Close to Home

I was stopped in my tracks about 20 minutes ago when my friend Karen called me and asked if I had heard. Heard what, I asked, thinking she had probably been awarded the fellowship she had applied for recently. Two bombs at the Boston Marathon. "You better call your friends who were running." But I can't. The phone lines are jammed. Three friends running the Marathon. Various others volunteering. Certainly their families are panicking, desperate to get through and make sure they're OK as well. But that isn't the story I wish to tell. I wasn't in the U.S. for 9/11 (on my mission in Chile), although I volunteered at the memorial here in 2011. I didn't experience that moment personally. And I'm very aware that two explosions at the Marathon finish line (and two others that were dismantled by police), with two dead and 23 or so injured, can't even begin to compare in magnitude and tragedy. Except that, for me, I feel angry and indignant as if I were attacked. I feel solidarity with Boston. It feels like home, and my home has been attacked today. Attacked on its day of celebration, Patriot's Day. Like the September 11th strike in New York, these bombs attacked Boston at its heart. I don't mean to be melodramatic - as far as I know, all my friends are fine, and I'm certainly fine. But I am angry at the brazen cowardice and calculated absurdity of this attack. And I take it somewhat personally. To intentionally hurt oblivious, well-intentioned people - people who have worked and sweated and trained to accomplish this moment, and the people who came to cheer them on - is despicable. I'm angry. I am also, at this moment, a Bostonian. Angry as a Bostonian. Angry as an American. And angry as a human: why do so many of us represent our race in such a contemptible way? These thoughts swept through me as I drove home from campus. And I thought I'd share. Thanks for listening. You'll be glad to know that my friends are all OK as well.

Thoughts on Israel

Please note, I just barely finished a really fine piece of work on this perfect weekend.  But the extra time the snow afforded allowed me to ponder and write a bit on how my perspective on Israel has developed over the last couple of years.  I hesitated whether to share it, but I think it might be interesting to a few of you.  But make sure you read the post before this - it's a lot more fun!

February 8, 2013

I believe I need to take more time to record my thoughts on my studies, on my life pursuit. I find the further I go, the less clarity I have. I suppose that is true of most things – the more you learn, the more there is to learn. The more you know, the more you realize you don't know. The more I learn about Israel, the the only thing that consistently becomes clearer is the immensity of the problems, with seemingly endless scholarship to accompany them all; plausible conclusions or solutions are hard to come by.

I entered this field with only a couple of things I solidly believed. The first was that Israel is a legitimate state with a legitimate right to exist. The second was that the Palestinians also had a legitimate right to their own state. I believed that the Jewish people was and remains God's chosen people. I still believe that. But what has become increasingly difficult for me to reconcile is how God's chosen people can be so thoroughly wrong in their approach to the problem.

This shouldn't surprise me, I suppose. The Bible alone exhibits ample evidence that God's chosen people rarely get it right. I wonder, does being God's chosen people mean you are chosen to be downright idiotic? Perhaps the danger of being chosen is the very real possibility (as evidenced by history) of becoming overwrought with your own grandiosity, convinced of your own rightness, never second-guessing.

And yet, I must interpose here and contribute a personal note: it's my own tendency to step back and consider that often stops me from acting – even when I should. Is it, then, better to leap before you look? Don't consider or dither too much? That is a question that one so prone to thought as I cannot possibly answer. And it is a digression.

A passage in 1 Nephi 15 has caused me to reflect on the possibility of God's chosen people being always remembered in the covenant, but perhaps only chosen upon conditions of righteousness. Verse 16 speaks of the House of Israel (referring to Lehi's seed in the Promised Land – but certainly it may also apply to the Jews) as being grafted back in, as a natural branch. This is after they have “come to a knowledge of their redeemer” and His gospel. So, it would seem their covenant might be in effect only in that condition. After all, Doctrine and Covenants 121:34-37 teaches that chosenness most certainly operates only on conditions of righteousness. They (the rights of the priesthood) can be “conferred”, but when they are used for personal gratification, “to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness” the authority is gone.

So the question is whether this applies in the case of the Jews as the chosen people. Are they, as the inheritors of the covenant, the seed of Abraham (but then, the seed of Abraham is as “the sands of the sea” - and it is beyond question that the Palestinians are also the seed of Abraham), the true heirs of the land? And if so, what of the Palestinians? If not, have we interpreted prophecy all wrong? Did Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, Ezra Taft Benson?

If it is the case that they are fulfilling prophecy, how can its fulfillment be so entirely unjust to another people? I find this irreconcilable, at the moment, at least. But, again, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and of Moses, was a God that I don't understand either. Complete demolition of the Canaanites is beyond my comprehension. It is less immediate to me now, and therefore, less distasteful. And I also realize that I am looking at a finite picture, while God sees eternity. These are merely blips on the radar. I do trust that all will be made right in the final, eternal unravelling. But it is difficult, with my finite perspective, to see the suffering of a people, believe that it is part of God's plan, and understand all of it. In many ways, then, I feel more unsettled than I did when I began.

Practically Perfect in Every Way

It's 11:05 (and will be much later by the time I finish), and I have to get up at 6, but I just got done praying and realized how much I am grateful for this weekend.  It's been some time since I posted, and by golly, it's time I checked in!  Let me tell you about my pretty perfect weekend.

This was the weekend of the big storm.  Most people ran to the store and bought every possible supply, hunkered down in their homes, and waited, grim-faced, for the storm to hit.  I also waited anxiously, but I was excited.  I keep learning new things about myself, and one of the things I am learning is that I am thoroughly exhilarated by the power of nature.  I love to experience it full-force (from the safety of my warm home, I add with a sheepish smile).  I want to feel the forceful gusts, see the pelting snow or rain.  I suppose that's why I took Dovie out during Hurricane Sandy, and why we made a similar trek early Saturday morning.  I was truly thrilled.

At first the storm seemed likely to disappoint - as have most of the storms I've experienced here.  The winds were only semi-boisterous, and the flakes were small, even though they were steady.  But during the night things improved (or worsened, depending on your perspective) and by morning, we had some good, deep, powdery snow.

I ventured out with Dovie, but I was one of very few.  Like I said, most hunkered down and waited it out.  But when the storm was over, people emerged.  And this is where the real magic of the weekend began.  We were like little squirrels coming out after a long winter, surveying the world again.  We had survived nature's blast, and were anxious to begin life again.  And we were all out together!  The storm forced us out together, to be neighborly, help each other shovel (boy, did I shovel!), check in on each other, and for me, get to know my neighbors' names.  Yes, I'm ashamed to admit, other than my landlord and their family, I didn't know any of my neighbors' names.  But this kind of event forces our lives to stop.  No one was even allowed to drive (not that anyone could!  My car was entirely buried - I'll post pictures when I figure out how to download them from my phone - as were everyone's who doesn't have a garage, and the shoveling took hours), so no hiding in the cars and then darting to your house without even a friendly word was not an option.  Mother nature forced us to get out of the holes of our lives and be friends.

And she forced us to stop for a day or two and play.  An unexpected, universal vacation.  At home.  It was really remarkable!  My friend in Cambridge went cross-country skiing down Mass Ave (the biggest and longest street in Boston - it was Carri, Christy Spencer).  Another friend made a snowman with the neighbors.  I met with all the dog people around here and we had a dog party at the park.  Dovie was in heaven - bounding through the snow like a porpoise in water.

And then church was cancelled - the parking ban in Cambridge remains in effect - and even when it is lifted, good luck!  People spent an hour or more digging out a parking spot, and they mark it with chairs, cones - anything - and woe be to the person who takes that spot!  Don't know what we'll do if it doesn't melt!  But Arlington ward did hold Sacrament Meeting, so I made my way up there, and then hustled home to go snow shoeing with my friend Joe.  Again, there were all kinds of people, out sledding (I had to keep Dovie away from the sledding hill - he still chases intensely anything that moves), walking their dogs, etc.  We trudged happily through the woods and chatted.  When do I ever get to do that?

So, with much of my studying caught up, sore but happy muscles, and a tuckered out dog, I am really pleased with this little gift in disguise provided by Mother Nature.  And did I mention that Tyson got his mission call to Eugene, Oregon?  Really, I must say, it has been a pretty perfect weekend.

Boston in the fall, take 3

Friends: it turns out I didn't actually finish or publish this entry (from clear back in early October).  But it's kind of fun, and all true, so I'm going to publish it as is.

I can't really say whether it is because my expectations have lowered, or because this year the colors of the trees really are better, but I just can't help but come to the conclusion that this fall Boston is much more vibrant than the other two with which I can compare it.  My vantage point is also much better (from the 3rd floor of the Mandel Center, at the top of the already-tall Brandeis hill).

The weather is certainly nippier than last year as well.  But that didn't stop me from a quick dip in Walden the other night.  It was a bit of a jolt at first submersion, but then our bodies acclimatized and we treaded water comfortably for quite a few minutes.  It was a glorious night, even though it was my first night as the leader, and I led us a bit astray for the first little while.  That, along with my headlamp that kept blinking out on me, made the finding of the pond a great relief!

Elder Taylor

I just got off Skype with my brother James.  He is officially Elder Taylor.  He will enter the MTC tomorrow at 1:00.  I won't be there.  My heart hurts for that.  But it also rejoices in that day.  I can hardly believe it is here!  He will be such a wonderful missionary.  He is full of hope and strength and real experience and appreciation for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.  He is also nervous for his own weakness, and a bit prideful.  But he also humbly acknowledges his weakness, and knows where to find true strength.  I am so excited to share this journey with him.

I am also filled with excitement for him to experience the MTC - a place so dear to my heart.  And to experience the intimate tutelage, growth and faith developed on a mission.  If only he could know how I pray for him.

Already his choices for good have blessed his brothers.  On Sunday, at his own farewell, James' older brother Tyson was announced to be ordained as an elder (news to all of us in the family, except for Tyson, of course - he never communicates!).  And tomorrow (they got a rush appointment) he will go in to receive his Patriarchal Blessing, before they head down to drop of James.  Wow.  Big week for the Taylors.  Big blessings.  I am equally excited to see Tyson progressing, learning who he is, learning to trust his goodness and embrace it.  I hope, and believe it is quite possible, that Tyson will soon follow his brother, and Cisco will follow shortly thereafter.  Who would have thought!

I must get back to my final, but I wanted to share more joy.  Thanks to all of you who read and share it with me.  Boy!  The day of miracles has not ceased, but is here!

I find myself with a couple of extra minutes this morning and thought I would take a moment and share with you some thoughts.  They will be brief, but they have been meaningful to me, and hopefully to you as well.

I spent Thanksgiving with my family in Wyoming, where I had occasion to bask in the joy of a miracle all week long.  As some of you know, Thanksgiving marks a year since my brother James visited me for Thanksgiving last year.  He came because he was in a dark place and wouldn't speak to my parents.  I have been very blessed to maintain, even through his most angry and rebellious times, a good relationship with my brother, and my parents thought perhaps he would agree to spend Thanksgiving with me - he certainly wasn't willing to spend it with them.  

I knew this was an opportunity, but I also knew that if I tried to tell James that where he was going was leading to misery, in the wrong way or at the wrong time, when he wasn't ready to hear it, I would not only entrench him further, but risked hurting my relationship with him - the last strand linking him to our family.  I prayed long and earnestly for the right moment.  

That moment came as I drove him to the airport to go home.  The entire time he was here, I simply loved him and remained silent.  But he began to ask me about some of the things going on in his life, the issues with my parents, and so on.  I don't remember well what I said (but I do believe I wrote it in my journal), but I remember being amazed at the conversation we had, and his willingness to hear hard things.  

Shortly after that he informed me that he had gone to talk to his bishop because he wanted to go on a mission, and needed to change his life. He confessed he was worried that he couldn't maintain a righteous life for a whole year (he had developed some really bad habits) before he would be eligible to go.  I told him I would write him a letter every week to help remind him of why he is doing what he is doing.  I have done that (with a couple of missed weeks where I had to write two letters the next), and have received so many blessings.  It has been beautiful to share this with him, and I have become so close to him.  That is one blessing.

But the miracle is his change of heart.  His testimony of the Atonement is real and personal and powerful; his desire to serve is deep and tender.  He is by no means perfect, and still has some of the tendencies toward arrogance and anger that led him down the wrong path before.  But he is recognizing it and growing toward better things.  

Before I left him (he leaves on his mission in two weeks), I had the opportunity to ask him what kind of missionary he wants to be, what he wants to be remembered as.  He told me, and I encouraged him to write it down, put it somewhere he would see it frequently, and live to become that every day.  I also shared with him Ether 12:27 and testified that as he comes to the Savior (which is what a mission is about anyway - truly coming to the Savior by doing His work: bringing others to the Savior as well), he will find his weakness all over the place, in everything.  It will be difficult and frustrating, but if he will bring it to the Savior, he will become strong.  He will become the missionary and man he wants to be.

Today (at this very moment, even), James is in the Temple receiving his endowment.  I can hardly believe the blessings.  He will enter the MTC in less than two weeks.  He could still use all the prayers we have to spare, but I truly believe he will be a powerful servant in the Lord's hands.  I also have great hope and faith that his brothers will follow suit.  Tyson is talking about the possibility, and Cisco is trying to figure his future out, but both are on a fairly decent path.  I loved being with my family, and I love the closeness I have felt to my brothers of late - I haven't felt that ever, not really.  But now I can and am so happy.  

Anyway, thanks for sharing in my joy.

I've been telling everyone else, and I suppose I might as well write down and record my recent ponderings and self-realizations.

Some context (as if you already don't have enough): I have never been especially good at questions. Well, I suppose that isn't altogether true. As a child, I was particularly good at pondering the world around me. But the vapid school system, and my desire to be “good” and not push limits or think the wrong thing, succeeded in quenching my thirst for knowledge, and I lately find myself being challenged by my stunted ability to question. Just question.

I'm still pretty good at pondering, as long as it doesn't require reaching outside of myself for answers. That is where I fall short. My research skills – and ability to just know what's going on around me – really are lacking. It's a frustration that I am trying to overcome.

But in the midst of this ever-present lack, I have also felt myself growing. True, it is by meager steps – and I'm sure it would be much faster growth if I could just discipline myself to study in a more dedicated, efficient way. But I am growing. I feel as if I have entered a new and exciting phase of my life, and I want to talk about it.

As I struggle to think more critically about the things I'm learning (interesting note that I should have known before, but somehow didn't really understand – the more knowledge one has in a topic, the more one is able to think critically about a certain piece of literature or scholarship relating to that subject. Hence, one needs to really immerse oneself in the subject – be it the gospel, Israel, or any other topic), I am finding that it is OK to question. This is a new and wonderful realization. It is so liberating and sweet. I can remain firm in what I know, and question elements of it at the same time. It doesn't mean I have a weak testimony, or that I am not a good member of the Church. A publicly-acknowledged feminist can be Stake Relief Society President to a staunchly conservative Stake President. She can work successfully within her bounds, while at the same time questioning and pushing those bounds. I can have a place and work within the kingdom and still make waves in that kingdom. I don't have to just fit a prescribed image of womanhood and femininity. This is big news for me.

I am finding that I can be OK with me – something I have been striving to achieve for a long time. I have begun to heal from past wounds – both those I inflicted on myself, as well as those inflicted on me from a very young age. I am learning to love myself, to see myself as more than what I did as a young child (oh the irony of that – most of us want to return to the innocence of youth, while I would simply love to erase much of the memories of mine).

In my youth I questioned and thought – and that is something I lost. That I can return to. I rejected the traditional style of girlhood, but as I approached adulthood, I began to repress that side of me, believing that, in order to be the right person, I had to embrace the image I thought was the proper LDS girl, for the most part. Granted, I have always been my own version of that, but to a large degree I have lost some of my youthful questions and sense of difference - and joy in difference. I was persecuted for years for my difference, and instead of embracing it, I conformed. Now I am learning to think again, to relish my difference, and it is joyous.


Here are some photos of fall for you to enjoy.

Dare to Tri, Twice

I did it.  I sucked up every ounce of courage I had and paraded in a swimsuit all over the beach for the better part of an hour, surrounded by more attractive, fit, and better clad men and women and their sleek bodies.  That was the hard part.  The swimming, biking, and running was easy after that.  OK, "easy" is perhaps the wrong term.  But it certainly is a battle of personal will not to hide in the car, refusing to come out, feeling intimidated by all the people with thin, muscular legs around me, most of whom have no idea how much harder it is to battle weight than to battle those waves crashing to the shore.  I mentioned once to a friend that it is kind of hard to do these things - I certainly don't fit in.  But I can finish the race, and I'm just not going to let my own embarrassment stop me.  I just won't.  My friend suggested that that was quite remarkable - that I didn't let my size stop me.  I don't think it's remarkable.  It will be remarkable when either or both of the following finally happens (and we're making progress in both): a) my body is in a shape I can be comfortable with; b) I simply don't give a darn what my body looks like in comparison to others, because I know it's beautiful.  Those two together are much of why I do what I do.

So, yep, I completed my second sprint triathlon of the year.  In a couple of ways, this tri was a bit more difficult.  The waves in the ocean were enormous - enough to cause me to jump into them literally with a prayer on my lips that I would make it to the other side alive.  But once I moved forward into them, my heart settled down, and while I felt battered, tossed, and a bit tired, I felt generally calm and strong.  I was and am not ever fast in the water.  But I can swim forever, I have noticed recently.  So it was yesterday.  I was not the last of my heat to finish, but almost.  A few people around me got on the raft with the life guard and had to be taken to shore.  But, although I was slow, I made it.

The bike was so much better than last time.  I borrowed my friend Carri's bike.  It's a nice road bike, but with regular pedals.  I was blown away at the difference!  In the last race I didn't pass a single person, and was passed by so many - from speedy racers to old guys on mountain bikes.  It was rather discouraging.  Yesterday, I passed at least 10 people - possibly more.  I really didn't count, I was just joying in the speed and power I felt.  I have decided it's time for me to put aside a fund for a decent used road bike.  Somehow.

And then the run.  I struggled in the June triathlon with pain in my lower back as I ran, and had really stretched the week before trying to prevent a repeat.  But I failed in this regard.  Utterly failed.  The pain began on the bike (again, same scenario) about 2/3 of the way through, and then intensified as I ran.  It was so bad that I had to intersperse my running with walking about every 5 minutes.  I walked about 1/4 of the 3.5 miles, but ran the last 3/4 mile and finished strong (cursing that blasted sand the whole last 100 feet).

Aside from a back feeling a bit sore, I have really felt good yesterday and today.  I find it strange that I can really be so much larger than most everyone else, but keep up rather well.  I saw one woman, truly my hero, who was probably double my size, beginning the running (she was walking) as I was completing it.  Then after the race, as we were driving away, I saw her coming in.  She had done it.  I guess that's what this is about for me.  No matter the obstacle, the weakness, the excuses we can all make, I want to always be engaged in the struggle to be better than I am today.  In all things.  The triathlon is just one aspect of that struggle for me.

Part of that struggle is to accept me as me, while pushing forward to improve me.  I think as I accept me as me, it allows me to accept others as they are, and walk with them as we grow together.  That was the way it felt in June as I ran with Sylvia and Carri.  They ran with me, alongside me.  They encouraged me, stretched my aching back, and made what was rather painful a much more pleasant experience.  They both could have run much faster, gotten a better time.  But they had nothing to prove.  Just friendship.

Anyway, now I'm musing out loud.  But one last thought.  So many people have told me they can't do what I did yesterday.  That I just won't accept. Almost anyone can, really.  You choose to do it, and you do it.  Now whether you can choose, that is perhaps deeper philosophically and psychologically than I want to go right now.  But I have come to believe that most of us are much stronger than we think we are, capable of much more than we think we are.  Fear is what stops us, not the waves or the back pain or anything else.  So, I join with Nike and say, if you want to, just do it.

Ah, the life

Camping in the Wind River Mountains

And this, my friends (Christy), is why it takes me so gosh dang long to get on here and write a blog! No, not the beautiful mountain, but the effort in getting it here for you to enjoy! Almost every time I do, I get distracted trying to update it, change some of the pictures, etc. And then, two hours later, I haven't even accomplished what I set out to do, with nothing to show for the time! I detest technology! It sucks my life away. BLAHHH!

(My hike up Mt. Monadnock with Bryan and Estiven)

But, let me cease my grumbling and give you a little run-down on my life post-nanny. The PhD life, as it turns out, is the life for me. Whenever I tell that to someone, they chuckle cynically and tell me to wait until it comes time for my dissertation. Yes, I suppose I will not be singing such a blissful tune then, but I prefer to live in the moment at

this moment. I have my own little cubicle space, with a desk and computer, free access to a printer/copier (no limits or supervision - but don't worry, I think we all respect that trust and use is appropriately), as well as a supply closet with office and study supplies free to my perusal. My little office spaceis on the third floor of a building almost at the top of the "Brandeis Hill" that I have so oft bemoaned, and from the large, expansive window, I can see much of the campus, and a greatmany trees. You all know how I love trees. I have so much more time to study (although, this may or may not change - I'll explain), as well as attend extra lectures or classes I want/need to attend. I can't tell you the sheer joy of being able to registe

r for the research skills class, look at my schedule, and know that I can, indeed, go with no conflicting work! I think I am also reveling in the hope that, since I applied for a pass early, I will be able topark in a lot closer to my building, and not have to hoof it all the way up the hill later this year.

But I think I have gotten just a little ahead of myself. I enjoyed one of the best visits to Utah/Wyoming I have had to date. This is partly because m

y visit was interspersed with lovely mountains and hiking, and partly because it was generally conflict-free. James has become much more pleasant since he has decided that he wants to - and to go on his mis-

(Our camping spot on the river - Dad reading in his cot. Also, James and his girlfriend Alex canoeing across the first Green River Lake)

sion. In fact, he is waiting for his call as you read this! Tyson has been a bit humbled by his recent difficulties (turns out he is not the salesman he thought he was, and has to live at home to get some debts paid off), and Cisco is pretty easy-going all the time. But my biggest success was in the preemptive chat I had with my dad beforeheading off to the Wind River Mountains to go camping. He is so tired - he has been working so much overtime. And he gets impatient when we beings of lesser intelligence don't do things when or how he thinks they should be done - and family vacations can be nightmarish when he gets grumpy, and then the rest of us follow. But he made a concerted effort, and we had a great time. I also got to see lots of friends and loved ones, and had wonderful, thought-provoking conversations. It was just the refresher I needed before jumping off into the sea of studies ahead.

(Hiking with Christy in Millcreek Canyon)

Dovie was happy to see me return. I wasn't sure if he would be - my landlady took care of him, and she sent me pictures periodically of him playing delightedly with her dog Ginger. But he spent several minutes trying to peel my face with his tongue, and then chasing me all over the yard. Since then, he has been a bit more clingy (crying when I leave him in the car at the store), and has taken to "sharing" my bed. We play a nightly game of "King of the Bed", and so far I am undefeated. But he is a very good, if restless, dog. And I don't know where on earth he got those ears!

(No text required here)

I should tell you that the administrator of the Schusterman Center (the center at Brandeis dedicated to Israel Studies) just asked me to work for them part time this semester (5-10 hrs/week). This could be a very big blessing - as long as I can keep up with my studies. I said yes, and was received with much warmth and enthusiasm from the staff. They already know me, and just need a little help with data entry, so it should be good. And I do it whenever I have time, so that's also a positive. Maybe I can get a jump on those student loans, eh? If you want to check out my little bio at the Schusterman Center site (as a student, not worker), here's the link.

http://www.brandeis.edu/israelcenter/about/scholars.html

That's all I have to report.

Oh, Those Summer Nights!

To tell the truth, I'm sleeping those summer nights away!  That's because Dovie has some kind of vendetta against sleeping past 6 a.m.  I have slowly gotten him to shut up (but not totally relax - I have to take his collar off so I can't hear him rattling around) between the time he wakes up (5:30) and 6, when I'm willing, though not happy, to roll out of bed.  This means that if I get to bed after midnight, he gets severely and crossly reprimanded in the morning when he begins his whining that tells me he wants to play.  Ugh.

So, he has single-handedly (pawedly) helped me better fulfill one of the commandments: retire to thy bed early, and arise early too.  Yep, he's a blessing.  I just keep reminding myself of that.  Of course, doing anything with friends in the evenings is almost impossible - if I don't wear him out from the hours of 6-10 in the evening, I can forget sleeping!  And traveling is difficult - always have to get someone to watch him.  But in reality, I am still glad to have this boy, and he is very good.  He has a bladder of steel!  He sits in the bathroom for ten hours three days a week, and he doesn't pee!  I certainly can't hold it that long!  When I get home, he gives me a quick love, then races downstairs and pees for about 60 seconds.  That has to be a record of some sort!

He does get bored in that bathroom - poor guy!  Every day when I come home, he has pulled all the towels down.  So far, that is all he has done.  Except for the day he found the toilet paper up on its perch on the window sill.  And when he found it, he made sure to destroy it completely!

Dovie hates the water, but he sure does seem to enjoy mud!  After a particularly gratifying splash in the mud, on one of our runs, I tried to give him a bath by spraying him with the hose outside.  I had tied his leash to the fence, and (with some kind of sadistic, cruel delight) proceeded to spray.  He became so entirely panicked that he broke free of his collar and ran like Shirkan, the tiger, from The Jungle Book.  It took me a full 30 minutes, and his favorite treat, to get him to come near me again.  Then I broke that little bit of trust by throwing him into the bathtub to finish the job.  He behaved better there.  But he still hated every minute, despite the wonderfully warm water and gentle massage I gave him.  He glared at me sullenly the rest of the afternoon.

All the girls in our group.

My WHOLE life doesn't revolve around Dovie.  I went to Young Women's camp as a counselor earlier this month.  The girls were such a delight!  Much more pleasant than I anticipated 13-year-olds being.  I was the enforcer in our group.  But my nightly threats of making any of the loud girls sleep in our cabin seemed to work - I know our girls, and we as counselors, got more sleep than almost any other group.  Miss Taylor still has the look.  So, among the four counselors, I was the hero.  And, surprisingly, the girls liked me too.

Girls Camp never was complete without doing each other's hair, right?

Prepared for the pic.

Unprepared.

In the never-ending search for ways to stay on Clara's good side, I had a stroke of brilliance one day.  One of her FAVORITE things to do with me is to sit with my computer and look at my pictures.  Really.  She loves any and all pictures that I'm in.  So, I thought, maybe she'd like to take pictures and look at them.  Boy did she ever!  We went on a walk, and I (rather daringly, I thought) let her take my camera and shoot at will.  I made sure she kept the string around her wrist, and, remarkably, she didn't drop it - although there were some close calls!  If you ever care to know what you look like from behind as you walk, give the camera to a three-year-old.  I know this is not news to anyone, but that is not my best angle.  But she captured it plentifully.  Along with about every pebble, tree, ant, and her own toes along the way.  I do have to say, however, that she sure wasn't bad for her age!  In the spirit of full-disclosure, I have opted to include some of those shots for your viewing pleasure (sigh).

This is not from the camera day - this is Zoo day.  But I couldn't resist a shot of Clara doing "silly fingers."  She can be so cute!!

And tell me this is not just about the cutest (and drooliest) baby you have ever seen!

By far the happiest news I have to report is that James is currently working on his mission papers.  You may need to go back and read that again.  James.  Yes, God is a God of miracles.  Not that James wasn't always a good kid at heart.  But after what we have been through over the last three years with him, this is truly an Alma the Younger story.  My heart is so full of joy.

Cisco is also making his own positive waves.  He is ranked the #1 overall high school basketball player in the State of Wyoming.  I know, for Wyoming that's not saying much.  But he does have some colleges interested in him.  Unfortunately, his height and less-than-brawny build seem to be a major hang-up, but we're really hoping he can get a scholarship offer or two.

Tyson has come a long way as well.  He is struggling to find his way in the world, but he has become a man in the last couple of years.  He recognizes the value of our family, and the troubles that his biological family have caused him, and has been a good influence for Cisco.  I feel like so many blessings have come to my family this year.  Part of me is a bit frightened that the precarious balance will only last so long, and at any minute, something is going to go crashing down again.  But for now, I am so grateful and feel so happy for where things stand.

That's all for now.  Next blog will be from Wyoming.  Until then, I hope you all are getting more sleep than me!

Back to writing

"Well, well, well," you're thinking.  "Amber finally decided to write something."  Yes, indeed I did.  I know many of you wait on pins and needles to see what exciting thing I'm going to write about next, and by golly, five months is a long time to endure pins and needles!  Forgive me.

You'll be glad to know that I, your old friend Amber, am a Master.  I haven't yet seen the diploma, but according to my father, who is a relatively reliable source, it does exist.  It was sent to the fam in Wyoming.  More than likely, when I go home in August, I will find it there, framed in the hugest and most ornate frame possible, displayed prominently on some wall.  Then I will have to take it down, out of the frame, and hide it in my suitcase (or somewhere else he won't find it) to take it back to Boston with me.  When I got accepted to BYU, many moons ago, I found out about my acceptance as my dad came bursting into my room, disrupting my blissful nap, and bearing the framed acceptance letter he had swiped from the mail and read/framed before I could even see it.  He hasn't changed much.

The last few months have, of course, been busy.  Some of them very challenging, and some even painful, and others just plain great.  I completed my MA thesis - but the submitting part turned out to be nigh unto a nightmare!  Three attempts, and one ruined computer (water spill) later, that has been accomplished.  Regarding the PhD, I was accepted at both Brandeis and UCLA.  I was so delighted - my top two options!  I have succeeded in fooling several people into thinking I am a capable scholar!  I chose to stay with Brandeis - I like the program and people, and especially think Dr. Troen is a wonderful mentor.  (In case you have forgotten, Dr. Troen is the one who figures in the famous "Amber blubbering like a baby because she couldn't figure out how to get her car insured and registered in Massachusetts" incident.)  I am working on research already to get my feet wet in my topic: American Christians and their perceptions of Israel.

I participated in a really cool project for a new friend who was doing her Senior thesis on Mormon women.  She interviewed and she took pics of me, as well as several other women in the stake.  Interestingly, she herself is not LDS, but she is a delightful young woman and I was highly impressed with her maturity, respectfulness, and thoughtfulness.  I will include a link to her project, if you're interested in perusing it.  You will see some of the amazing women I am associated with out here. http://saintsproject.com/

In order to subsist for the summer, I took a job as a nanny for Katie and Chris Laughman - Chris is a counselor in our bishopric.  They have a 2 (almost 3) year old daughter, Clara, and a 5 month old daughter, Maren.  As seems often to be the case, the two girls are opposites in many ways.  Clara is defiant, independent, and fiery.  It took several days for her to warm up to me, but now she cuddles up to me as I read her stories, and we have very few meltdowns.  Yet, on Sundays she still wants nothing to do with me (to be fair, I did convince her to give me a hug after Church this last week.)  We play and go to the park - all kinds of fun things.  Maren is generally content, as long as she is fed and knows where I am.  It keeps me busy, and almost keeps the bills paid.  I'm trying to find other work (tutoring) so I can get the rest of the bills paid - not the least of which is the new computer I had to buy to replace the one I soaked with water.  Grr!  I had anticipated being able to begin paying off some of my debt this summer, but it's looking rather grim - and the finances keep getting more tight.  When the vet yesterday kept trying to persuade me to take my puppy Dovie to doggy school, I had to fight the urge to laugh in her face, or cry, or both, as I considered how much she had no idea how poor I am right now.

But on a much happier note, here are some cool things I have done in recent months: whale watching with Loni Barben; got a puppy, whose name is Dovie; went canoeing in the Concord River with some lovely friends; visited Martha's Vineyard - twice (it turns out, MV is not even a real vineyard, after all.  But it is as beautiful as anyone would expect!); had my mom visit; saw the John Adams house (with Mom); did a sprint triathlon.  Oh, and graduated.

With friends Emily (also Taylor) and Sylvia on a brief stop on our 24-mile bike ride on Martha's Vineyard

Testing out the ocean water.  Ready to swim it!!

That about covers it.  The most recent, and possibly coolest thing I have done, is that triathlon last weekend.  I didn't lost the weight I intended to (heard that one before, you say?  Yeah, me too.  Sigh), and I didn't train as much as I intended to.  And still I survived.  I even ran the whole 5K at the end - stopping about every half mile for Carri and Sylvia to stretch my poor back.  For some reason, it thought it was doing all the work, and kept complaining about it.  My legs, on the other hand, were fine.

One of the benefits of the triathlon was that I got to go down on Thursday night with Sylvia and spend the night in our hotel, and then hang around town all day Friday, with nothing in particular to do.  That, my friends, was a treat!  And even more so when Carri and Kalynn showed up later on Friday evening.  Our time to sit and talk was short but sweet.  We had to get to bed early, and we did (relatively - but I couldn't really sleep - that never happens to me!), but I had so much fun just sitting and talking and enjoying those girls' company.  I don't get the opportunity to enjoy nice evenings with girls like that very often anymore - now that I live alone and such.  If I could live with girls like them, then roommates would be the ticket!  It was the perfect combination of thoughtful, mature, non-drama-queen, involved in the world and serious, but super fun and relaxed people.  Made me want to make such evenings happen more often.

The race itself was also delightful.  I embarrassed myself on the swim - took forever!  That was partly because of the difficulty of swimming in the ocean and in a wetsuit (neither of which I experienced before); partly because I can't swim in a straight line to save my life; and partly because I stopped several times to wait for Sylvia, who was having a really hard time.  But we did it!  The bike was fine.  Again, Sylvia and I were at the tail end - she because of her ancient bike, and me because, well, I just didn't train enough, I guess!  But the run was great.  Painful, but great.  My legs were already tired, and I expected them to feel it, but it was my back!  It does that sometimes, and I don't know why.  I think I haven't been stretching enough lately - that always affects my back.  Anyway, as I said, the girls (minus Kalynn, who couldn't run or walk due to her stress-fractured foot) stuck with my slow and steady pace, and we had a lovely run.  And talk.  The day was warm and beautiful, the company too, and I just had a great time.

There you go.  You're officially caught up.  Isn't mine a good life?  I feel very blessed with rich opportunities, wonderful friends (but alas, not rich ones) and lots of happiness.  Now if I could just find someone to share all that goodness with!  Let me know if you find him!

With Mom at Paul Revere's House

Anyone know what these flowers are called?  I call them beautiful

Mom admiring her hero - Mr. Washington.

Is there a Dr. Taylor in the house?

What d'ya think?  Am I destined to become a professor?  Will my name one day be followed by a "PhD"? Maybe.  It's looking more probable.

So, after a bit of a hiatus (to anyone who actually reads this, I'm sorry), I'm returning and reporting.  And what I have to report on is blessings (brachot, in Hebrew).  Blessings all around!  Miracles!  (Nesim)  James has moved to Salt Lake, where he is living with our cousin for a bit while he gets himself settled.  He is doing so well, I can hardly believe the last two years, which were the trial, to be sure, actually happened.  He is preparing for a mission, attending institute regularly, and trying to make himself worthy of the girl of his dreams.  I couldn't be prouder of him.

Tyson is going through a rough patch, and I'm praying for him all the time.  But he is home, trying to work through his demons, and I believe he will become a great man.  As for the youngest of us Taylors, Cisco is also doing very well.  He is doing well in school and basketball, and the biggest problem is the money it takes to keep up with him.  Tournaments, ball games hours away (requiring a hotel stay at least twice a month for my parents, in addition to the gas), exclusive training camps, etc.  He may never be Michael Jordan (but I won't discount him yet), but he is doing us all proud.  And he's a good kid.  I'm doing my darndest to get him to squeeze an Eagle Scout project in there - that would certainly be the icing, and a great blessing to him, if he would just realize it.

And now for the most recent and most personal blessing.  On Friday I found out that UCLA, my second choice for PhD program in Israel Studies, accepted me.  That is a blessing - but it comes with a great deal of uncertainty as to cost.  California universities are being hard-hit by economic situation there.  Nonetheless, I was very pleased.  But then imagine my sheer joy at the revelation that I have also been accepted at Brandeis.  That comes guaranteed with a fellowship (meaning, most of my living expenses are also funded)!

As I have not yet written this in my journal, and I sometimes copy and paste from the blog to supplement my journal, I'll tell you the story.  I had just finished class - it was 4:50 p.m., and I was walking out of the Schusterman Center (the Center for Israel Studies, where my class was held).  I stopped just in front of Professor Troen's door to get a banana out of my bag (if you will recall, Professor Troen is the professor who a) controls my future at Brandeis; and b) I completely cried to last year, only two weeks ago this time - that whole stupid getting the car registered issue).  He has been much more friendly, less aloof, of late.  Good sign, I suppose.  He stepped out of his office, to my surprise (he's usually gone by that time), and said hello.  He asked which class I had just left, and I told him, and then he said, "Well, what classes are you going to take next year when you're studying here?".  I told him I had a lot of courses I wanted to take, and then hesitated.  Did he say what I thought he said?  Indeed he did.

Not only that, he continued, as if nothing had happened.  I explained that I hadn't heard anything yet, and he said, "You will, and when you do, you need to come talk with me in my office so we can plan out what courses you need to take...(and he continued to talk about which departments I need to do cross-disciplinary studies, etc.)."  Then he proceeded to tell me that with my excellent Hebrew (what?!) I would jet ahead, that I didn't need to take 5 years to graduate (I'll go with that!), and I would stand out in the academic world.

I told him thank you, that I would come and visit with him, and then scuffled away, a bit stunned.  I walked over to my friend Karen's desk (who is a PhD student in Israel Studies already), and told her the story to see if perhaps I misunderstood, or maybe he was just messing with me.  She was ecstatic - assured me he would not do that, and then she and the other girl there congratulated me.  Wow!

A few minutes later Professor Troen was showing someone (I don't know who - someone Israeli) around the Center, and as I walked by he stopped me and introduced me as "another one of our excellent students."  A little stunned again (he is NOT the same professor as before, who never seemed to have time or patience to talk with me, and was always surprised when I did good papers), I said hello, then went on my way.  Later that night I got an email from Jonathon Sarna, the professor who is helping me with my Thesis, and who is basically the Truman Madsen of the Judaic world, congratulating me.  He said the official offer would come shortly, and that they would give me a fellowship of $24,000 a year.  Sure beats the $5000 a year I have been making working as a tutor!  I'll still work a little bit, I'm sure, but I can hardly believe how blessed I have been!!!

Two years ago I decided to put in another round of applications, after failing the first time.  Brandeis was the only school who accepted me.  I had no idea how great of a school Brandeis is.  Heck, I had no idea Brandeis even existed!  I only knew I wanted to study Israel - anyone who has known me for a long time knows that this has been my dream for a long time.  Yet I had no idea how to go about it.  But I took my naive little steps forward, and Heavenly Father carried me the rest of the way.  He still is carrying me.  I don't deserve it.  I suppose none of us deserve the blessing, the abundant blessings we receive.  Mosiah got it right - we just can never hope to be profitable servants.  But I am grateful.

So, as I close, I want to share a few of the pictures of recent good times.   You'll notice that James seems to have more than his share of camera-time, but he is the brother that seems to have time to do stuff with me the most.  I intend to change that - and get some equally fun pics with the rest of them.  The other pics are random memories of the last year - Lilac Fest, Sister Missionaries out here in Boston, whom I love, fun with Patty and her girls, Seder dinner with Ruth last April, etc.

Thank you all for your prayers, love and support.  This isn't the end - but your prayers and support have brought me here to the beginning of another great adventure.

PhD or Bust! (lame title, but I'm really landing on nothing good here)

You must love that after my enthusiastic and optimistic entry over a month ago, I have entirely left you in the dark regarding my grad school adventures.  I do most sincerely repent.  But I also must explain.  After the "it is doable" post, I have been most anxiously engaged in "doing" it.  I knew it would be a wild semester, and I knew I had bitten off more than I should have when I took 4 classes, almost doubled my working hours, and then had to add PhD applications into the mix.  I knew it, did it anyway, and now I'm choking just a bit.  But I haven't died yet!  Good sign.

I also can't think of a good title for this entry, so even the one time that I did sit down and try to write a few weeks ago, I quickly got annoyed at the time I was wasting trying to come up with a good title, and got back to homework.  As I'm writing this, the title box remains empty.  I hope some inspiration comes! (none did)

So, yes, things have been very busy.  But good.  In the mean time, I had a quick, re-filling visit with my family for my birthday.  I have now completed my 31st year, and I did, in fact, memorize 31 new scriptures (ones I had never memorized before).  I thought about listing them all for you, but that's just a little overkill, don't you think?  But I wanted to report that I had memorized them.  I do, however, have to report that I'm still working on the Old Testament.  Alas, I did not make that one.  But I guess in this case, I'll plead quality vs. quantity.  I wish that argument would work when my professors assign upwards of 500 pages (EACH!) of reading per class each week, and I only get about half done.  I'm all about quality, baby.

I'm nearly at the breaking point in stress.  I chuckle a little as I write that - those of you who know me well ask yourselves when that has not been the case.  True, it seems the overwhelmingly stressful times do outweigh the non-stressful ones, but this time's right up there with the best of them.  So much rides on the next few months.  I've felt out of my league since I started this whole grad school thing, and I'm still feeling it, in new and overwhelming ways.  PhD programs!  I'm applying at a time when schools are having to cut back funding for all levels of education, but especially ones like PhDs where they pay for you.  And to add to the difficulty, the state of the economy has also flooded graduate programs with unemployed but highly qualified students hoping to do something productive and ride out the storm.  So, in addition to feeling somewhat outclassed, I'm in the midst of greater competition, and less opportunity.  And I still don't know how to network as well as I should and make the connections that would help me get into the programs I want.  So, trying to figure that out, write 8 statements of purpose for all those applications, research and write 3 final papers (talking 15-20 pages each), do the regular homework, research for the Thesis, and make a Thanksgiving dinner.  AAHHH!  Christmas will not come a moment too soon.

To top it off, things are never dull back at home with the fam.  I won't go into details, but it does take its toll.  But hey, James is coming out for Thanksgiving, and I'm very excited to show him around my favorite city.

OK, after all my complaining, I'll end on a funny note (I am glad that one of my ways of dealing with stress is to see the humor in life).  I was walking up to campus the other morning, and as I was going up the steepest part of the hill, lost in my thoughts, I became vaguely aware of a guy riding a bike down the hill.  He began steering off to the side, off the path, into the deep leaves, which caused me to now wonder what on earth he was doing, and if he was going to stop before running into the light pole.  He did - sort of.  He fell over awkwardly in the leaves, right as his bike ran into the pole.  As he got back on, I noticed he was holding his cell phone up to his ear, and even more awkwardly got back on his bike, still talking on the phone, and immediately fell again, still talking, and never missing a beat!  I hope whoever he was talking to was worth it, because he was ridiculous!  I smiled sympathetically, but laughed heartily on the inside (perhaps because, let's be honest, other than the stupidity of talking on the phone while trying to guide a bike, this scenario could totally be me!).

I wish you all a very blessed Thanksgiving, one worthy of all the thanks you will surely render.

It is, in fact, doable

I think I have established by this point the fact that I am swimming ahead into uncharted waters, and have been for the past year or so.  It has been quite a swim - last-minute housing dilemmas, making new friends, occasional (or not so occasional) bouts of loneliness, exasperated tantrums at the farce that is getting your car licensed in MA, and so on.  A very large portion of the experience, of course, has revolved around the issue of navigating graduate school - an challenge I was and am woefully under-equipped (both with training and natural instincts) to successfully conquer.  Yet, with miraculous help from Heavenly Father, and special people carefully placed in my path, or to whom I cling desperately, and who have kept me sane, I have not yet drowned.

I turn 32 next week, marking 2 years since I started this blog.  It's been an interesting experience, keeping a blog, and I'm not very good at being consistent (I apologize), nor entertaining with my wit, but I have enjoyed putting my thoughts down.  It has also been important for me to report on my progress - when I have achieved nothing else of note, I like to be able to say that I have progressed toward becoming a better version of me.  Next week, when I turn 31, I will report on this year's progress.

But for now, I want to share some thoughts about my progress in the academic realm.  Looming ahead of me in my journey, or, if you'll permit me to continue the swimming analogy, my swim, has been a huge, mountainous wave.  My Master's Thesis.  I am not good at research - not instinctive, and not very patient with it.  I have a vague feeling that I may have shared this before, probably when I was in the process of other overwhelming research-related projects.  In any case, I prayed earnestly much of the summer to figure out what I wanted to research - to find something of value to contribute to my field, or even what field I wanted to look into.  The whole prospect seemed a black hole of possibilities, and I had no way of singling out just one or two.

My prayers were answered - quite completely, in fact.  And they are still being answered.  I hardly know how to be worthy of such blessings.  But I'll at least share my experience.

A few weeks ago, in the middle of a class on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, on a tired Friday morning (interestingly, Mondays and Fridays are my toughest days), I was attentively listening to the discussion, when all of a sudden I had the thought - a very complete but spontaneous thought - to study Ezra T. Benson and his relationship with Israel.  The thought was much more detailed than that, so I'll explain.  As members of the Church we always hear about the significant lives of our leaders, and President Benson is no exception.  I recalled hearing that he had been a strong supporter of the State of Israel, and that he had worked as Secretary of Agriculture under one of the Presidents (although I couldn't remember if it was Truman or Eisenhower - it's the latter).  I realized that the most unique and important thing I could bring to the table is my religious and cultural heritage - much of the reason why I'm studying what I am.  I could study about (then) Elder Benson and Israel.

My first move was to email my friend Emily - those of you who know her know that she is the opposite of me in many ways - a perfect networker, instinctive researcher, and has her hand in many academic topics, at any given time.  I told her about my thoughts, and she was immediately excited about it, but, with her historian husband Rob (who works for the Church), fairly skeptical about the accessibility of documents from Benson.  But she gave me some great articles to peruse and familiarize myself a little more with what has been done.

I next talked to my advisor (who is on sabbatical this year, so he's kind of hard to get a hold of), and explained it to him.  He was very enthusiastic, and wouldn't consider my alternative topic (it was too broad anyway).  He advised me on some archives in Israel to look at, as well as a professor here on campus to talk to.  I made an appointment with the professor, and looked up the archives.

Earlier this week I received an email from the woman in charge of the Ben Gurion archives in southern Israel.  She sent me 16 documents - letters from David Ben Gurion to Elder Benson.  I haven't read them all, but they are fascinating!  President Benson apparently shared with Ben Gurion (first Prime Minister of Israel) a book about man as God's greatest creation, and Ben Gurion shared his thoughts on the topic in return.  That's as far as I've gotten.  But this will surely prove to be a rich conversation!

Today, dressed in my Tuesday best (brown slacks and a purple Target cardigan), I knocked on Dr. Sarna's door.  Bear in mind that Dr. Sarna is reputed to be one of, if not the most, expert scholars in the United States on Judaism in the U.S., and American Zionism.  One person told me he is a walking encyclopedia on all things U.S. - and after my meeting with him, I would be tempted to agree.  I had been told he was very eager to help students, but I didn't know what to expect.  My experience so far has been that professors are willing, but not so much eager, to help students.  They are mostly eager to do their own research, and make an impressive name for themselves.

But Dr. Sarna lived up to his reputation.  After initial greetings, his first words were, "I think your topic is very interesting, but I'm not sure that it's doable."  I kept smiling, and nodded to show that I understood, but my heart sank a little.  He explained that he wasn't sure the information was there, and spent a while talking me through it.  Then we went to his computer together and began looking at some online resources (JTA - Jewish newspaper archive; Eisenhower library with microfilm and other documents on a gagillion things, including a great deal about Secretary Benson; etc.), and it became apparent that, indeed, a great deal of information is available.  He was mildly surprised.  I was elated.

After that we spent some time discussing my next steps.  He is the exactly the person I need - he understands that I don't know how to approach this, or even know what I don't know, so I don't know what to ask.  He specifically said he wants to keep tabs on me - that I need to email him every few weeks to let him know how I'm doing.  And when I mentioned that I'd like to expand this topic even further for a possible PhD, he began discussing that possibility with enthusiasm.  He told me to get in contact with Truman Madsen (is he still around, and could I even keep up with him?), who he apparently has great respect for, and also gave me some other names of LDS historians, as well as historians on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I need to become familiar with.  He told me that I needed to read every book every written on the relationship between "Mormons" and Jews, and that I would become the foremost scholar on this topic - Mormons and Jews, and Mormons and Israel.  He is clearly a visionary - he sees that vision much more clearly than I do at this moment.  It was terrifying and exciting all at once.

I left with an assurance that this is, in fact, doable.  And the Lord will, in fact, open the doors I need Him to open.  So, as I keep swimming, and sometimes sinking and choking on the water, I'm also bobbing to the surface and slowly gliding forward, thrilled to see the help I'm receiving from the Lord, and to be reminded that I can do this.  And I will.

A whole new kind of wet

I know it's only the 6th of September (but do I have news for you, all you prescriptivists out there!  I did it in August too!), but I am sitting at my small, round, kitchen table, with the golden tablecloth, sipping hot chocolate.  Yes, hot chocolate.  And, oh, what a pleasure!  If only I had whipped cream!

The reason I deem this hot chocolate indulgence more than acceptable - night unto required - is that I am wet from head to toe.  It's a mixture of nice clean rain water, dirty street water, and my own healthy sweat.  I just rode my bike home from campus in the rain - another first under my belt!  It was quite an experience, this rain ride, and I considered waxing poetic and writing about it only in my journal, but no one will read that for decades (inshallah), and this way I get the instant gratification of knowing that maybe someone will actually read about my capers in the near future.  And I do type so much faster.

So, it really was kind of an interesting experience - one which stimulated all 5 senses.  And not completely a negative experience, although in the future I will be glad for sunshine when I embark.  The rain was coming down like it actually meant it, none of the misting stuff I have complained about before, and it did make for hazardous visual conditions (it was quite tough to keep my eyes completely open, and even when they were, it was difficult to see!).  I believe I was being pelted from two angles: the obvious one, from above; and the not so obvious one, from the stream spraying from my front tire.  This stream was an interesting sight all the way home.  It was even a little beautiful, in an ironic, looking-at-the-positive-side kinda way.  Its little droplets were lit up by my night light (positioned for safety at the front of my bike), which gave them a dancing water look, kind of like the Bellagio in Las Vegas.  I got all kinds of crazy light/water shows all the way home, and I pondered which ones of those droplets were making their way into the very eyes that were watching them.

That was one of the five senses.  Another was the sense of touch.  That one just felt wet - the wet you feel when you jump fully clothed, with jeans, into a large body of water, like a swimming pool or lake.  I've done them both, so I'm eligible to make the comparison.  Likewise, my feet, which were simply wearing Chacos (sandals) got the full brunt of the wetness.  I was forced to pedal through several puddles and even streams of water, and eventually my feet became so cold that the water splashed on them felt pleasantly warm.

To complete the five senses for the night, I listened carefully for cars approaching from behind, as they were my first indication whether I would be splashed again; I smelled their exhaust and wondered if some of them had some kind of problem with their engine; and I tasted.  I prefer to think that the water that occasionally made its way into my mouth, and the accompanying soft taste of salt and some sweet, was simply my own sweat and maybe chapstick.  Not some strange chemical off the street, or worse.

All in all, it was quite an experience.  Sure to be repeated, although I do hope not frequently.  So, now I will completely give myself to my hot chocolate, and an hour or two of homework.

Mount Monadnock (I'm pretty sure that's the correct spelling)

I just read on my friend Kerri's blog how she and her friends left her house at 11 p.m. and hiked Mt. Timpanogos.  They started the 9-mile trail at 12 and arrived to the saddle at 3 a.m.  Three hours - meaning about 3 miles an hour.  I, on the other hand, hiked one of the 3 most hiked mountains in the world (according to my friend Emily) yesterday.  It was 2.3 miles (or something), and it took us over 2 hours.  I will justify myself a little by saying that it is 2 miles of literally straight up the mountain - if it were in Utah, with the blessed switchbacks that those smart Utah hikers have created, it would probably be more like 4-5 miles - but it still took us a great deal longer.  But, like Timp, it's a heck of a view from the top.  It was a bit hazy yesterday, but from the top you can see for miles and miles in all directions - 360 degrees.  And again like Timp, it's all just rock at the top - but the rock is much more rounded, and when you reach the tree line and see the summit ahead, it looks like a little like an ant hill - so many people sitting and enjoying the view, or scurrying up or down, or just all over.  A great experience.  Here are some of the pics on Picasa: https://picasaweb.google.com/ashlee.burgener/MtManadnockSept?authkey=Gv1sRgCLPP8aLFje3sXg&feat=email#5648682380520806274

I got to experience another fun adventure this week - the day before the great hike which I just elaborated.  Kayaking!  On the Charles River.  That river is not a clean and appealing up close as it appears from the road as I drive past.  But it made for some beautiful scenery as we made our way down the river (Ashlee and I).  It was a lovely evening.  If you'd like to check out the pics, here's the Picasa album: https://picasaweb.google.com/ashlee.burgener/KayakingSummer?authkey=Gv1sRgCOT-5feR-ILsVw&feat=email

Last, but not least, this week I started school.  It's going to be a great semester, but a very busy one.  Ha!  I say that like it's something new!  But this is truly going to tax my reserves - in addition to the normal stuff (and yes, I ended taking 4 classes again instead of 3 - I can't help myself!  There's so much I want to learn all the time!), I'll be making applications for PhD programs.  And they're almost all due before or shortly after Christmas break.  And then....just waiting.

I guess that's about all there is to say.  Lehitrahot!