Clearing the (mental) decks

Ugh. Writing is hard. Can I just say that? It's not just coming up with words, but organizing thoughts. Expressing feelings. Sorting through ideas. Let me tell you, that is a monumental task for dreamers like me. I think in metaphors and feel in pictures. Trying to capture all of that with mere words is like trying to catch a cloud and pin it down (name that movie reference!). But it is a good kind of hard. The stretching kind. The say what you mean kind. The makes you think for real this time kind.

But it is tiring. So here are some of the more frivilous thoughts I've entertained lately.

I am having a battle with a single strand of white hair that insists on protruding from my scalp. Now, I'm not afraid of going gray or white or whatever. A woman's glory is her hair, yeah? And I'll wear my white tresses like a crown. But not now. How can I, three years shy of 30, possibly have earned that white hair? I feel like I need to have a few decades of fruitful labor behind me before I'm allowed to join the club. Begone, white hair. Be. Gone. You may come back in 20 years. Or 50.

Where is fall? Well? Where is it? The weather is nice and all... for August. But it's October and I have bug bites. And I want to wear flip flops. Okay, bug bites, flip flops and October. Which of these things is not like the others? I'll give you a hint. It starts with "O" and ends in "ber." As in BBBRRRRR. I want my sweaters and thick socks and warm blankets and crisp apples and steaming mugs and general coziness to ensue. My one hope - knock on wood, cross my fingers and say a prayer - is that mild fall = mild winter. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. I like being chilly but I don't like freezing. Or driving in the snow. Or on ice. Though at the rate we're going, we'll just end up having a winter-long fall season. I could get on board with that.

I guess this one isn't terribly frivolous, but contemplative. I was looking through some old (well, by old, I mean three years ago) pictures on Facebook (isn't that weird to say? I bet our mothers never imagined a day when the word "Facebook" would replace "photo album.") and I was struck by how much things have changed in three years. So much. I go to a different church. I live somewhere else. I work somewhere else. I drive a different car. I have a new family member. I do different things with my spare time, when I have it. Back then, I had oodles and oodles of spare time and not in a good way. Three years seems like a long time. Five years seems like a lifetime ago. And I still maintain I'm not old, despite what my white hair is trying to tell me. But I'm feeling more keenly the passage of time and I know it only goes faster as I get older. That makes me a little nervous. And a little excited, because I have only the faintest glimmer of what's ahead. But it will be grand. So, so grand.

I have a question for you. Yeah, you. Not the person next to you or five cities away. You. Y'know how I tried doing that What Would You Ask thing? I'm wondering now, what would you say? Instead of me feeding you information about hearing loss, what do you want someone with hearing loss to know? Maybe you're a friend of someone who wears hearing aids or you are raising them or you have to talk a little louder to your grandma. Or maybe you've been living with hearing loss for a long time and have some wisdom to impart. I don't know anything everything. I have things to learn and I'm in the mood to listen. So spill it and I'll share it. You'll be famous. To all three of my readers, anyway.

I'm going to bed now. Because I am old. Let's just call it what it is.

I knew it was important

I know, I know. I said things like "What would you ask Wednesdays," and here it's Wednesday and I'm contemplating a "What would you ask Thursday." Roll with me, people. I was totally going to answer Joey's question from a few weeks ago, but then I looked at the calendar. I'd been feeling all day like there was something important about September 22 but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Then the internet came to the rescue, per usual. I've been following Molly Piper's blog for a while now and while I don't know her personally, I've been so touched over the years to read her stories. Molly is Abraham Piper's wife, and Abraham is John Piper's son, and I read John Piper's stuff... so yeah, I mean, Molly and I are clearly just two steps away from being BFF's. Clearly.

But September 22 is a big date for her. Her baby girl, Felicity, was stillborn that day three years ago. Molly has written a lovely tribute over on her blog and even though I've never even been pregnant, I've still been so edified by the experiences she shares of grieving and leaning on the Lord and trusting Him even when it's difficult.

And today is the first ("official") day of fall. This means coziness and bonfires and honeycrisp apples and crunch leaves. And no more daily bullying from the sun. I hope. Also, six years ago, Lost premiered, so see, I was right. September 22 is a very important day, indeed!

Here's some trivia that you probably won't care about but that makes me laugh (at myself). When ABC first started promoting Lost, I remember scoffing at the TV and rolling my eyes. I mean, really, how long could they be lost on an island before people got bored of the whole thing? Srsly, it was doomed to fail as far as I was concerned. And now? Now, my friends, I am just one DVD set away from owning the whole series. The only reason I've held out this long is that Christmas is coming up. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Happy September 22, all!