Belonging

Today, amidst a bout of discouragement and self-pity, I remembered I hadn't prayed. I silently prayed the Lord's prayer.

Heavenly Father, hallowed be Thy name
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven

That's as far as I got. I thought on that phrase alone. By those words I remembered I belong to Him. That my reality must be set within that frame of mind, within the kingdom of God. When I live a reality of belonging to my Creator, the rest makes sense, and the inward glare of despair turns outward into the unseen world around me, and that which is seen is seen by the light of that invisible yet tangible kingdom. There I can rest in knowing that I am His and not this world's. There I find peace. Comfort. Joy. Relief.

There I let go of that which I think I need, and I see what I have. I see what others don't have, but what they need. Most of all I feel known by God, and kept. Kept safe. Kept right. Kept and loved. From where I sit, this place feels more alone, but less lonely. More vivid. More clear.

And full. So much more full.

Caution: Proactive Provides Damaging Solutions

This is the stuff I use to wash my face. As you can very well see, Jessica Simpson uses it, too. At least she says she does. At least she makes bazookoos of money saying she does. But, I'm wondering...does it bleach Jessica's eyebrows, too?

A curious phenomenom is occurring on my face. The very top of my eyebrows (usually brown, naturally to match my hair) are turning bleach blond. But it's just the top of my eyebrows. So right now my eyebrows are somewhat two-toned.

I first noticed this about two months ago when talking to Seth. As he pretended to listen to me ramble on about whatever, his focus kept shifting from my eyes to my eyebrows. I finally stopped to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

Seth furrowed his own brow, ultimately perplexed. "Your eyebrows are changing colors."

"My eyebrows are changing colors?"

He studied my eyebrows intensely. "Yeah, just the top."

"What?" I reached for the mirror in my bag. "Oh, weird. Yeah, they're changing colors. Maybe's its the way the sun hits them in New York when I have my sunglasses on." (Hey, it was the best I could come up with.)

I resumed telling my story, but not without intermittent pauses as I waited while Seth sat distracted by my eyebrows.

Then, as I talked to my mom on a recent visit to Oklahoma, she stopped me mid-sentence and moved closer to examine my face.

"Amber, did you know your eyebrows are changing colors?" she asked, quite concerned. Then she laughed.

"OK. This is ridiculous. Yes, I know my eyebrows are changing colors. Is it that bad?"

Later my mom called. She had an idea. What if my facewash that I've been using for the past...oh...6 years or so has been accidentally getting into my eyebrows all this time, and now the effects are showing. And sure enough, as I washed my face that night, I saw that my facewash has been dripping into the top of my eyebrows...for 6 years!

So I'm wondering if Jessica has this problem, too, and what she's doing to remedy it. I don't want to change my facewash. I like it. It works. But I can't go walking around with two-toned eyebrows. Jessica, you're the only one who can help. Save me. What do I do?

In My Kitchen, part II

Our super came today and sealed holes around the piping in the cabinets underneath the sink. And he set a trap.

Now see, this causes another problem. If Mickey gets caught in the trap, you're crazy if you think I'm touching that thing to throw it out the window, or kill it like my father-in-law does, by STOMPING on it. Uh-uh. No sirrree. And Seth's out of town. (Of course, I have to see the dadgum mouse when he's out of town.)

So I've remedied the problem. My next door neighbor has agreed to deal with it if I catch Mickey.

My next door neighbor's 18 and just out of high school. I think he hates me now for asking because I could see in his face that he was just being nice. Oh well. I'm very thankful for his manners, and I hope he doesn't hate me. He's a really great kid who's on Broadway, actually. He hasn't been working for the past few days, though, because of the stagehand strike. Most Broadway has gone dark, if you haven't read it in the papers. So since he has so much free time, I've requested he rid me of my mouse.

Let's all just hope Mickey decides not to visit again. For his sake and mine, and my next door neighbor's.

In My Kitchen

I just saw a mouse peek its little head out from beneath the kitchen sink.

A MOUSE.

In my kitchen.

Dad friggin gummit.

At the Diner

Today I tried Matzah Ball soup.

I traded it in for French Onion.

Hey. I tried.

What to say

It's not that I don't want to blog. It's that I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say.

My life now consists of auditioning and babysitting. And now rehearsing. I'm taking a break from auditioning (thank the good Lord above) because I booked a show. Woo hoo! It's a Wonderful Life, the musical. Didn't know that was a musical till I auditioned for it. I'll be understudying the role of Violet. She's the trampish character (modestly trampish, more like excessively flirtatious). Remember from the movie? George Bailey gives her money, but she selflessly returns it in the end. Rehearsals start tomorrow.

The babysitting is calling forth my maternal instinct, which has since been buried deep under discontent and nomadic tendencies. But the biological clock is ticking away, ticking, ticking away, and I actually told Seth we have to be in a position to have children in a year.

I quickly reconsidered, and sanity (or is it insanity?) resumed its place in the forefront of my mind.

I'm reading Jane Eyre and have fallen in love with it.

I'm editing a book for my Renaissance man of a husband, who just decides one day that he wants to write a novel, and so does. And it's the funniest thing I've ever read....ever.

And I'm trying to figure out how to fit my blender and good set of knives into my new kitchen down the hall from my old kitchen, and counting the days until my dad comes again to hang more shelves. He's the greatest shelf hanger of all time. Seth can write a novel but doesn't really like hanging shelves.

Last but not least, I had the worst audition of my life today. The worst...ever. Synopsis: "Mean casting director is relentlessly harsh and condescending to a flustered auditionee." First layer of thick skin applied...moving on.