like a girl in a red cloak

you have turned my mourning into dancing

and i left my sackcloth in the river

because i would rather wear a ballet slipper than 

have ash on my forehead

and (ladies and gentlemen, step right up!)

i will not soil my hope with mourning

i see light

and my head is killing me

because the light will burn away

all the darkness in my eyes and wash the gas mask

from my mouth

i will dress myself in ballet slippers

and my heart will be more filled with joy

(the funny thing is, i am not really happy

sort of happy

but i am, like a girl in a red cloak, not afraid of the darkness

for i will hug the wolves and throw down my heart to 

die to live)

because that is joy

i will not fear

i would rather dance

than twirl away my responsibilities

and forget the wolves in sadness

and draw wet sackcloth in my mind

To Remember How to See

In such a place, where the ghost queen kisses the ghost king as they dance in harmony, I suppose it's not so unusual, the love story that unfolded in harmful song. For this is a love story, and it is not mine, and yet, it is all mine.

Once there was a small green dragon with golden eyes. He loved a princess, long-haired, pointed-chin. She was not a ghost like her parents, but I suppose being raised by ghosts takes a toll on you. She was as young as the dragon boy, but she didn't seem it. Forgetting and remembering, over and over, had aged her. She smiled at him, and to her, that meant love.

She had a secret, and the secret was as large and terrible as the forbidden wood where he lived. She had read the stories handed down by faerie godmothers of centuries before, and knew that a dragon's heart is enough to stop age, to promote immortality, to restore to a prematurely old princess the youth she ought to have. And I think that was the reason she loved the dragon most - he could heal her, if she ate his heart.

He was silly over her. He loved her more than anything and he wanted nothing but her love. That's why he was sad, that day. It was foggy and grey and the hunting hounds were out.

"Whoever catches the small green dragon, the one with love in his eyes, will be rewarded." The princess proclaimed to the hunting party. "I will give them all that they ever desire. I will acknowledge them as the  mighty hunter, the dragon-slayer, that they most want to be. But the dragon must not know what you are doing, or it will consume you in its fiery wrath."

The hunters set out, and one, a sharp-faced skinny thing with overlarge eyes, drew her bow against herself.She was small, and a little scared, because she didn't have any concept of killing. She was a healer. She liked to make things feel better, by her hands, and she was good at it. Cuts and bruises, broken hearts and sadness, all fell to the forest floor with her, the huntress and healer. I don't know why she wanted to find the dragon. Maybe she could feel his sadness.

She shut her eyes and let the forest spin around her like the world in orbit. She knew she could find the dragon, because the huntress was named Pity, and Pity always finds those who are in love.

She felt hot breath against her and opened her eyes, and there he stood, the weepy-eyed green dragon. Somehow, she was not surprised. "Good evening."

"They're looking for me, aren't they?" said the small dragon. "The hunters?"

The thin huntress nodded.

"If they knew what it was to love, they'd know where to find me." he said mournfully. He turned his great sad eyes from the mountains to the girl. "I never wanted to run from the princess. You must understand love, to find me. What is your name?"

Love is a great thing to understand. She blushed. "I'm called Pity. I'm a huntress and a healer."

"Pity. That is a good name." The dragon says, infinite sadness and infinite wisdom coloring his voice. "Are you going to take me to see her at last? That's what you're here for."

Pity had not realized how hard this would be. He was a fool. The princess would kill him, and he couldn't even see it, because he loved her. One thing she knew - this poor fool was the sweetest of monster, and maybe she did understand love, because I think she loved the poor dragon. "I have to tell you something."

"I will listen."

Of course, she can't just say the princess means to kill him in her selfish want of love. She closed her eyes and listened again, hearing his heartbeat. "Why do you love her?" She puts her healing hands against his chest, feeling sadness seeping into her fingers.

"Can the bee explain why it makes its honey sweet? Does the mountain know why it shadows the towns below? Can a huntress tell away her knowledge of the bow?" He shook his head. "You and I are alike, Pity. You know love too, and you don't understand it, same as me. That's why I trusted you, Pity. That's why I let you see me, why we found each other. Because we're both starving because we don't know what we know. We have both given everything, too, haven't we?"

No one had ever talked to Pity like this before. "Are you saying that my listening is giving?"

A great, steaming dragon tear fell to the ground. "It is also taking. You are pulled, little Pity. And you do not understand the things you know."

"Dragon!" She turns to him with concern in her forehead. "You are bleeding!"

"You have cut me, Pity. Your hands are the hands of a huntress." The dragon says weakly.

"No! No, I never meant to hurt you!" She presses her hands to the hole in his chest. The blood falls through her fingers, and the wound begins to close.

"Take your hand away. Your healing can not truly heal. You only want the pain to stop, I know your kind well, Pity, but it will only hurt it all more." He gasps and pushes her hand away. His heart falls free from his chest.

"No! No, I never meant to hurt you! All I wanted to do was make you feel better!" Tears are pouring from her, and join his blood.

"It's all right, Pity. I wanted this. And better to be killed by a small girl named Pity than a giant called Regret." He turned to her, weakly. "You do not understand the things you know, not at all. You are no healer."

Tears poured from all of her. "I know. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

He put his talon against her back. "No, don't feel bad, my dear little Pity. That's not why I told you that. Just know this - sometimes what a dragon needs is to be cut, and not to be made whole. You will learn, little one, how to do both, and how to know what you do is right." Tears leak from his eyes. "I trust you, Pity. Do you trust me?"

"Yes." she whispers. "Yes, I do, Dragon."

"My name is not Dragon; it is Love. My kind will teach you well one day. But now, little one, I am trusting you with this, my heart, my most precious gift. Would you give it to the princess for me?"

"Why do you love the Princess? She does not love you. She wanted you to be hunted."

"It doesn't matter. I would that she would have just asked me for my heart, for I would have willingly given it to her. But now, she will be healed." he sighed. "And you will be well-renowned as a dragon-slayer."

"No, I will not." Pity said resolutely. "I will be renowned as the small girl who found a dead dragon and cried at his body, and whose tears made the flowers grow."

The dragon regarded her and his talon fell away from her back. "Then you are wise, and you are learning already." He shut his eyes. "One favor, if I may, Pity?"

She leaned forward. "Anything."

"Heal my eyes. I have been blind a long time."

She pressed her hands to his eyes and her tears made him see. He sighed, and the flowers began to bloom. "So, that is what your eyes look like." And he breathed his last.

And little Pity, leaving her bow in the forest, took his heart to the princess and she was healed. I don't think she ever knew how Pity had slain a dragon called Love by accident to heal her, and I don't think she was ever thought of by that selfish princess again, but Pity knew. She never forgot him, the dragon Love,  and I think that she did learn how to heal and how to kill by her hands. But she mostly went every spring to the place where they had made the flowers grow, to remember how to see.

The Urchin

The travelling man came across an urchin in the street. She was dirty and her fingernails were clenched and bloodied against her breast. One hand was pressed to the pavement and the other was pressed against her breast. Hollow-eyed, she glanced up at the man and waved with one hand still against her. Her shawl falls away from her dirty eyes and she stares. He waves back and travels on. He is a travelling man, it's what he does. She's just a little urchin girl, and as he whisps on, an empty chewing-gum wrapper falls from his pocket. She picks it up and calls in a softly lisping voice, "Thank you, sir. I'll hold this piece of kindness in my pocket and one day when I have something to give, I'll be kind to you too." He doesn't turn around, but hopes that she'll grow up to be not such a dirty girl as she is now.

Decades later, when the moon is king and the sun is dark, the travelling man returns and as he walks, he sees the urchin girl - thinner, colder, and brittle as a snowflake. She is not an urchin anymore, but a seller of secrets, a lie-seller. 

"Are you a buyer of things I know?" she said softly in the street, her hand clenched against herself. 

The white-lipped man with the pocketwatch stops. "Are you a seller of good things?"

"I sell the things I know, sir. But we will barter in things we know: I will hold whatever secret you put into me and then I will tell you something happy. You may buy the things I know."

So he whispered a bitter secret into her ear, and she took her hand off of her breast, and pulled, to the travelling man's surprise, her hand away holding her heart, beating and hollow as a drinking gourd. She put the pale secret into the hollow vase of her heart, solemnly. Then she pressed it back into her chest. She shuddered and grew a little paler. "Thank you. I'll hold it unless you want it back." She said it sort of like a question.

"No. I do not miss it." 

"Then let me tell you a secret, in exchange for what you sold me." She looked up into the heavens, and whispered something in his ear. His face lifted and he smiled. His lips took some color and he put his pocketwatch away. Then he walked away.

She smiled thinly and sat back down. Whatever he said had made her sad, and whatever she had said had made him happy.  

The travelling man was curious. And so he walked to her. "Are you a buyer of things I know?" she said. 

His eyes shot from her dark hollow eyes to her hand clenched against her. "What do you sell? Lies or the truth?"

Her eyes flickered. "I don't know the difference. I sell the things in my heart. I have many things that my heart knows. And I sell the ones that make you happy. I'd make you happy, sir, if you'd exchange me something in your heart."

"Why?"

"My heart falls out a lot, and it has a hollow in it. It's shaped like a secret. So I thought I should do it that way. That part I know is true."

He stretched out his hand and dropped a beam of light, purer than any secret into her hands.

"I can't keep this, sir." she said, her lips quivering. "I've never had anything this beautiful. I'm not that kind of girl, sir."

"Keep it." he said softly. Curious, he said," Now, tell me one of the things you sell people."

After a moment's hesitation, she rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. His eyes intuitively brightened. "But that is true." he said happily. "The things you say are true."

She looked relieved, and tired. "I'm learning now what true is, sir. But that's not what I say, sir. I'm saying things that are happy."

He looked her in the eye. "Now tell me one of the things still in your heart. One of the sad ones."

She shook her head. "No, they are mine to hold. I'm the one with the hole in my heart, and I'm the only one who has to do this. I wouldn't wish this on you."

"But they're lies." he said. 

She turned her head in a somewhat shamed way and walked.

The travelling man saw her again the next day, sitting on the ground. The first thing he noticed was that her hand was out in front of her face, outstretched, and not clenched against her.

In her hand, her heart was bleeding all over, and the smile he was accustomed to seeing on the lie-seller's face was gone. "It wouldn't go back in today." She said blankly. "I couldn't get it back once I put a secret in it." She winced.

"Does it hurt?"

She winced. "I can't tell if this is truth or a lie. And I know I'll die if I get it wrong." She glanced back to her heart in her hands.

"I will show you the truth." Said the travelling man. And he put his hand on her heart and held it for her as she coughed. Secrets and lies and sadness and blood poured out of it and she coughed and cried. "No, no!" she said. "I promised I would hold those."

But they continued to pour until one last thing was stuck in there as she gasped.

It was a chewing gum wrapper.

"I made a promise once," she said to the travelling man, all out of breath. "to be kind to you."

Then she crushed her heart into her hands and said, "I can not hurt you any more. Neither can I lie to anyone again." 

And the urchin exhaled.

Summer and Blue

“Hello.” said the boy with the blue eyes. It was raining and his brown hair ran down his face with the rainwater.

“Hi.” said the girl with the summer smile. Her hair was not running anywhere. She held a polka dot umbrella over her head and stood in its spotlight.

The boy with the blue eyes smiled, but it was a sad, February smile. “We don’t know each other, do we?” The smile turned to frost, and the summer girl watched, perplexed and teary-eyed as he turned into an ice ghost before her.

The summer girl had seen a ghost before. That’s how she knew the boy with the blue eyes was one.

She lived in an industrial-strength box in the middle of a petulant city. The sky was a perplexing shade of brown and the people there were all little silent-movie black-and-white executives. They wore combed hair, conservative ties and carried briefcases with locks on them. The reason they had locks on the their briefcases was that they carried weeks of July and August, packaged in dandelion fluff and wishes, in them.

Summer is very heavy.

Every evening at the very same time, in the very same way, the executives would sit down at their mouldering kitchen tables with a glass of strong autumn in one hand and their briefcase in the other and they would open them and smell their summer weeks and look at the yellow sun in a briefcase where it doesn’t need to shine except to keep awake.

The girl with the summer smile had always been told she was born at that time of day and when she had made her first sound – a self-conscious hiccup – she had accidentally swallowed a sunbeam and that it was always trying to run away when she smiled.

In reality, the reason she smiled like summer is that when she had first got her briefcase full of July and August, she had looked at the sun so often she had begun to turn into summer itself. When the others found out, they put her in a very industrial little box house and told her about the ritual of seeing summer only once a night.

So she listened and met the ghost boy in the wallpaper.

He was translucent with tiny teeth and a mass of hair. “Hello.” he said as he rose from the oily industrial wallpaper.

She was still too young to run away from either ghosts or strange boys.

She was not afraid of him.

So they became friends until he left her to go to the capacious attic where he turned into a pile of bones with a heartbeat.

She cried.

When she could come to her senses and abandon the drudgery of walking under a brown sky with a briefcase, she climbed the cobwebs to the attic, and, stifling the Niagara Falls inside her lungs, she found the bones and embraced them for she embraced the ghost boy’s memory. She tripped on a wooden puppet on the way down.

She grew to despise both attics and puppets.

Standing here in the rain looking at the blue-eyed boy made of ice, she was reminded unpleasantly of the ghost boy’s heap of bones in the attic.

She lowered her eyebrows. “I defy you, Death.” she said to the February clouds. “I know you mean harm only and I see where caring got me last time.”

She turned from the boy with blue eyes and the sound of her shoes was like rain. And rain was raining. And the boy was making noises silently, and his eyes were blue, and his cheeks were running blue and his chin was raining blue and he was crying and there was rain. He was unmoved still – she knew because she heard no footsteps behind her – but he was blue with ice and blue with rain and blue with crying.

She looked down at the crackling sidewalk and observed her feet, made of smoke and coffee stains. She observed her transparent hands and her tears fell through her – his tears too. All of a sudden, things were plain and sunflowers grew – she was a ghost. Even less than a mouldering heap of bones piled up without a soul in an attic, she was a ghost.

Both. No wonder she had not run from the wallpaper boy. Ghosts. How could she remember the wallpaper boy, if she and the blue-eyed boy are so of smoke and ice. There is no marriage of fire and water. There is no love in ghosts.

And the blue-eyed boy’s tears met hers and they turned to blood and the blood ran off them. She turned around as he turns toward her and their blood vapor hands meet.

Blood turns to water and they fall into stars. They are alive and summer meets blue and we call it Love.

Walk My Love

Siuil, siuil, siuil a run

Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin

Siuil go doras agus ealaigh lion

Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Among the reeds the tusks of pigs

I'm picking up pearls thrown

[At me I'm the dirty girl

Cleaning laundry hang me up to dry]

Selling my bejeweld soul

Selling my windswept mind

Selling myself to dirty tricks

dirty work dirty men and egrets

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

In the muck where algae

Is crawling up my arms

My skirt eaten by frogs swallowed

I Am Bare

My skin crawls and would you stop looking at me

[They're all dirty boys and girls

That's why they laugh at my nakedness

I'm burning put out the fire boys]

They cry laugh turn their backs

My hands grasp a sword of bronze

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Cutting away my skin

I bleed

My skin falls off

I cut further

My muscle falls away

I cut further

My bones clatter down

I cut further

Just my heart now, my love

It still beats. I am still alive.

The battle is against me

And against the frogs

[I'm a dirty heart

But I am a little fighter

I promised my children I'd never]

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now -

Can't you see I've done this killing

For love?

Dead frogs and boneless hearts

For love

Oh failure

Sweet transparency

What was I supposed to do?

Love all over our bodies

I think I've always loved you.

Wherever I'm with you.

Walk, my love

Run, my love

I have found your heart, my love

Hold now.

White Bird

White Bird

Once upon a time, there was a little bird. All of white, she dressed herself in the morning and the songs of half-forgotten cemeteries, all crying out. She was a very young little bird, her downy feathers not quite finding flight. That didn’t stop her from believing that the sky could not contain her joy.

“I only know that when you play with Thelma, you always get the worst of it. That is why I say, be careful.” said Mother.

The little white bird flew along the lines of the trees. She crossed them like barbed wire and landed among the wild yellow lilies. Each one grasped at her with their feline paws and, among them, she knew she had a home. But the joy of the sky was still uncontainable, and something inside of her cried out that there had to be more than this. The lilies wiped their mouths with their sleeves and turned to devour another bite of her tail.

And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
And from all across the world, Max smelled good things to eat, and so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. But the wild things cried, “Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you up! We love you so!”
But Max said, “No.” And he climbed aboard his private boat…

White birds
are
harder to
chew
than
wolves are

You are not a hen. You are not a kitten. You are not a cow. You are not a car, or a plane, or a Snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother.

The white bird couldn’t escape the gnawing grip of the tiger lilies. Her wings, now clipped by their maws, were tainted red by their bloodstained teeth. Her tail was caught among the green leaves. No one could see her any longer. But reality set in and the traps were broken. The sunrise gobbled up the night and she didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the bloodied flowers…

Once upon a time, there was a princess –
“Was the princess you?
- and she fell in love –
“Was it hard to do?”
- it was very easy!
“Was he strong and handsome?
“Was he big and tall?”
There’s no one like him, anywhere at all…

iloveyou
crytheweeds
iloveyou
crythebluebonnets
iloveyou
criesthesun
iloveyou
crythetigerlilies

“I know who you are,” the man said, “for I made you. I built the tower and set it in motion. I planted the meadow, put fish in the ocean. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo. I’ve seen all you’ve done and all you will do. Here’s what you look like. Here’s how I see you. Put this in your pack and you’ll find it will free you from all of the pictures and all of the lies that others make up just to cut down your size.”

Suffocated by the words of the flowers and the desire of the skies, the white bird died…

And Max sailed back through a day, and in and out of weeks, and almost over a year to his very own room, where he found his supper waiting for him

And it was still hot.

Wings fly on.
Beating in her chest.
Maybe it’s her muscles straining to fly.
Maybe her heartbeat.
Only wild things love me,
She sings.
Until the sun
Eats her up
In his enthusiasm to see her
And the joy of the sky
Embraces a
White hand.

{Featuring selections from
A Bargain for Frances, by Russel Hoban
Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak
Are You My Mother?, by P.D. Eastman
The Disney classic, Snow White
A Snoodle’s Tale, by Phil Vischer
Original piece, “White Bird” by Catey Yuen}

Two Poems on One Day (Two/ little bits and pieces)

Two

Two planes passed each other in the night

Two silent blinking heartbeats

Two longing believingly hopeful lights

A pilot stops to find a star to eat

Two planes and no delight

Two fireflies passed each other, full of fright

They blink, they cover their mouths

The moon's fear is far too bright

They fall to the ground, careful not to arouse

Two fireflies would never find a might

Two yellow-spiced winds passed each other on the right

Briefly they intoxicate their own poisons

They vomit up their hearing and sight

They turn their blind eyes from wish and reason

Two yellow-spiced winds are always a fight

Two white birds passed each other in flight

Both too tired to want or demand

Their heartbeats and wings fill with breathful white

For just a moment, they hold hands

And two white birds are all quite

little bits and pieces

little bits and pieces

All of life was a map with a key

and it was torn up into

little bits and pieces

I objectify and fragment

I lust and I lose

My vision is a stained glass crackled mirror

Dropped by demons into my eyes

Who are you?

I see only long slender fingers

I hear only the squalling of your singing

I'm distressed by my love

of little bits and pieces

Whole
Half

None

I'll be the white capped head of hair

I'll blend into the green eyeliner

No one will find me

And no one will care

And we'll call the silence freedom

And we'll be free

little bits and pieces

of glass and seashells only cut my hands

but if I were invisible, I wouldn't have to worry

about the little bits and pieces

who like to follow me

I'm a mother duck, you see

And the whole of the earth is my duckling

I spit my bill on the ground

Because I'm disgusted

I peck my bony feet till they're

little bits and pieces

My eyelashes all fell out

And I lost my fingers

In the white lake

Beauty is lust

And vision is fr agmented

All is

little bits and pieces

drowning me

Have you seen the little rainstorm?

I put it in a jar

Swirlingly, it whispers

It is full of seaweed, the raw winds of oceanic

Mindsets (when minds are full of pufferfishwhich eat their neighbors

and refuse to see the waves above their heads asanything but

symmetry and empty seashells)

Oh how the pickled skybirds do make me swing

My hands in deathly frustration

Why is the sky so big?

Why am I a jellyfish?

Did you not promise me I would be an angelic

Jellyfish are purposeless and hideous

I am consumed by the pufferfish struggles

I am distraught by the fact

Of the ocean drowning me

drowning me

drowning me

I. am. so. confused. by. grace.

drowning me

drowning me

Lift up your heads, O ye

drowning me

drowning me

Who shall ascend the hill

drowning me

drowning me

Who is the king of glory

drowning me

drowning me

Waves sound like

drowning me

grace

Rainbow Hair

I have pink hair

I have laughed and laughed

Life is so full of rain

My yellowed eyes are all full of

Rain and there is nothing

But rain and go away

Because no one wants you

Or your beesting whistle pipe smiling

If you touch the balloons you will

My hands are crackled and we see

Rainbows [in my hair]

Just some thoughts from stormy, hurricane-swept Pennsylvania as we had our devotional this morning. I don't think I've ever written a poem that combines concepts from My Little Pony and The Prodigal God. (Whoa! I actually gave some of the inspiration for my poem for you to know! So weird! I guess this makes it less ambiguous. -C.)

Monologue

Hello. Does that seem stiff and formal? It kind of feels that way. Okay. Hi, it's me. I just dropped by because, well, I'm not sure. I miss you a lot. That's for sure. A whole lot. It seems like it's been years since we stayed up till three to talk about the sunset. Was that really just last week? Wow. So much has happened since then. The world has ended since then. Or, my world has.

How many years has it been since we first met? Five? Six? I don't even remember. It seems like forever. You were so young, with your nerdy little bowl cut and your cute little smile. I was probably just as young. Is that me? In that picture beside the bed? Wow. Look at me. I'm not who I was.

Remember that time when we made the blanket fort in your basement with all of the fitted sheets? We slew the dragon, plugged in the stereo, and rocked out to Mozart for three hours during the thunderstorm. Your eyes glowed like you were a nocturnal creature and your Figaro aria was spot-on. Quite the singer, you still are.

How about that time when you and I went out dancing in the rain? I felt like a princess, twirling around in my satin dress, rain making my eyelashes stand out more than any makeup. You doubted the sense of dancing in the rain at first, but with you bow tie strapped around your neck, you made a dapper Gene Kelly, singin' in the rain. I don't think either of us knew what we were doing. I know I didn't. And you looked so uncomfortable. But you were a trooper. We spun in circles and pretzels, and then you dropped me. It didn't hurt, and I'm pretty sure you did it on purpose, just to show off how you would always be there to keep me safe.

My favorite memories are still the ones from those late nights, right before... well, you know. It felt like the morning would never get here, and that God had stopped the moon right as we knew we would never be able to go to sleep. I talked about the past a lot. Rome. China. Transcendentalism. Purity. The way things used to be. You renewed my mind. We talked about the future. The way things will be, if all turns out. College. Work. Church. Missions. You. Me. And both of us. And God, of course. Lots about God.

But now, your words are silent, and your beautiful velvet eyes are shut. The future is past. All of our plans, the times that you were going to take me dancing, the times I was going to help you clean your room, the times we were going to stay up all night praying in the church cafe... all of those are gone. I watch them dissolve into the IV plugged into your arm. Your raspy breathing is almost like singing, melodic, like those blues songs we sang to your guitar in the lazy practices.

Oh, my sweet friend! I miss you!

Give me your hands. They've gone cold.

Don't leave me.

All those plans we had, all those things we never got to talk about, all those things I still wanted to tell you...

The future is now.

Wake up.

I love you.

PREP... Not really...

Back at home.

Recovering. Adjusting.

Real life is weird.

I love my family, and I didn't realize how much I missed them.

I love my family, and I didn't realize how much I would miss them when I left.

But this is the ICC. We'll be seeing each other soon - in God's timing.

On a less contemplative note, I hardly know what to do with myself now that I'm not cooking all the time.

Slash muffins!

Catey

PREP... Who Threw Up in the Stove?

KMac walks into kitchen just as Catey spills the zucchini soup that KMac DOES NOT like in the stove while trying to transfer it into a Ziploc to freeze.

KMac: WHOA! Who threw up in the stove?

Potty Plunger Boy: What???

KMac: What? I can't help it that zucchinis look like vomit.

She'll be having canned tomato soup for dinner tonight.

PREP... Borrowed Laughter

(Something I wrote during devotionals this morning...)

Borrowed Laughter

I have tickled your mind with

Laughter, borrowed from

The winking eyes of morning

Have you aroused, hopeful one?

I want with you to dig tunnels

To the moon and to

Blow bubbles of gold

Do I frighten you with my

Glittering Dance?

Are you

Afraid?

I will be nothing but a gilded

Butterfly to you if you dance

Hold my hands

Step

See the moon - through -

Here in the golden tunnel

Look out there

The stars are laughing at

Our clumsy dance

I don't mind

Don't cry

Borrow my laughter

Until the moon is here

(On Thoughtful Thursday, we made a list of life goals, things we wish we knew more about, and things we wish we had more time to do. Now we're devoting time this afternoon to doing, learning and working toward these things. I'm researching Alexander the Great and reading rhymed poetry. {Happy, Mom?} Then later, we're doing a meal planning and budgeting activity. This is my PREP job... should be fun! KMac even made us counterfeit money...)

PREP... The Scone Adventure

Hey everybody!

Back again for another short blog. I thought I'd update y'all about the scones. (Before I go on, I'm not sure how cool everyone is with me using their real name, so I used the interns' soundoff numbers and the PREP nicknames. For those of you in ICC, see if you can figure out who these people are. I might tell you who they are... if you give me chocolate)

I mentioned in my last post that we can only bake from 8 pm to 8 am. Last night, that got hairy. We baked potatoes for lunch this afternoon, and I also planned on baking about 40 scones. No sweat, right?

Wrong.

So, I knew that the Moon's oven has some spunk, but yesterday, it decided it didn't like me and suffice it to say that it didn't bake those potatoes till it was good and ready (which was, literally, three hours after we were hoping it would be good and ready) It was all good though, because we got a curfew extension to finish baking.

I made the scones while the oven was having its temper tantrum, three batches of one dozen to 16 each. Here begins adventure #2 of The Scone Adventure.

I found the food processor without a problem. It's this really cute little round thing with a lid and a little button you push to make it go... and that was about all I could find out. I tried four or five different methods to get it to turn on... but I have no common sense so that didn't work. I asked another PREP girl... didn't work. I asked an ex-PREP guy who is now an intern (this would be #6, the one who sprayed me with the faucet... so you know how much courage that took) but that didn't work. It took me like forty five minutes just to figure out how to get the lid on the processor, and about four peoples' help! Come on, Catey! Finally, I ground up the oats and got started on the scones.

Here begins adventure #3 of The Scone Adventure. I decided to make some dairy free scones and just experiment around with them and hope they turned out (sorry, #8 and #10 for my cooking style! So far, the only thing that hasn't come out is the dairy-free pudding....) So, despite my MULTIPLE google fails (the girls are allergic to milk AND soy... so nothing really worked) I was able to find a butter substitute (coconut oil works - compensate with a little flour for the softness) and then set about making non-dairy buttermilk. Yah. Non-dairy buttermilk. I ended up using a mixture of water, honey, vinegar and vegetable oil. It worked though.

Here begins adventure #4 of The Scone Adventure. There were a ton of people randomly bumming around the kitchen, guys and girls, but after curfew, everyone went to bed. I went and washed my hair while my scones were baking, then came out in my pajamas. Mind you, everyone was supposed to be asleep. And that there is a very, very strict NO PAJAMAS rule in this house. I came out, and it was just one of the PREP girls and I icing my scones and then blam! The son of the organization's president (his mom is the one who initiating the NO PAJAMAS rule) shows up and starts randomly talking to us. No point. No purpose. Just talking to us. Despite the fact that it's the middle of the night and we're all in our pajamas. What do you do in that circumstance??? Weirdness.

A few more assorted adventures:

#3: How dare you even think of that??? Here in the Moons' house and everything!

Catey: I didn't think of that. You were -

#3: You perverted person!

#6: What was Catey doing?

#3: Thinking of boys wearing short shorts!

Catey: No I wasn't!

#6: Catey, how could you?

Catey: I wasn't. #3's making this up -

#6: Catey, we're going to have to lock you in the closet for this. You've crossed a line.

Catey: #3 was talking about it. I didn't do anything. He's making this up. Why don't we lock him up?

#3: Because you're a girl. You need to obey us, for you are a PREP girl slave. #6, tie her up.

Catey: What??

#6: Yes, that's right. #3, it's your job to remember to let her out to cook us our food.

Catey:...?...!...?

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At Sam's Club, with The Slacker and The Onion Mincer...

Random checkout lady (you know it's coming - another one of those creeper stories...): So... why all the food?

The Onion Mincer: It's for our growing family. (looks at Catey, for approval or punishment)

Random checkout lady: ...?...!...?

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Catey: Please let me out of the closet....

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Catey: Please?

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Catey: Seriously! #3 and #6, this isn't funny any more!

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Catey: (cries quietly)

#3: Woman! Get in the kitchen where you belong!

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Well, that was nice. That was cool. That was fun. That was nice.

It's been one big adventure, and it's been, all of it, totally awesome. I love PREP!

I'll be back with more totally random stories tomorrow.

Love from Murfreesboro!

Catey (The Asian)

PREP... Frugality Meets Allergy and Things Blow Up

I'm finding that having a quick post once a day or every few days will make sure that I write often enough to keep everybody posted back home, but it doesn't take that long. This might even work.

So, one of my main roles as a PREP girl is to organize, plan and work kitchen. I'm currently having a lot of jobs that involve organizing the kitchen (this means I write shopping lists and help decide on meals, mostly.)

To give you a little perspective on this, we're cooking for roughly 35 people six meals a day: breakfast, AM snack, lunch, PM snack, dinner, and dessert. We have salad at lunch and dinner, fruit at breakfast and every snack, and cookies whenever the team wants them (currently, we haven't made any though... this is sad). The oven has so much personality, including cooking things at a unique rate (depending on the food, it might be fast or slow) and turning on spontaneously. (Not quite spontaneously, actually. It's just really sensitive.) We can use the oven after 8 pm and before 8 am, but not between. We also have two people with lactose/soy allergies. Whew! It's a lot to keep in mind, but it's not all that hard to manage. It is so ridiculously fun. I'm learning so much about managing and budgeting and how to cook for different tastes and needs.

I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining, because I'm not. This has been such a blast, and such a joy! I would do this forever and ever.

However, right now I've hit an obstacle. Does anybody out there know how to make dairy-free scones? The scones are getting made in a few days and I'm trying to figure out how Tessa and Marisa are going to eat... [goes off to check Mrs. V's blog....]

What a blast! I love PREP! I love cooking! I love learning how to work out the managing and the allergies and the health and the gorgeousness of these awesome people!

Google rocks,

Catey

PREP... Joy is Strength

(Written at the Moon's house waiting to go grocery shopping so I can make dinner...)

It's going to be a short post today, but suffice it to say that Camp was awesome! I had opportunity to step into some leadership training and opportunities, and my cabin group was awesome! (They won two simulations!)

Camp was an encouragement to me that I was indeed a speaker worth listening to - not because I'm great or I have any right to demand the respect of my audience, but because when God places you in a situation where you must speak, he will also give you the words to say, and so it's not you they here, but him.

Here at PREP, I'm one of seven team members (our soundoff is in Korean - I'm ilgop.) It's been an awesome two days and I'm excited to see all that God will do. The team (meaning the staff here) is so wonderful. They are sweet to me (except for one... who sprays me while I'm doing the dishes...) It's awesome! I can't wait to get to the store, because I'm making scones for breakfast (I miss you, Auntie Angi! I'll make them for you as soon as I get home!)

So... that's all for now! I promise I'll write more later. But look! I posted! Isn't this rare! Isn't that wonderful! And I didn't even sing about seeing people on plates.

With joy,

Catey

Promise

I promised my mom I would get better about blogging by the time I leave for Camp and Prep Week next week. This is my first attempt at it. I know I really have been pathetic about it, so I'm hoping to remedy that.

So, I should probably start by catching my poor old blog up to date on all that has transpired since my last post. Since my last post on expectation, I have:

- had my cousin Zach stay in town for eleven days this June. I don't think Zach reads my blog, and I'm not sure how often his mom does, but here's my shout-out to Zach. He's an amazing young man. I've known Zach since he was eight or nine or so, and I've always loved him. He's twelve now, and one of the most amazing twelve-year-olds I have ever met for so many reasons. I miss him so much. You can send him back any time, Aunty!

- lived so much I forgot to write about it. I hope this won't happen this summer, because, like I said, I promised my mom I would be better about blogging. So my lack of blogging has had more to do with having too much to write about than not having enough to write about.

- had one of the greatest Carli-ish adventures of my life in the tiny town next to us. My sister Carli waves to everyone - makes their day. So my cousins and my siblings and I decided we'd try it out. An hour and a half later, I saw more smiles on the faces of busy Palmer Lake citizens than ever before. Hopefully, we'll be doing that again tonight.

- I competed in the Inaugural ICCFS National Championship Tournament. What an amazing experience! At my very first tournament with breaks, it was such a delight to be with all the other competitors and learn what true friendship can mean. I've never been in a place where I can encounter anyone in the halls and pray with them in all earnestness and hug them and send them on to their room, even if you're competing against them. I've never seen people who were more in touch with each other's needs and where I heard no backbiting. I could gush for pages on how much I love those people I was with, but I'll refrain.

- I encountered breaks for the first time. Super fun. I loved standing with everyone when they were announced! I broke in all three speeches. I also broke in debate, which was announced later, and was one of the finalists in our first-ever national championship! It was an exciting thing, for sure. I placed in all of my speeches, which was a huge blessing.

- I was an RSA. So delightful!!!! I could gush about these people for ages too, but I'll just say that they are completely wonderful and it was such a joy to work with them. They even put up with me when I was going crazy looking for jobs (usually, this didn't last too long. We were busy!)

-I was a point person setting up the banquet. That was a stretching experience. Usually my jobs involve making people feel happy, not making sure things get done. It grew me a lot though.

- Currently, I'm spending some time with my out-of-state buddy, Ethan, who flew out here a few weeks ago. I've known Ethan since he was about four (he's now eleven) , and it's been pure delight to have him out here with us again.

- Joss and I are planning on taking off again (I have been traveling so much it's ridiculous!!) to go to Tennessee for a communications camp out there for a week, and then I'll be remaining in Tennessee for the rest of the month helping a team of interns prep for the annual tour conference. Basically, I get to do chores and make sure they don't have to worry about anything while they prepare. I can't wait!

So, this summer so far has been about experiencing and learning communion and relationship. I love. I hope this will become more true. I am so excited to see all that God will do this summer and forever. I'm going to do my very best to blog my experiences as much as possible! Keep me accountable, everyone!

Love you all!

Joy!

Catey

Echoes in Ink

Louisiana

Is one of the most amazing places on earth. While I will always love my homestate of sunny Colorado, Louisiana gave me a glimpse of the amazing brilliance that the South has.

I just returned today from teaching a public speaking conference in Louisiana with some friends (including Art!) I'll be sharing my thoughts on it very soon!

In the meantime, I'll just say bye to y'all (I said y'all!) and let you experience the joie de vivre in your lives.

God be praised!

Forever [Beautiful Belief]

This is my Flood the Five event poem. If you haven't noticed the pattern, I apparently have at least one poem per event that just sort of summarizes my thoughts. I'll have a more official Flood post up later.

I stand beside you, full
Unquestioning, I follow
So strong art thou
So full of passion, of belief
I feel your heartbeat
I love, I am, unquestioning

Together, now forever, unquestioning
You and I to understand, for full
You think, you feel, his heartbeat
Who shall you and I follow?
Your face is devoid of belief
For you and I art forever; I, thou

I am with you, art within thou
You are quiet. I'm unquestioning
I'm noisy in your frail belief
This joy is your strength in full
Maybe I will lead and you will follow
In this strength, your fragile heartbeat

Love! My hand, my heartbeat
Open, you are precious, art thou
Forever, I will quiet, I will follow
I shall help you unquestioning
For you, my heart is full
For you, I forsake my blind belief

So much hope, so much belief
I see thy joy - how I find a heartbeat
May I stand with you for full
You are, we are together: I, thou
To you, I will forever give me, unquestioning
We, together, will lead and follow

So many, so much, I follow
I am given toward belief
I shall wear white (I am unquestioning)
Can we share one heartbeat
One soul? How fully to desire thou
I will be filled to the full

Joy! So full, happy to follow
I and though, our heartbeat
To be unquestioning, here my beautiful belief

So... like it? This is a really abstract one. You'll have to let me know what you think it's about. Then I'll write about the actual conference experience. I'll tell you, I'm having HUGE extrovert withdrawal right now. I very much miss everyone.
Oh! And check out the pages at the top of the site! Are those cool or what?

Mascara (a.k.a My Masters Diary)

Day 0: Travel to NC
Lesson learned: We love airplanes!
We departed from Colorado Springs (my mom, me, Mrs. S, Madison, Levi and Maci) and took the long flight to Chicago O'Hare airport. Madison is my debate and duo partner, and her AOR for this particular Masters tournament was debate... well, she printed debate stuff at the last minute, so we spent the first flight getting the public forum stuff in order :)
We then went from the (icy cold) O'Hare airport to Charlotte. We arrived at night, in the pouring rain ("It's so romantic!" says Maci as she twirls around in it) and rented a van ("Please pick a red one!" says Madison. We got a red one.) and head to Hotel #1.
Wow! Tiring first day. Looking forward to conference tomorrow!

Day 1: Registration and drive to Hamlet
Lesson learned: Don't blink on the drive or you'll miss the town.
We made the 2 1/2 hour drive to Hamlet and checked in at our hotel. We then went to the town of Hamlet and registered at the church. Happiness! I got to see my favorite INTP and good friend Rebecca, as well as connect up with the interns and some of my other friends from camp and conference. Among them: Westin! A friend from Colorado. After our opening simulation (ZOMBIES!!! AAAAH!!! RUN AWAY!!!!) we watched the encore performance of Lead the Escape, hung out with friends, and then went home.

Day 2: Student Leadership, Ladies Luncheon and Model UN
Lesson Learned: Josh better have a good reason...
This day was jam-packed! I got to hang out with people again, which was enough for me to be very happy, but we also had a number of simulations and things. The Ladies Luncheon (with its awesome slumber party theme) was hosted by Kelsea and Robin and - triumph! - Mrs. Moon in her PAJAMAS! That was something I thought I'd never see! This followed our first class of the day (I attended the Student Leadership track) and after lunch, we continued to the very first Model UN simulation. I was representing Mexico with a single partner (I was on the Security Council). My partner was very different from me - we didn't agree on a single issue of our country's policy! That was a little difficult to get used to. But, I'm sure Josh has a good reason...

Day 3: Public Forum, part one and Mystery Party
Lesson Learned: Mascara is really bat poop. Don't ask.
I should start by saying that I've never done any kind of debate before, and my partner is a seasoned four-year-er. This having been said, I practiced my debate a LOT. So... I forgot something important. My mascara. Ouch. I was wearing full makeup... but no mascara. My self-confidence plummeted. Apparently, when I told my partner I wouldn't debate without mascara, she believed me, because she bugged an alum intern for some mascara. AH! I felt remade. I debated four rounds and I didn't die in any of them!
We then changed into our mystery costumes for the mystery dinner. Madison, Maci and I went as clue characters (Ms. Peacock, Ms. Scarlet, and Ms. White, respectively). Our parents were Agents 1 and 2 and Levi went as the Scarlet Pimpernel (which I know nothing about). My favorite costumes of the evening: several interns dressed as Clue characters (Mrs. White, Ms. Peacock, Miss Scarlet, Colonel Mustard, Mr. Green, Mr. Body [teehee]). Westin was Zorro. He had this cute little mustache. Humorous story:
Madison: Is that eyeliner?
Westin: No. It's the thing that comes with the spiny brush.
Madison: Mascara?
Westin: Ouch! That thing hurts. It must be made of metal.
Madison: No... who's mascara was it?
Westin: A friend's.
Levi: I bet it was Catey's.
Madison and Catey laugh hysterically as Westin gets really confused.

Day 4: Tournament, take two and concert
Lesson learned: OUCH
To start the day off, Eric ran me over. Hard. He kicked my shins by accident so I fell over and it hurt. Great. Soon after, I was removed from the Phase 1 (easier, non-advancing competition) to judge it. That was really fun! Sadly, Josh was really concerned about whether Madison and I would be okay with it. I felt bad for him - he was harried. I felt so bad for him that I didn't begrudge him the fact that he also ran me over and smashed me into a wall. Oops. Poor guy. As I looked back, I realized I had been run over a grand total of six times. I then kept track of collisions, because it was awesome.
Anyway, I performed my Thematic Religious Reading, and was seriously worried about my time (I ran two and six seconds over, which can be grounds for disqualification). We then attended a concert and performance of The Great Divorce. I cried and cried and cried. I need to read that book.

Day 5: Model UN
Lesson learned: Never trust China
Today, we were able to actually able to attend whatever classes we wanted. In addition to that, we broke into our separate councils in Model UN. I was on the Security Council (which is the best). I wrote this fantastic resolution, and received three more than necessary signatories - including China, Russia, France, etc. My resolution was then vetoed by China. His reasoning?
China: "The world is a twisted place."
No kidding.
Today, we also heard postings. Three of my friends' teams qualified to National-level competition in debate, and Colorado swept up the only Informative slot (must be the mascara, Westin.) My friend Madison and I both took honors and slots in Thematic Religious Reading (guess those two- and six- second overtimes were okay). My friend Rebecca won the Oratorical Contest. Happiness.

Day 6: Model UN and closing ceremonies
Lesson learned: We are all broken pots.
After the closing session of Model United Nations (where our chapter performed very well: Laura taking third country, Levi taking 2nd country, Madison taking 1st speaker General Assembly and 1st country, and I taking 1st speaker Security Council), and my performance of my Thematic for the assembly, we attended classes until the closing ceremonies and formal banquet. All of us dressed up in formal gowns and tuxes, and it was a truly beautiful evening. It was tainted bittersweet though - this would be the last time I'd see many of these people for a long time, perhaps for several months or even years. After Mrs. Moon's address, we lit candles, and sang in the yellow pools of light underneath them. I stood by my dear friend, and sooner than I knew it, I was absolutely overcome by the compassion and beauty of God. I stood in the darkness, my face glowing in the candlelight and cried, Why me, God? I am no good. My words are broken. My love is fake. Why me? And back to me: You serve a good God. Everyone speaks in broken tones - just show mercy. No one loves like me - I will heal you. I chose you because I love you.
Wow. That changed my thinking. I then went around crying for the compassion of God, and saying goodbye. I know that I love these people and that they must care about me, because none of them were turned off by the fact that I had been sobbing into my hands. It was a rubbing of souls. I greatly miss everyone, but I am content to know that Masters was not the last time I'll see any of them. I look forward to seeing them again soon and I pray in the mean time.
And, ending on a more lighthearted note, my mascara did indeed cause more problems (it dripped down my face and I looked like the matchmaker from MuLan. Baaad.) Oh well. Next time I'll just ask Westin to borrow his.

I have been changed by Masters, so don't be surprised if any number of my posts quote people from Masters, or tell stories of Masters as examples. Currently, I have a piece of poetry floating around my brain from The Great Divorce. Eventually.