aNN pITTMAN

Before the mimosa's and the severe sunburn, I went to the beach in the morning, by myself.

And I discovered that God is like a wave. I know poets the world over have compared God to oceans and other water entities, but today I learned that God is a wave.

Sometimes God, like a wave, laps quietly against the shore, so steady and serene is God's presence that it almost goes unnoticed like the heartbeat of the earth. Other times God sends all Her fury crashing up against the sand in ferocious waves that roll and swirl. The beach surrenders beneath, no longer a complacent partner in beauty but a steady recipient of the wailing that is God's anguish and sometimes anger. God is so many things: soft, loud, gentle, avenging; but always constant. Constant like a wave. And powerful too, never ceasing, though at times some may forget the waves as common or monotonous. Worse yet, some don't even notice any more the sweet sound of the washing waves ever present in their ear. So near so often, they forget the awe that is the ocean. But I, a newcomer to this part of the world am aghast at the wonder of it all. The presence and power, serenity and ferocity that are the waves are also God who will keep pressing upon the shore regardless of whether we pay Her mind or not. She is our God and she will keep rolling within and about us. Our God is a wave. Our God is a wave. And She laps upon the shore.

Twelve hours of travel.

Visit to Josie's grandma at the hospital. Favorite quote of the day, "I don't know who I'll vote for. I'm not sure any of them are capable to handle international affairs. Even Miss Hillary is stressed out. She's getting un-pretty. She needs to stay feminine. We were born to be feminine."

Arrive at beach. FREAK OUT. Pray that God will call me to minister to a beach community. While standing on the edge of the waves, 20 year old drunk girl asks me, "So... what's your story?" Sigh and fail to tell it. Deliver minimal details including, "I'm thirty, I'm a minister, I'm single. I own a house and have two cats and a dog." She responds with second favorite quote of the day, "It's not about how old you ARE, it's about how old you LOOK."

Excellent.

Ridiculous signs and bumper stickers seen on travels across south: "Keep on truckin' for Jesus" and "We catch 'em, God cleans em." Text friend from residency program and indulge in laughing at Christians in the South.

Pray that God will call me to a church up North.

Talk to mom (a part-time minister) on phone who tells me of a man she spoke with today who actually told her, "The Holy Spirit gave me this church's phone number." To which my ever practical and ballsy mom replied, "So you looked it up in the phone book, good."

Said man also asked her incredulously, "You let homos into your church?!"

Vacations rock.

45 minutes and counting.

Can you believe it grandma? Can you believe one of your grand-children lived to be thirty?! That must be overwhelming. I tried to imagine being my grandma today, being a grandma and living to see my grand-daughter's 30th birthday... but deciding it improbably, i retired that thought from my brain. You know, my mother, on her 30th birthday, found out she was pregnant, with me. Strange. And impossible. That won't happen to me, I can guarantee it.

I will not live their lives, I will live my own.

Not really much choice in the matter.

43 minutes.

My birthday party was Friday night. Amelia and Michelle threw it because they pretty much rock and they love me and were probably tired of seeing me mope around the house (that was before I had decided to embrace being thirty).


They threw me a hawaiian themed party with fruit and grass skirts and lei's and they even put the Hawaiian words for things up around the house and even on the dog. It was awesome.



I bought a cute dress for the party at Parts and Labor, one of my sister's favorite stores on South Congress. I couldn't resist.



It was perfect! Plus I was too paranoid to actually wear a grass skirt and coconuts...

The party itself was uncharacteristically small with quite the variety of people, but it was good and people seemed to enjoy themselves.





I was SO tired from the long day I'd had (acupuncture, shopping, eye doctor, waxing studio, yard work, house work, laundry...) that at 1:30am I feel into bed on my new sheets given to me by Joy and Angie. They were so soft and for the first time in a long time, I slept like a baby.

I also got a water gun, $2, and a crazy hat as gifts for my birthday.



An exciting part of the evening was when friends clamored that they wanted to see the hukilau dance. I and two other women had learned the dance in grade school. In three different states mind you (Missouri, Arkansas and Texas) we each learned virtually the same dance and miracle of all miracles, we remembered it. Mostly. And my fearless friends video-taped it. Yes, I'm on Youtube. Don't say I never accomplished anything in my life. I made it on TV... sort of.



And yes, by that point in the evening I had become chilled and decided to put on my mother's old pair of grey sweatpants with my christmas socks on underneith my dress. I don't think you can see the socks in the video.

So yeah, it was a good party.

23 minutes.

18 minutes.

Are you waiting like I am? Counting down the minutes, sitting in your living room wrapped in a blanket on the couch, lighted only by the glow of the open computer?

My youngest sister called and marveled at my age. Of course, I suppose I marvel at hers as well. When I left home she was in middle school. In my dreams, when I sleep, she's never older than eleven. Strange. Now she's 23.

16 minutes.

Shit. I don't have anything profound or enlightening or even interesting to say. Surely something should happen or will happen. (Something other than the hail storm that blew in and broke my kitchen window). Someone should fall in love or get kissed or something. A winning lottery ticket (although I didn't buy one). A banking error in my favor.

Something.

In the room the women go
Talking of Michaelangelo

I may measure my life in coffee spoons, but my life matters. It matters.

My coffee spoons mean something to me. My life is special, delicate and I measure it carefully, meticulously, so much so, you may call me crazy, but it's my life. My life. And it's the only one I've got.

So I laugh and I cry and I overanalyze.

And you will love me just the same.

3 minutes.

Just the same, just the same.

"It's my birthday," she said quietly in the dark room.

Enough said.

Okay, very funny. Who signed me up for a subscription to Everyday with Rachel Ray?

Don't think I won't find out...

You want a list. You got it. I'm all over mature...

*1. A (real) diamond nose ring from Diablo Rojo Incorporated (512) 444-7656.
*2. Cactii or exotic plants/flowers. I lurve them and I love to garden.
*3. Ally McBeal Seasons 1-5 Box Set
*4. Gift certificates to Big Red Sun, Banana Republic or Victoria's Secret
*5. Organic Cotton Percale Bed Sheets (full, ivory colored) or just any nice set of sheets :) organic is expensive!
6. Bikers Flower casual Skechers tennis shoe - black, size 6
7. Bikers Loma Vista casual Skechers tennis shoe - toffee, size 6
8. Jewelry
9. A good microphone
10. Dress high heeled shoes size 6 funky and fun
11. An antique bird cage with a real bird in it.
12. Dish towels (solid black)

I mean really? I LOVE throwing parties. I love having people into my home. I love the patio lights and the finger food and the coolers of assorted beer, and the strangers and the friends all coming together. People even look to me for leadership in this area (I kind of miss Peter's promptings "Isn't it about time for another party Ann?...).

So why shouldn't I party?

It's only 30... It's not like it's 50. (Although if it were fifty, hopefully I would have my children there to celebrate with me although if I have a baby now, my oldest child will be only 20 when I'm 50 and her younger siblings will still be in high school - and that's if I have a baby RIGHT NOW which I'm not which means I'll have kids in like middle school when I'm turning fifty. Holy cow.) (Second parenthetical statement explaining the first: this is the sort of panicky thought that runs through my mind when I think about turning thirty. I only noted it because while I am about to post a serious, happy post about turning thirty, you should never be deceived by my demeanor and think that doubts aren't always lurking in the corners ready to lure me away at any opportunity).

Another of my friends who turned thirty on May 1, posted a good blog on aging and being thirty and memories and being thankful. And I thought, hmm. Why should I dread turning 30? I tend to be one who celebrates life. Need I remind myself of my eighteenth birthday bash on the patio of my parents house? Or my quarter of a century birthday blowout at the eades? Or my halloween party last year complete with spiderman playing the violin? Why wouldn't I celebrate this momentous occasion?

One of my friends actually said the me the other day, "It's going to be okay. You're a very mature person and when you get to say you're thirty, it like, proves it. Being in your thirties is being mature." That's a good point. I hadn't thought of that. Immaturity is a dreadful disease...

So I started looking at thirty not as old but as ideal and it turns out culture (ahem, clear throat) backs up this theory.

In 13 Going on 30, Jenna actually wants to be "Thirty, flirty and thriving." (Hmm...)
And thirty-something is the (supposed) ages of the women in Sex and the City! Does it get much better than that? (Not really...)
And Bridget Jones was 30 and by the time she was turning 31 she got Colin Firth! (Excellent point!)

I will embrace being 30!

Turning 30 is hot!

Women in their thirties get what they want!

So watch out world. I'm turning 30. And I'm taking you with me... (in twelve days).

Aria da Capo , a one-act play by Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay shows this weekend at First Baptist Church at 9th & Trinity at 8pm both Friday and Saturday nights.

It's my directorial debut. :)

So if you're in Austin this weekend, come check it out! The actors are great. The script is excellent and it's premiering in our new (under construction) Blackbox!!

Here's some pics to whet your appetite...







Written in 1920 as a response to the First World War, Millay’s Aria da Capo transcends time with its critique of division, greed, selfishness and denial. Modeled after the musical genre sharing its name, this one-act ends as it started, with its traditional Commedia dell' Arte characters, Pierrot and Columbine, indifferent and sarcastic, yet charmed by the world and each other. Corydon and Thyrsis, on the other hand, are more convicting characters. While at times they would like to return to living in community and harmony, they are forced back onto their respective sides by Cothurnus. Lest we give them too much credit however, once they discover ownership and possessions, be they material or essential, they need very little prompting to stay put and cling to what they foolishly believe is theirs alone. Millay chides her audience, us, too as we become participants in the play and turn a blind eye to the chaos that reigns. Indeed, the act has begun, under our feet! And the question remains, with this new knowledge, how will we play the play?

Labels: Theatre

The inevitable is actually on the horizon. I can't believe it.

Literally. My joy is returning!



Unfortunately, it's because her sister Alysa was admitted to the hospital last night with blood clots in both lungs.



Alysa's doctor told her she was the youngest woman he's ever had this happen to (she's only 32) to which she responded, as only Alysa would, "Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up." Ha ha. Peter says now we have an excuse for her candidness (pain medication) but I don't think they'd actually given her any yet. Typical Alysa.

So Joy and her mom are flying in. When I think about Alysa and pulminary embolisms, I get sad and weepy, but when I think about Joy coming, I can't help but get glad.

Alysa said she can't wait to see Joy's face when she and Potter reunite!



So please pray for healing for Alysa and continued good spirits and for safety for Joy and her mom as they make the long flight from Israel tomorrow.