Random piece of news first: our beloved child-care provider is moving 40 minutes away. Her last day is two weeks from now.

Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap!

We are looking for someone else, and there’s a woman in the church who does child care in her home and is set up very similarly to our current arrangement—big child-proofed basement with all the trimmings, small group of kids—and that will work at least as an interim solution, if not long-term. That made for a pretty frantic Monday though. We have been so blessed that our child-care arrangement has just worked for more than 18 months—we know so many people who’ve struggled (including one of C’s little friends who’s about to get kicked out of his second day-care center for biting). Of course, it also makes me very sad to think that C is going to experience loss for the first time.


Next I want to say that blogging is a very fun hobby. The other day my husband checked his P.O. box and brought home the package I was expecting, from Keith, who sent me a copy of his movie, ‘cause I’m into all things God-arific. Keith, if you’re reading this, I haven’t watched it yet (have been commuting downtown all week), but I am somehow sure it will be interesting and challenging. It always excites me when people outside the church give God half a thought, even when that thought is skeptical or critical or unconventional, because I’m all of those things myself at times. Anyway.


Nestled deep in the comments of PPB’s latest entry (5/8/05), she talks about our meeting and how I was not at all what she expected. Here’s what’s interesting. In a reeeeeeally early version of her blog there was a picture of her, and even though I had seen that picture she still wasn’t what I expected either.

Well, she was and she wasn’t. Brown hair, check. Petite, check. Dynamite singing voice, check. Quick with a smile and easy to be around. Definitely.

What I find fascinating is that she was expecting my voice to be “smaller and tinkling,” and that is exactly how I would describe her voice, having met her. Well maybe not small… how about understated, and definitely tinkling—you can tell good singers because their voices sing even when they speak. Clear and pure. And the way I was hearing her voice in my head, I realize now, is basically my own voice—I always heard it lower (alto like mine).

This is curious. I was basically “hearing” this person in a variation of my own voice. I am trying to figure this out. Maybe I’m just not that imaginative! Maybe when I read something that really speaks deeply to my own experience, as much of PPB’s stuff does, then I hear it with some of the timbre of my own voice. Or maybe I just want to be her when I grow up. Any thoughts?