Tomorrow morning my Christmas Adventure begins.I hope you all have a wonderful time celebrating Jesus’ birth with friends or family.  Stories and pictures from the adventure to come.

I’m not talking about the temperature outside or what form the water falling from the sky is taking. If that mattered, I would be sorely disappointed by the cold rain falling from the sky or my childhood beach Christmases. Rather, it has everything to do with the atmosphere, the mind, and the heart. 

My tree is up. Yes, it is fake, and I love it. My parents (mom was the key character) got me an ornament every year of my childhood and young adult life. Now these eclectic ornaments decorate my little tree. Last week a friend asked what was at the top of my tree. An angel of course. Only she lacks oversized wings, glitter, red lips, and the general stateliness that characterize angel tree toppers of the country I currently call home. My unassuming angel of plain cloth was created in the part of the Holy Land called Jordan. The white lights on the tree provide beautiful light–and they are on whenever I am both home and awake.

My nativity scenes are out. Scenes. Right now I have four–one of which is at the office. It is my hope to slowly gather nativity scenes from around the world. My childhood has etched into my head what I think the scene might have looked like. This image was developed during my times wandering the streets and markets of such cities as Cairo, Jerusalem and Damascus. I imagine the characters had olive skin tones and wore long dresses. Everyone’s childhood has impacted how they imagine the story of Christ’s birth. And that is why I have no problems having a nativity set with white characters. It will just not be my only set.

What else is there? Christmas music on the radio, the advent wreath and stories at church, preparations for celebrations and feasts to come, and general merriment. It is a good season. It is a merry season. And the temperature has so little to do with it.

One of the great things about my current job is I am surrounded by people who have completely different backgrounds and skill sets than I do. While walking by the desk of our creative genius (aka graphic designer), he was doodling on one side of his massive screen. I loved the doodle, and a copy of it is now sitting on my desk. Eventually you will get to see his work on Blood:Water’s site, but until then, go here. Hope this makes you smile. 

English is my native language, and the only one I speak relatively fluently. One would think that I would be able to keep common phrases straight and use them properly, but this seems to be a virtual impossibility. The other day I was chatting online with a friend and I said I was ‘green with jealousy.’ Somewhere deep in the back of brain there was a little alarm bell that went off (note: a ding, not a gong) because I knew I did not have it right. But did my mind manage to pull up the right phrase? Nope. A couple of hours later it suddenly dawns on me that the phrase is green with envy. 

I have to admit that I was rather impressed with myself the other day in that I realized I said the wrong phrase and later figured out the correct phrase; most of time I remain clueless. The exception to this is when dad is around–he laughs and corrects my mis-phrased phrases. I wonder what goes through everyone else’s mind when they hear ‘Pam phrases.’ 

 And what else is that I do to jumble this language you ask? There are times when I can practically grasp the word I want in my hand, and yet am unable to find it. When I am tired or cold I have to remember to not slur my words together as they remain clear in my head regardless of what comes out of my mouth. When I am excited I talk really really fast. One good friend would point it out every time it happened by sarcastically saying, “Could you talk a little faster?” He eventually got used to the fast talk and gave up his little quest to slow me down.  And so I remain a fast talker, sometimes word-slurrer who regularly says the wrong thing. 

And yet I love to speak. I love to talk with friends for hours, debate odd topics, lecture to a room full of student, and inspire kids through spoken words

Yep, that’s me. And yes, I have red hair, but that’s a topic for another day

Priceless.

Last weekend I was up visiting friends in South Bend and was adamantly told by one that I needed to get the book list back up–asap if possible. I promised her that was in the plans, though it might take a different format (maybe this time I’ll tell you if the book is worth reading or warn you if the book was complete beach trash). That’s when I realized that you (the grand plural you that we do not have a word for in English) might have an opinion about something you do or don’t want, or styles that you do or do not like for this website. This is your chance. All I can promise is that I will consider what you suggest, but that I do promise. So if you have a preference, an inkling, or something that always makes you smile, tell me in a comment!

I’m the midst of updating the blog. Eventually there will be other stuff available on the website that might or might not be of interest to you. Please be patient with me as the look and the pages of the blog change. In the mean time, the blogging will continue.

I hope you are well.

Rubber Duck Race. Yep, that’s right. Today I bought a raffle ticket in the body of two little rubber ducks to race down the river all in the name of a fundraiser. I named them Bill and Bob; I figured they were my southern ducks. Unfortunately, in a sea of over 7,000 ducks, Bill and Bob did not win any prizes. But…my souvenir duck is making a new home of my bathtub.

Begins with good coffee and pastries.

For those of you following me, this is where I will (more or less) be in October: