tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71794103843139432142012-01-18T14:29:47.195-08:00"i thank You God for this most amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes" ~ e.e. cummingsAnghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.comBlogger1251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-79781872238780876852012-01-18T13:20:00.000-08:002012-01-18T13:20:41.095-08:00

News came on Saturday evening that a friend's husband took his own life. Everything looked a bit different by morning...Finding myself overwhelmed with sorrow and bowed low with thankfulness for love and laughter and held hands and a God who holds hurt and mystery and grace and mercy. I'm left thinking two things with every exhale. This world is a mess.  Come Lord, Jesus. All praises to the

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-48745399585112997122011-12-02T08:51:00.000-08:002011-12-02T08:51:59.705-08:00

I can't believe it is already "that" time of year, but alas, it is. And by "that" I mean the time of year when just about every spare moment I have is spent blissfully crafting! I've been a busy little bee since November 10th and so far I've made .... - Extracts - Two hats - Amiguimi: one manatee, one lion - Wrist warmers - Soap - Face Wash Right now I'm working on a woven project and also a

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-41066053041912859532011-10-09T12:02:00.000-07:002011-10-09T12:03:49.637-07:00

Today is our 12th Anniversary. Matt's working. I'm cleaning the house. For all intents and purposes it has the trappings of a normal day. But it's holy. Our relationship is the best evidence yet I have of redemption. Here's a playlist I made for Matt in honor of the occasion. I picked songs we were listening to in a particular year or songs that make me think of us and what we were going

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-3877037159043537702011-09-28T08:25:00.000-07:002011-09-28T08:28:25.126-07:00

I am working my way through Maryanne Williamson's A Course in Weight Loss. Wowsers is it intense. It is a series of 21 lessons on spirituality and rooting out the fear in your life, connecting to your spirit, and releasing excess weight forever.... But it isn't a "weight loss" book. It's definitely a religion book, feminist 2.0 style. The first lesson is basically writing your responses to a

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-47506771826305959522011-09-21T19:04:00.000-07:002011-09-22T08:19:20.750-07:00

Rich says this place is God's place, a holy place. Neil referred to it once as the "promised land." (Note: Quotation marks there for a reason, thanks.) And Dave says we're turning into a Potter's Field. I don't know about all that; but it is sacred. Not in the sense that God has ordained this place and set it apart - (Note: Perhaps He has, but only as He has all the church, yes?) Still, its

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-26803162604009044062011-09-02T09:36:00.000-07:002011-09-02T09:36:16.230-07:00

I believe life is full of important discoveries about ourselves. Many of these are quiet small and seemingly insignificant, little things that bring us joy and make our lives worth living. I believe these small things are clues to the bigger things -- like who we are and why we're here. One of my small discoveries is that I have a much better day if I just add music. So simple! And yet many days

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-25736268661664691492011-09-01T07:52:00.000-07:002011-09-01T14:26:14.356-07:00

From the time that I can remember, I danced. Some of my favorite childhood memories involve dancing - practices, costumes, recitals where I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world and my family would greet me with flowers afterwards, parades. I loved each and every ridiculous minute of it. I wasn't a great dancer. Even as a four year old I was quite chubby and uncoordinated and couldn't

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-63117547222707653482011-08-31T13:15:00.000-07:002011-08-31T13:15:48.855-07:00

Angela says: but seriously, why the obsession with organization right now Angela says: zoloft? jones says: nesting Angela says: do you think that i am ocd? jones says: hormones jones says: zoloft jones says: NO! jones says: dummy jones says: you're NESTING jones says: everyone does this jones says: if you were OCd, the zoloft would be repressing that Angela says: good to know Angela says: at

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-74566769215879016282011-08-24T10:31:00.000-07:002011-08-24T10:31:30.710-07:00

I so needed this today. Breath of fresh air. Remember surrender Remember the rest Remember that weight lifting off of your chest And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was   ~ "Remember Surrender," Sara Groves

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-17220357427503733282011-08-15T14:18:00.000-07:002011-08-15T14:18:08.779-07:00

Does it make me a hypocrite that I won't buy used underwear but I am planning on buying used cloth diaper covers for our baby-to-be? I'm sort of obsessed with cloth diapers right now. It feels like a safe obsession for the time being - something practical that I should stock up on now, before we are identified by Birth Mom. Lord know we'll need plenty.  There are certain things I will and won't

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-63096633801850071162011-08-10T14:52:00.000-07:002011-08-10T14:52:37.823-07:00

This is just a friendly reminder to myself that when my child misbehaves, or strays away, or is being too loud, I don't want to make the monster face. You know the one where the mom in question contorts her face, furrows her brow, and says "MATTHEW GET OVER HERE" in a voice that would make the devil pee his pants. Monster Face is only made worse by the fact that the mom in question will often

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-30691795088112024052011-07-19T12:42:00.000-07:002011-07-19T12:42:38.979-07:00

Summer months are difficult in the Adams household. There's just something about the blazing heat and humidity that comes a smidge too close to sucking the life right out of us. By this time of year we're cranky and worn out and just plain ready for fall already! This year is no exception. Add My Pet Knee Pain and Our Friend Infertility (which seems to have been rearing its ugly little head more

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-33648312039575665152011-07-08T11:17:00.000-07:002011-07-08T11:17:09.476-07:00

This link is to a lovely piece of art our lovely friend Shawn Clark in Texas made. This man is a dear brother to us. God's grace and mercy and forgiveness sustained our relationship despite the most wretched, vile thoughts and words springing from this heart of mine. And I must concur with the assessment. Matt Redbeard is A.GOOD.MAN. And so is Shawn Clark. That's all for right now. Wiping

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-28767872804164900872011-07-06T07:39:00.000-07:002011-07-06T07:39:04.355-07:00

I think the fact that we are adopting a baby is slowly sinking in to my subconscious. I'm having dreams. Lots of dreams. Every night. Dreams about caring for things, babies, friends with babies, babies dying. Dreams where I have to save babies or help babies. Dreams where baby animals are left on my doorstep. Dreams where I am telling my boss about the adoption plans. Dreams where I wind up

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-56753860417784236212011-06-29T08:26:00.000-07:002011-06-29T08:26:30.934-07:00

This cracks me up. Check this kid out. Stolen shamelessly from Christine Moers. She's great.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-86702059336850984552011-06-24T09:35:00.000-07:002011-06-25T11:15:39.853-07:00

Matt and I were both mission trip kids. We know the support raising dance. And we both hate it. To be honest, it's part of the reason we aren't pursuing serving in full-time ministry. We really struggle with the idea of people giving you money just to be a Christian and do what Christians should do on the other side of the world or in the bad parts of town, where there are already Christians who

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-85294531457566119382011-06-03T19:21:00.000-07:002011-06-03T19:21:26.903-07:00

i should have quit you thirteen years ago, yet this solemn hold persists. so while you're my ghost trace your fingertip on my brow and down the curve of my face chasing tears. walk silently beside me, leave me guessing. shift the hem of my gown. make me forget i don't believe in phantoms. (c) June 2011, Angela Adams. All rights reserved.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-49680560535154493612011-05-22T10:37:00.000-07:002011-05-22T10:37:54.440-07:00

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-25605587678866407682011-05-15T23:33:00.000-07:002011-06-03T19:22:54.753-07:00

sometimes he surprises me and now i'm not sure if he is god or matt or both but i'm left with mouth ajar nonetheless, by moments of wonder within the monotony by grand acts of passion like running on a closing train just to kiss me close. what i worried most about, (desparately for days) being apart, reuniting an inevitable missed connection lack of contact seemingly strangers, lost,

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-82381599117017120722011-04-29T07:41:00.000-07:002011-04-29T07:41:47.486-07:00

I haven't paid one lick of attention to all of the "Royal Wedding" hoopla. In fact, I didn't even know it was today until yesterday, when my boss (of all people) asked me what I thought of Kate Middleton's dress. Kate who? Is that a new lead? Hot or cold? This morning when I logged into my mail, there it was "Clips of Royal Wedding on YouTube" "Two Kisses on the Balcony" -- apparently this was a

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-46252145804535754762011-04-20T14:02:00.000-07:002011-04-20T14:02:40.293-07:00

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-45751815693251610782011-04-13T14:04:00.000-07:002011-04-13T14:04:54.192-07:00

LOVE ME SOME TED!!Dan Gilbert asks, Why are we happy? | Video on TED.com

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-36819361621195613542011-04-13T08:47:00.000-07:002011-04-13T08:47:08.794-07:00

"The more options there are, the easier it is to regret anything at all that is disappointing about the option that you chose.""The way in which we value things depends on what we compare them to. When there are lots of alternatives to consider it is easy to imagine the attraction features of alternatives that you reject, that make you less satisfied with the alternative you have chosen.""

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-74726921168225859372011-04-09T15:27:00.000-07:002011-04-09T15:27:26.621-07:00

I slept until noon today, because Matt and I were were out until 1am visiting with some friends. It was so nice to let our guards down a bit and relax into an organic relationship. To not have to work so hard at friendship felt like a true gift, not to be taken lightly. One of the things B and I were talking about was how odd it is to look back on chunks of your life, entire time periods, and

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-11323062161623694472011-04-06T16:44:00.000-07:002011-04-06T16:44:07.598-07:00

For the most part, I like to think that Matt and I have adjusted fairly well to life in the country. But aside from the fact that we have goats for meat, get raw milk from a neighbor, and grow our own veggies or purchase them from neighbors, too, there's one thing I've been missing desperately. A yuppie grocery store. A hipster one-stop shop for all things organic and good. Before we moved to

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-53667947800927362642011-04-02T23:31:00.000-07:002011-04-02T23:31:42.302-07:00

I can still hear the songs. "Give me the heart of a world changer Make me a servant to your divine call Help me to love, help me not to be a stranger Your people need you today, Lord And I want to reach them all." "Oh, God, you have taught me from early age So I will tell of your marvelous deeds Even when I'm old, Oh, God, give me more of you Until my generation sees. I will come with the

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-45780181638323007242011-03-30T11:33:00.000-07:002011-03-30T19:24:36.489-07:00

I'm not the first to notice that we live in an age of instant gratification. I still remember first getting my very own modem and DIAL UP Internet for my high school graduation gift in 1997. I was so excited at how the world seemingly opened up to me via that annoying, high pitched, beeeeeeeeeeeeedaaaaaaaaaaabedabaaaaaaabedaa dinggggggggggg dingggggggg -- you get the picture. And it seemed so

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-31768342145824228102011-03-24T15:35:00.000-07:002011-03-24T15:35:21.103-07:00

Matt and I have a standing joke in our house about, well, about my paranoia about stinking. Since I'm a hippie, I only use deodorant when I have to (i.e. when I go to Texas or on a business trip) and I am paranoid because I know what us hippies can smell like. Even in winter I find myself saying things to Matt like "I'll be ready to go after I take a shower because I stink" to which he says "You

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-43575646822899807902011-03-24T14:05:00.000-07:002011-03-24T14:05:32.097-07:00

From: Her Sent: Thursday, March 24, 2011 3:40 PM To: Me Subject: RE: coming undone day Oh no, she’s come undone! Someone should tell her That her parts and pieces are hanging out all over the place Things showing that aren’t supposed to And bits that should show are hidden under her exposed vulnerability…..  ----------------------------------------------------------------- From: Me Sent:

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-43992073919678990452011-03-04T11:31:00.000-08:002011-03-04T11:31:24.871-08:00

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-38601168134302195912011-03-02T11:32:00.000-08:002011-03-02T11:32:02.457-08:00

Matt hates fish. With a passion. Won't eat Pad Thai (which he loves) if there's fish sauce in it - that's how much he hates fish. And today, he cooked me two tilapia fillets for lunch. And I didn't even ask him to. This is how love grows. (Image is not mine. My fish was cooked, not raw, and prettier than this albeit not on a bed of lettuce.)

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-74042727742540888372011-02-24T09:21:00.000-08:002011-02-24T09:21:39.862-08:00

I have to admit, I don't really understand all of the possible meanings of "Cowgirl Up" but how I define it in my head is "Let's kick some @$$" or "Time to put on the big girl panties and get it done." I haven't been here lately because in the non-virtual aspects of my life I've been cowgirling up. It started with the cowboy boots. I got them in January, and I'm in love. They are my favorite

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-63236155788838680982011-02-14T09:16:00.000-08:002011-02-14T09:16:03.281-08:00

I can barely stay in my seat. I don't watch the Grammy's. Ever. But this would have been worth it. Mumford & Sons, Avett Brothers, and Bob Dylan.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-86230782287637760242011-02-11T12:26:00.000-08:002011-02-11T12:26:19.913-08:00

I wrote this poem for a friend long ago. And it saddens my heart so, but it's applicable again, for another beautiful woman. This is for her though she will likely never see it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And One For You  I wish I could make you free. Pick you up and hold you Gently blow you to the wind Watch as you join the breeze and Fly away. Scoop you up and

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-48070063738471387232011-02-11T11:08:00.000-08:002011-02-11T11:13:07.009-08:00

In summer of 2009 Matt and I were going through a particularly difficult rough patch in our then 10-year marriage. At the time we were in marriage counseling, but things were going downhill fast. In fact, it seemed like all of the analyzing and talking wasn't helping one bit. And then I came across the book Why Talking Is Not Enough at the library. The information between these covers is simple

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-12880560009604964422011-02-05T18:44:00.000-08:002011-02-05T18:44:32.971-08:00

I'm missing my little loves. Snow, please go away for a while. Thanks, Ang

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-21107332365411449832011-02-03T08:11:00.000-08:002011-02-03T08:11:51.245-08:00

This morning, I read an inspiring blog post on child sponsorship. And I simultaneously felt wonder, delight, and guilt. For a number of years now, and I don't recall exactly how long, Matt and I have sponsored a child. A wondrous boy named  Felix, who lives in Uganda. Felix has beautiful dark skin and a melancholy smile and likes playing soccer. He helps with chores, like fetching water and

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-6050259833700014752011-02-02T22:38:00.000-08:002011-02-03T17:13:03.223-08:00

There are two ways of telling how events unfolded for us yesterday. I'm choosing to look on the sunny side.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-65297061602206694452011-01-21T10:29:00.000-08:002011-01-21T10:30:29.947-08:00

So even though I spend way too much time on the computer everyday, I've considered myself somewhat of a Luddite. IE - I do not want to learn new technology. IE - I hate social media. IE - It will only make my life more complicated to use new applications. I've been transformed, thanks to Dallas Give Camp. First of all, I set up a Twitter account, which I have been updating a lot more frequently

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-21959698463625321172011-01-20T13:57:00.000-08:002011-01-20T13:57:17.293-08:00

The Nourish Collective has a new website! And a new logo. And new email addresses. And new social media. And a Favicon. And 5 new friends! What a great weekend Dallas GiveCamp 2011 turned out to be!  Other news over the weekend: I gave four coasters that I wove on my Baby Loom to Matt's grandma Neecie as a Christmas gift. Our credit cards were compromised by some jackass. I stayed in four

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-8761364907812477422011-01-10T09:33:00.000-08:002011-01-10T09:33:35.861-08:00

The newest edition of The Englewood Review of Books has hit the web and features a review of "Let the Bones Dance" by yours truly. Some post-submission editing makes my third paragraph a little hard to follow -- GRRR. Find it here: http://erb.kingdomnow.org/featured-let-the-bones-dance-marcia-mount-shoop-vol-4-1/

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-68847262634372075512011-01-02T08:10:00.000-08:002011-01-02T08:10:01.408-08:00

When Matt and I first became vegetarians in 2004, we ate a ton of soy. This soy addiction (and yes, it was an addiction because fry soy, bread soy, add sugar to soy and you can create miracles) lasted until 2008, when my naturopath informed me that said soy could be sabatoging my fertility. Here I was thinking I was doing a good thing for my body and the high levels of phytoestrogens were acting

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-80962801478246483582010-12-30T22:06:00.000-08:002010-12-30T22:18:11.349-08:00

Since PAPA Fest in 2006 I've wanted to weave. While I was there I participated in a skill share where I learned to weave on cardboard. I later used this AMAZING new skill to weave purses out of hemp for Catarina and I. After that I was hooked.  After a bit of research about the folks who actually make my clothing  fabric to make my clothing spin the fiber to make the yarn to weave the fabric to

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-16169739411971497332010-12-27T21:06:00.000-08:002010-12-30T21:06:40.647-08:00

 More late December lazy blogging.... Home Sweet Home.  Snow in the Valley. Our house to the left. Back barn and the bluff.  One of my favorite aspects of a good snow is the way it collects on the boughs and limbs of trees. This isn't quite as impressive as it was before the wind started blowing.  New steer.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-2868316710002168372010-12-27T09:50:00.000-08:002010-12-27T09:50:09.692-08:00

wool's so expensive. it really is too bad i can't crochet cobwebs

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-35529375269029152112010-12-26T20:30:00.000-08:002010-12-30T20:59:17.116-08:00

Some snapshots of Christmas 2010. O Christmas Tree Christmas Morning tea service for two. Best husband ever!  Matt liked his Yoda alarm clock. Though it isn't in our bedroom because he doesn't want to look at Yoda first thing in the morning. HA!  Tea for me. The gorgeous Lane hope chest Matt refinished for me. Again... best husband EVER! Matt also

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-52824360712924368032010-12-26T12:02:00.000-08:002010-12-26T12:02:31.196-08:00

More often than not, visits from friends and neighbors this week involves the words "Do You Want ..." as in, "Do you want this home-canned grape juice and cayenne pumpkin pie since we're going out of town and it's in our fridge?" "Do you want to take my chicken chores today in exchange for the eggs?" "Do you want to come have Christmas dinner with us since we have plenty of food and tablespace

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-83662054338030529342010-12-23T09:27:00.000-08:002010-12-26T11:39:49.691-08:00

The gift making continues, but I'm rounding the bend! In addition to the body butter I've made 10+ bracelets, a scarf, a fleece blanket, wooden keepsake boxes, customized journals, bath salts, and sugar scrubs. Matt made candle holders out of scrap wood from the barn refurb. Personally, I'm pleased with how all of the gifts have turned out, but I'm secretly looking forward to getting all of the

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-17168319068076258992010-12-10T07:48:00.000-08:002010-12-10T07:48:30.942-08:00

Christmas 2010 will be a homemade Christmas because of (1) medical expenses, (2) adoption expenses, (3) loss of income, andddddd (drum roll please) (4) my refusal to give $15- $25 dollar meaningless gifts to people who have everything they need and the money to go out and buy all the things they want. So I've been busy since late September making gifts! I'm finding that it helps me focus on the

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-9015914772079326402010-12-01T22:24:00.000-08:002010-12-30T22:32:31.260-08:00

This picture cracks me up. I was ready, Sebastian wasn't. Here clearly something else altogether is cracking me up, though I'm not sure exactly what it was. Not like I've never seen a boy eat crackers before. Thanksgiving has come and gone. Matt and I stayed home because he wasn't quite feeling up to a car ride or a flight to see family fresh out of his knee surgery. We ate a big

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-50884362517165513932010-11-30T08:29:00.000-08:002010-11-30T09:39:37.635-08:00

When Matt and I got goats, with the intention of milking the does, I never thought about the process one bit. I didn't know what it actually means to own lifestock, to care for them with love, but also like you will eat them someday. When we first got the does pregnant, I checked out of the process. But at some point, as their bellies expanded and I started looking at images of kids online, I

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-35989734325458543872010-11-30T07:03:00.000-08:002010-11-30T07:03:16.751-08:00

Hear ye, Hear ye. Whereas today is the day that Maybe the Cat, heretofore referred to as a girl, but whose testicles descended approximately one month ago to the surprise of all, is going to be neutered, and officially rendered a Maybe and Whereas today is the day that Jeremiah the Goat with the Heart-Shaped Marking, heretofore referred to by I alone as My-My or

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-64118256650948338112010-11-28T20:19:00.000-08:002010-11-28T20:19:36.435-08:00

I did it. And not only did I do it, I did it two days before deadline. And now I am going to bed.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-11351691713606494402010-11-10T11:58:00.001-08:002010-11-10T11:58:49.119-08:00

 thank You God for most this amazingBy e. e. cummings i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth day of life and love and wings:and of the gay great happening illimitably

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-13377989875639384712010-10-29T10:41:00.000-07:002010-10-29T10:41:12.095-07:00

I have three days until November. Which means I have three days until things get just a little more interesting around here. As if I don't have enough going on with work, herb school, community, requisite community drama, NOT-planting-a-church-with-some-friends-but-definitely-doing-church-plantish-things-with-them, taking care of goat chores since Matt's operating at 50% (and back down to like

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-33047897906681156972010-10-13T17:30:00.000-07:002011-02-03T17:31:44.733-08:00

I have a nasty addiction I can't kick. Try as I might, I can't quit education. I want Master's degrees in no less than fifteen subjects. I want a string of initials a mile long. I want to have the satisfaction of being an expert. That's all for today.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-72832973121970833692010-10-13T07:10:00.001-07:002011-02-03T17:29:16.283-08:00

            In October of 2008, Mr. Wendell Okeechobee (Okee for short) came into our lives. He was an anniversary/birthday present for Matt, which is quite ironic given that he is completely, wholeheartedly MY dog. But to be fair, Okee wasn't the dog that we picked out. We went through a rigorous screening process -- complete with home visit -- in September of 2008 to adopt a rescued basenji

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-567808749059476262010-10-12T07:38:00.000-07:002010-10-12T07:38:37.681-07:00

Fall means it's time to attend to the herbs I've been drying! So on Sunday I processed lemongrass, basil, lemon verbena, and oregano. Then I fed the leftover bits I didn't feel like cutting into tiny pieces to the goats! They loved the basils! Next on the list is mint (several different varieties including orange, chocolate, and apple), stevia, skullcap, St. John's Wort, comfrey, and valerian.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-90383679342813941922010-09-30T22:37:00.000-07:002010-12-30T22:38:33.458-08:00

Selah Sue, Mr. Wendell Okeechobee, and Eddie (then known as Maybe) doing what they do best. Grandpa and me on cheesy boat ride down the Mississippi. And one with Grandma. And....one with Mom. :) The windblown happy couple. And one of Sebastian cause he's so cute in that hoodie.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-12402908946961249022010-09-14T07:21:00.000-07:002010-09-14T07:21:57.583-07:00

There are two things worth saying this morning. The first is that I'm declaring today, 9/14/2010, the first day of fall because leaves are falling like CRAZY off the trees in the backyard. Welcome, autumn! The second thing is that my second book review for The Englewood Review of Books has been published. I reviewed Becoming Flame by Isabel Anders and you can check out what I thought here.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-30218088164574791692010-09-01T10:32:00.000-07:002010-09-01T10:32:53.132-07:00

Over the past couple of weeks I've begun referring to Angela Stokes-Monarch as "The Girl Who Stole My Life." What I mean by this, exactly, is both that she has the life that I want AND that there are some striking similarities between the two of us. First, we are both the same age. Second, we both married incredible men named Matt. Third, we both looooovvvee natural foods and wellness. Fourth,

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-70703037475652686042010-08-31T17:30:00.000-07:002011-02-03T17:32:20.644-08:00

Today my heart is full of emotions and my mind is swirling with thoughts. August has been a good month - one we desperately needed after several months of trial after trial. But August has also been a month of questions, including LOTS of personal questions about out motivations and sense of calling. What do we feel like we are called to? After five years of living in community and trying to

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-54264009395030154932010-08-27T16:13:00.000-07:002010-08-27T16:13:20.713-07:00

I did something today that was a long time coming. I removed myself from the Sojouner's mailing lists. Now, before you get all Jim Wallis on me, realize this was not a hasty decision. I've been a subscriber for (best I can figure) about seven years. When I was cutting my teeth on progressive Christianity and radical discipleship Sojourners led the way. Sometime around the 2004 election (or

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-16069140337716487722010-08-23T10:43:00.000-07:002010-08-23T10:51:02.350-07:00

I have realized that my blog is slowly turning into a chronicle of crazy food prep activities and details about what we eat. I'm okay with that. And since I don't exactly have any regular readers to bore with these details, I'm glad the blog will actually serve a purpose -- by reminding me later what I was doing the summer of 2010, affectionately referred to around these parts as The Bacon Summer

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-28615987495240382692010-08-18T13:56:00.000-07:002010-08-18T13:57:33.076-07:00

1. Finished one knitted sock! WOOT! Now let's hope it takes less than two months to finish the mate! 2. Discovered that the annoying trub (half tree, half shrub) next to our carport is a -- get this -- hazelnut tree! WOOT! Now let's hope there are enough nuts to go around. 3. Discovered that kale + peaches + bananas makes an AH-MAZ-ING green smoothie. PotassiYUM. 4. I milked one and a half

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-48516621687526866172010-08-16T09:43:00.000-07:002010-08-16T09:43:32.716-07:00

Some strange things are afoot in the Adams' household: 1. Our kitten, who thinks she is a dog, woke me up this morning because she was trying to nurse our dog, Selah. 2. Selah was letting her do it. 3. Green smoothies for breakfast! Kale, pineapple, mango, coconut milk, agave nectar, Sun Warrior protein powder goodnees! Today is Day 1 of the Believe in Green Green Smoothie challenge and

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-47467554005989903972010-06-17T10:12:00.000-07:002010-06-17T10:12:50.522-07:00

I have a book review featured in The Englewood Review of Books, vol 3 #22. The Englewood Review of Books is a weekly book review published every Friday; you can find them online at http://erb.kingdomnow.org.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-87200275731361629512010-06-16T12:35:00.000-07:002010-06-16T12:35:57.076-07:00

Those who know me well know I am plagued by indecision. I'd rather wrestle with a thorn bush than make a hard decision. (How do I know what the right choice is? What if I make the wrong decision? What if my wrong decision hurts someone? What if my decision let's God down?) I usually think and think and think -- and then the decision gets made for me in one way or another. An opportunity passes,

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-50184005465015242792010-05-19T18:26:00.000-07:002010-05-19T18:26:51.054-07:00

Camron and Xzavier found a robin’s nest today when climbing trees, And promptly crushed the little blue eggs on accident. At first they failed to distinguish the forming birds (So hard to see in all that mess and shell), But Matt pointed them out - They killed two little birds. While watching a movie tonight, Xzavier confessed what I already knew. “Mom. Camron accidentally knocked a nest out

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-58675256012759993742010-05-10T11:23:00.000-07:002010-05-10T11:23:23.201-07:00

David Bazan - Shit Talker

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-16312041963721098642010-04-27T08:18:00.000-07:002010-04-27T08:18:39.626-07:00

This is the part where I lie to you and tell you I'm doing just fine, my voice auto-tuned to a monotone drone, smiling as I speak words that make full hearts break. This is the part where I avert my gaze, lower my head; cross my arms over my chest, mindlessly run my fingers through my hair, chew fingernails that have taken me 31 years to finally grow out. This is the part when I'm supposed

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-4292858445053980062010-04-17T08:57:00.000-07:002010-04-27T08:59:05.493-07:00

I can buy a flashy metal fiberglass and polymer box on wheels or save every penny and bring you to my breast. Not of my womb, but of my work; my worth laid bare to fly you here, bring your tiny hands close enough to grip the smallest finger on my right hand or squeeze the soil just south of ground tred under rubber tires. Perhaps the two aren’t mutually exclusive, (after all, I can’t put

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-91195578011241957152010-04-11T07:23:00.001-07:002010-04-11T07:23:40.317-07:00

News Tribune - News - NCI - Multiple-alarm fire destroys Plow Creek homePosted using ShareThis

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-40787005650101796522010-02-19T07:14:00.001-08:002010-02-19T07:14:39.406-08:00

"Cease trying to work everything out with your minds. It will get you nowhere. Live by intuition and inspiration and let your whole life BE Revelation." -Eileen Caddy

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-2309330952005996422010-01-04T13:50:00.001-08:002010-04-29T12:35:03.159-07:00

For many years I used the words "values" and "ethics" synonymously. At some point I learned/read/heard-on-NPR-the-other-day* that values are the set of standards and governing principles you choose for yourself. Ethics are your set of actions that you take that are in / are not in accordance with your values. Being congruent. Example: I believe in supporting local and sustainable

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-55402292991478360222010-01-01T08:44:00.000-08:002010-01-04T08:45:35.942-08:00

I greet you warmly. Yes, I have ulterior motives because I want you to be kind to me. Love, peace, direction, stability. These would be great gifts, if you don't mind.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-7925174236630586862009-11-23T18:09:00.001-08:002009-11-23T18:09:50.231-08:00

if the stars and zeroes and ones align and i get up the gumption before i give up the ghost body will manifest what mind can conceive and i shall know the curse of Eve. (c) Angela Adams, November 2009. All rights reserved.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-6709396245454348122009-11-11T10:48:00.000-08:002009-11-23T18:21:05.175-08:00

At work we use the phrase "____threw me under the bus" colloquially when we're explaining how we were the collateral damage in a business exchange, how a co-worker passed the blame, or how a colleague passed the responsibility of making a hard decision to someone else. I've grown to hate the metaphor. Our condition of employment notwithstanding, we're not roadkill. Our guts and blood aren't

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-59012704825472276332009-10-15T12:27:00.000-07:002009-11-04T09:47:02.098-08:00

It is just shy of 2:30 pm on a Thursday afternoon. I am still in the clothes I slept in. The dishes in the sink have been reproducing exponentially since Monday afternoon. There's a pile of dog hair and dust and dirt swept into the corner by the door to the laundry room and basement. There's a pile of clean laundry two feet high on the love seat. The dining room table is cluttered with M's

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-70367297975519947252009-09-22T12:42:00.000-07:002009-09-22T12:43:15.041-07:00

Mother whispers wisdom Father don’t know.She says I’m beautiful and worthy.She says I know the truth and IBetter listen.She says I became a Mother at birth.Sister tells secrets Brother don’t know.She tells me I’m strong and able.She tells me she hears my quiet voice and IBetter shout.She tells me I became a Sister at birth.Father speaks reason that Spirit don’t know.She knows I’m fierce and I’m

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-28608944172702316722009-09-22T12:30:00.000-07:002009-09-22T12:37:50.985-07:00

for Soren such beautiful severity –escorted here through low moans and peaceful pause, stretch of flesh and tender touch, thunderclaps and whispers of firelight. such serene tenacity –as you turned and then descended she prayed the eleison God, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. God, have mercy.finding the thin place where she could catch her breath andsummon strength to persist. such complete

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-83727608060866102042009-01-06T09:08:00.000-08:002009-11-04T09:08:14.026-08:00

january is the worstit makes me whineit makes me cursethe naked trees all seem to saywhy get dressed? it's january

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-3161136340796784602007-10-25T08:36:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:37:02.614-08:00

These blue-gray eyes have seen much.So much left to see.Fields pregnant with harvest,Yarrow in bloom,Baby bellies,Knobby knees,Restful eyes,Deep drawn sighs,Skin submerged inSabbath streams.Spot of bother,Touch of courage.Left what we knew forWhat could be orWhat might suit us wellTo find its still notQuite right inside.Far too young to settle intoCity streets andSilent feasts andRoutine.There's

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-32281458016473937002007-06-17T08:37:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:40:09.356-08:00

I have had every intention of calling Rachel for over a year. In an e-mail message dated 08-08-06 I promised her I would call at risk of my right pinky being cut off - the high cost of breaking a pinky swear. I didn't call. I forgot. I got sidetracked. Life got away from me. Time got away from me. The moment faded. Say what you will, but I didn't call. (However, I did add her to my MySpace when

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-83894030935235140482007-01-26T08:40:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:43:40.247-08:00

heart so big -home of love overflowing,bubbling over,flowing so freeunbridledmore than anyonethinks anyonecould possibly love.and some might saywhat is the problemwith a heart so big?it's sorrow.because when oneloves so much,bubbling over,flowing so freeunbridledmore than anyonethinks anyonecould possibly loveand loss comes(and it always comes)it hurts all the more.and deep withina heart so

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-52164599767346933942007-01-24T08:43:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:44:43.967-08:00

its not an elusive concept.but concrete,black and whiteclear cutplain and simpleperiod.my definition now relativean abstraction.splicing technicalitiesinterrogation.rewinding to whenso and soand such and suchbecame an object lesson.weary, tiredexhausted.weathered by years of suspicion.i have to have this.and yet,i have to let it go.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-76367191322966410762007-01-22T08:45:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:46:45.152-08:00

I wish I could make you free.Pick you up and hold youGently blow you to the windWatch as you join the breeze andFly away.Scoop you up and squeeze you in my handSlowly move my little finger andWatch you join the sea andDrift away.But it's not that easyAnd it's not my placeTo come to your rescueTo bow and kiss your feetTo restore youTo let you goBut I can't help but feelIt's not my placeTo listenTo

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-15088855010610030382006-11-26T08:47:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:47:45.912-08:00

I just looked out the window at my office and realized that the tree right outside my window has the most beautiful yellow leaves. It is in stark contrast to the reddish hue of the bushes along the windows and the dark green of its evergreen neighbor. But, it bothers me that I just looked out the window and the leaves were yellow. When did the progression happen?It is alarming to me that days,

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-17224872793565722102006-11-09T08:47:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:48:21.489-08:00

i see the glass as half-full.you seldom see the glass.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-30983581523149898972006-11-04T09:09:00.000-08:002009-11-04T09:24:58.720-08:00

looking for hope from hillsbowing low to stocks and stonescarving faces from wood and alabastermeant to burn. meant to break.but it's You who lifts my head tobreathe in this new dayand it's You whogives me words to speak.kneeling low, bowing down.crawling under the mantle.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-87134073075417026382006-10-04T08:48:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:49:21.507-08:00

i think repentance might be easierif i saw the azazelif i had first-kind sight of the knife, of the slice,if the putrid smell of blood and flesh lingered in my nostrils,if the possibility existed that G-d just might notforgive me for my trangressionsthis year, next year, everif i heard the bells cease and saw the rope pulled tautif i was not allowed to walk right inthrow myself upon mercyif i had

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-13414036648892393322006-10-02T08:50:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:51:08.424-08:00

1- I hate "the look." This would be the look you get in social situations when people haven't seen you in a while, and because they haven't seen you in a while and you don't seem to be doing the things you used to do, they assume that you are not doing well. I get the look a lot. And every time I get the look I want to scream "What is this? This, this look?" and then say "Don't look at me like

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-3877093791464484742006-08-08T08:51:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:51:39.414-08:00

few things sadder thantricycles at a pawn shopearly sacrifice

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-64885224587387426662006-07-06T08:52:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:52:47.375-08:00

offense - the ugly birdswirling and hoveringoverheadwaiting for death -or perhaps,a chanceto bring it to fruition.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-10413864709759960562006-06-13T08:53:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:55:10.637-08:00

I play viola.Well, that is, I used to. The truth is that it has been longer now that I have NOT played viola than the time that I did.I started playing in at Lincoln Park Academy in 6th grade. We went to Orchestra once every couple of weeks, alternating with band, chorus, and PE. It was an exploratory program to allow us the opportunity to pick which elective we would like to take in 7th and 8th

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-38045869011786296162005-12-07T08:56:00.000-08:002009-11-04T08:56:13.243-08:00

sanctified buildings -their cathedrals dressed in gold,i hope they please You.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-49172498611945797042005-08-18T08:56:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:56:47.803-08:00

here's Africa again,on my heart, in my head...fighting for space amongstfinancial plans,syllabi, andonline training requirements.here's a nation,a continent,where children sing in a tongue I can't understand,where 80-year-old women care for 35 children - the middle generation all deadwhere babies are carried to funeral plots by bicycle,wrapped tight in cardboard coffins.so,here's Africa again -

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-57099666877081681192005-07-01T08:57:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:57:49.896-08:00

Love until all functions make the same pathetic dripand all input makesthe same pathetic whine. I could set my clock by the beep of her morphine pump.I'm sorry I wasn't there.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-61611424815862346532005-06-29T08:58:00.000-07:002009-11-04T08:59:02.853-08:00

New life within me - living, stirring - kicks. Swollen skin moves like bare feet stretching underneath and raising a rose blanket touched with blue and indigo. Not far beyond the ripples is new skin. Life breathing, tugging, needing me already.Today I'm not ashamed of how you have changed me, now that my flesh gives to give room for you. Together we're growing, turning, listening.Waiting. New,

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7179410384313943214.post-21026408493476257532005-06-08T09:00:00.000-07:002009-11-04T09:00:37.647-08:00

when a child,all my poems rhymed.my suns wore sunglasses -parallel beams of yellow and orangeshining down on flowers that predicted loveby the number of petals I held in my cupped hands.Copyright 2003, Angela Lynn Adams. All rights reserved.

Anghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10475238024645004330noreply@blogger.com0