Meet my new house

We have finally moved in! After a very long month of anticipation, I got into my house last Tuesday. We painted the living room Tuesday and Wednesday, and moved in our stuff Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Saturday afternoon, BJ's family came in, and we spent a relaxing weekend in the swimming pool. I haven't totally finished with wall hangings, but here are some pictures of the house.

These are some pictures of the living room. It was originally a light sage green, but we felt that would clash with our olive green couched, so we painted it this "aqua smoke" blue. Notice the new entertainment center from IKEA!



Next, these are a few pictures of the guest bedroom. If you come to see me, which I hope you will, you will stay in this lovely room.



This is the down stairs bathroom. Are shower curtain couldn't have matched better with the existing colors and fixtures.




We haven't finished with the office, but this is the work space I have set up for myself.


Our kitchen is one of my favorite places to be. It is a bright, happy yellow, and all of my red stuff looks fabulous in it.



Upstairs is our bedroom. The setting of the room makes it feel a million miles away from everything else. It is our own little oasis.



Also upstairs is this precious third bathroom. All it has is this beautiful tub and a ton of closet space. It's kind of like a walk in closet with a bath tub.


Lastly, here is a back yard. We have 1.8 acres of property, so the back yard is enormous. It has fruit trees, and lots of shade. And of course, our new favorite toy, the swimming pool. As a side note, if any of my friends get married while I'm living here, I fully expect the wedding and reception to be in my back yard. It is set up perfectly for the occasion.


Hope I didn't overwhelm anybody with this many pictures. I guess I'm just really, overly excited about my first home.

I'm a home owner!!!!

We closed Tuesday morning. I've been busy ever since. Think eight year old girl. Christmas morning. Really cool dollhouse under the tree. Yeah, think that.

P.S. More pictures to come.

you what?

Something happened yesterday that has never happened in my marriage. Actually, it's never happened in the nearly four years I've known BJ. He walked in the house after a long day at work and said these four miraculous words: "I love my job." I was stunned. And really, really, outrageously happy. So the boy who was never going to be a preacher loves being a preacher. I don't pretend to know what God is thinking, but I like to think he's having a chuckle over this one.

Pookie

The other day, I was sitting out on my front porch talking to one of the men from the church when I had an absolutely priceless preacher's-wife moment. He is a Harley Davidson sort of guy, gruff when he talks but extremely charitable. He's is a little older than my father, and he has a daughter about my age. I've been trying to think of an alias for this man, and for some reason BJ is insisting that I call him Pookie. So for the purposes of this blog, we'll call the man Pookie. This is the moment when I decided I really liked Pookie, but I'm glad he isn't my father:

Pookie: So how old are you?
Me: Twenty-three.
(Long silence while Pookie thought this over)
Me: (know what he was thinking) BJ is six years older than me.
(Another long silence)
Pookie: I would o' shot him.

I'm back

It's been a long stretch for me with no blogging, but please be understanding all you devoted readers (aka Mom). I am currently living in the middle of no where with no internet, no TV, and no (scary horror film music) Target. That's right. BJ and I have made it to Farmington.

It's been a good, though busy, first week. We've gotten to know countless people, and they have brought me an ice box full of fresh vegetables from their gardens. BJ has survived his first Sunday, and his sermon is pretty much ready for the next. We walk in the evenings on the most scenic walking routes I have ever seen, and the weather is pleasant with the highs in the 80's. All and all, we are getting off to a good start.

The only draw back is that we are border-line homeless. Financing on our house is still up in the air, so we are living in an extremely small rental home on a road that would freak the bageebees out of Erin (wink wink to my Fat Tuesday girls). I'm trying to stay positive, but I have to admit it is extremely difficult not having a place where I feel at home. As an introvert, I desperately need a home and everything that is involved in that word. I need a place that has my things scattered around it where I can cook and do whatever crazy art project comes to mind and lay on my bed (not air mattress) to read. Hopefully, it won't be long before we will know where that place will be. Until then, we appreciate your prayers that God will put us in the best possible place.

Living out of boxes

I hate packing. I get really, ridiculously stressed out, everything seems like an ordeal, and worst of all, my things become suddenly unreachable in those taped up boxes. I've avoided packing up my art room because it is where I go to de-stress. Throughout the packing of the rest of the house, I would sneak to my art room to work on finishing up some projects. Just before packing up my art room, I did one final painting. Here's a picture of it if you are interested:

We will be heading out Thursday, and, needless to say, I am really nervous. My parents got me a huge Texas star with Texas written around the edge to take with me. This way, there will never be any confusion when people come to our house about where I'm from, and I will always have a piece of home with me. Also, Cary Gay (Mom's boss and my other mother) got us a Texas shaped hummingbird feeder. It is fabulous. And believe it or not, BJ is actually finding all of these souvenirs humorous. I guess he is finally coming to terms with the fact that he married an irreversible Texan.

How to buy a house in the middle of a nationwide housing crisis (or why I keep crying every five minutes)

Due to the fact that I am married to an old man, I am the first in my circle of friends to buy a house. Needless to say, I was totally unprepared for what a hassle the whole process is. A couple of weeks ago, BJ and I went to Kentucky to find a place to live come August. We went through about a dozen mediocre homes before we walked into our (ta-daa) dream home: a small, older two-story cottage that epitomizes the word quaint. It was love at first sight, and to make things even better, it was across the street from the church, so they were really happy about our choice. Our real estate agent (who I love) immediately took us back to the office to write up an offer. The offer was accepted, everyone was gloriously happy, and then money had to get involved.

Basically, two weeks of nail-biting and tears have passed, and we are still in limbo. Things are looking slightly more promising, but it is all so ridiculously complicated. BJ and I are surprised at how attached we feel to this little home we've never lived in. Not so deep inside of me, there is a little girl stomping her feet and screaming "It's my cottage!!! I don't care that there is a housing crisis and our economy is in shambles. I want my cottage and I want it NOW!" (She's a wordy little brat.)

With the stress of the house situation coupled with all of my belongings being in boxes that line the walls of our current house, I am a wreck. I keep crying over crazy things. For example, I was packing our kitchen towels earlier, and I came across some that were my grandmothers. They are decorative towels, so I've never washed them. I held them up to my nose, and to my surprise, they still smelled like Grandma's house. Of course, this sent me into a good long cry, because, as we all know, Grandma would have loved my little cottage.

I say all of this to say that we would really appreciate some prayers. Not necessarily that we will get our cute little cottage (although that would be nice), but rather that we will be able to accept whatever happens. Being an adult is such a drag.

Fat Tuesday Meets Again

My best friends from college met this at the end of last week for a weekend in the hill country. We were at a really great resort in Lago Vista, and we spent most of Friday in Austen. Here are a few pictures of our really awesome trip.

Farmington Church of Christ

I think if we members of the Churches of Christ are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that our buildings are generally ugly. I mean, if you want to have your wedding in the church you grew up in, you might as well plan on a background of ancient paneling, tiny windows, grape-juice stained carpet, and badly upholstered pews (and lets not even get started on the subject of the outside of the building). This is why it was such a surprise to see the Farmington Church of Christ: it is beautiful! While we were there last week, I took the liberty of taking a bunch of pictures of the interior. I forget to take any of the outside, but just think cute white church with a steeple. It is adorable. Here is the newly re-vamped inside of the church:

This is the entry way.



These windows line each side of the church.

I love how simple the baptistry is. Anyways, I just wanted to post some pics (especially for you, Mom). And let us all rejoice that there are a few pretty Churches of Christ out there.

Proud flesh

Tomorrow is mine and BJ's two year anniversary. It has been an interesting two years. We've finished college, BJ has found his calling, we've lived in the big city and discovered we're meant for the country, and we've had countless other adventures, many of which were a little bit painful and some that were bend-over-laughing funny. I can honestly say that I can't wait to see what the third year brings. Here is a poem for BJ. It's a love poem.

For What Binds Us
by Jan Hirshfield

There are names for what binds us:
strong forces, weak forces.
Look around, you can see them:
the skin that forms in a half-empty cup,
nails rusting into the places they join,
joints dovetailed on their own weight.
The way things stay so solidly
wherever they've been set down -
and gravity, scientists say, is weak.

And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,

as all flesh
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest -

And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between their bodies,
stronger, darker, and proud;
how the black cord makes of them a single fabric
that nothing can tear or mend.

150 Posts

Its hard to believe, but this is my 150th post on this blog. I started this blog the day I changed my name to Gensic nearly two years ago. I can honestly say, the first two years of marriage have flown by. When I look back on this time, I see a frenzied blur of hopes, anxieties, joys, and pains. And this coming month is shaping up to be just such a blur. After are time with BJ's family this past week in Branson, we now have to find a home three states north of where I'm sitting right now, pack, and move in time for BJ to start work August 1st. In addition, I have a Fat Tuesday girls weekend (yay!!!), and I am hoping to get a little time with my family. Today, we are going to Winters to retrieve our dogs and cat from their uncle and grandparents where they stayed while we were gone. Needless to say, its all a little daunting.

Last night, I looked at countless houses in the area we are moving to. It is so much fun to see the homes and imagine moving into one. With each photo, I try to picture what life would be like in those hallways. It is hard to get a clear image, because everything feels so unpredictable right now, but I am hopeful that we can build a good life in our little corner of Kentucky. As always, we appreciate prayers as we embark on yet another crazy month.

Off the unemployment list again

BJ received an official job offer last night from the Farmington Church of Christ in Farmington, Kentucky, and I am happy to say that we accepted the offer. We will be moving at the end of July, so we have a lot to do in a very short time. I'd appreciate all the prayers you can spare as we enter ministry. We're both intimidated and excited at the prospect.

I'd love to write more, but we are heading out in 15 minutes for a week in Branson with BJ's family. I'll write in a week when I get back!

Gus's new haircut

If you will remember, Gus's previous haircut (which was the first he had ever had in his life) went disastrously. Basically, in resulted in a week of starvation, moping, and living in a state of fear every time BJ (aka the Barber) walked into the room. Thankfully, the little guy seems to have taken it better this time. He is eating, playing, and although he still has a healthy amount of fear towards BJ (as all dogs do), he isn't hiding under beds or running from the room.

I've recently started playing with the video feature on my camera. It turns out I'm extremely talented at making stupid, pointless short documentaries. So here is the night after the haircut. You can see for yourself what a happy dog I have.



I'm going to be one of those mothers who irritates people by constantly talking about how cute her kid is when it does weird stuff like spit up or poop. I should probably consider investing in a life-time supply of birth control.

We're back.

We arrived back from the hole yesterday. It was a great week in Menard. We played games with family, ate good food, and me and Mom redecorated my room. So I was busy constantly, but it was all in fun.

My room was still looking a lot like the habitat of a teenager prior to last week. But after a fresh coat of paint, new bedding, a little rearranging, and (perhaps most importantly) carrying out to trash bags full of junk, it is looking pretty good.

Thankfully, it wasn't all just hard work. We also ate lots of food...

played games...


opened presents...


watched movies...


played entirely too much XBox...


and slept...


All in all, it was a good week.

Life in a hole

I am about to leave any moment now for Menard. I love going to Menard because it is entirely peaceful and cut off from the chaos of city life. The only problem is that going to Menard means I'm entering the zone of no internet, and therefore, no blogging. You see, my parents live in a hole. Literally, Menard is a valley. Somehow, living in a hole has had the effect of cutting them off from the modern world. When BJ and I tell people about our childhoods (we both grew up in isolated areas) we get quaint little comments, like "That's so colonial." So I guess I'm going off to a "colonial" existence for a week. I'll catch y'all later.

The road to my crazy life

Today I visited my Site Meter, a resource that keeps track of how many visits this blog receives, where people are located who visit the blog, how long they stayed, what pages they viewed, etc. Pretty much the only thing it does not tell is the name of the visitor. I like to check up on these things occasionally out of curiosity: how many hits am I getting? Do people find my blog interesting enough to stay for a while? and so on. But my favorite tidbit of info is how people found my blog. Site Meter shows the exact source that lead the visitor onto my blog. Most of the time, people find my blog because they were reading one of my friends' blog, and a lot of people come directly to my blog because they are regular visitors. But occasionally, people find my blog by random searches done on Google or Yahoo. I started looking at the search words that lead unsuspecting web surfers into my domain, and I found that is was telling as to the randomness of the content of this blog. Here is a sampling of search terms that direct people to my blog:

• over consumption of water in dogs
• boy and dog praying
• I got peed on
• at our house we have a dog named gus
• we pretty much make our living on crazy

Just knowing that the words "I got peed on" lead people to my virtual front door makes me happy. And also a little disturbed. I think I do indeed make my living on crazy.

Inherited Paranoia

I'll never forget the time I was sick as a child with some minor ailment, and my mom took the opportunity to teach me something about my father. He was, as always, freaking out about all the possibilities this ache could be, and it was in turn freaking me out. Mom took me aside, and whispered to me, "Don't worry about all that. He's just like his mother. He thinks everything is cancer."

My grandmother was an extremely paranoid person, so my dad did come by this quirk honestly. Unfortunately, despite being warned at a young age by my mother, I, too, have inherited this gene, and it is a burdensome gene. Six months ago, I had a constant pain in my lower back. I stayed up night after night worrying about all the types of cancer or terminal illnesses that might make themselves known through back pain. Finally, I went to the doctor. It appears I had kinked up a muscle by worrying too much. That's right. I was suffering from a severe case of irony.

This compulsive worrying is not limited to just worrying about myself. I also manage to worry about my friends and family. For the past few weeks, my dad has been crippling around with a sore toe. I managed to get in quite a fright over this. I'd never heard of toe cancer, but who knows for sure, right? The pain finally got too much for him, and he went to the doctor. Turns out he had a planter's wort. As pathetic as this sounds, I slept better last night knowing my father just had a planter's wort.

In mine and my father's defense, we really had very little chance of coming out well. My Grandma Pierce was a nut. She actually got herself into a panic once because she thought her San Angelo Standard Times horoscope was telling her she was a lesbian. Yay, I was doomed long ago.

30 hour road trip + intense interview = exhaustion

Well, we're back. Actually, we got back four days ago, but I am just now catching up enough on life to actually sit for a moment and write. Kentucky was a good experience. They were good, loving people, and we really enjoyed the trip. Look how beautiful Kentucky is:


Interviewing for a preaching job is an extremely intense and stressful process. Here is a quick run down of how this interview went:

• Saturday afternoon: arrive and play games with the youth group.
• Saturday evening: have dinner with about twenty people who make up the hiring committee and participate in a small group prayer time.
• Sunday morning: BJ did the Bible class for all adults, and , of course, he delivered the sermon.
• Sunday lunch: we ate with about 50 of the members who had not had the opportunity to meet us yet.
• Sunday evening: instead of the regular service, they set up two microphones: one for BJ and myself and the other for the current minister. Church this night was just one big interview in front of the whole congregation.
  
• Sunday evening after church: we went to Dairy Queen with several of the people we had gotten to know the best. It was really nice.

So if you ever are thinking about going into ministry, here's what you have to look forward to. It is extremely challenging, but also very rewarding when things go well. We always end up learning a little about ourselves and about God's church.

After thirty hours on the road in 4 days, we are pretty much exhausted. As always, pictures of our dogs speak more clearly that I can. This is Gus and Sienna as we pulled out of Frisco Thursday afternoon:

And this is Gus and Sienna around the time we crossed the Texas border Monday night:

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

Here we come, Kentucky!

Bags are packed, the car has new tires, fresh oil, and a shining clean interior, and, most importantly, the dogs are washed. That's right. It's time for a road trip. BJ and I are leaving in approximately two hours to embark on our journey to Kentucky. BJ has an interview with a church in Farmington, KY, so we're making a four day weekend out of it and circling up to see his parents. I'm pretty nervous, actually. Two whole days of interviewing is a daunting prospect.

In preparation for the trip, I washed the dogs yesterday. Actually, I washed Sienna. Gus, would not get in the tub for me. No matter how much I commanded and pleaded, he just stared at me. I even tried lifting the 70 pound dog. I don't think I need to say that didn't work. So I waited until BJ got home. BJ lifted him up and tossed him in the tub. Then we washed him. By the time we were done washing that mass of hair, Gus was entirely traumatized. Here is a picture of him drowning his woes in his food bowl:

This is Sienna wishing she had more food, because, as always, she finished eating before Gus:

Gus stayed wrapped up in that towel all evening. It was like a small child with their blanky after a traumatizing event. Unfortunately, dogs don't have thumbs to suck.

My art room is growing

Although I enjoyed doing some grad courses in English, I am really glad they're over. I was getting tired of writing and reading, and I was itching to get back into the art room. Since my last day, pretty much all I've done is catch up in the art room. Unfortunately, as often happen in my house (past room mates can attest to this), my art room has spilled out into other areas of the house. I've been doing a fairly extravagant printmaking process for the past couple of months, and, as you can see below, my dining room has had to pay the price:

I finally finished this project late last night. Here is the final product:


I'm hoping to have an art show in my home town before the end of the year. These, of course, would be in the show, and they'd be up for sale. As I've said, this past semester at UNT was fun, but if it taught me anything, it is that I will get a masters degree in art if I get it in anything.

MY HUSBAND IS NOT A HERETIC!!!

There, I've been needing to say that all week. It felt good.

If you're wondering why I might have the impulse to say that, just give me a call. But if you know much about the past year in mine and BJ's life, you can probably guess what's going on.

Creativity in everything

It is impossible to understand what a blessing church is in the life of a Christian until one has gone without it during a difficult time. When BJ and I moved to Frisco, we had a horribly difficult time adjusting, and we just couldn't find a church that felt right after the near-utopia of our experience at Nugent. However, last December, we stumbled upon a church filled with good, loving people, and we've been there ever since. They have helped us emotionally and spiritually through a whole slew of difficult situations.

This coming Sunday, our preacher is going to be out of town for the Pepperdine lectureship, so BJ is getting to step back into the pulpit for a week. This is perfect timing because a lot of the churches that BJ has applied for are requesting recordings. Since this little fill-in gig is rapidly turning into an audition for several job prospects, BJ has been putting a lot of time and effort into his preparation.

Last night when I came home from my closing shift at Micheal's, BJ asked me to listen to what he had down so far. I was happy to oblige, but as soon as he set down at the computer, his shy bone kicked in. The next thing I knew, BJ had the lights off and me laying down with my eyes shut so that he wouldn't get self-conscious. We giggled a little over the absurdity of the situation, but the trick worked, and BJ was able to recite the first third or so of his sermon to me.

While I was laying in the absolute dark listening to BJ's words said with his own peculiar accent and inflections, it occurred to me that being his wife is a role I absolutely relish. Hopefully this isn't overly prideful, but I am extremely proud of my connection to a man that can articulate God's word so giftedly. Laying on the bed after a long, tiring day at work and listening to a sermon is exactly the way I want to end my day, and I want to end a whole lot of days in the same way. Being casually mentioned in sermons when the point calls for it is a fascinating experience.

There is a sense of rightness about it all, like this is in fact how BJ and I should spend our life. It is a feeling similar to how I feel when I paint a watercolor or write a perfectly worded line of poetry; like I'm living the way God wanted me to live, I am becoming the creator he intended me to be. It occurs to me that being BJ's wife requires a huge amount of imagination. In order to appreciate his words and ideas and to help him develop them more fully, I have to be creative and in tune with the Creator in a way that little else requires me to be. It is as if my training in art unknowingly prepared me to be a preacher's wife, to not only hear the words of a prophet, but to see them clearly and realize them fully.

I've been reading Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, and it has been helping me better understand my role in life as an artists. What I am finding as I read it is that being an artists is an all-encompassing vocation that will shape every aspect of my life. Here are a few words from the book that articulate far better than I can the realization I had while listening in the dark to BJ's sermon:

"What do I mean by creators? Not only artists, whose acts of creation are the obvious ones of working with paint or clay or words. Creativity is a way of living life, no matter what our vocation or how we earn our living. Creativity is not limited to the arts or having some kind of important career. Several women have written to me to complain about A Swiftly Tilting Planet. They feel that I should not have allowed Meg Murry to give up a career by marrying Calvin, having children, and quietly helping her husband with his work behind the scenes. But if women are to be free to choose to pursue a career as well as marriage, they must also be free to choose the making of a home and the nurture of a family as their vocation; that was Meg's choice, and a free one, and it was as creative a choice as if she had gone on to get a Ph.D. in quantum mechanics."

A True Gus Moment

Today, I tried out a new yoga tape. The dogs are pretty good about staying out of my way when I'm working out. They just stare from the side-lines. Yoga sequences usually end with a really relaxing pose that is held for one or two minutes. At the end of the yoga sequence I was doing today, I had to lay flat on my back, arms by my side, with my palms facing up. I had my eyes shut, but I heard one of the dogs moving. I opened my eyes to take a peak, and Gus was laying himself down perfectly parallel to my legs. He then laid his chin perfectly in the palm of my hand and stared at me with those huge brown eyes. We just laid there relaxing together. It was an absolutely perfect moment in my day.

(As a side note: if Tony is in the room when I am doing yoga, he usually attacks me.)

Thirty is rapidly approaching...

BJ has now entered that precarious state we know as the beginning of the end. He turned 29 years old on Friday. One more year of his twenties. What's weird about this is that I vividly remember my mom's 30th birthday. BJ is old enough to have an eight year old!

As always, I got a little carried away with presents. I really, really like getting BJ presents, and I believe in a nicely coordinated wrapping scheme. This year was lime green, teal, and navy blue.

BJ was kind enough to wear white and denim so he didn't clash:

Of course, we also gorged ourselves on a lovely meal. Missing from the picture is steaks and slap-me-naked cake (I'll leave it to your imagination on the cake):

Kayla spent the weekend with us, which was a lot of fun. We went out for BJ's b-day, ranted and raved about church, politics, and a whole slew of topics, watched The Office, shopped with no money (but still managed to buy a few things), got mistaken for being twins, and planned a get away for all of our Fat Tuesday friends. It was an awesome weekend. Yay for birthdays, food, color-coordination, and college buddies!

If you are my father-in-law, don't read this post for a week.

BJ inherited many wonderful traits from his father, but there is one trait BJ acquired in this fashion of which I am not so fond: an irrational love of science fiction. It doesn't matter what it is, books, movies, horribly acted TV shows, they love it all so long as it is sci-fi. Usually I disdain this trait, but this week it has served me well. My father-in-law's birthday is coming up next week, and I have found the perfect card. Here it is in video form. Enjoy!

Plum Jelly

Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of my grandmother's passing. We have all missed her deeply through out the year. A few months ago, I wrote a poem about her death and my own mourning. I have never posted one of my poem's on this blog, but this feels like a good time for a first, so here it is:

Plum Jelly

Ice-coated bluebonnets lined the path
leading to the cemetery
on that Easter-eggless Easter morning.
Death chose a curious time to take
you, but Nature, being kind, froze over
postponing Spring in a respectful moment
of silence.

A forest green tent offered shelter
from the frost as we set in velvet folding chairs,
Morris & Sons Funeral Home monogrammed on each.
Finally, dust descended from Reverend Riley's hand
and hushed the shine of your powder pink coffin.

Months later, on a smoldering summer day
when I was going about resuming my life,
I embarked on the menial task of cleaning
the fridge. Hidden behind
the ketchup and cocktail sauce I found a jar of plum jelly
whose lid had been neglected one busy breakfast
allowing air to seep in and work its decay.
I reached to throw it away, but paused when I saw
a sticky label with a picture of a candy cane and holly-
"Merry Christmas. Love, Grandma" written
in your slanted, shaky, decaying cursive.
The chill of the glass jar, of the frozen bluebonnets,
ran through my finger, up my arm, into me.
I replaced the items that had sheltered your gift
leaving the chore for another day.

Life

Other than having a stable marriage, BJ and I have yet to experience any other kind of stability in our short marriage. Life has been constant uncertainty and flux as we have looked for jobs, moved, and looked for jobs some more. I'm not complaining. I have not been bored for about three years. However, sometimes I get tired.

Our luck is laughable at times. Or, at least, laughter seems like the better choice when crying is the other option. I have this uncanny feeling that luck is not the only component, that we must be doing something terribly wrong, but no one has bothered to clue us into the cosmic secret that makes things go magically right. Whenever I put my logical self on, though it be a rare occasion, I am able to remind myself that Biblical characters rarely had easy or comfortable lives, so why am I complaining? I fear that the myth of the American dream has caused me to forget the reality of my Christian narrative. Life is hard. We rely on Christ and serve others. We die. Something better happens.

I thought I would take a hiatus from funny Gus stories to write what has really been going on in my mind, but things have gotten a bit despair-ish, so I think I'll sign off. But one last thing, to comfort the people who care about me, don't worry. I am living in the abounding hope of Christ.

Easter with the Gensics

We headed down to Abilene the latter half of Spring Break to spend Easter with BJ's parent, his sister Alison, and her husband Breandan. We had a wonderful few days filled with card games, eating, and a wicked game of croquet (that I won - hehe). Right before BJ and I hit the road, we took this family portrait that I thought turned out pretty well:

Here is another picture from the car ride. It is of Gus using Sienna's tookus for a pillow. Anyone who knows Sienna knows this was a brave move on Gus's part.

Sensitive soul or a chicken?

Gus's hair has been getting out of control for a while. BJ and I don't have a clue how to care for a long-haired dog considering we have never had one, so Gus's hair has ended up pretty crazy. Since Old English Sheepdogs are supposed to be trimmed every summer to avoid over heating, BJ decided that now would be a good time for Gus's first hair cut. My brother (who had been visiting me for spring break) and I came back from a trip to Barnes & Noble to find the house empty. I went to the back yard, and there stood BJ, Gus, and a huge pile of hair.

Gus has always been a bit funny looking, but this hair cut has taken his overall comical effect up a notch. I know I shouldn't make fun of him, but looks aren't his strong point. He's sweet. That's why I love him, which is good since he is not at his best in the looks department right now. Here is a before and after:

(from a snow storm two weeks ago)
(earlier this evening)
It's been about three days since the hair cut, and Gus has still not gotten over the trauma of the event. He didn't eat for over twenty-four hours afterwards, and I was only able to get him to eat by putting his bowl of food by my feet. He's been pretty much terrified of BJ, but they are slowly making amends. I told BJ that this dramatic reaction was due to Gus's sensitive soul. BJ says he's just a chicken.

For a final picture, here is one that truly captures Gus's state of depression over his new haircut. I think we can all feel his pain because, after all, who hasn't had a bad hair day?

I have a strange husband

The other day, BJ was running late getting home from work. I automatically knew that he had been talking to his colleague, Phil. They always have interesting conversation, so I asked BJ what they had been discussing. I've gotten several strange answers in response to this question, but this day was even a little stranger than normal: "We were talking about the plight of the prophet in today's churches." That's right, Jeremiah's job hasn't gotten any easier than when he was "weeping" about it all those millenniums ago.

I'm also always surprised to see what BJ's Bible class is talking about on Sunday mornings after he has taught. BJ is teaching the men's Bible class. He is doing a six week survey of Judges. After my women's class, I go to find BJ to hear how everything went. Usually, he has a flock of people around him asking questions and discussing his class. This week, I walked up and everyone was talking about sex. Apparently, BJ is destroying all the Sunday-school Bible stories they were taught when they were young and replacing these stories with what is really being said. Quite frankly, the Bible is a little raunchy at times. I've never seen so many expressions of lost innocence mixed with fascination.

Although BJ has always been a little strange (that's a big part of why I fell for him), I fear I am making him stranger. He is now a man who exfoliates and does yoga. Even though he married a Texan, I certainly haven't Texan-fied him.

Back on the job search

It was just a year ago that we were searching for jobs and living in uncertainty over where we would end up and what we would be doing in just a few months. Once again, we're in the same position. BJ had an interview yesterday for a campus ministry position. He was really impressed with the church, but we will have to wait to hear anymore on that job. There are several other possibilities on both of our tables, so we're trying to just trust that God will put us in the right place.

Some of these jobs, including the one BJ has interviewed for, are not in Texas and are, in fact, far from Texas. I have to admit, I am terrified at this prospect. Texas is home, and I suspect it will always be home no matter where me and BJ land. But I also want to be brave (however shaky my version of bravery tends to be) about this future transition.

I would appreciate prayers as BJ and I are navigating the job pool, but I have another prayer requests that is far more pressing. Theresa's husband, Sean, was injured in Iraq a week ago, and he will be undergoing surgery tomorrow that is expected to take about ten hours. Please be in prayer for his health, recovery, and transition from war zone to the states. They are an amazing couple, and they deserve the best. Please keep them in your thoughts.

Ethics in politics: what a novel idea

If you are planning on voting in tomorrow's primary, or really ever, I would recommend taking a look at this post from my brother's blog. It is a letter he wrote to the editor of the Abilene Reporter News. I think is cast some light on our moral obligation an voters to vote for who we believe would be the best elected official. Whether you are a Republican, Democrat, or Independent, I think that as Americans with the right to vote, it is good to be reminded of the responsibility that comes with this right.

Procrastination and moving on

It's official. I'm not cut out for graduate school.

Everyone in my classes seem so committed, but I'm having a really hard time making myself care. Every night I tell myself I'm going to do homework the whole evening and try to catch up, but I inevitably find myself in my art room painting with watercolors, sketching in some obscure corner of the house, reading about the election on the computer, doing yoga, or cleaning over and over again.

I realize I'm not the first graduate student to procrastinate, but this is the first time in my school career that I've ever not cared this much. Hopefully, I'll knock out of this before my major papers start being due.

On a more serious note, I've been waiting for the appropriate moment to announce that BJ will not be returning to his job next year. I think it is common enough knowledge now that I can put it on my blog. The school said he has been a very good teacher, but that they have a vision for the future, and he is not in this vision. We ask for prayers as we search for jobs for each of us next year. BJ is applying for ministry jobs, and I'm applying for teaching positions. I am really excited about the possibilities ahead of us. We have met some really fabulous people while we've lived here, but it is quite obvious to me that I was not cut out for the metroplex, and I am especially not a suburb girl. I am grateful for all that I've learned here (like how to drive in crazy traffic), but I'm ready to move on if it is God's will.

TONY!!!!!! I mean Gus.

I realized today that whenever Gus gets in trouble, I always accidentally call him Tony. It's like I'm programmed to say "Tony" anytime my voice rises in an angry reprimand. I wonder what that's about.

The best Valentine's Day ever, or the only good Valentine's Day ever

I generally hate Valentine's day with all its commercial mumbo jumbo and the pressure it puts on couples to act really "in love". However, for the first time ever, I had an awesome Valentine's Day, and it is all because me and BJ have no money.

Since things are more than a little tight right now, BJ and I decided to do something a little different this year. I constructed two zig-zag books using random supplies from my art room, and I filled them with questions, fill-in-the-blanks, and other fun stuff that we had to fill out about each other. Last night after dinner, we sat down and read what the other had written. It was so funny and touching and romantic, and BJ even made me cry a little. I've decided to post some of the high-lights from each of our books.

Excerpts from BJ's book for me:

-If Kalyn were a Biblical character, who would she be? Mary, Martha's sister, because she was kind of a hippi who was running around sighing "Jesus" with butterflies in her hair.
-If Kalyn were a food, what would she be? Chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and corn (that's right, I'm a steak).
-If Kalyn were a place, where would she be? a shaded, cool but warm forest with lots of water.
-Favorite memories: the car ride our first day of marriage, canoing in Indiana, all our trips to Illinois.
-5 words that define Kalyn: gentle, caring, passionate, self-sacrificing, and great!-cook.
-Fill in the blank: Kalyn is the most sensitive person I know.
-Fill in the blank: If I could get you anything for Valentine's Day, I would get you financially free so you could stay home and make art.

Excerpts from my book for BJ:

-If BJ were a character from a book or movie who would he be? Ron Weasley because he is stubborn, hot-head, but good hearted...and he got the nerdy girl.
-If BJ were a Biblical character, who would he be? Jeremiah because he was always honest with God and was willing to become vulnerable for the sake of maintaining that honesty.
-(this one is my favorite) If BJ were a dog, what breed would he be? Scottish Terrier "Independent and self-assured...rugged nature and endless determination...sometimes seen as aloof, he is actually very loyal to his family. He can have a temper, but is also quite sensitive."
-Five words that define BJ: resilient, goofy, loyal, devoted, passionate.
-Favorite thing he has said to me: "It's like you, the embodiment of elegance with a smudge."
-Fill in the blank: BJ is the most passionate person I know.
-Fill in the blank: If I could get you anything for Valentine's Day, I would get you a new computer with all the works.

A good day

Tuesday was the crazy meeting of three pretty awesome day: my birthday, Super Tuesday, and Fat Tuesday. All of these days are exciting on their on, but put together, it was a combustion of awesomeness.

My day started as most days do, with the alarm clock. But on this really awesome day, my husband threw a birthday card and a package of gum at me before he pushed the snooze button. The card was in Spanish. BJ wrote in it, "I don't know what it says either, but Happy Birthday!" So romantic. On my way to school, instead of listening to morning talk shows reporting on Brittney Spears, I got to listen to The Audacity of Hope, a b-day gift from Brittany. Then, I went to school and set in classes where we talked about the only things English majors ever seem to talk about: sex, the end of Christianity, and fairies. The rest of my day was pretty normal (or as normal as English classes can be) until I got home and BJ took me out to Macaroni Grill. We then embarked on a long search for All-Star Converse tennis shoes, but found none that struck my fancy. So instead, we went to Old Navy where BJ set in the dressing room and told which items he did and did not like. Actually, he didn't have to say a word. All I had to do was look at his face and I knew. After we returned home rather late, I spent the rest of the evening watching, agonizing over, analyzing, and fretting over election results. I'm pretty sure my recent swing into political junky-hood is not good for my health. But all in all, I'd say it was a successful day of combined awesomeness.

Getting Better

After a week of being out of work, BJ's fever finally broke today. Hopefully, he'll be back at school tomorrow. Today, he was exhausted. I think that his body is tired from having a non-stop fever for three and a half days.

I walked into the living room today to find BJ and Tony resting together. Tony may be evil, but he is a good buddy to cuddle up with for a nap. And BJ has been caught in entirely too many pictures napping with Tony to try and deny that he doesn't have a soft spot somewhere deep, deep within for the little fur ball.

That funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, I think it's hope

Because of the divisive nature of politics, I have tried to keep political content off of my blog. I would never want to offend my friends and family who read my blog, and I know that I often have differing political views from those who are closest to me. However, in the past year, there has been an ever-growing sense of inspiration that has now reached an intensity I have never felt in the area of politics. For the first time in my life, I feel a legitimate surging of hope, and it is all the result of one man: Barack Obama. Since this blog has always been a candid journal of my life, it seems dishonest to not do a post on the issue that I am spending a ridiculous amount of my day thinking about, researching, and praying over.

I have read tons of articles over Obama and listened to a large number of his speeches online. After a good bit of consideration, I feel that there are two speeches that give the best overview of who Barack Obama is as a politician and, more importantly, as a person. I do not want anyone to feel like I am saying that Obama is our only hope or that a person who does not vote for him is somehow inherently wrong. All I am wanting to do is offer sources to anyone who reads my blog and wants to know about Obama and why he is such an inspiration to me.

The first speech is the one he gave last night at his victory rally in South Carolina. It is appropriately titled Yes We Can, and I feel it shows his humility, depth, and overall character. The second speech, Politics of the Conscience, is from July of 2007 when Obama spoke to a group of evangelicals. Many people are saying that this is the most important political speech about religion given in the past forty years. I realize that e-mails have been going around saying that Obama is a Muslim. I do not believe this rumor, and the sincerity and intelligence of this speech on his Christian faith and it's role in his life is the basis for my belief. I have never been able to articulate my opinions on faith and politics and how the two should interact. Thankfully, in this speech, Obama does it for me. He has put into words the interconnectedness of faith and politics, and he has acknowledged that Christian morals guide his every step, even in the world of politics.

If you are interested in background information on Obama, "The Path to Power", an article from Men's Vogue, is a really great examination of what has brought him to this election. Also, I would recommend his website for a breakdown of his views on specific issues.

Grad school begins

I have just completed my first two weeks of graduate school. So far, I've got mixed reviews over the whole thing. What is good is that I've made some friends who are interesting and fun to talk to. Also, it is nice to have something to do that gives me a sense of movement in my life towards my broader goals. I would say that, all in all, I am more happy now than I was last semester.

But, like I said, my reviews are mixed. Since I've always considered myself a liberal, I didn't think I would be bothered by state schools and the beliefs of the faculty. However, I have had a difficult time with the way religion is dealt with in the classes. It is assumed that all religions are myths in the same way that unicorns are mythical creatures, and it is assumed that we are all in agreement on this issue. What is difficult about this for me is that all things tend to lose their meaning for me outside of the Christian narrative. This shouldn't be shocking. Every other student has a lens they're looking through. Some are Marxist, others feminist, some deconstructionalist. These are acceptable lenses. Mine is not. And what is frustrating is that no one is willing to admit that Marxism, feminism, and deconstructionalism are their religion. The good news is that after years of my faith not being challenged at ACU, I had forgotten that I still care. I do.

Weak Denim

My dad is notorious for making up lame excuses for a) over-eating and b) gaining weight. When we point out that he is eating more than should be humanly possible, his general excuse is that he "was feeling weak" and needed the boost of energy 1000 calories worth of Little Debbies so generously gives. And as for the weight gain, he usually uses the classic "My pants must be shrinking."

However, this week he got creative. While at work, Dad does a lot of very physical work. This requires tons of walking, climbing ladders, bending over, etc. While bending over in some task the other day, Dad heard the noise we all dread, the sound of pants splitting. Apparently, post-holiday season has been a bit of a squeeze. But I'll have to give Dad credit because he didn't revert to the old shrinking excuse. No, this time it was "weak denim" that caused the crisis. Wranglers just don't make them like they used to.

Just out of curiosity, does anybody have some good excuses they've used to blow off a couple (or ten) extra pounds?

Gus reaches celebrity status

I just got back from a walk in the park where we had yet another first with Gus. Someone stopped us to ask about Gus's breed (which is not at all unusual) and then went on and on about how "cute", which means funny, he looks. Also, not unusual. What was the "first" was that this person actually wanted to take a picture of Gus with their dog, an extremely tiny dotson puppy. So a few moments later Gus was immortalized for this family's photo album. If I am not mistaken, the camera snapped along about the time Gus was sniffing the little guy's crotch. Needless to say, it was a canine Kodak moment.

A Menard Moment

Here's a story from Menard that I was thinking about earlier. It happened a couple of weeks ago while I was staying down there, but it still makes me laugh.

Mom, Dad, and I were eating lunch and talking about some workshop video my brother had to watch about learning to love your job no matter what it is. Dad was basically laughing at how stupid the whole concept is (obviously, I inherited my optimism from him). My mom started getting angry at him for being negative, because Mom really is the eternal optimist. In her fury, she lost all control of the words sputtering out of her mouth, and she said to my father in an extremely frustrated tone, "Oh, stop being such a grumbly-dub-dub." My dad got this bewildered look on his face and said, "A what?" By the time Mom realized she had spoken complete gibberish, it was too late: she had just added yet another word to the Pierce vocabulary. So if you are ever coming through Menard, keep a positive attitude because according to the book of Loveticus, "Thou shalt not be a grumbly-dub-dub."

By the way, I know what you're thinking. Does this new word have anything to do with three men in a tub? We have yet to establish a solid connection there, but we're still investigating.

The Holidays

We returned yesterday from a wonderful holiday in Menard. I saw old friends, spent time with family, and got ridiculous amounts of presents. Also, I took over the world twice. It was actually my first time to play Risk.

Josh and Allison Belisle came to Frisco for New Years, and we played all sorts of games, ate lots of food, and, of course, laughed. All and all, I give a thumbs up to the holiday season.

When the clock struck twelve last night, my brother called from Menard. I was expecting to hear "Happy New Year", but in class Bro fashion, he yelled, "We survived". Yeah, 2007 was a rough year, but here's to 2008. May it be a blessed year for all my friends and family.

Pray for the babysitter!

We have gotten Tony a babysitter to come see him three times while we are in Menard for the holidays. Last night, while Tony was laying in between me and BJ in bed purring with that plotting look in his big evil eyes, it occured to us that it would be just like Tony to do something so horrible to the baby sitter that we would end up with a lawsuit against us. I should have had the lady sign a contract that said, "I will not sue you if your cat tries to severe a limb or scar me for life in any other manner."

Of course, Tony was on his best behavior when the babysitter came yesterday to meet him and get her instructions. But things still managed to get out of control. This time it was Gus. With his Old English Sheepdog genes strongly in place, Gus feels the need to bark loudly and extensively anytime a visitor (in his mind "a wolf") comes into our home (in his mind "the perimeters of our flock"). He actually made the babysitters three year old daughter cry. Fortunately, the mom just laughed at how funny looking Gus is. I'm pretty sure his comical cuteness gets him out of loads of trouble.

I'm leaving today on a Greyhound to go see my parents and help Mom with the pre-holiday preparations. I've left a note with BJ in which my P.S. reads, "Don't forget to baby talk to Gus 5 to 10 times daily. And, please, don't kill Tony." I've got to make sure Momma's little boys are taken care of.

Thoughts on marriage, honesty, and the blues

I hate going more than a week without doing a blog post, so I just sat down to do one since today makes a week. Unfortunately, I found when I set in front of this headache-inducing screen that my life has not been filled here lately with the funny or touching moments that compose the bulk of my blog posts. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but I think it is best to be honest when one has come upon a rough patch in life. It is nothing to be frightened of. I just have a temporary case of the blues. It is a mere fact of life that the road is full of little dips, or perhaps canyons that one must search for a bridge to cross. I would say I am seeking out safe passage.

Of course, as I have stated before on my blog, God does not give us more than we can handle, and we can often handle more than we had counted on. Yesterday, for the first time in months, I walked into the office and told BJ exactly what I wanted/needed. For him to not play games with the guys tonight. For him to spend time with me. No I don't know what we will do, but I don't want you playing with the guys. It was so simple, and yet it took more courage than I have felt I possessed in months. We spent a wonderful evening playing Yatzee and watching reruns on TV since reruns are all that we have with the current strike. Though a far cry from the romantic images of marriage we picture when we're single, it was a lovely evening due to the mere fact that it was a product of honesty. It is so difficult to be honest with those we love, but the reward of making ourselves vulnerable is a deeper, richer relationship. Thus, I learned a little lesson in life that perhaps would have eluded me if it hadn't been for a nasty case of the blues.

A Cozy Christmas Corner (i love alliteration)

BJ and I have decorated our house, and I must say, it is charming. We have a homemade advent calender from my Mom, homemade stockings I made last year, and homemade ornaments that I made after we moved to Frisco. I've always wanted a homemade Christmas, and this year really is all the way homemade. I'm giving homemade apple butter for presents to extended family and BJ's colleagues, and I've made all of our Christmas cards out of scraps of decorative paper I had in my art room. Here's a picture of our tree (it is not homemade) that we got the other day at Lowe's. (Notice: Gus is trying to drink the tree's water. This is what happens when you have an OCD dog who has an obsession with water.)

After decorating the tree, I decided that we should get some family photos. Tony was outside, so I settled for just us and the dogs. Somehow, though, the dogs were not in the mood for family photo time, which is extremely inconvenient when you're using a timed camera sitting on an ottoman. Here's our first attempt:

And our second attempt:

Can I just say my dog has gotten huge. I mean HUGE. We never got a good portrait, but oh well, this is probably more true to the general chaos of our household. I still thing Gus is awfully cute in these pictures.