asteroid B612

This next week or so blogging will be as sporadic as my willingness to haul my laptop to the nearest wireless joint. And since I'm addicted to the blog, it may happen, but don't hold your breath.

For summer contact info, you can email me at jjone84 [at] lsu [dot] edu. My cell number will stay the same.

As soon as I know more, I'll post info about any Chattanooga stopping we may do.

For now, though, I'm happily packing, full of relief, thankfulness, and renewed energy. :-)

As a follow-up to this post.

Lord willing:
On Sunday our little congregation will meet for the last time.
On Monday we load our stuff into storage.
On Tuesday we say goodbye to our closest friends here. They're leaving, too.
Next week we will drive to Philadelphia...

...and not coming back.

The final question has been answered, and God has grown our faith in the process. Chris has a new job teaching high school English at a certain school started by a certain Cornelius Van Til in Philly. We just found out this afternoon. I have been crying all afternoon--it is such a relief.

Last fall finding out that we were having a baby began a whole spate of upsets in our life: certain things where he's been working, our church, etc. Things just became more and more complicated as the spring wore on, especially with church stuff. Then our pastor announced he was leaving, and after more praying and meetings, it became clear that the church just needed to close. What were we to do without a church? And a new baby coming?

So Chris sent out applications. We found openings all over the country. I thought that with his background teaching at an urban school to at-risk kids schools would be all over him. He got requests for interviews at many places. He was flown up to St. Louis at one point. It seemed that people were at the same time intrigued and wary of his experience these 3 years, like they weren't sure if he could teach white, suburban kids (I'm so going to come back to this point another time). From the beginning, we prayed that God would close all doors but the one He wanted to go through, but it didn't occur to us that He would start closing before opening. After several applications had either been rejected or lost in the shuffle (not literally lost, but on a couple of occasions he was approached for an interview, but then the school would drop the ball and forget to schedule or something else. A little baffling), we were down to one more, this school in Philly or staying with current job in New Orleans.

Last weekend when I was in Philly he had one more interview, following a successful phone interview. He came super late Friday night, and at 8 am we were both over on campus. I wanted to see the campus and meet the headmaster, who upon introduction heartily invited me to join them on the day's schedule. It turned out great, because it seemed that the phone interview was more business-y and this one was more Chris as a person, so my being along was ideal. As Chris put it, it was like they got the "whole picture". We chatted with various people, asked questions, got a tour of the campus. The school was having a fine arts festival, so even though it was Saturday, it teemed with students and parents, many of whom we got to meet as we milled about. After a couple of more official-y chats, they just let us hang out for awhile. We bought a hamburger from the senior class, water ice from the junior class, chatted with people, recognized old friends. It was so comfortable. At the end, Chris and I felt like we totally fit in there, which was at the same time encouraging and discouraging, because what if he didn't get the job? what if God's plan for us was to stay in New Orleans after all? Staying seemed a scary prospect. It's like the frontier down here. So far from family. No church. But if this was what God wanted for us, we trusted that He would supply what we needed for it.

Let me tell you, this has been a very hard week. We've prayed and cried a lot. I had about 6 dreams all about this last night, crying after a couple of them (Pregnancy dreams so vivid that it took me awhile to realized that the bad news wasn't for real, it was a dream). The whole time, though, we knew God was using this time to strengthen our faith. He has been very merciful to us.

So now, when I pack a box, I know where it will be opened. I am so thankful.

Yesterday I had my evaluation as first year part-time faculty at local uni. It went well, no surprises. I faced things that all first-time teachers have faced and have improved adequately. They seem to want to develop a longer-term relationship with me, which is nice and affirming. There's very little competition for adjunct positions in my discipline in this city, so that's good for me.

Packing continues. I'm worn out. But I feel like I've done so little. I guess I'm most helpful when it comes to sorting through things. I threw away TONS of old pictures from highschool and college--doubles, people whose names I don't remember, too many pictures of one event. I think even if I wasn't this pregnant, Chris would still be doing most of it. He sees space and how to fill it way more effeciently than I ever could. He's really a brilliant packer. He's even color-coded the boxes with stickers. Red=really fragile; yellow=kitchen, etc. Truly amazing. We've got our storage unit all lined up for the summer, so that's a relief.

Our evening social calendar has been quite full, as well. I'm pretty much not cooking anymore. Especially since now all the dishes and pots and pans are packed. Tuesday we went over to Family Curly-Head. I had some steak in the freezer that needed eating. And I was intrigued at the grocery store and got some purple potatoes to bake instead of normal old russets. They tasted pretty much the same, but I just loved the deep purple color. (So Katie Mac wins the game, they are indeed potatoes pictured on my plate down below.) I let Curly-Head age almost 6 (above) take some pictures. She has a good eye. I think I might give her the dinosaur camera for her upcoming birthday.

On Wednesday evening the Curly-Heads wanted to take us to their favorite Mexican restaurant, which was yummy and fun. In the evening Chris and their Dad relieved moving stress watching Terminator. Last night we went out with a friend from out of town to our favorite Lebanese restaurant. All my favorite places to say good-bye to.

Okay. This post could get a lot longer, but I think I'm going to keep it short and not go there. Still hoping to see Chatty folks on our way up North next week. It may be a brief passing through visit (as in a couple of hours), though, so stay tuned! I'd do anything for a cuppa of Greyfriar's right now.

While you're waiting for me to actually post something, here is a game for you to play. Name all the vegetables on my plate (Mom2 can't play, because I was talking to her about them over the phone). Brought to you courtesy of a fab Canon A97:

home. 9 pm. 90 degress F. 75% humidity. Lovin' it! (Especially when I come into my air conditioned apt).

I had an uineventful trip, thankfully. The second flight is a bit rough on belly body...both going and comeing. It's not nice sitting like that for hours on end. I bought a book in the Baltimore airport (from where I left), and I read the whole thing on the flight to Chicago. I didn't even skim or skip. See, that's why I just don't read fiction much. It was a great book, though--Curious Incident of a Dog at NIght or something like that. A sort of coming of age story of a 15 yr old kid with autism, told in the first person. It was really excellent.

I wore my brain out, so didn't feel like reading anything else after that. People were nice in Chicago. Ladies let me skip ahead of the line in the restroom. I didn't ask, but must've been wearing the desperation on my face. :-) I didn't have a long layover, got on the plane quickly, and once we got going ate the bit of supper I had bought and wrote a letter to my grandma.

My dad and I had a nice trip down to Baltmore. I was born there. There's a lot of family roots down there. We used to go visit my great-grandmother every weekend or so. Dad and I drove down Rt 1, the familiar road. I remember certain chunks of it so clearly. We drove by Grandmom's old place. It's so cute now, with new owners loving the old design and sprucing it up, giving polish to an old faithful shoe. Great-great-aunt Florence's house next-door, though, has been torn down, and suburbanite bit of pressboard (probably owned by a distant cousin) has taken its place. Dad and I stopped at the Fisherman's Wharf, the old favorite seafood grocery, and got crabcake sandwiches for lunch. So yummy.

And now I'm home. Gotta finish packing this week. For me, this means finishing the desk and dealing with the scariness of under-the-bed storage before tackling the kitchen.

Elvis is cool. He's jiving and squirming

Just getting ahold of who these guys are.......

From Encyclopedia of the Middle Ages, Matthew Bunson

Saint Peter Damien (1007-1072)
Doctor of the church and important reformer, joining the Benedictine order at Fonte Avellana in 1035. Named cardinal of Ostia in 1057, Peter became widely known and respected for his tireless efforts in opposing corruption, simony, concubinage and other clerical abuses. He was a vigorous opponent of the antipopes and served as a diplomat to Germany and France for the papacy. The author of sermons and letters he also wrote treatises and attacks on corruption, including Liber gratissimus, opposing the legitimacy of simoniac ordinations, and the well-known Liber gomorrhianus, an attack on clerical marriage.

No bibliography. Not in Dictionary of Middle Ages.

I'm in Philly right now for a few days. I had my requisite 32 weeks appointment this morning. The practice is nice and friendly. There are only four doctors. It'll be fine. It wasn't as nice as the clinic I've been going to, but it did have a homey feel. But like I've said, I'm not expecting much. I am just so thankful we still get insurance coverage in-network up here. I think I will go with a midwife for the next kid, though; it doesn't seem worth it to trek around to the doctor. Baby is doing great. He's turned head-down. I thought so, as his hiccups are always way down low. And I stick close to rest-room vicinity.

Flying up was something of an adventure. I've packed a couple suitcases of stuff that we'll want for the summer and checked one of them and my cello yesterday. I had a carry-on suitcase for the weekend and my bookbag, which in normal life isn't bad at all, and in pregnant life was only a bit awkward. I had a 4 hour layover in St. Louis, so I decided to splurge and get one of those smarte carts to put this carry-on and bookbag one, so that I could walk around easily. It was a splurge, though, because these things cost $3 nowadays!! (ok, so I'm cheap.) After scoping out the terminal, I decided to go to Chili's for lunch, since they had a restaurant in the terminal. I figured that the $6 hamburger and fries there was as good as anything I could've found anyway, and it would kill time having to sit down for a proper meal.

As I came up to the restaurant, I saw that they had a sign posted prohibiting smarte carts, understandably, since space was limited. Before going in, I asked the hostess since they had this policy then, could I leave the cart by the rail and come back to it. She assured me most confidently that it would still be there. So I parked the cart, took my stuff in the restaurant, and had a decent lunch relaxedly and peacefully. When I came out, though, the cart was gone. So I inquired of the hostess as to its whereabouts, and she apologetically said that a security person must have collected it. I asked if she could help me get it back since she had assured me that it would have still been there. (It was $3 after all!!) She got a manager, who got a higher manager. I explained the problem calmly and politely: that I had inquired about the safety of my cart, had been led to believe it would still be there, and would not have eaten there if there was a problem with leaving it by the rail, and could they please help me obtain another? This manager was a mid-60s man who was very rude. We had a huge, big long argument. He said that it wasn't the restaurant's responsibility, because it was airport space. To me this wasn't the primary question; I was just asking for restitution for misinformation that their restaurant had provided me. He made the analogy that what if I left my car in the street, asked the store I was patronizing if it was ok, and my car got towed. It wouldn't be the store's fault, because I had left it in the street. I pointed out to the guy that this was a false analogy, because the street is conventional space with conventional rules, and the rail outside the restaurant in an airport was unconventional space, and when I enquired of the rules, I was given the wrong ones. It wasn't a question of responsibility, rather it was a question of helping me since they had inconvenienced me, and I would've avoided this inconvenience by not eating there if I had been given the right information.

In the end, the guy gave me another $3, so I won. But I was kind of annoyed, because in the end, he still didn't understand the key issue and was still grumbling about how it wasn't their responsibility. And what was $3 to them? It was everything for my pregnant body; it is obvious that I'm beaucoup pregnant at this time, why couldn't he have been nicer and more understanding? I was very polite the whole time, and thanked him kindly as I left with my $3. Oh well. I was proud of myself, though, for sticking to my ground. I felt like crying, but I couldn't find a little corner to cry in. So I went to Starbucks where they had a happy CD playing, and I nursed a latte, pretended to read Hugh of St. Victor, and felt cheerier.

Today I saw my doctor in NOLA for the last time. She seemed genuinely disappointed that I was leaving. It's hard to know how much my doctor really knew me. How many patients does she have? Am I just one of many? And I'm so normal, there's nothing to set me apart. Does she remember my name before she looks at my chart? I liked her. I didn't expect much except for assurance that things were fine and intervention if they weren't. Her manner is warm and friendly, and I was completely comfortable with the idea of her buzzing in to catch the baby. But anyway...I'm off to a new doctor in Philly on Thursday, so I'll never know. I got a copy of my medical records. Finally I get to see what all the scrawling is about!

I'm extremely sentimental about everything (and it's not just being pregnant). I felt sad leaving the hospital for the last time. Then I got all sentimental about the road I was driving to the grocery store. And the school kids gathered around city bus stops. And that house that I like. And that tree that I like. And the way you can see Holy Name of Jesus church from Magazine St. towering over Audubon Park. Then I imagined that my drive home from the grocery store was like a sentimental slide show like they show at graduations and wedding rehearsal dinners and the soundtrack was Louis Armstrong singing "La vie en rose" (it has to be ol' Satchmo, you know). Then I wondered if I could make this slideshow with my new digital camera, :) so that I could share with everyone all the little corners of my every-day New Orleans.

I need Abraham's faith right now, because sometimes it feels like what we're doing makes no earthly sense. Because...we don't know what we're doing. We're leaving, but we don't know where we're going. We're packing our stuff, but we don't know where to put it.

I think I'll make a cup of tea and watch a Horatio Hornblower.

Yesterday, I received in the mail another card that I think will go in the "keep" pile. In the card was a nice note and check that went towards the purchase of this:

I just want to say that I am completely overwhelmed and touched by the generosity of all who contributed! THANK YOU!!!!! And thanks Bob and Michelle, who instigated this little mischief. I love how the blog "community" just got more real. You all have really made my day during this somewhat difficult and unsettling time.

And as soon as it arrives in the mail, you'll be seeing plenty of evidence as to how fantastic this is going to be. The only thing I'm worried about is whether or not my baby's cuteness factor will be so intense as to break the camera that tries to capture it. ;-)

So do you keep old correspondences? I mean like real, snail mail letters from friends and family? Do you pack them up and move them with the rest of your stuff?

I do. I've gotten a very good pitching arm since we had to pack up every stinkin' semester at Cov, but the letters I can't quite get rid of. I'm always thrilled to go back and read them occasionally. I still have letters from high school! Especially as snail mail has gotten more and more rare, I like the few notes and cards I have gotten; that one page encapsulating so much of the person's personality, gleaming through the words that she herself has written (I'll admit, except for when Chris and I were long-distance dating and the very rare note from my dad, all my correspondents are female).

It's notes like these that I just can't bear to throw away:

Received from former high school English teacher, former dorm mother (or grandmother?), close family friend on 25 March 2003:

Dear Jeannette, Thanks for all your emails. I read them with interest...[blah, blah, newsy bits, etc.]...When I read your letter, I immediately thought I should correct all the uses of apostrophes. I was going to ask you first. Now as I re-read it, it doesn't seems so bad. As your old teacher, I felt responsible.... etc.

Guess my parents got their money's worth outta my high school education. My English teacher, looking out for me, years after I had graduated from college even! It's priceless. How can I just throw away something like this!?

Well, I'm not.