New Blog!

Hello, friends and followers!

Because of some current complications with Blogger, I have decided to move my blog to Wordpress. Please follow me in my new location: http://restisunwritten.wordpress.com/

See you there!
Heidi

Coming

   Don't be afraid, Mom. I won't take up too much of your time. Sure, it'll hurt. But that will pass. And you'll be glad when it's over. You won't forget. You might if it didn't hurt. Pain has a way of becoming engraved in one's memory. It hurts me too, in case you didn't know. I'm scared too. But I don't understand what you're thinking. You press your hands on the walls of my world, palpating them to feel me move, afraid when I lie too still, sleeping, scared that I am gone.

   I'm here. I feel. I dream. I breathe. I'll come. Things will be different when I come. They won't matter anymore. Your old, cramped room. You think you can't go back there. But it won't matter once I come. I'll be tiny enough for you to take there. You'll be smaller too. The whole world will have shrunk. For a while we'll be enough, just the two of us. You won't think of him anymore. Why he never showed up. Why he never comes around anymore. Why he never calls. Why he never leaves flowers on your doorstep. Wildflowers. The smell of crushed grass. The juices on your clothes. That's all gone. A lot of things are gone. I'm not. I've stayed. I'll stay on. I'll come out of you. I came out of him too, but that doesn't matter anymore. He'll be excised, in a way. From you. And I'll have come. And stayed. It'll work. From now on. And you'll tell everyone when they ask, "Whose is he?" "Mine," you'll say.

   That's the way it's going to be at first. Then it'll change again. I'll be leaving. Becoming my own person. And you'll be hurt again. But don't worry. Everything changes. The pain goes away. Its edges wear off. And things work out. Don't listen to the whispers behind your back: "She's on her own." You're not on your own. I'm here.

   Don't worry. It'll work out. Somehow. I'm here. I feel. I dream. I breathe. I'm coming.

-- from You Do Understand by Andrej Blatnik

Thirst

O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you,

in a dry and weary land where there is no water."

- Psalm 63:1

I'm still struggling with a restless heart. I think I am on the right track by working on the missions application and going through interviews and preparing myself to leave the country, but I feel like I should be doing something more. But what?

In one of my Bible studies, something really struck me this week. "The Lord wants us to thirst not after a quick fix to our problems but after the life-altering refreshment of His provision... Without God's influence, nothing in the world can really quench the deep thirst of our souls" (from Priscilla Shirer's One in a Million). No wonder I'm so stir-crazy! No wonder I don't feel at home here! I do pray that I don't put too much hope into Kenya becoming my "home." If that's where God wants me to be, I will be satisfied and content (and hopefully find great joy and fulfillment in the process). But I must remember that I will never be fully refreshed until I'm in my heavenly Home. 

In the meantime, keep the thirst coming, God! There's no better yearning in the world.

Book Overload!

Wait? Is that even possible? Nah.

Yesterday, my parents and I went to the Twin Cities Book Festival at the Minneapolis Community and Technical College. I think they were initially skepitcal about the amusement capabilities of a bunch of literary crazies getting together and talking about and selling books, but after my mom got a bunch of free stuff and an author signed the book my dad bought, they seemed to be very pleased with the event. Victory! I, of course, was pleased from the moment we walked in. A huge used book sale? (I spent only $5! Pat me on the back, please). Contact information for numerous publishing houses in Minnesota and the Midwest? Being surrounded by people that love books like I do? Yes, it was a great time. Plus, it was really fun to keep running into people that I knew. My world is small.

And to put icing on the cake, as we were walking back to the car, the church bells of the Basilica were heralding a wedding. We came outside just in time to see the bride and groom come out and kiss beneath the arches. Man, wedding bells really do add to the romance.

Well, I'm off to do some publishing company research and to start reading my new book of poetry by Li-Young Lee. I didn't realize this when I bought it, but the book comes with a CD of him reading some of his poems! I nearly peed myself, I was so excited. There's nothing like hearing an author read his poem, so much depth and feeling, so much power. I'll be sure to share some favorites!

They Call the Wind Maria

To celebrate yet another gorgeous fall Friday, Josh and I traveled to Lake Maria State Park for the day. Our GPS, as true to form, took us on a very round-about route down dirt roads and past large farms, but we finally made it! It's definitely a park that you have to be searching for; it's really out of the way, which is probably why we had the entire park to ourselves. That never happens! It did cross my mind that this would be a prime time and place for a murder--no one to hear you scream....--but once that idea faded, I relished in this unexpected alone time. It was lovely.

It seemed we had just missed the peak leaf colors, because everything was on the ground. But the leaves were brown and crisp and a filled the air with crinkling. Following the trails was much more adventurous when we could barely see them!

As usual, we set out in search of geocaches, and in the process came across a camper cabin. Right on a pond! Apparently, there are three cabins and about a dozen backpacking campsites. If that park is always as quiet and secluded as it was today, Josh and I might just have to have a romantic get-away in one of those cabins. Complete with a wood-burning stove! Did you know that you can give State Park gift cards to people? *hint hint* ;)

I have to say that this park is now up there with my favorite places to be in Minnesota, along with the Stone Arch Bridge, Gooseberry Falls, and Stillwater. There is something so comforting about being surrounded by oaks, bald or not, and admiring their majesty, strength, and beauty. I'm sure the three swans on the lake added to that magic as well :)

Bubbles

After the wedding reception this weekend, two of my fellow bridesmaids and I went back to the hotel and played Sorry. A little while later, we heard someone trying to get into our room. Our laughter stopped immediately, they ran and hid in the corner, and I was sent to look through the peep hole. A little old man, still dripping in his swimsuit, tried the card key in our door again, looked at the room number, and hung his head. I could see every wisp of his hair. After a short silence, he shuffled off down the hallway and out of sight. Although we laughed about the situation afterwards, it was an intimate and precious moment for me, this glimpsing of his life through a small bubble. I hope he found his way home.

Happens Every Millennia

Today is a very special day, a date that will not happen again until 2110. Just thought I should document this momentous occasion :)

Speaking of days to be remembered, one of my best friends got married on Saturday! She looked so gorgeous and happy, and I am so glad they can finally start their lives together. God sure gave us perfect weather for it too! In the seventies, in northern Minnesota, in October? The leaf colors were amazing too. I am liking this a lot :) Spending time at their cabin was the best, aerating the lawn with our high heels, having bonfires, playing with wet dogs, and relaxing on the pontoon boat. Yes, a very good weekend and an even better wedding.

Congratulations Erin and Nick!

Prayer

In the book Driftless by David Rhodes, I read an interesting and lovely description of a character's prayer life. I wish it was describing me.

She prayed in order to participate in the Activity of God, much like a daughter who dutifully cans vegetable--not because she likes vegetables or contributes significantly to the canning process, but because she wants her mother's company.

Elegance for a Day

Now that we are finally unpacked, cleaned, and organized (and I've adequately played with my little hamster), I can spend some more time telling you about the beautiful Biltmore Manor in Asheville, North Carolina. For the few hours that we were inside touring the house, I nearly forgot that we were in America, because the architecture and mere size of the place reminded me of palaces I've visited in Europe. Let's just say I was greatly pleased to discover a place of this magnitude and beauty right here in my country. I was also glad that we visited this place after one of our few showers. I don't think the "country-club" crowd that frequented Biltmore would've been as forgiving of our smell as our usual camping crowd.

First, some history: George Washington Vanderbilt inherited his immense wealth from his father (who was in the railroad business, I believe). When he built the mansion, which was completed in 1898, he was still a bachelor, but, naturally, once he had that epic house, he quickly became the bachelor of the year. He did marry a fashionable young woman named Edith, and despite what you may think, they were madly in love. In one of their lounges hangs this striking portrait of her. We learned that in the course of a day, she would have changed outfits six to eight times, depending on how many meals and teas she attended and how many times she wished to wander her gardens or ride her horse. I can't even imagine owning that many outfits. I'm indecisive enough about my clothes!

George and Edith had one daughter, Cornelia, who was the one who eventually opened the house to the public (partly to earn money during the Depression and partly as a way to preserve her father's greatest work). These three were the people who owned the house, but there were about fifty other people who lived with them, mostly servants and their families. If I had to be a servant for anyone, I think I would choose this family. They seemed very understanding and down-to-earth. Each Christmas, the Vanderbilt's gave all the servants' children presents. Those same children were Cornelia's main playmates. They obviously did not segregate themselves.

Tragically, after fifteen years of happy marriage, George died from a failed appendectomy. Edith was crushed. She was now left to run this huge home all by herself, and money was becoming tight (relatively so, I suppose). Because she didn't want to see any of her servants lose their jobs and be without homes, she sold off a huge portion of her 8,000-acre land. This land became part of a National Forest.

Anyway, enough of the people. Here are some of my favorite places:

- Conservatory. This room was located near the front entrance and ensured that the family always had greenery and life, even during the winter months. The ceiling in this room was remarkable.

This image is from a postcard

- Library. George Vanderbilt was a very well-read man, as evidenced by his collection of 23,000 books. This library houses 10,000 of them; the others are scattered throughout the house in elegant bookshelves. There are so many features in this room that make me smile: the massive fireplace (a full-grown person can stand up inside it), the books, the intricate rod-iron banisters, the two floors, the spiral staircase. But the best feature is actually hidden behind that tapestry. The walkway continues behind the artwork, so that people can get to the other side of the room, which has more books. Also behind the tapestry is a "secret" stairway that goes directly to George's bedroom. That way, he could get to the library quickly and without bothering anyone. Even if I never get a library like this, I think I'd still like to have a secret way to access it ;)

-The bowling alley in the basement. On the other side of the back wall is the chef's bedroom. If guests stayed up late to bowl, their constant noise would keep the chef awake. The next morning, they could expect a poor breakfast.

- The expansive gardens. The man who designed all the landscaping was Frederick Law Olmsted, the same man who designed Central Park in New York City. Doesn't this peaceful place call for a spot of tea? Perhaps chai?

Well, I hope I intrigued you rather than bored you. These are but a few of the things we saw at Biltmore, and I really would encourage you to visit yourself. And if you go, be sure to get the cashew chicken salad sandwich on a croissant roll and the "special recipe" vanilla ice cream. Sometimes I wish I could keep tastes on my taste buds forever :)

Where's Joshie?

Now that Josh has his new camera, he is pretty much always hiding behind it. This picture is one example of what I deal with on a (nearly) daily basis, and it just so happened that he unintentionally camouflaged himself. So, ladies and gentlemen, here is my husband in his natural habitat:

Mingus Mill in the Smoky Mountains

How to Make Your One-Bedroom Flat Feel Like a Mansion

Sleep in a two-person tent for two weeks and live out of your Corolla.

Yes, we have finally returned from our journey down south. It was so great to get away from everything and have uninterrupted time together. I also enjoyed the fact that we weren't connected to anyone via internet or phone (service in the mountains is pretty much non-existent). Yes, the quiet, alone time was good for us :) And now, for some of the highlights:

- The Southern accent. I forgot how much I missed it.
- Having s'mores every night!
- Civil War Days, complete with a battle re-enactment and cannon fire. So cool.

- Two cave tours at Mammoth Cave National Park. Growing up, my family rarely went into caves, because my mom is claustrophobic. It's been really fun to explore them now with Josh. And speaking of people being claustrophobic, as we were heading through Fat Man's Misery and Tall Man's Agony (very skinny, low-ceiled places), one poor elderly lady started having a panic attack. It didn't help that she had vision issues, so the dimly-lit passageways were doing nothing for her nerves. The rest of us were stuck in the cave behind her as the ranger helped her crawl through. Emergency services had to come, but it still took over three hours to get her out of the cave!

Part of the Drapery Room

The Historic Entrance

- Eating at Chick-fil-a whenever we saw one on the side of the road. I am adequately stuffed with the goodness for a little while, but I will still miss that Chick-fil-a sauce!

- Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. Can I say "BEAUTIFUL"? Don't worry, I'll dedicate a whole post to this monster :)

Biltmore Estate, the largest home in the United States

- Our beautiful campsite at Great Smoky Mountain National Park. It was right on the Little River. It was so great listening to the water (and all the bug/frog noises) as we fell asleep.

Josh taking a dip in the river, a chilly substitute for a bath.

- The four-inch long (and half-inch wide) centipede that greeted us when we first got to our campsite. Surprisingly, it didn't faze me. But then again, it wasn't inside the tent.

- All the historic cabins, gristmills, churches, and schoolhouses. I absolutely love learning about the people who first lived on the frontier, about their struggles and their joys. Seeing their houses and the way they lived, is a great way to get a glimpse into early American life. 

One of the many cabins we found in the woods.

- Having friends come up and join us for the weekend for even more hiking and exploration.

At Clingman's Dome, the highest point in TN. Not only was the view spectacular, so was the temperature!

- Accomplishing my longest mountain hike--five miles roundtrip--to Abrams Falls, which was gorgeous. We stopped there to have some lunch and dangle our sore feet in the freezing cold water. I can't even express to you how refreshing that was! And, for those of you who care to know, I gave in and peed in the woods. But that's not the worst of it. I think we showered a grand total of three times in those two weeks. Oh yes, that's how primitive we were. ;) But washing your hair in bathroom sinks can do wonders for your soul!

Abrams Falls.

The Inner Feminist

Have you ever watched a movie and gotten really worked up about its plot? I've been feeling this way a lot recently. Last night, I saw The Duchess (I love Kiera Knightley), and it was a beautifully portrayed story of yearning love and the entrapments of Old English society. What made it worse for me was the fact that this--the terrible treatment she endured from her husband and her hopeless search for happiness--was a true story. I wanted to step into that dining hall and smack the husband around a little bit, scream in his face. How dare you cheat on your wife! How dare you blame her for not giving you a male child! How dare you view her as merely your sex toy!


Which would've promptly placed me in prison. Or an asylum. Or in the case of The Tudors (a fantastic show about the life and wives of King Henry VIII), I would've been beheaded. Maybe I should stop watching things that accurately portray the time periods I fantasize about. Being a woman back then would've sucked, royally. I don't know what kept them from killing themselves.

So, thank you, God, that I was born in a time period where the rights and views of women are heard and respected. Let me use my freedom to its fullest, and maybe, somehow, make up for the injustices done to all those trapped and miserable women of the old days.

On Deserving Things

I've started reading Eat, Pray, Love, because it's popular right now and it seemed liked the thing to do. I'm surprised that I'm actually still reading it, though, because I agree with very little of what Elizabeth Gilbert says. Not to mention that I think she's a very self-centered person who has too much money and time on her hands.

But she did mention something that I'd like to discuss, because it's been bothering me for quite some time now. While in Italy, Gilbert continuously talks about the pleasures she's enjoying and how the Romans she lives around silently applaud her for her idleness. To her, this is the ideal culture, one where people don't need to be convinced that they deserve luxuries and relaxation. Which is exactly what the American culture pushes. You hear it everywhere--radio, TV, on the street, in your own home. You've earned this vacation (or car or ipod or whatever). No one deserves this comfort (or opportunity or happiness, etc.) more than you do.


Ladies and gentlemen, let me explain to you what we all deserve. Hell and eternal damnation. I know, I know, I'm being a complete killjoy. But you know I'm right. We humans didn't do anything to entitle us to happiness, possessions, salvation, or comfort. Anything we have was given to us by the grace of God.

So please, please, don't use that overused word out of context. It's driving me crazy with its lies. And please, please, see everything good you recieve as a gift, not as something to which you're entitled.

Defying Gravity

My friend, Erin, and I went to the Orpheum last night. She won free tickets to Wicked. Oh. my. gosh. I had no idea what to expect, which is probably part of the reason I loved it so much. The costumes were gorgeous (especially the swirling greens of Emerald City), the dance numbers were unique and beautiful, and the orchestra was amazing (and loud, just the way I like it). Oh, and it made fun of Wizard of Oz, which greatly pleased me since I hate that movie.

But man! The woman who played Elphaba (aka the Wicked Witch of the West) had a voice like none other. Usually I prefer male singers over females, but she may be changing my mind. She kept growing in volume and power, and her voice seemed to be coming from deeper and deeper within herself. Like every word was wrenching itself from her soul. She belted out notes with a richness and passion I've only dreamed of hearing. It was truly magical. There were a few times when she finished singing that I wanted to jump out of my seat and scream and dance in excitement.

I feel adulturous for saying this, but that performance may have surpassed Phantom of the Opera. *gasp*

What a lovely and perfect night.

Indians in the River

It's hard to say what part of our Saturday trip to William O'Brien State Park was the best. Perhaps the flip-flopped geocache coordinates that led us (and many other hikers) into a sticker-infested area behind the campground. Perhaps the canoe trip we took across the St. Croix to a little, swampy island where Darwin leapt from the canoe--to ground he hoped was solid--only to create a huge splash and further stain his "camping Converse." Or perhaps the mangrove-like forest we discovered where we wove through the trees and pretended we were navigating the Amazon.

But no. I believe the highlight of the entire day happened at the end. Josh and Darwin struggled to paddle upstream; our two rental hours were almost up and the guys were exhausted from paddling. Ahead of us, a motor boat disappeared around the bend. There was a crashing sound. Silence. Screaming. A blue flotation device floated past us.

We finally made it to the scene of peril. People clung to the sides of a motor boat while another man tried to push them free from the island trees. A young Indian woman holding a little girl struggled to pull herself onto shore and keep ahold of her flooded canoe. Further still were three Indian men--still in their canoe--tangled in overhanging branches, and a man who appeared to be their ex-passenger clingng with all his might to a different branch. They called out for help, but there was really nothing we could do. We weren't experienced boaters, we had no equipment (since we had a rental), and we knew that if we tried to pluck people from the water, they'd swamp us and we'd add to the number of people needing to be rescued. Thankfully, a man with a motorboat who appeared to work for the park arrived and began gathering the misfits. 

(A sidenote: The rescue man went straight for the woman with the child, which freaked out the man clinging to the tree branch. The clinging man screamed for help, and the rescue man audibly rolled his eyes and said, "I'm coming. But there are like six of you!" It caught me off guard that a rescue man would be so annoyed and sarcastic in this, his hour of most importance. Which is probably why I thought it was funny.)

As we continued upstream, we came across many other canoes overfilled with Indians and their children, each boat floundering in creative ways, trying to get back upstream to land and their cars. I have to say, it was quite humorous. Especially when we came up to a couple who had sensibly stayed in the calmer waters and told us as we passed by, "We told them not to go out there!"

Oh man. I love people.

A Spot of (Japanese) Tea

Last night was the lantern lighting festival at the Como Park Conservatory. The afternoon was filled with Japanese music, dancing, martial arts, and (my favorite) drumming. I don't know what it is about percussion that gets me so excited. Perhaps because it's like a heartbeat. And Mu Daiko is more than pounding rhythms; it's a dance.

I was surprised to see so many people in the park, but it was encouraging to see how many people wanted to celebrate St. Paul's relationship with their sister city, Nagasaki. And the many anime characters that were visiting the park made for some interesting people watching as well!

At dusk, volunteers lit three hundred lanterns and sent them floating on the ponds (both inside and outside the Japanese Tea Garden). We wished we could've seen the lights in the garden, but the line was really long. What we saw was beautiful enough :) I only wish that people wouldn't have been so loud and obnoxious during the lighting. The lanterns are sent out in honor of the dead, and I felt very little respect in the air. Oh well, that's Americans for you.

Here are some fabulous pictures taken by Josh to give you a glimpse of last evening. I think we will make this outing a yearly one.

Ready to be lowered

Getting darker

Gathering at the end of the pond

Superior Breeze

We are back! Back from a wonderful vacation on the North Shore where the sun tans our skin without killing us with its heat. The moment we stepped out of our car when we got home and the humid ninety-three degree air sucked our breaths away, we realized how much we had enjoyed that Lake Superior breeze. Those three nights spent in the cabin were the first nights this summer that I actually slept well. I loved having the loft windows open and listening to the lapping waves as I drifted off.

I'm not sure if I'd call our trip relaxing, though. Over the course of four days, we probably hiked close to ten miles--mostly uphill--all for the sake of geocaching. We found fourteen! A personal record. I have to say that I'm very proud of myself for pushing through the burning leg, calf, and shin pain; it was totally worth it (not to mention good practice for our Tennessee trip next month).

Now for some highlights:

1. Since it's Split Rock Lighthouse's 100th birthday, every first Friday of the month the park rangers turn on its light. I have never seen a state park so busy! We wandered down to the beach and waited for the moment (I'm pretty sure Josh got some good pictures of it that I'll try to post later). As it got darker outside, the beam became more pronouced and shot across the lake. It looked beautiful. I'm so glad we were there for that momentous occasion.

2. We stayed at the Blacklock Cabin, a secluded refuge for artists and travellers that sits on a cliff overlooking the lake. I absolutely love that place and will never get enough of it. It gives you the sense that you are the only people in the world.
One of the nights, Josh and I went down to the rock beach and had a campfire on the shoreline. In the distance, lightning was shooting from the clouds and dancing on the lake. An absolutely wonderful memory.

3. Thanks to geocaching, we discovered a few new and exciting places. One such place, near Silver Bay, was called Black Beach. The beach is made of pieces of taconite from the nearby mines, and it stretches for quite a ways. We gave up looking for the geocache, though, because we would've had to scale a treacherous rock outcropping (and by scale, I mean, scale). I hope Josh and Darwin don't think I'm a party-pooper, but I didn't want anyone to die! But, in my opinion, finding that beach made the trip totally worth it. Maybe we'll have to return and have a beach fire there too!

4. Also thanks to geocaching, we found Beaver Creek, one of those places you cross on the highway and don't give a second glance. Most of the creek weaves between huge rocks, making it very easy to rock hop and explore. It's nicely shaded and surprisingly peaceful, despite its being so close to the road. This place will have to be further explored, someday when we're not exhausted.

5. Split Rock Lighthouse State Park. I can't believe my family hasn't explored this place more! Josh and I found a really nice picnic area and a beautiful campground. It's a tent-only, cart-in campground, which is probably why I've never been there before. But not for long! Josh and I scoped out a few sites and discovered one overlooking the lakeshore. Someday--and I hope soon!--we will stay there :)

6. Yep, Split Rock Lighthouse State Park is the winner for the best places on this trip. Though the hike was longer than we expected (and Josh wasn't wearing good shoes), we finally found our last geocache. On the top of the Day Hill Trail stood a stone fireplace chimney, and no one really knows the story of it. It's rumored that a man by the name of Day was building a dream home for him and his future wife, but the construction stopped when she called off the wedding. Naturally, a tragic love story would catch my attention ;) I wish they had built a house up there on that huge flat rock, lived quietly together on top of the world, and watched the sunrise over the stirring lake. The view there is one of the best I've ever seen. Next time, I'm bringing a picnic. And maybe a few logs for the home.

6. Blueberry wild rice brats from Superior Meats. Need I say more?

7. Eating at Grandma's in Duluth with the whole family. Love that soup, love that area, and love it when the bridge goes up!

In Session

I just started taking an ESL tutor training course at the Minnesota Literacy Council, and I have to say that I loved being in a classroom environment again. I know, I'm such a nerd. But I'm sure a big part of my excitement was because I was meeting new people, something I rarely get to do these days as an "unemployed" person. Plus, I'm learning some fun and interesting ways to teach things to people from other backgrounds (using visual, textural, and audio techniques) and ways to relate to their experiences (being respectful, passionate, and curious--but not nosy). Even though ESL tutoring is outside of my comfort zone, I know that I can use these skills I'm learning in many ways. Let's see, though, how eager I am to try them when I actually start working with immigrants and refugees. Intimidating!

Psalm 39:4-6

Show me, O Lord, my life's end

and the number of my days;

let me know how fleeting is my life.

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;

the span of my years is as nothing before you.

Each man's life is but a breath.

Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:

He bustles about, but only in vain;

he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.

This psalm is the story of my life right now. God has been reminding me how insignificant and small I am. At first, I found this revelation quite depressing, but as I meditate on it, I'm realizing that it's a blessing. My days truly are a mere handbreadth and my life but a breath. It inspires me to action. If I have so little time on this earth, why not make the most of it? And why not do it for God?

I'm very glad I read this psalm today; it further solidified (at least for me) our calling to give up our "comfortable" existence here and move to Africa. I've been noticing, in the past few months especially, that my desire to buy stuff has been fading. I don't need that new shirt or that movie. It's amazing to me that God has been whittling away at my materialistic self without me even realizing it! I'm beginning to believe that this whittling is preparing me for missions, teaching me how to control my impulsiveness and greed and to be willing to give up luxuries. I don't want to be like the man the psalmist describes, the man who heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it. I want to build treasures in heaven, the kind that will last for all eternity.

Just Bitten

I just couldn't quite believe this when I saw it. Revlon's newest lipstick color--Just Bitten. Hmm...who do you think is their target audience?

You know, the more I think about it, the more disturbed I become. How did vampires even become a national obsession? Really, vampires (if they actually existed) are very evil. They're undead murderers, not glittering vegetarians (Twilight) or powerful and erotic lovers (True Blood). But instead of being disgusted by vampires, we've completely glamorized them. Girls are screaming to become them. To become damned creatures. Just a bit unsettling.

What is this obsession saying about the American people? And, more importantly, when will it stop?!

Memoir Practice

"Now I feel a new power to write, the sentences just pouring out. I feel the books in a stack inside me. I have only to open them up, open myself up, and read off those words." - From Sam Savage's The Cry of the Sloth

How much I long to be experiencing these words, to be so filled with inspiration that I can't keep my fingers still! But I'm dry, and have been for quite some time now. I keep telling myself it's because I'm so busy, but really? My busy consists of a lot of sitting, dreaming, reading, watching the Bachelorette, playing with my hamster, and trying to elude boredom. So clearly, "busy" is not an excuse I can honestly use. You'd think with all this free-time I'd be wrapping up a novel! But no, instead I live off others' words and wish that I had written them.

I suppose I need more discipline in my writing life. Josh gave me a great book filled with writing prompts, but I've hardly broken the surface. It's called Old Friend from Far Away by Natalie Goldberg, and it's a great book; I highly recommend it. Let's see--why don't we do one together!

Give me a memory of your mother, aunt, or grandmother.

In Maine, Mom ordered lobster. It was fresh from the sea and stared at her from the plate. When the waitress set it down, Mom turned the plate with the tips of her fingers so that the eyes faced Dad. I was so fascinated by this boiling red animal that I could barely eat my shrimp. I'm surprised, even to this day, that Mom even attempted to eat a creature that, but for its being boiled, could've walked off the plate and snapped a fork in its claw.
Mom picked at the lobster valiantly with all sorts of utensils, laughing and ewing the whole time. The tail was good, she said. But then, she busted open the midsection, where the lobster housed its now-cooked dinner. The substances inside were grey and mushy, and a shiver ran down my spine. Mom quickly pushed the plate away, sticking out her tongue. Our waitress laughed.
Before the dissected meal was removed from the table, though, Darwin ripped off the antennas and made them dance across the table, sometimes swirling them in his water glass while he made sucking sounds.


Alright. Now it's your turn!

Continental

Big News! Josh and I just sent in applications to do media mission work in Kenya! If we are accepted and all goes smoothly, we could potentially be leaving the country next October! Needless to say, we are very excited :) I will share more details as the process continues. In fact, I may even create a new blog dedicated solely to our next and biggest adventure.

Please keep us in your prayers as we surrender ourselves to God and seek to do his will.

Sibling

Nature is our sister, not our mother--a parallel creation
that gives glimpses of a divine artist at work.

--G. K. Chesterton

Dreams

In my lifetime, I hope to accomplish many things. But more importantly, to experience many things. I firmly believe that art is born through experience. Below, I've listed some of the things I hope to do in order to enrich my life, and in return, touch others' lives through the art I will create.

• Travel to England and Scotland and soak up all the beautiful history and literary genius of that island. And sip a few cups of tea.
• Live in Kenya and go on a safari, learn how to make African art, and dance alongside the lovely people who love God like I do.
• Travel to France to expand my French-speaking skills, stroll the halls of the Louvre, and experience romance the Parisian way.
• Visit Rome (well, all of Italy) because of its rich roots in the Western World. The art is incredible, and the language is sexy.
• Go to Australia and scuba dive (or snorkel) in the Great Barrier Reef. Where else could you go to see every color God created?
• Ride a hot air balloon over crisp autumn leaves.
• Hang glide down a mountain.
• Learn to waterski.
• Master archery. There will always be a part of me that will pretend to be a great warrior woman from the past.
• Go white-water rafting.
• Ride an ostrich. Ever since I saw Swiss Family Robinson as a child, I've wanted to do this. I have no idea where it could happen, but I can assure you that if the opportunity arises, I'll be on that bird!
• Gallop a horse on the surf of a pristine beach. Romantic much?
• Have an old-fashioned picture taken of me as a Western saloon girl. Gotta let that girl come out some time!
• See Josh Groban in concert. These are the only tickets I'd ever camp out for.
• Adopt a child, hopefully from an African country. I want to learn that child's culture and incorporate it into our American life so that he/she will never forget his/her heritage.
• Publish a book. Could be of my adventures. Could be a story for children. Just something that another person will hold and smell and find inspiration.

Shrinking

I never used to call myself a pessimist, but the constant job rejections are taking their toll on me. I'm becoming nothing more than a quivering, self-conscious, unmotivated, and apparently inadequate substitute for a human being. Life is cruel. I just want to run away. I thought God was supposed to provide. But instead I have a husband I hardly see, an apartment we probably can't afford, and dreams of grad school slipping down the drain.

Ah, yep. Here come the tears...

Butterfly

Josh and I started a new class at church where we will be learning more about the Holy Spirit, who is sadly neglected or misunderstood in most Christian circles. We're reading this really good book by Francis Chan called Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit, and I'd like to share an inspiring passage from it:

     Years ago, when a random thought came into my head, I decided to share it with my wife. "Have you ever wondered what caterpillars think about?" I asked.

     Not surprisingly, she said, "No."

     I then proceeded to tell her about the confusion I imagine a caterpillar must experience. For all its caterpillar life, it crawls around a small patch of dirt and up and down a few plants. Then one day it takes a nap. A long nap. And then, what in the world must go through its head when it wakes up to discover it can fly? What happened to its dirty, plump little worm body? What does it think when it sees its tiny new body and gorgeous wings?

     As believers, we ought to experience this same kind of astonishment over becoming a "new creation" with the Spirit living in us. As the caterpillar finds its new ability to fly, we should be thrilled over our Spirit-empowered ability to live differently and faithfully. Isn't this what the Scriptures speak of? Isn't this what we've all been longing for?

Image taken by Dennis MacDonald

It's a Small World After All

A few weeks ago, I watched When Harry Met Sally, and I was greatly intrigued by the fact that Harry and Sally walked past each other, even had a passing conversation with each other, before they actually met and fell in love. Which got me thinking: How many times did I encounter Josh before I met him? What about my other best friends? And then I came across this remarkable video of a husband and wife who discovered they were both at the same place at the same time fourteen years before they ever met. Obviously that peeked my interest. Check it out:



Doesn't it make you want to go through all your photo albums with a magnifying glass? I know that when I'm in a big crowd and I see a camera flash in my direction, I always hope I don't have a stupid look on my face. I don't want to be the laughing point of someone's family photo, after all. But could it be possible that a background shot of me links me to someone else, makes our world fit into a 4x6 frame without our knowledge? Oh, it kills me that I'll never know!

But In Dreams

Revolutionary Road. A heartbreaking and powerful story of a couple who achieved "the American dream" only to discover that it's not all it's made out to be. In a moment of inspiration, they decide to move to Paris, to escape the traps suburbia has set for them and to rediscover themselves. But the world is out to get them and they remain trapped.

I absolutely understand. I'm scared that if I'm not careful, I will slip onto the fast track to the suburban trap, scared that if I wait too long to do something, I will lose my motivation. Which may be why I no longer have a desire to go house shopping. Which may be why I'm so disgusted with the way people judge each other based on their belongings. Which may be why we're thinking of leaving this place, perhaps go to Africa, if only for a little while. I want to (re)discover my purpose, to experience new places, meet new people. But most of all, I want to find a new appreciation for life. I need to know that there are still children who get excited to learn and who respect their elders. I need to know that there are places where family is central and the wisdom of the elders is treasured. I need to be reminded that there is happiness in the world and that it can't be bought with money.

I don't want to settle for the Dream and then force myself to smile.

Love Story

I think this music video pretty much sums up all of my fantasies.

Darwin

As many of you know, my brother's name is Darwin. Having a brother with that name oftentimes causes confusion among my Christian friends. "Did your parents believe in evolution when they named him?" And they sound appalled and slightly intrigued when they ask me. No, they did not, and as my brother would say, "Wouldn't they have named me Charles, then?"

My dad's best friend and barrack-mate in Vietnam was a certain Private Darwin. One afternoon, they were driving their truck back to the base when Darwin shot down two Vietcong snipers in the trees. Their guns had been pointed at my dad. It was just a few weeks before they'd be going home.

Dad has a pretty sizable collection of pictures from his time overseas, and recently, Josh and I started transferring the slides to the computer. In one little box, we found a slide labeled "Darwin." Below is the only picture (that I'm aware of) of this wonderful man. At first I was disappointed that his face was blurred, but the more I looked at it, the more I loved it. I fear that if there was a definite face to this man, it would be hard to imagine him, to see him as a hero and not just a twenty-year-old boy far from home.

Literature Condo

Remember how I had far too many books and no place to keep them? Well, here it is, boys and girls, the new beauty that lives in our bedroom:

My parents helped me pick it up from the store last night. Thankfully, we got it inside before it started raining too hard. Isn't it lovely? Five feet of pure literature. Naturally, I proceeded to spend the rest of the evening organizing, paging through, and reorganizing all my books. And I couldn't believe that by the time I was done, I still had three books without a home! *sigh* Guess I don't have any more excuses to buy more. Until we have a house with a library, that is ;)

Once the books were all smiling at me from their alphabetical (by author) orderliness, I just stood there and stared at them, smiling uncontrollably. I love being able to see all their titles clearly, to be able to pull them out and look at them without a whole pile tumbling down. And I love advertising my literary taste. :) 

I couldn't wait for Josh to get home, because I wanted him to bounce around in excitement with me. But he didn't have the same intensity of emotion. Therefore, I had a dance party with myself.

Toy Story

I can't believe it's been eleven years since the first Toy Story movie came out! Back then, I was fascinated with the movie's premise. Even before it came out, I had an inkling that my Littlest Pet Shops and Pound Puppies led double lives, had more fun amongst themselves while I was at school, and Toy Story affirmed my suspicions. I remember setting up all my animals in their little toy homes, memorizing their positions, leaving the bedroom, and closing the door behind me. I waited a few minutes before bursting back inside, hoping to catch them off guard, sprawled somewhere I hadn't left them, or even see one still wiggling. But they were too good, too swift.

Later, I figured the closed door is what gave me away. I never closed my door when I left the room. They must've sensed something was up.

After many failed attempts to catch the toys in the act, I came to the conclusion that they would always be one step ahead of me. It made sense that they could read my mind, because after all, it was my mind that gave them names and homes and scenarios. Even today, I still like to believe that tucked deep in my closet and out of sight, my little animals have county fairs and school days, birthday parties and barbecues. Wouldn't that be a great world?

Owl City Revisited

Little else can be said about the beauty of Owl City's lyrics (see my previous post for more details). Here I've written out the words to my very favorite song of his, but like I've said before, you really have to hear it to get the full effect. His synthesized notes and sweet melodies make this love song that much more endearing. I've italicized my favorite lines, the ones that carry a lot of poetic weight and make me sigh in contentment.

Vanilla Twilight

The stars lean down to kiss you,

and I lie awake and miss you.

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere.

Cause I’ll doze off safe and soundly,

but I’ll miss your arms around me.

I’d send a postcard to you, dear, cause I wish you were here.

I’ll watch the night turn light blue,

but it’s not the same without you,

because it takes two to whisper quietly.

The silence isn’t so bad, till I look at my hands and feel sad,

cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.

I’ll find repose in new ways, though I haven’t slept in two days,

cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone.

But drenched in vanilla twilight, I’ll sit on the front porch all night

waist deep in thought, because when I think of you

I don’t feel so alone.

As many times as I blink,

I’ll think of you

tonight.

When violet eyes get brighter and heavy wings grow lighter,

I’ll taste the sky and feel alive again.

And all to get the world that I knew, that I swear I won’t forget you.

Oh, if my voice could reach back through the past,

I’d whisper in your ear,

“Oh, darling, I wish you were here.”

Birds of Prey: Part Two

When Josh and I went to the Minnesota Zoo last week, I was struck with sadness. On exhibit was a bald eagle with a shattered wing. She would never fly again. And as such, she could not survive in the wild. On a rock next to her was a dead bird, the only way she could eat. It was such a pathetic sight. And it got me thinking, What kind of life is this? Are the zookeepers really showing compassion to her by feeding her and keeping her alive? Or is her confinement and pampering a slow kind of torture?

I admit, she was a beautiful creature and I greatly enjoyed seeing her up close. But I've found greater joy in watching an eagle eat carrion along the side of the road, dip and fall with the thermals, and dance with his mate through the air. All things she will never do again.

Josh did make an interesting point, though, because he too experiences a twang of sadness when he sees animals in captivity. It's good for us to see her up close like this, to learn about her and understand her. And it's especially good to teach children about her (and all animals), because they are the ones who will look after this earth once we're gone. And teaching them early and showing them the majesty of the creatures will hopefully instill in them a sense of wonder and a sense of duty.


I really love my husband. And I feel a little better about the plight of the eagle. Perhaps she is serving a greater purpose. I know I won't forget her!

Birds of Prey: Part One

One of my favorite things to see when I'm driving:

Hawks have always been high on my list of favorite animals because (1) they are majestic, (2) they have beautiful colorings, (3) they fly, and (4) they evoke visions of mountains and open skies. Seeing them along a busy street reminds me that all the world works together, we all belong and we all need to take care of each other. But it also reminds me of the potential hawk tragedies.

A few years ago, while I was visiting a nature center with my family, a man came in with a stiffening but still-warm red-tailed hawk. She had been hunting along the side of the road, swooped in front of the man's car. It all happened so fast. There was nothing I could do! The man's face was helplessness and pain. The nature center workers consoled him with words like "Don't blame yourself" and "It's only natural." But their words were hollow. We could feel them ringing in the air. There was nothing natural about automobiles invading the hawk's territory and killing her. I wished there was something I could do.

Now that I think about it, I'm not sure why exactly I smile when I see a hawk sitting on a light post. Perhaps because at that moment, he's safe and proud. Perhaps because the mere fact that he's alive makes up for the death of his sister. Perhaps because his presence is a constant reminder that we are being watched, being judged, and being protected.

Today

What ever happened to living in the present? Our fast-paced society almost makes the endeavor impossible. Josh just told me that Apple will soon be doing their "Back to School" campaign. Before school is even let out for the summer. Can it get any more depressing than that?


We spend so much time looking forward to future things that we miss seeing things in the moment. I wish I wasn't guilty of this. I wish I could enjoy five course meals and spend two hours at lunch with friends like the French do. I wish I didn't carry a watch and did things as and when I felt like doing them. I wish I walked more places rather than flew past them on the freeway. I wish I could relax and think for long periods of time without having the impulse--or fear?--to do something or be somewhere else. I think I'd be a better writer. I know I'd be a better person, have richer experiences and deeper relationships. But is it too late to change? And how can it even be done?

Corrie the Corolla

Ah, yes. I'm finally starting to understand what people mean when they say that cars are expensive. I'm sure our car isn't more costly than most people's, it's just that all the money is due at the same time--insurance, car payment, new tabs, new tires and other maintenance stuff. Bleh. However, I do have to say that God has a great sense of humor. Here I am, spazzing about all the money we soon won't have, and I get a check in the mail that completely covers the cost of the tabs and gives us ten cents in the bank.

God makes me smile :)

Target Field

On Thursday, Josh and I explored the new Twins stadium, and I must say, we have excellent choice when it comes to freezing rainy days. We sat way up at the top of the stadium on the third base line, and besides the railing that partially blocked our view, we had pretty good seats. Granted, we were barely watching the game, because the stadium was so cool! The parking ramp had this sculpture that changed shape and design in the wind and the HD scoreboard screen was mesmerizing! We would've taken some pictures, but Josh didn't want to get his new baby--I mean, camera--wet from the drizzle.

After the third inning, we decided to get ice cream (I know, makes perfect sense. But it's one of the only places that has twist cones!) and ran into some friends from school (we have a knack for doing that). Naturally, once we had the ice cream in our hands and stomachs, the wind picked up and my fingers turned white. No need to be alarmed about it. Everyone freaks out when they see it happen, but to me, it's just one of those annoyances that come along with being a very small person who has poor circulation to her extremities. So naturally, that called for a cup of hot chocolate, which, to my frozen fingers, felt like burning daggers. Not entirely enjoyable, but it brought the color back.

In the meantime, I overheard a worker mention that the main floor of the stadium had heat lamps. !!! Down the escalator we went to squeeze with the masses and feel like baked chicken.

You may be wondering how much of the game we actually saw, and you'd be right in assuming that it wasn't much. But I didn't care. The Twins lost anyway, and I had much more fun bumming around the stadium. Plus, by the time the end of the game came around, we had worked our way up to the railing and had a much better view of the field than when we started. So, the moral of the story? Buy cheap tickets but watch the game from anywhere. That's definitely not something you could do at the Dome.

I was sad, though, that we weren't sucked out of the stadium at the end. Guess I'll have to test out a Vikings game to have that experience again.

A Perk to the Allergies

Thanks to my allergy pills, I've been having some beautifully vivid and colorful dreams! My favorite (and the one that makes the most sense to explain) happened last night and was strongly influenced by the Discovery series Life. Luckily, we don't have to watch the version with Oprah as the narrator; we get the British one, which makes the series seem that much more educational. :) As a result, my dream was about some exotic (and purely fictional) creatures in their natural habitats, complete with a British narrator. When I first woke up, I really believed those animals existed! And I must admit, I'm sad they don't. So, without further ado, let me describe, in the best way that I can, the brilliant pictures in my sleeping head.

The two main subjects are a hummingbird of some sort and a really fancy flying insect. Strangely enough, they both like the same kind of food--a water lily-type plant--and both happen upon the flower at the same time. Since the bird and the insect are roughly the same size, it's not obvious who will win this argument, so they resort to a unique way of fighting. (Keep in mind that the action is described in an intellectually-charged British accent.)

The bird lands in the water and begins the dispute by lifting a perfectly rounded and glistening water droplet out of the pond. He tosses it in the air and it turns into a bubble. The insect lands in the water as well and begins his own bubble making. It doesn't take long for us to realize that the insect has a much more impressive display. The bird, frustrated and not ready to give up, puffs himself up so that he appears twice as large and closely resembles a fragile glass Christmas ornament. He is a very stunning creature when he accomplishes this feat; however, it will take a few moments for him to deflate and thus be able to fly again, so it is in these moments that he is the most vulnerable to the predators from below. Unfortunately, his grandest display has not won him the flowery food, for more insects have gathered and are laying claim to it. Dejected, the bird swims away and waits to deflate.

Geocaching Tales

I'm so glad the snow is gone and the weather is nice again; it's makes it so much easier (and more fun) to go geocaching. This is our second year participating in this world-wide phenomenon, and I'm really excited to see what kind of travel bugs we find. So far, our most unique tokens have hailed all the way from Japan and Germany. I kind of wish I was a travel bug, so I could go all over the world! :)

The other day, I was taking a walk around the pond by our apartment, and I spotted a side trail that went off into the woods. Even before I knew of the geocaching game, I always loved taking the road less traveled, so it was not hard for me to decide to follow this new one. It was so peaceful back there, almost like I wasn't in the middle of a city. It had rained the night before, so the trees were just starting to turn green and the ground was a healthy mix of mud, dead leaves, and new grass sprouts. I could tell this trail had once had more traffic; I could sense its loneliness. And I couldn't help thinking, "Wow. This would be a great spot for a geocache!" (Once you get hooked to the game, you can't stop thinking about it.)

I continued up the hill, ducking over fallen trees and branches, and came across a soggy spiral-bound notebook. Interesting. A few feet away, I saw a miniature pencil, a plastic necklace, and an empty white container. A geocache murder! (Josh later told me he thought a raccoon might've done it. Can they really unscrew lids?)

So, I gathered all the pieces together, placed them back in the jar, and started the search for the lid. It was about four feet down the hill, deep in underbrush. I'm sure I looked ridiculous hacking through the branches and slipping on the leaves! But I got it! The only problem was that, since I'd found the contents strewn across the trail, I didn't know where it was supposed to be hiding. I tucked it in a tree root, wiped the dirt off my hands, and felt like I had accomplished something.

A few days later, Josh sent me this article about a geocaching scare in New York. Some guys hid one in a parking lot light post, and people, not sure what was going on, reported it to authorities. They closed three businesses down and evacuated the area to investigate! Oh wow! Guess I better be careful when I'm snooping around. I don't want to be reported. Or shot. I suppose I should wear orange ;)

Why?!

I almost gagged when I heard that the makers of Facing the Giants and Fireproof had a new movie. This one, called Letters to God, is exactly that. This review from Entertainment Weekly says it all:

"A bland, pious yet touching faith-based tearjerker. In Letters to God, nine-year-old Tyler (Tanner Maguire) suffers from brain cancer (he's had 30 radiation treatments), but he's as upbeat as Shirley Temple. He fuels his spirit by writing letters to God, which inspires an alcoholic mailman (Jeffrey Johnson) to rediscover his faith. There are so many characters basing their actions on what Jesus would do that Jesus just about deserves a co-screenwriting credit."

I have never laughed out loud from a movie review before. But it makes me sad to know that it's my faith and my God that is the butt of the joke.

Now, I don't remember much about Facing the Giants because I hated it so much, but I do remember the poor, poor quality of Fireproof. The storytelling was too pat and predictable, the character development was extremely lacking, and the script was horrible--no one talks like that. I also seem to remember that, in order to ensure that there was an adequate conversion scene and so we could clearly see how the man's life was changed, we had to suffer through another random plot right at the end of the story. Some of my fellow Christians called it a "plot-twist," but let me assure you, that is not was it was. It was completely unnecessary, didn't fit with the movie AT ALL, and added about thirty more minutes to an already painfully long movie.

I understand that it's exciting when Christians get movies into theaters, that we have the opportunity to share our beliefs. But have you ever stopped to think about who is actually going to see these movies? Yeah. Christians. Christians supporting Christians who believe they're actually making a difference and reaching out to nonbelievers. If I was a nonbeliever, I would in no way be enticed to watch one of those movies. Sap and feel-good sensations do not sell in the real world. The real world is harsh and ugly. Why can't we Christians understand that? Why do we think that the only way to present our beliefs is through blatantly obvious avenues? There is such a thing as subtlety. There is such a thing as theme.

For example, the movie Atonement, though not a "Christian film" (and to be honest, it would probably be frowned upon in many Christian circles), taught me more about the meaning of "atonement" than anything I've ever read or seen before. It was done in such a beautiful way, and because I'm smart (which I fear many Christians don't assume of people), I'm able to tie that newly-discovered definition to Christ's atoning sacrifice. My faith has been enhanced and my mind has not been watered-down.

Now, let's talk about The Passion of the Christ. Mel Gibson had the right idea. His movie was raw and brutal and truthful. And millions of people watched it, not just Christians. The life (and death) of Christ was not a pretty thing, it was not without its complications. So what makes us think we can dumb down God's message so people "understand" it better? People understand heartache and tribulation and pain. Shouldn't we reach out to them from those raw emotions? Don't you think we should show truth through things that will stand the test of time? Don't you think mediocrity breaks His heart?

Memory Loss

On Nightline, they interviewed a man who had slipped in the bathroom and hit his head in such a way that he lost ALL his memories. All 46 years. I can't even imagine that. When he woke up in the hospital, he noticed a beautiful lady standing next to him and figured she knew him because she kept hugging and kissing him. When he was brought home, he walked into a closet and because the clothes appeared to fit him, he figured he must live there.

For the past year, his wife has gone through their photo albums and video recordings with him, explaining each person and each event. Nothing has triggered a memory spark, not even his wedding video or pictures of his child. How sad! He is reliving his life through someone else's eyes. I wonder if he'll ever be able to grasp who he used to be.

On a good note--if anything relating to losing your entire life can be good--he is experiencing incredible days of discovery and adventure. He's basically a one year old in an adult body, needing holidays, food, and animals explained to him. To his family, he brings a new sense of wonder to everyday things. But at a great cost.

What was most heartbreaking to me was when they interviewed his wife and she said, "We didn't just lose all his memories. We lost all our memories together, everything our marriage was built on. I have no one to share those experiences with anymore."

Maybe this doesn't strike a cord with everyone, but to me, this--and all memory-loss illnesses--is one of the most frightening and miserable things that could happen to a person. Being a writer, I rely on my memory, my experiences and observations. I treasure them. Without them, I am nothing, I can do nothing, I can create nothing. And being helpless in my own body terrifies me. That's why the movie Atonement resonates so deeply with me. I must write to remember, and I must remember to write.

Hamsters are my favorite

How could you resist these ads? I wonder if they let the hamsters just have fun in their new environment and then wrote the script to follow the hamsters movements. But in any case, these are really creative and super cute.

I particularly enjoy this copy machine one, because I've had similar experience many times :)

Enjoy!