Sun

Every day at twilight, when the sky isn't overcrowded with grey, the sun comes to visit my East Van space (which I share with my dear friend Angie). The room takes on hundreds of new hues. It soothes away the shakes of anxiety, the throbs of doubt, and the listlessness of fear. I continuously grasp for moments that comfort me with a sense of home and belonging. The sun light at the close of this day, bouncing around this gentle place, is grace to me.

The Running Woooooman

I am seriously contemplating adding a new "Interest" on my Facebook profile: running.

It's true. I've stuck with it for two months. I've gone from running in back allies (so no one could see me, of course) to running on empty streets (so I could limit the number of people who might see me) to full on running at Trout Lake with all the crazy dogs who aren't on leash (where some of their sexy owners have even said "hi" as I ran past . . . well, ok, maybe that just happened once).

I guess it's good to stick with this whole exercise thing a little longer than I used to.

White guy rapper + too much beer = pretty funny sight

Have you ever had a young looking 30 year old drink too much, swoop over to your table at a fine dining establishment, and start strangely hitting on you by saying, "You have nice teeth . . . you're cute . . . I like your nose piercing . . . it's like Tupac . . . I love Tupac he's like my favourite . . . I'm a rapper you know . . . I'll make up a rap for you right now . . ."?

I have.

4th Fest

MY 29th BIRTHDAY

Pretending I'm a Vegt: Kristi Vegt, Paulina Vegt, me, and Mel Vegt.

Friends: Jennifer, Jonathan, Lisa, me, Louanne.

Lisa said she made this mint choc cake with more love than skill. I think it was lovely and delicious.

2 nomads: Angie and I (notice that Kasha made it to the party by way of photo in the background)

It's my birthday week!

My birthday week started off most wonderfully. One of my dearest friends, Holly Duke, met up with me in the fishing community of Steveston, BC. We went for a slow bike ride along a flat gravel road, ate fish and chips by the boats, and savoured ice cream scooped into fresh waffle cones. What perfect fun.

This one goes out to the mom I love

Mom:

I'm still eating these crazy hotdogs that you left in my freezer at THANKSGIVING. Thinking of you!

Love,
Bobbi

The thing I like most about running is . . .

when it is over.

Surrounded by Poetry

I am anticipating a summer of poetry, being outside, and going on 3 dates (I may need help with that last one). I am kicking off my summer o' poetry this spring with a Sylvia Plath book I picked up at Companion Book on Hastings in Burnaby. I have been drawn to Plath's poetry since reading "Tulips" in my writing poetry class at Regent last summer. This is the poem I read this morning; it's been following me around ever since.

THE APPLICANT
by Sylvia Plath

First, are you our sort of a person?
Do you wear
A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,
A brace or a hook,
Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then
How can we give you a thing?
Stop crying.
Open your hand.
Empty? Empty. Here is a hand.

To fill it and willing
To bring teacups and roll away headaches
And do whatever you tell it.
Will you marry it?
It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end
And dissolve of sorrow.
We make new stock from the salt.
I notice you are stark naked.
How about this suit ---

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.
Will you marry it?
It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof
Against fire and bombs through the roof.
Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
In can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

Missed Connections

This could have almost been my PostSecret . . . almost.

Joy in the little things (or big things when you buy them at Costco)

I spent the last 6 months thinking about making a big purchase: a MAC computer. Everyone I know who has a MAC loves it and assures me that I will too. Amazingly, I have never owned my own computer so I thought this would be a perfect match. Last week I took the plunge and ordered a refurbished beauty online at the Apple store. Man, I was excited. I was so excited that I took a study break last night to drive over to the my place of work, where it had been delivered, to pick it up.

I brought it home.

I plugged it in.

I saw the little light blinking and thought, "That little light is the heartbeat of my very own computer."

I opened it up and admired its shiny goodness.

I turned it on.

It did not turn on. I tried again . . . and again . . . and again: nothing but a dead black screen.

And in fact, that is what Apple told me today - it was DOA (and there are no replacements of this refurbished model, so I will have to order a brand new one and spend a bit more money - gross).

I am currently working at healing these let-down blues and working up the courage to order again. In the meantime I have got the motherload of ALMOND BUTTER from Costco and I eat a bit of it everday with an apple - this gives me joy and by the size of the jar I know it will last a long, long time.


A dose of disappointment and some joy that will last.

On the Fringe at Regent

I spent two semesters at Regent with these fun friends. Amazingly, Matt, the lone fellow in the pics, is a California connection. I worked with his fun sister, Marlene, at my church in California. Last summer he worked there and hung out with some of the students I know and love. It's a small, wonderful world.

My Buns

Fresh out of the oven: hot cross buns just like my mom used to make them every Easter. Except, when I called my mom to get her recipe (which was my Grandma Salkeld's recipe) she told me to "guess" and "just add enough flour until it's right". Sadly, my baking skills are still reaching for that kind of confidence. I opted for hot cross buns the Joy of Cooking way; meanwhile, my sister - who has been baking up Grandma's goodies for years - made them them mom's way. Mine were good, but not quite good enough. Take a look at Kasha's buns. Now those are nice buns.

Bridge to Terabithia

The movie is great, too (see below post for comments about the book). It's stylish, honest, emotional, funny, and imaginative. I loved it especially because I work with students who are the age of the main characters, but I think it would be enjoyable for everyone - young and old - who love beautiful film.

My favourite part:

The kids are riding back from church in the box of a pick-up truck; beautiful scenery is whisking past them on a sunny day. Jesse (the main boy character), May Belle (his bratty little sister), and and Leslie (Jesse's new BFF who is a girl who runs faster than all the boys) get talking about the Bible. Leslie is a kid who hasn't spent any time in church or had much interaction with the Jesus story. May Belle tells Leslie that if she doesn't believe in the Bible then she'll be damned to hell. Leslie looks around, wide-eyed and beautiful, opens up her arms to the world and replies: "I think God is too busy making all of this to damn people to hell."

Other favourite part:

"Free the pee! Free the pee! Free the pee!"

Bridges

Yesterday I finished reading Bridge to Terabithia; today I'm going to see the movie with some of my students. I forgot how enjoyable it is to read children's literature. I always find myself wondering, "How would I be different if I would have read this book when I was young?" And though I'm not a child anymore, I still find this story expanding and taking up room in the places of my memory and in my hope for humanity.

Out of Body into Music Heaven

On Monday my good friend Lisa and I went to Seattle for a little shopping, a little visiting, and a little road tripping. Our primary destination was the Patty Griffin concert. When we were leaving the concert Lisa turned and asked me, "Are you in a state of bliss?" I replied, "I'm so sad it's over." If you don't know Patty, it's time you meet her.

Rain Gear

I've lived in Vancouver for 3 years now. Yesterday I purchased a real umbrella. You know the type: it's got a curved handle, could double as a walking stick and a weapon (which may in fact come in handy when I'm strolling through these East Van streets at night), and it won't flip inside out with the slightest breeze. This purchase and the simple joy it brings me has got me thinking . . . Is Vancouver me? Am I Vancouver? Though I still find that these gorgeous mountains get in the way of my view of the sky (O! Land of Living Skies), I do believe that this wet climate and this sea side living is seeping into my soul.

I wonder if Josh Ritter might want to marry me

Tonight as I drove home from work along Kingsway I relived the Josh Ritter concert I went to last week with my friends Chris and Sarah. I played "Monster Ballads", track 3 on The Animal Years, over and over again and again. There's something about "Monster ballads in the stations of the cross / Sighing just a little bit" that catches in my imagination. And I got thinking: JR and I would make one fine couple. He could sing his poetry to to me and we'd read books together. And that, friends, is all the romance I'd need.

Some thoughts about the work I do

Last weekend's Vibrant Girls' Retreat.


Last weekend's Tough Enough Guys' Retreat.



I work with students. Preteens, in fact. And these students . . . they're maniacs. But after all the mayhem, at the end of a Friday small group night, I still have huge love in my heart for them. I see that in the little moments big things can happen. Moments like these.

Tonight I sat around a booth with grade 6 girls and we built a city of Play Doh. It had a downtown core, a bit of suburban sprawl, and a beautiful royal blue river around it. While I breathed in a smell of my childhood I hoped these girls would remember that it's good to play, to create, and to welcome others into a circle.

On the other side of the behavior spectrum, later in my youth night, I busted a bunch of grade 7 boys having a shoe fight (perhaps it was more like a life-flashing-before-one's-eyes war) in one of the classrooms. I could tell by the skid marks ON THE WALL, the hole in the drywall, and the smell that punched me in the face when I opened the door that they had been at for quite a while.

Upon getting busted by "Pastor Bobbi" there was an instant hush, but still a lot of snickering. I flashed them the "Bobbi's TICKED" look and after about 5 minutes of cleaning up the chairs which they had turned into protective barricades I explained to them this: the walls of this church didn't just appear; people give of their money so that we can have a church; when we can't stop our fun to realize that we're ruining things that aren't ours (and dare I say God's?) something has gone really wrong.

And you know, I think some of them got that. Without my nudging they went about looking for a way to get the scuff marks off the wall. And even though it didn't work, they left youth tonight with a few bowed heads and even some genuine apologies. I think that this moment too - in it's destruction and annoyance - was redeemed. For a moment these guys had to stop and consider something beyond themselves.

I'm resting tonight (once I finally wind down) knowing that these gloriously simple, and even a bit trying, moments were sparkling with the sacred.

On Beauty and a Case of the Uglies

A couple of weeks ago I finished reading a Zadie Smith book: On Beauty. It was a delicious read that was not afraid to portray the dark side of beauty and the tendency people have to be seduced by the side of beauty that destroys. Real beauty - the kind that lasts and gives life - can be lost in the glaring light of what captures our attraction on a trivial level. Laying claim on that deeper beauty can take a hell of a lot of work once one has been content to play in the shallow waters of trivial beauty.

Last night my friend and I went to a cd release party here in Vancouver. As we walked back through the empty streets we talked about attraction, art, the search for peace, and annoying disco balls that leave a person's eyes hoping to be soothed by darkness. When two people spend some time talking about attraction the question inevitably comes to this biggie: what do you think is attractive? This question always stumps me, but it's not always for noble reasons. I'm afraid that I lose touch with my own beauty and in that, I lose touch with the beauty in others because I've traded in a deeper version of myself for a version that cares more about how my overbite leaps out of my profile or how my hair just doesn't have the same lift as it did a few days ago.

I'm home sick today and my puffy eyes are searching out beauty. The sky outside is layered in lumpy clouds of grey and it's beautiful. The new Patty Griffin cd playing (for the 4th time today) is pull-emotions-to-the-top-of-the-skin beautiful. The lingering smell of curry left after dinner with my friend last night is beautiful. My hands around a hot cup of tea are beautiful. The scruffy homeless man who shoved a bag of M & M's into his pocket early this week at the Skytrain station is beautiful. I believe that this beauty leads me to the One who made all of this. And though I have a heck of a time with faith some days, today I'm leaning into this beauty and hoping God will give me eyes to see and ears to hear . . . what's that? That I am beautiful and all of this is beautiful.