Remix

I've posted this song before because it makes me happy.
Today, it made me happier.
See for yourself.

He Loves Us

David Crowder, would you be willing to tell me this every single day?

Buds

I love this more than you already think I do.

Get Out!

Perspective

Every time I get that "I can do anything" feeling, I go and watch something like this and think not so much.

Snails Pace

Next time the clock is slowly ticking away on a long hard day at work, I'm going to watch this video.
Life is just better with a cool soundtrack, no?

Scuttle Snails from Chase Rees on Vimeo.

Interesting

I just googled myself and 3/10 of the top results were actually me.
That wasn't true a year ago.
I find that fascinating.

Macho Man

So what does a climbing competition look like?
I'll tell you.
50' in 47 seconds.
That's my husband.

Worth Repeating

I've been reading through a compilation book of NPR's "This I Believe" essays. I like it because I rarely agree with the authors and I've always been better at figuring things out about myself by first identifying what they aren't.
I have 2 dog ears in the entire book - identifying the essays I wish I had written. The rest are food for thought and not much more.

Last night, I read "Always Go to the Funeral." You can read the entire essay here.

But here's the part I wish I had written:

"Always go to the funeral" means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don't feel like it. I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don't really have to and I definitely don't want to. I'm talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit during happy hour. The Shiva call for one of my ex's uncles. In my humdrum life, the daily battle hasn't been good versus evil. It's hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus doing nothing.

In going to funerals, I've come to believe that while I wait to make a grand heroic gesture, I should just stick to the small inconveniences that let me share in life's inevitable, occasional calamity.

Thoughts on conservation

I consider myself pretty conscientious when it comes to conservation.
I turn lights off when I leave a room.
I don't let the water run while I brush my teeth.
I'm lazy when it comes to recycling, but I've thought a lot about how I need to step it up a bit in that department (does that even count?)
Water conservation is probably the biggest impression I have from my one year as a girl scout. I think about it a lot.We don't recyle our shower water or anything, but I really do attempt to scrimp when it comes to pouring perfectly good water down the drain.

Or so I thought.

Then I spent the weekend camping in a trailer.
It was our first time out in mom & dad's camper. I did not participate in filling it up with water. I had no idea how much water it really held. We did dishes, flushed, and gave Ben a bath. The whole weekend, I wondered "do we have enough water for this?" I even had separate water for drinking. And we used the public restroom most of the time. But still I worried.

Because I knew the water supply was finite.

So I used water differently.
I scrimped for real.

And I realized - I attempt to conserve water at home because it's what I'm supposed to do. Not because I recognize our water supply as finite. And it is.

It's true even when camping within site of seemingly never-ending Lake Michigan.
It's changed the way I conserve even at home.
I think everyone should spend a weekend with a limited water supply - it makes a difference.

And those are my thoughts on conservation.

Hi

The name's Sara.
Without an H.
I've got a lot of grace in this.
Usually.
But 4 years, umpteen e-mails, and a whole lot of in your face no-h-ness later, I've had it.


Thanks.
I feel better now.

This made me happy

The PEN Story from PENStory on Vimeo.

Seems like I just can't get enough of this stuff.
It'll get old, I'm sure.
But for now, I like it, and I like it a lot.
Kind of makes me want to quit my job and go on vacation forever and take lots of pictures. Care to join me?

This makes me want to get married again

Smallville

Anyone else think find the main subject in this headline amusing?
Nevermind the people who needed to be treated for smoke inhalation - we got to use the LADDER!

Hey! I have an idea!

Hey, you! SAHM! Yeah, you!
I love the whole home-school "raise up smart shoppers" thing. Seriously. I do.
If I had all day with my middle schooler, I'd make her* my coupon you-know-what in a heartbeat. I might even go so far as to have charts for store comparison. Probably not - you got me there. But there'd be a price-per-unit discussion, for sure.

But seriously.

You can bet your britches that it would also be a lesson about courtesy.
And when we saw a young, beautiful 20-something professional woman buying pork chops for a last minute dinner party, we'd get out of her way so she can make the best of her lunch hour. Maybe even give her a chance to run home and tidy up the place a bit. And no, we would not get in her way at every possible turn.
No siree.

And while I'm at it, might I suggest that while you're... um... teaching - that you take your calls in the teacher's lounge?

Maybe next time, eh?
Much appreciative.


*I see this trend all the time in Holland. But only ever with girls. Naive to consider that coincidence? Yeah, I thought so.

Just when you think it's all been done before

Diego Stocco - Music From A Tree from Diego Stocco on Vimeo.

boom box

Tonight, Keith and I strolled the streets of Downtown Holland and enjoyed the watching the Street Performers. I get such a kick out it. You see everything from jugglers to break dancers to face painters to Young Life leaders with their guitars. Tonight my new favorite was the hula hooper. You heard me. She was amazing. Never. Stop. Hula-hooping. Usually two at once. Never mind that she had her butt hanging out of her shorts and everyone I heard comment about her said something to the effect of "wow, she's good - but why is she dressed like that?" She really was good. Silver shorts and fish net stockings and all. (The good news was she was also very pretty, so it wasn't as painful as you might be picturing.)

A block away, there's the old standby Belly Dancer. The best part of her routine is getting 3 year little girls in on the action. There were no toddlers when we approach. Just a... woman... doing her... thing. As we settled in to our spot, my husband who NEVER (seriously - never) has ANYTHING to say about another woman's appearance said "Look at her boom box!"

I scanned this poor woman from head to toe and back and could not figure out what in the world Keith would be referring to as a boom box. And then I noticed it - she had a huge portable stereo on the side walk. He really was talking about a boom box - and not in a "that's what she said" kind of way.

I seriously don't know another man on the face on the planet who would look at an adult woman, with a low cut blouse and bare midriff, shaking it all wildly and comment on her stereo. Do you? Sorry ladies, he's mine.

What's Your Routine?

Definition of a good day

As a parent, I find myself bending over backwards to make sure Ben has a "good day."
Is he eating stuff he likes or that is healthy enough to fight over it a little bit? How can we schedule the day so that he has the best possible nap? Is he dressed appropriately? Is he cozy? Is he entertained? Does he have enough of my attention? Did he try anything new today? Did he get enough fresh air? Did we read? Sing a song? Cuddle long enough?
It's important to me.

It struck me recently that I don't do the same for myself. My day is deemed either good or bad based on the circumstances around me, not what I can control. I rarely have such an active evaluation of what I'm doing to make myself happy, healthy, and comfortable. What if we all lived each day asking ourselves:
Did I eat well enough today? Did I get enough exercise? Did I smile enough? Did I affirm someone today? Did I spend enough time talking with God? Did I get to bed early enough? Did I worry too much? Spend too much money on stuff? Stew over something too long? Did I laugh? At least once? Hard? Did I show Keith how much I love him today?

I'm gonna try.

Almost Candid

Reason #4,563,891 why I love my husband.

Roller Babies

It's true

In the midst of my Jon & Kate tirade yesterday, Kara said something that rang very true.
Hearing about divorce makes you look at your spouse differently.
Even if it's just for a moment, they're suddenly an individual again - with thoughts, wants, and needs separate from you.
Makes me shudder just to think about it.

At the same time, it makes me so thankful that such thoughts feel so foreign.
Of course Keith is his own person.
But I certainly don't think of him like that.
I don't even really think of him as "mine."
He's part of me.
Plain and simple.
And so very beautiful.

So yeah - I have those gloomy no-one-ever-plans-for-divorce-so-what-makes-me-different thoughts.
For a minute.
And that's all.
Thank God.

Soapbox

In February, my position was "downsized."
In other words, I don't make as much money now as I did then.
That reality has forced my family to shuffle our priorities a bit.
First thing to go: TV.
And that doesn't mean we just get fewer channels, or have crappy reception.
We get zero channels.
Period.

I missed it for about a week.
And every once in a while, I long for a Sunday afternoon with Mike Rowe.
But by and large, I can't remember when we had time to watch.
That doesn't make me a better person than you.
Just like the fact that you jog doesn't make you a better person than me.
Just had to put that out there.

Can you guess where this is going?
I've got something to say about... you guessed it: Jon & Kate.

I don't have anything new to say about their situation.
You've read my opinions stated by reporters a thousand times already:
-Heartbroken for the kids
-Knew it was coming
-The show will need to change if it will survive
-Kate can be a real bitch sometimes
-I miss the coupon clipping, real-life family from Season 1
-Yadda yadda yadda

That said, I fell in love with this family long ago, but especially while I was home on maternity leave.
Kate and me were buds. And I could ID her kids better than ones I see in person sometimes. I felt more connected to them than I did with people I actually have relationships with. Part of that was a symptom of my much needed postpartum hibernation. But part of that is the direct result of me just getting way too wrapped up in TV.

There, I said it.
Again, if you "follow" a show, I'm not judging you here. Seriously.
I would kill for an episode of Intervention right now.
And I heard about the new "Obsessed" series on A&E. Oooh, I want me some of that.

But I digress.

What's really irking my tater today is everybody saying "Shame on TLC"
"Shame on Kate"
"Shame on Jon"
"TLC should cancel the show"

Why? Because your obsession with watching someone else's life fall apart makes them money? Are you kidding?

If you watch the show, you have no right to judge or cast blame (or shame) on anyone - you fed the fire. I did, too.

And if you don't watch the show, then shut up.

Guess I should take my own advice, eh?

I didn't realize I felt so passionately about all this until right now. (thanks a lot, Kara)
Just don't get me started on American Idol.

When it rains...

...my basement floods.

For the third year in a row, Holland is seeing record amounts of rainfall.
This past weekend's storm may qualify as a State of Emergency.
My family weathered the storm in a dry tent.
We came home two days later to 3 inches of water in the basement.
The cats were flooded out from their litter box, so even our dry rooms needed some drastic cleaning measures.
Oh how I miss our 2nd floor rental apartment right now. With a landlord. Who you call when stuff smells real bad, leaks, or is broken.

But, after 24 hours, we're in a much better place.
We have amazing families who came to help.
We know better than to keep our good stuff vulnerable in the basement.
Our basement isn't finished, so the carpet that's down is fixable.
Did I mention our amazing families?
Not to mention my POWER HOUSE husband.
Seriously - is there anything sexier than a man with a mop?

There's still about 200% humidity in our house and hotter than you-know-where.
But I'm calling it quits.
After two hours at the laundromat, I feel like Charlie looks:

Just a cool thing

Bathtub IV from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.

©2009 COPYRIGHT - All Rights reserved
Project info @ vimeo.com/channels/keithloutitssydney

This film is 100% 'real', but there are some new techniques for me here, such as using time lapse to create the illusion of forward movement for the helicopter ocean scenes. These flight sequences would not be possible without the skill and patience of Chief Pilot Peter Yates. Thanks also to Trevor Cracknell (for getting wet!) and Family.

Music:
“CLEMENTINE” (Megan Washington)
Performed by Washington
© 2008 J Albert & Son Pty Limited
Used with permission

Artist Info @ keithloutit.com
Project info @ vimeo.com/channels/keithloutitssydney

Security

Thunder has always fascinated me.
There's no other sound I can think of that I experience on a regular basis that doesn't originate somewhere tangible.
Light, particles, electricity - that's cool, too. But really, when I think about light, I'm more dumbfounded by a lightbulb than by lightning. Guess I'm just used to bright stuff coming out of the sky.
But sound? Seriously. That's amazing.

One of the longest, most intense storms of my life blew through last night.
I didn't hear the storm at first, but Ben did.
I woke up to his fussing in the monitor, only to realize that it was thunder woke him.
I rocked him for a short bit, waiting for the storm to pass.
When it was clear it was going to be a long night, I brought him back to bed with me.

Laying there awake, watching the light display, I couldn't help but remember laying in between my parents on scary nights. The same clap of thunder that can feel like the end of the world in a room alone is nothing more than an annoyingly loud noise when you're nestled between the two most important people in your life. I remember praying that my dad would fall asleep before the storm ended so that I wouldn't have to go back to bed alone.

Last night for the first time, I got a glimpse of what it was like for them. With all our windows open (Oh, how I love June), the thunder was so loud and so sharp that with each clap, Ben would jolt up like a popcorn kernel exploding. He was so zonked that he never opened his eyes, but he would reach to touch my arm, or leg. As soon as he was sure of my presence, he settled back in.

When he was first born, I felt like a pregnant lady who gave birth. Not long after that, I became a mother - in the Hallmark sense of the word. You know, "You give so much and expect so little in return" kind of thing. I'm just now starting to feel like a mommy. By mommy I mean Ben's favorite person on earth. His security.

I'm here to tell you that's the best feeling in the world.

Confirmed

I've always wondered what people are doing when they read my blog.
At least one of you is naked.
May the rest of you always wonder....

I Will Rise

I woke up with a heavy heart this morning.
Grief is a peculiar thing.
Empathetic grief even more so.

My commute to work on Mondays is about 4 minutes.
I rarely hear an entire song, news story, or DJ conversation.
This morning, however, as I buckled my seat belt, Chris Tomlin's "I Will Rise" came on.
I've heard this song countless times. But today, I couldn't help but tune in.
My heart is glad I did.

There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

And I hear the voice of many angels sing,
"Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb"

And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise
I will rise

Joy & sorrow

Life is just never what you expect it to be.
I spent all day preparing for, traveling to, attending, wasting time prior to reception, celebrating, and coming home from a wedding where someone I know quite well married someone I know not at all.
It's the happiest day of their life.
I thought about blogging about that a bit more.

But now it's late.
We're home and decompressing a bit.
We heard tragic news this morning.
One of the teens that Keith used to mentor was killed in a car accident last night.
It's still sinking in a bit.
Thank God that he was a man of real faith.
That blessed assurance does not help make sense of any of it, however.

In a darkened living room, with my party dress in the hamper and my bathrobe tied tight, I danced to Our Song with my husband and we cried.
For Nathan.
For dreams lost.
For fear that it should ever come any closer to home than it already has.
For guilt at the relief that it hasn't.
But mostly for the sorrow we feel for his family.

exposed

I'm no athlete.
Even if I was, I think I'd still have issues with the locker room.
The closest I come to getting naked in public was camp - where I perfected the art of changing clothes without ever being naked.
But that's impossible in a swim suit.
Therefore, when swimming, I dress (and undress) at home.
And no - giving birth does not need to forever hinder one's modesty.

So there I was - the Aquatic Center. Ben's first night in a pool. Pretty exciting stuff.
We were just arriving, still in the parking lot, getting Ben out of the car seat and a woman noticed his cuteness and stopped to say a friendly hi.

When I entered the locker room, I saw her again, out of the corner of my eye. She was undressing. So I stopped myself from the impulse to turn and say hi again - she was really very friendly.
Instead, my inner dialogue went something like:
Oh boy - I hate locker rooms. Don't panic! Divert the eyes. Where is the bloody changing table?! Why is it in her area? Oh yes - I can have my back to her.

I got Ben settled in nicely on the changing table and got to work. It didn't take him long to figure out how cool his voice sounded in the echoey room. So he started jabbering (aka YELLING) up a storm.
I was talking to him and laughing.

From behind me I heard, "He's so cute - how old is he?"

I turned around thinking "If she's initiating conversation, she must be dressed."
You can guess how wrong I was.

So there I am, one hand on naked, squirming, yelling happily Ben - while my body is half turned towards an aging 100% naked woman -and my eyes are darting around like a pinball machine.

What's the polite thing to do here?
Turn your back to her?
Face her. All of her?

I settled on locking in on the most intense eye contact of my life.
She made some other comments about Ben. Or babies. Or the economy. I have no idea.
I smiled, nodded, and turned back around - never happier to wipe Ben's butt cheeks in my life.

Communion Prayer

One of the greatest blessings about my membership at Madison is the opportunity, responsibility, and privilege to serve communion alongside my husband. Our church offers communion once a month and we have 6 stations where people can approach for the elements. Accepting communion practices in the Reformed tradition has been a challenge for my Lutheran Raised Self to deal with ever since Freshmen year of college at Hope.

I'm here to tell you, 11 years later, I love both traditions. And I truly think they both get some things right and some things a little less right.

But that's neither here nor there.

Yesterday was Communion Sunday.
Yesterday, I got to look into the eyes of about 100 brothers and sisters and tell them Christ's body was broken for them. For the forgiveness of their sins. Then I got to offer them a plate and see them accept it. Accept Him. Accept forgiveness.

Lots of people come with eyes sparkling with tears. Sometimes I join them. Other people get uncomfortable with the 1:1 eye contact. I don't (anymore).

When people approach so clearly broken and hurting, I pray that by participating in communion, some of their hurt is lessened. Often, the faces of those who are really hurting stay with me during the week and I continue to pray for their nameless hurts.

Today, I'm praying for a woman who's hungry.
And I'm not talking about being hungry in the spiritual sense.
This woman's stomach was empty. I can only guess her cupboards were, too.
I looked for her after the service, eager to invite her to join us for breakfast.
I didn't find her.
I know that the four cubes of bread she asked for at communion did not satisfy her physical needs.
Today, I just cannot shake her face from my mind.
Feed her, Lord.

A little close to home

Ever wonder what life in the media biz is like?
Take a look at Vendor Client Relationships.

Thanks, Joshy

Mother of the Year?
I thought so.

Happier Things

Proof that actually penning my emotions is cathartic...


I seriously don't think there's anything better in the world than nuzzling my face in Ben's neck.
Especially first thing in the morning when he's extra snuggly and just a little bit salty.

I don't think I'm especially good at work-type things. I think I have good enough people skills that I can be successful, but I don't have a marketable skill like design or accounting, etc. Nothing in my life has ever come as naturally as motherhood. When it comes to Ben, I certainly don't have all the answers. But I've got a willingness to try and fail and try again that I never knew about myself. Now about that paycheck...

I like to break the rules with Ben. I know I'm not supposed to rock him to sleep. But I do. Deal with it, Day Care Lady. I have the opportunity to hold my baby for a total of about 3.5 hours a day. If I can make it 4 by nuzzling his sweet baby neck for 30:00 after he falls asleep, I'm gonna. I earned that right at 1:41pm September 25, 2008.

I secretly hope Ben never gets teeth. Is there anything happier than a toothless, full body smile? Didn't think so.

I have never loved my body. Or appreciated it. Or even liked talking about it. The fact that my... um... body makes food for my son is miraculous. Labor & delivery forever altered my self perception as well. I'm gonna leave it at that. (This is where I fall off the mommy-blogger wagon).

I'm still figuring out how to be a good wife and mommy. Keith's had to take a back seat to Ben. Sorry 'bout that, babe. I'm trying.

It takes a conscious decision every single day not to submit to the resentment I feel at having to go to work. And then, when I have a day off with Ben and it doesn't go well, it takes everything I've got to convince myself that he would have had a bad day at day care, too. Working moms cannot win. Period.

Strangely, I understand the cycle of abuse and poverty better now than ever. I realize how often I make a conscious decision based on what I've seen work (or not work) for other parents. I have no idea how often I do it subconsciously. I thank God every day that by and large the other parents in my life are worth modeling.

Tonight, I looked through all the images we have of Ben since the day he was born. Why are there never enough?
Then I had a good cry.
It was worth it.

Really?

I think I've entered a quarter life crisis of sorts.
I just can't get over my life.
Is it for real?

There are days when I wish I could change some detail about every single aspect of my life.
I am rarely completely content. I'm restless.
I'm realizing that it has a pretty significant impact on my relationship with God.

I am so oblivious to change sometimes that when I actually take a moment or two to notice it, I'm shocked.
Is this really my life?
When did I marry such a studly, humble, servant-hearted human being?
I own a house?
In Holland???
I've worked at the same "summer gig" for 7 years?

SEVEN YEARS.

That means next you're going to tell me I stopped being a student 7 years ago.

Am I where I wanted to be then?
Am I on a road that leads anywhere?
Do I know which direction I'm headed?
Is that the right direction?
Am I paying enough attention to the daily stuff?
Am I paying too much attention to the daily stuff?

Does my life really involve meeting the daily needs for another human being?
My son.


My son.


My son.



Wow.
I am a mother.
It has redefined all of me.

I didn't think it would.
I really thought I would still be me, just with a kid.

But I am no longer
Sara
Daughter
Wife
Worker
Friend.


For me, it begins and ends with mom.

It's a life time commitment.


That completely and utterly overwhelms me.

It's part of why I haven't been writing here.
Or anywhere, really.
I don't want to be a mommy blogger.
I just want to share my thoughts.

So here they all are from the past 7 months:

Holy crap - I'm a mom.

Eye Candy

I don't really like the idea of this blog becoming a catch-all for random links and videos. I have lots of thoughts about work, economy, parenthood, wifedom and life in general. If I could just get around to sorting them out well enough to share them with you all...

Disclaimer aside, look at what this guy can do with the alphabet.
I'm inspired.

Look at Ben!

Proofs of six month pictures can be seen here.

admit it - you could, too

I could seriously spend all day looking at this site..

Too bad my head gear shot is a candid...

The grapevine

I have always wished I was creative. It wasn't until college that I realized it's much better for me to just be friends with creative people because my creative endeavors are never really successful. And you all thought I just like to play it safe. No, it's really my only option.

My grandma passed away a few weeks ago. In the process of preparing for her funeral and visitation, many MANY pictures were viewed. Pictures I didn't know existed. Take, for example, the pic of me in my head gear. You heard me. I seriously thought there was absolutely no proof that contraption ever existed. Now that Keith has seen it, I've never been more sure of the longevity of my marriage.

And then there was the picture of the Worst Idea Ever. In caps because it is. Straight up.
It was halloween. 3rd grade? My BFF Alissa had figured out how to braid wire into her strawberry blond, butt length hair. She found striped tights and was going to be the best Pippi Longstocking ever. I adored Pippi and was insanely jealous. So I said to myself, "Self, if you're going to be seen with Pippi, you better come up with something good!"

I had this sassy pair of red sunglasses branded "California Raisins." I might have gotten them out of a cereal box - not too sure on that one. Then it hit me. Standing in the center aisle at Meijer, looking at all the halloween head dresses. I could be... a raisin!!!! From California! HA!

I knew the dance move. Roll hands, point to left. Roll hands, point to right. Give a little hip sway. Repeat.

And I would be funny. That was important. No way I can compete with how cute Alissa would be. So go the funny route. This was gonna be great.

In my head, it was hilarious. And to be honest, it was funny in my head up until three weeks ago when I saw the picture:



I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this costume didn't go over that great.
Forgive the caps here, but seriously people -
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I WAS WEARING GRAPES ON MY HEAD. NOT RAISINS!!!
My mom would answer this question with some response about how head strong I was and how once I made up my mind about something... but SERIOUSLY! She let me out into the streets to beg for candy looking like this!
And no, your screen doesn't need to be calibrated - my face is blue. Not purple.
My sweatshirt is blue and inside out.
I think we can all agree that my mic was rad, but that's about it.

Picture me, sitting on Alissa's bed emptying my pillow case looking for razor blades while Alissa let down her hair.
"Why in the world would people think I was one of those underwear guys??? Weird!

(You might remember this story...)

How far would you go?

Further proof that motherhood has affected my sense of humor.

Lost Generation

Quincy asked for more posting.
Alon gave me an "out" by posting this video.
Watch this.
Hopefully I'll have something for you to actually read again some day soon.

I'd eat him if I could

This kid made me weak in the knees.
We filmed him crossing the Red Sea in our studio last week.
Me: Hey, cool - you have the Hulk on your shoes!
kid: I love him. Wanna know what else?
Me: Sure I do!
kid: My cat scratched me.
Me: He did?! What's your cat's name?
kid: Fluffy. Wanna know what else?
me: What?
kid: I want to go to Grandma's now.
me: Ooh - sounds fun. Do you mind if we take some pictures of you first? Then you can go to grandma's?
kid: Sure.

Resolved

Kara says I'll never follow through if I don't do this, so here goes --

Goals for 2009:

Personal -
Play piano again.
Call friends.
Write more.

Professional -
Look on the bright side.

Spiritual -
Bedtime prayers with Keith and Ben.