Last Tuesday (May 15) I closed the lid on my trusty laptop at about 11 p.m. and went to bed.  As far as I know that was the last time we had a highspeed internet connection in this house.  When I awoke and finished writing my morning pages at about 7:15 on Wednesday morning our internet connection was gone.  We have not gotten it back since.  The following is a chronicle of our interactions with the (un)helpful people who have answered the customer service phone (888-205-500) at Comcast.  The “I” refers to LightHusband … he has had the unmitigated pleasure of dealing with these jackanapes.  Just remember as you read this that we pay ~$150 per month for a business account.  This ensures rapid response when our service is down.  It is to laugh.

Lost Internet early Wednesday (before 0700), note left from Comcast that service disruption (“a few hours”) could be expected as they install fiber-optic lines in our neighborhood.

Called Thursday, 17 May, in the morning:

– Told that a Technician would be dispatched 1:00 – 5:00 (no show)

Called Friday, 18 May, 8:30am:

– Told that a Technician would be dispatched 11:00 – 2:00 (no show)

Called Friday, 18 May, 1:55pm:

– Told ticket was from 11:00 – 3:00 (still no show)

Called Friday, 18 May, 2:55pm:

– Told that they couldn’t reach dispatch and that my case would be elevated to “tier 2″… told that supervisor would be calling shortly (never received a call)

Called Friday, 18 May, 3:25pm:

– Told that it was sent to “escalation department”… supervisor would be calling shortly (never received a call)

Called Friday, 18 May, 3:50pm:

– Told that he was “walking it over to his supervisor” (put on hold… call dropped)

Called Friday, 18 May, 4:00pm:

– Told that there was “no record of the case being elevated” but that he was escalating it now. Then he said that “I’m showing that there is a tech on site now”. I assured him that I was standing in the street in front of my business and that there was no tech on site. Then I was told that local supervisor would be calling shortly. (never received a call)

Called Friday, 18 May, 5:10pm:

– Told that “every time you called today, the person taking the call backed your ticket out of the escalation queue because they were all received at different offices”. Told that “someone from the local office will contact you soon to set up an appointment”. (never received a call)

Called Monday, 21 May, 7:30am:

– Talked to “Mark in the main office”. He said that he was going to escalate the ticket from “his side” (it had not yet been escalated from “his side” before). He told me to expect a call back with a couple of hours.

Called Monday, 21 May, 9:30am:

– Talked to Bill… put on hold while he contacted the local dispatch. Told that “the phone wasn’t hooked up at the local dispatch and that’s why they never received my ticket”. I asked for the name of the local supervisor and was told that “he didn’t get his name”. Asked for the address or phone number of the local office and was told that he didn’t know. Then he said that the local dispatch “knows that I’ve been without service for a while and that he’d send someone right away”.

Received call Monday, 21 May, 1:10pm:

– Received call from Upgrade Department telling me that the reason that I had no connectivity was because they were doing work in the area. She went on to say that I should be connected in the evenings and on weekends. When I explained to her that we had absolutely NO connectivity at any time, she told me that an “inside technician” would need to be dispatched, but that the technician couldn’t work while her team was doing their upgrade. When I asked her how long I could anticipate being down, she told me that there was no way for her to tell, but that it affected other businesses in my area as well.

Called Monday, 21 May, 1:20pm:

– Talked to Brian… He assured me that a tech was due between 11:00am and 2:00pm today. He told me that the reason that we never received service on Friday was because it was marked on the system as completed.

Called Monday, 21 May, 2:10pm:

– Talked to Richard… put on hold while he talked with a supervisor. Told that “Eric the supervisor” would be calling me within 30 minutes. (Never called)

Called Monday, 21 May, 4:10pm:

– Talked to Latrice. She said that Eric did enter notes on my ticket. He stated that the local dispatch has been canceling work orders on my node because of outages due to the ongoing upgrade work. I stated that I had already spoken with an upgrade supervisor and was told that I should be up on the weekend and after business hours. When I told her that I had ZERO connectivity since last Tuesday, she put me on hold to talk to local dispatch again. When she came back, she told me that I could speak with Eric (her supervisor)… Eric told me that local dispatch had been canceling trouble tickets because they were performing work on my node today. I asked why my three appointments on Thursday and Friday got dropped without explanation, and he told me that he would speak with local dispatch and call me back. I also read to Eric the notice that was left on our office door last Wednesday morning telling us that there was ongoing upgrade work going on in my area and tht we should be prepared for service interruptions, but that “they would not exceed one day”. I then asked for a technician to at least come and test my line from the street to my router. He reiterated that he would speak with local dispatch and call me back.

Received call Monday, 21 May, 6:15pm:

– Received call from Eric telling me that local dispatch was sending a truck tonight to check the outside lines. If that didn’t resolve the issue, they would be sending a tech in the morning.

My most beloved television program is “Law & Order.” I’ve been watching it for years. I first discovered it in re-runs on A&E during the day. I was breaking a very naughty soap opera habit and looking for something to replace them with. I was newly home with a baby and bored out of my skull. I know that the proper emotion to express as a new mother is delight and everlasting joy at your new child. But housework and infant care are also boring beyond belief, especially if one is accustomed to daily adult interaction and stimulation. So, I began watching “Law & Order” reruns during the day … 1 o’clock in the afternoon on A&E. Then I’d turn the television off, in an act of supreme self-discipline. Sometimes.

Imagine my delight when I discovered that this television show was in production on NBC! WOW! What you have to understand is that NBC is not on my radar. It just doesn’t exist. Well, it exists, but you see … we don’t get that channel. It broadcasts on the other side of the mountains in New York, so we don’t get it. I know, now there are the wonders of cable and satellite (not to mention that I currently live in Virginia not Vermont), but I forget about all of that and just discount NBC. It’s just not on my radar. Other people watch it, because they get that channel. I don’t. Weird wiring from my childhood strikes again. So anyway. I watch Law & Order very nearly obsessively. I watch it in reruns on TNT. I watch Special Victims Unit on USA. I watch Criminal Intent on Bravo. If it’s on, I find it and watch it. Some of the episodes I know so well, I can begin to recite the dialog. But there is one episode in particular that haunts me.

It’s one of my favorites and, yet, it makes me cry every time it airs. It was first aired in season 6, entitled Pro Se. It’s about a homeless man who went on a murderous rampage and killed 3 people. It turned out that he was schizophrenic and off his medication. Once he was in jail and on his meds, he calmed down, stopped hearing voices and turned out to be a brilliant attorney. He defended himself during the case (hence the title of the program) and was well on his way to winning when suddenly he threw it all down, decided to allocute and spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.

During his allocution it became apparent that his inner demons were back, indicating that he had stopped taking his medication some time during the trial. He had been faced with Hobson’s Choice. He knew that having freedom meant that he was responsible for himself and he was unlikely in that instance to reliably take his medication. Being institutionalized meant that he would be medicated and therefore aware and able to function, yet in an environment where he was unable to use his faculties. Or be institutionalized and not medicated, yet others would be kept safe from his delusions. There was a lot of dialogue concerning this decision and all of the ramifications; whether or not an adult can be forced to take medication against his will when not taking it meant that he became harmful to others. There was even a small part of his mind (soul or brain) which knew this, but could not overcome the power of the delusions caused by the schizophrenia. On the other hand, taking the medications caused such a fog to come over his thought processes that that was not who he was either. In one particularly gripping scene, he said to ADA Claire Kincaid, “It’s taking every single ounce of energy I have, just to hold this conversation with you. When you leave, I will be exhausted.”

In either choice he was caged. In one by his illness, in the other by the state. There were no choices left for him and if he chose physical freedom, he was likely to harm others again. A fact which he knew and abhorred. But neither could he abide the fog the medication caused. I can understand that. I take medications for combined seizure disorder, depression and anxiety disorder. Sometimes it takes all of the energy that I have just to hold a conversation. To keep my thoughts in one place and have them come out of my mouth in a cohesive organized fashion. I did not used to be this way. So I empathize with the character in this episode, even though my problems are an anthill compared to his fictional issues.

All of which is to say that I did not make the comparison between a person with multiple personality disorder (e.g. mentally ill) and the Bride of Christ lightly yesterday. Nor did I do so in criticism of one thread of memes (People Formerly Known As …). My criticism, if any, was aimed at the increasingly shrill commentary coming out of blogs more associated with the institutional church than with the emerging conversation. I am sad because for two years now I still hear the same complaints and criticisms. Yes, indeed we are, many of us, terribly hurt. I’ve been hurt by two churches now; the second badly enough to increase my medications. I’m not for one moment suggesting that the conversation take on a plastic positive spin. I am suggesting that we remember a couple of things.

The first is that we are all of us, both hurting and whole, institutional church and emerging conversation, all who claim the name of Christ as Savior, are part and parcel of His Bride. When we engage in this name calling and so-called Truth bearing, we are harming each other and putting distance between ourselves (Christians) and those we want to invite to the wedding feast. People, for good or ill reason, fear the mentally ill and they are sequestered on the fringes of society. I’m not terribly concerned with being on the fringes, but how can we invite people in to the banquet, if they’re looking askance at us?

The second thing we need to remember is that we have a Lover who is anxious to heal us. So while there is no magic touch. No miraculous cure. He is there is to gather us up under His wings as hen does her chicks; giving consolation and comfort from He who can provide it. I’m not calling for false bravado, but real grace which comes from Living Water. That as the healing takes place we will each encourage one another to stand in forgiveness. That this grief, hurt and anger will indeed be a journey and not a stopping place.

Last, we all in all of our separate communities are standing separately before God. As with my meds, the insanity is taking every ounce of our energy just to think about the conversation. There is very little left for moving forward or even more importantly looking around to seek reconciliation with our brothers and sisters. We were given a commandment by Jesus (to love God and love others – our neighbors) and a Commission (to go out, taking the Gospel to our neighborhoods, our towns, our cities, our countries, to the ends of the earth) and deliver it in a winsome fashion, not beat people over the head with it. What is there about the Gospel that is inviting? We know what is inviting, but we need now to make the venue welcoming. Our human equity has long since vanished. So the time has come, I believe, for us all … every last one … to be humble in repentance for the wrongs we’ve done each other and ask for healing within the Body, the Bride. That the meek will be lifted up and carried forward to receive comfort and blessing. That those without a voice, will be given an open throat and ears willing to hear.

There is a Promised Land somewhere out there and we must stumble towards it together, because separately we are hearing voices and slowly but surely losing our way.

This is a photo capturing the birth of a star taken by the Hubble Space telescope in the summer of 2005. It’s one of our new neighbors on the Milky Way block. The new girls are always gorgeous.

Among the friends that I am thankful for, is the multi-talented and oh-so-creative P3T3RK3Y5. Pete, to his friends, makes multi-tasking look ridiculously simple and multi-media like a first grader could handle it. But we all know better. Here is one Pete’s latest creations, set to Chris Tomlin’s Indescribable … it is, well, you know ….

What on earth have we come to? This was one of the headlines in my new-fangled personalized Google page today … “Man kills friend over $20 football bet.” So I read the story. You can too, if you click on that link. In fact, you ought to. Or maybe you ought not to. It’s depressing. Two guys made a bet on the Carolina-Clemson game on Saturday. Then they sat around drinking beer and watching the game. Then they had an argument and the guy that won the bet got his hunting rifle and killed his friend.

It’s $20 dollars folks. Whether the friend paid up or not, this is not life or death. It was supposed to be fun. Watching football together. Laughing. Eating (I’d bet … probably Doritos or something nasty). Making fun of each other’s team.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets an eye poked out.

… or ends up dead.

Really … what have we come down to? Why is it that in our culture everyone is so determined to win, we end up shooting our friends in order to win, really win, a $20 bet. Is it really worth it? What makes Playstations and bets and bits of plastic so much more important than people? How is it that we have so lost our center? When did that happen? I bet a lot of people read this and think, “Well, I’d never take a gun and shoot anyone.” Yeah … but how many times have you used words instead to grind your opponent into the dust? We all do that … and then we laugh and everyone laughs with us. Hell … even our opponent laughs, because it’s all in good fun. Right? Right? Everyone is doing it, so it must be okay.

Well … just think about it next time because words can do as much damage as a gun. And just because everyone laughs doesn’t mean they don’t hurt too. There has to be some point at which we stop this cycle of violence. When we declare that people are more important than toys and guns and machines. When we begin to recognize all the weapons is when we’ll begin to understand how to move forward. Then we’ll learn how to really have fun.

Thanksgiving is coming. Here’s what I would usually be doing. Cleaning. Baking pies. Shopping. Anticipating good smells. Good tastes. Planning the schedule for the big day. Anticipating whatever company would be coming. This year we’d invited some friends from the Eastern Shore. We haven’t seen them in a year or so.

Here’s what I am doing. Sitting on the sofa, wrapped in an afghan, coughing and hacking. Yesterday, LightHusband and I got matching prescriptions for our matching illness: bronchitis and sinusitis. Sweet. Some couples get matching towel sets, we get matching prescriptions. We had to tell our friends, “Sorry, some other Thanksgiving.” Which kind of stinks.

I am, however, still able to browse the web. So I did the grocery shopping via Peapod. Our dinner will arrive at my doorstep. I do not have to browse the literal aisles and hope that I don’t forget anything. I browsed virtual aisles and have time to remember what I forgot. The ingredients for our feast arrive tomorrow morning. So … whenever I feel up to the preparation, we’ll have our dinner.

I’ve been reading blogs. My friend, the Macaroni Duck pointed me to this article about obesity in dragonflies. Fascinating stuff that. Really. It is. What this study discovered was that obesity in dragonflies could be traced to parasites in their digestive systems. The study authors went on to speculate that perhaps (perhaps) the recent dramatic increase in obesity might be traced to a change in the microflora of our digestive systems. If that is the case, no amount of exercise, dieting, etc. can help. It made me wonder if the dragonfly husbands left their wives when they let themselves go like that.

But mostly I’ve been ever so grateful for an afghan that a dear friend made for me about a year ago. I’ve been wrapped in that afghan for the better part of five days now. I’ve spent a portion of a couple of nights in it as well. So, today I sent my friend an Ode to My Afghan. This is an indication of how far down into boredom and shrunken braincells I’ve fallen. But I wanted you all my dear readers to know what a wonderful friend I have to make me this special afghan and how much I love it.

Ode To My Afghan

Oh my afghan, so blue and so red
You are beautiful, warm and cozy.

I love you my afghan,
You lie at the ready,
Always there to surround me
with warmth and love.

You greet me each day
and at midnight should I need it.
Just the right size
Definitely not too small
You are comfortable
and comforting.

I love you my afghan
You almost make being sick
Worth it.

P.S. Yes, I realize I’m two days too early for Bad Poetry day.

This was funny.

I think I may have mentioned in an earlier post, that I’ve personalized my Google homepage. Now I get a “How To …” everyday. It’s interesting to see the “How To” of the day. Some days it’s “How To Make a Purse Out of Candy Wrappers.” One day it was “How To Regain Control of An Unruly Camel.” I wondered how many people found that advice useful. Around Halloween there was “How To Make Realistic Fake Blood.” That was fun. I’ve found all sorts of useful and useless information by clicking on the links provided.

The other day there was a link on “How To Buy a Christmas Tree from a Tree Farm.” Hmmm … sounds interesting. So I clicked on the link and read the information. There were indeed a few tips in there that I’d not thought of and could prove useful. At the end were some other related links, including one that said “How To Celebrate Christmas.” Well, I thought, that could prove interesting. I wonder what’s in there? So I clicked on it. Okay, well that information was fun and it was different, reading about the holiday from a more objective perspective. There were, of course, related links … among them, “How To Accept Jesus As Your Saviour.” Whoa … what’s this? In a WikiHow site? How strange. So I clicked on it. It was pretty standard fare (except that I disagreed with step one … I think it is possible to believe in God **and** that evolution is a valid biological theory). If you’re not interested in faith, it might seem fairly obnoxious and slightly cult like. Among the related links? “How to Avoid Becoming a Religious Zealot” … oh … yeah.

How to get from buying a Christmas Tree to Not becoming a Religious Zealot in 4 easy steps. 😉

I attended my first ever football game last night. Yes, you read correctly. I have reached the middle of my years and never attended that most American of traditions … a football game. My highschool did not have a football team. We had basketball. And hockey. I think they have a football team now, but there is far more emphasis on soccer and cross-country running. We have a long-standing battle for the state championship cross-country running with LightHusband’s alma mater which dates back to when we were both in high school and he was running on their team. Yes, Vermont is a small state.

Football is quite a sub-culture. Interesting. I went because a good friend has two boys in the marching band. One of them is a senior and this was his last home game. She really wanted FlamingEwe and I to see them play. As it turned out they had a nice little ceremony honoring the seniors and their parents. It was well done and sweet.

In a moment of serendipity I also was treated to seeing some 20+ year friends who were there. One was my dear friend who had been the matron of honor in my wedding. We’ve fallen out of contact over the years because we’ve gotten so busy. So we had a few moments to catch up and trade contact information (and put it in our cell phones where we won’t lose it!!). She was there to see her sister’s son perform; the son is also a senior. I also know her sister very well as she married a man who was good friend’s with LightHusband from his days in The Old Guard Fife & Drum Corps. We were all good friends, quite the ratpack if you will. There were others too. MatronofHonor, PianoMan (her husband), DrumMajor, SkinnyFifer (Matron’s sister and DrumMajor’s wife), DrumsTooHard, and the list is long. We all ran together.

A moment came when the parents of all the seniors were asked to come down onto the field for the little ceremony. I looked across and saw DrumMajor rise from his seat in the bleachers. It’s important to this story that you know that he’s about 6’7″ … very tall. He’s my age, well older by a few months. And suddenly my dear friend looked old. His shoulders had a slight stoop to them. His hair is definitely more white now than anything. He didn’t move so smoothly at first. As he progressed he stood straighter and moved better, but those first few moments didn’t go so well.

At the same time, the cheerleaders were down on the field turning handsprings. And backflips. We called them backhandsprings when I was on the gymnastics team several hundred million years ago.

In my mind, I still know exactly how to do a backflip. Or a handspring. Or how to run up to the sidehorse and vault over it, flying for just a moment. In my mind’s eye, I can even bring on the sensation of those movements. But my body, ah well, my body would stage a mutiny at the first sign of an attempt. I understand that there are ways to get back into better shape, but as I watched DrumMajor progress down the bleachers last night, I really faced myself for a moment. It was hard. I wasn’t quite fearless. I don’t think I’ll ever do backflips again or sidehorse vaulting. Not that I’d want to necessarily, but I finally reached the moment when I admitted that I won’t. I can’t. It’s just not important.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t welcome another friend to the blogging world. So, step back one step to make the circle bigger and welcome Phreaq77. He’s blogging from his view of the world where he’s got a little bit o’land … enough to call a farm, some thoughts on church and God, music (excellent taste in music) and even vegetables (terrible taste in vegetables 😉 ). I’ve called him, and his wife, “friend” irl since their daughter was tiny, so I’m very glad to see his brilliant thoughts in the outloud world.

I’ve entered a new phase in my life. This one came as a surprise. Unanticipated. Out of the blue. It all began sometime last winter and I’m still not sure how. But the first omens of it came during the Olympics last winter. LightGirl announced that she wanted to watch the hockey games. As the first game began, she ran to the schoolroom, grabbed the “H” WorldBook Encyclopedia, opened it to “Hockey” and proceeded to watch the game with book open on her lap to the page with the pictures of a referee on it with all of his hand signals. She watched all the games in like manner until she had memorized the ref’s calls and knew what they were before they were announced.

She wanted to take skating lessons. Simple. A neighbor was taking her son who was at the same level. So, off she went to skating lessons. She needed skates. Sometime in the spring she needed a stick for stickhandling lessons. Early in the summer she went to a day camp for hockey skills. Then she needed ….. e quip ment.

This fall we found a team for her to play on. It’s a good team. She loves it. And I’ve become …

… a

hockey mom.

What? How did this happen? One day I was just a mom and now I’m a hockey mom.

I went to a game on Saturday. I sat in the stands with about 4 other moms watching our girls do something we could never do. We weren’t allowed. So it never crossed our minds when we were their age. Most of us never even dreamed of it. We just stomped on those dreams before they even saw the light of day. We don’t speak of that of course. But there’s a light in these women’s eyes and I know I have it too. My girl isn’t going to have her dreams stomped on. She’s going to grow up stronger than I was. She isn’t going to have to be twice as good as a man to be considered half as bad. So I sit in the stands, work on my quilts and cheer these girls about to become women. They are learning how to skate hard. How to fall down and get up while their legs are still moving. How to make mistakes, but learn from them, and to not stop. How to get their heads in a man’s game and keep up.

Maybe, just maybe, all things being equal, things will be equal when she grows up. At the very least, she and her generation may be more prepared for it than their mothers were.