in my suitcase, and the owner of the camp coming out in his private little tug boat to pick us up.  we told our husbands over dinner and laughed until we cried.

i love you Mindy.  thank you for sharing your humanity with me.  aren't we all just holding on by our fingernails at times?  good thing there's laughter, and tea, and friendship to get us through.

i've decided that maybe i am high maintenance and just need to embrace it, cloche and all.