I'm Roz, and this is my relaxed space. It's about fun, good conversation and — well yes — good conversation. Pull up a well-padded armchair and help yourself to something to drink. You'll find cheese and crackers on the sideboard. What's new with you?
If you're looking for things in a more serious or spiritual vein, you can check out Exultet where I write that sort of thing.
This is the last day of 2004, another year that brought me much that I did not expect. Most was good; in fact, it was the unforeseen things that were the most wonderful. I entered the year alone, a relatively recent widow; not working but preparing to relocate for a new job; and Presbyterian. As the annodometer turns over tonight, I find myself a renewed Catholic, I've returned home from my out-0f-state move, I'm awaiting a certain layoff having had very valuable work experience, and I'm in a relationship with a strong, kind and Godly man.
Other things have not changed. My children continue to bring joy to my life and many others, I and those dearest to me are reasonably healthy, and God scandalously pours love and grace on this undeserving daughter. In all these things, expected and not, I try to follow the next step. God constructs bigger stuff out of my small, daily, feeble efforts.
Yes, elections, terrorism, natural disasters, births, deaths -- they are with us. We wrestle with their meaning. We try to discern and do our duty. We might feel overwhelmed by the huge sweep of events. But these Big Stories are made up of many small stories. May I receive the help I need to allow God to write next year's small story in my life. May I trust Jesus. Fully.
About a dozen times a day, I receive e-mails from kind senders who apparently hope to enrich my life. Budgie Pollocks frequently offers me sweet deals on Rolex (or sometimes, Rollex) watches, or even more inexplicably, someone named "=?utf-8?q?Harriot Aobulet?=" sends me a note with subject lines like "=?utf-8?q?You must metamorphos?= =?utf-8?q?e to the ch...".
I want as many people to like me as possible, but I'm not sure whether a relationship with "=?utf-8?q?Harriot Aobulet?=" is one that I'm eager to pursue. For one thing, it isn't a name that is frequently found around these parts, and I'm reluctant to begin a meaningful friendship over the Internet with someone I'm unlikely to ever be able to meet. And our educational levels are probably too divergent. I mean, I don't even know what "=?utf-?q?e" means! I'd be afraid that my inferior intellect would doom any meaningful dialogue even before it began.
Budgie, on the other hand, sounds like someone I'd like to get to know. His name has that cute charm that one might expect to find in the writings of P.G. Wodehouse. And he certainly appears to be blessed with an energetic "get-up-and-go", demonstrated by his considerable eagerness to share his good fortune with me, even to skipping the cumbersome step of spell-checking his messages. I can't say I've ever coveted a Rolex, but I do have a certain admiration for entrepreneurial spirit.
There is yet another obstacle to any possibility of meaningful interaction with all these warm and generous parties who keep reaching out to me. At heart, I confess, I'm an old-fashioned girl. And I can't seem to find any mutual friends to perform the requisite introductions. Oh dear. Perhaps I'll write to Mr. Wodehouse for his recommendations.
I am a Dorothy Sayers fan. I aspire to the quiet strength of Harriet Vane (with a slightly bigger dose of womanly caretaking instinct, please God). I relate to the well-limned Lord Peter Wimsey much as I would to a real person because of his texture and subtlety; I tolerate his shortcomings because I honor his substance. (He is also a masterful conversationalist, which is one of the traits I prize most highly, and I will always be grateful that he introduced me to John Donne.) Busman's Honeymoon is one of my favorite novels of all time, and any friend of Busman's Honeymoon is a friend of mine. And who can praise Bunter enough?
However I find myself in reluctant agreement with Steven Riddle's distaste for the bulky novel Gaudy Nighton his blog Flos Carmeli. Perhaps we should, as a commenter suggests, rename the book A Clutch of Harpies. Or perhaps that's too strong. I don't mind the characters as much as I do the waste of several hundred pages spent tracking down the irrelevant perpetrator of a trivial crime. Come to think of it, perhaps what bothers me the most is that Sayers seems to care more about promoting academic vocations for women than about developing an engaging plot. It's evocative of a Susan Sarandon movie in which perfectly good celluloid is wasted on attacking a Big, Bad Industry rather than developing a ripping good story and characters with whom I want to be involved.
Name:: Roz Hometown::Ann Arbor, MI
Mother of several, grandmother of a couple, wife to one very good man. My epitaph will probably read, "Well, you just never know." Life is good, but it takes unexpected turns. Good thing I like surprises.