The kitchen that came to me in a dream

You know how when someone gets pregnant, how they're not supposed to tell anyone for three months just in case they lose the baby. Because after the first trimester then everything should be good to go. Well, Bob and I did not know that. When I first got pregnant, the doctor said we were having twins and we were SO EXCITED. We told absolutely everyone. We told the whole world. Church. Work. Family. Friends. Neighbors. Strangers. We're having twins! We're having twins!

As you may know, we do not have twins. They miscarried at seven weeks. That's when we found out that it's not that uncommon. And that's when we learned about the three month rule. We really dreaded having to retrace our tracks in order to inform everyone about something that was so personal. In the end, it was healing because you would not believe how many people quietly came up to us and said the same thing happened to them. I had no idea. A year later Amanda came around.

It is in that spirit -- that I really should not be telling anyone this, but I'm actually telling everyone -- that I think we found our dream house! Bob spent the afternoon with the realtor today. I spent most of the day in bed, but when Bob came upon THE house, our Realtor started taking pictures with his camera and e-mailing them to me right on the spot. And, well, what would you think if a kitchen like this showed up in your e-mail account?

Pinch me. This is too nice! Matching appliances. Wood floors. A place to cook, eat, and to do homework! And to host guests. I am dreaming. Am I delirious? I am hallucinating. I am going back to sleep.

With love, T

The Last Supper

Are you hungry? Mom Speirs will cook something for you. Just let her know what you want. Here's a scene from last week. Seriously.

Before bed snack previous night: meatloaf and mashed potatos for Aaron
Course 1: scrambled eggs and toast for Aidan and Aaron
Course 2: mashed potatos with corn for Aaron
Course 3: scrambled eggs, mashed potatoes and toast for Patrick
Course 4: ravioli and meatballs for all

As you all know, things get a little hairy when you're moving and packing and starting a new job. Patrick is now Pastor Patrick, Pastrick for short he says, living part time here and in his new town. When Patrick came over dead tired after his first four days on the job, Mom Speirs decided he needed to eat. That was course 3 and the rest is history.

Pull up a chair, any chair you can find, even the one held together by a pajama pant string. We're going to all eat together before detangling from yet another family here at Sandgren.

Yesterday while I was in isolation, the moving truck came and took all the Pattersons away. Dog gone but we're going to miss these impromptu meals together, boxed wine and all.

The following night, Bob treated Mom Speirs to her favorite Old Country Buffet. I stayed home to nap. While mustering the energy to pour myself a bowl of cereal, I was saved by the door knock. Wala. . .Chan's mom came through again with a surprise delivery of a home cooked meal. Lightly spiced and batterfried Asian vegetables with some kind of dipping sauce. Delicious! Who will be my personal Asian chef in Des Moines?

Ho hum, just another pastor. Isn't he cute!!! Bob did some supply preaching and other pastorly things at a local church last week.

And finally, the picture you've all been waiting for. . .the 6 staples in Amanda's head which have by now been long and successfully removed.

Here's our daughter who loves long hair, but hates to wash and comb it. She's been wanting to highlight it all summer because ALL the other 10 year olds have highlights. Let's make a deal. You get your hair cut and combed. And then our new neighbor, Sarah-o-California, will highlight it. Turned out cute!

That's all folks from the land of official isolation. Yesterday I took a little trip into cancer-land as I had a touch of radiation sickness. Holy cow, all I can say is you poor chemo people, I don't know how you do it. I thought I was dying, back and forth between radioactive vomiting and the fetal position. Throbbing head ache. Sweats, shivers, and shakes. By now, it's mostly gone. Now, to get rid of this isolation too.

Thanks for coming over. All my best to you!

With love, T

I Am Radioactive.

Or I'm just plain 'ol nuclear waste, whichever way you want to look at it. Today I got my custom concocted pill dosed at 100 millicuries. The idea is that it will kill whatever lingering thyroid cancer cells I may still have. I am now in official isolation at an undisclosed location. I can tell you that Dick Cheney is not with me, although I wish he were because we could have such a nice milli-terri tribunal together, just him and me all alone chatting up mushroom clouds and other things of his sole authority.

"You can turn anything into a international political scandal," Bob said to me yesterday.

I was giving him (Bob) my views on the conspiracy of processed food companies to remove fiber from the American diet, creating a generation of constipasted children with low immune systems. Making parents nervous of the potential short term outcome as the start of school draws near, if you know what I mean. When the back up breaks through. We are doing our darndest to get our kids to eat fiber, but it's almost impossible. You can't even buy a granola bar these days that contains fiber. A granola bar for land sakes! How can you call something granola if it doesn't have fiber in it?

Right here, right now, it's time for me and my ex-thyroid to take our 100th nap of the past 2 weeks.

Thanks for coming by the liver blog. And in case you were wondering, today I brought back my liver look, including goofy bangs barretted back and sticking out all over the place. However I did change out of pajamas before entering the public realm. Still, be thankful I can't upload pictures. Be very thankful.

Take care everyone!

With love, T xoxoxoxo

Happy Birthday Paramedic Extraodinaire!

Why am I thinking about the marketing plan of Alice Cooper when yesterday was my brother Tom's birthday???!!! You know, the brother (left) who saved the life of Bob (right). In honor of Tom I am reposting the care page dispatch of said event. Actually, there were several times Tom came to the rescue. This is just one of them. . .

*December 26, 2006 at 06:48 PM CST*
Take Deep Breaths.

Isn't that what you do to avoid panic attacks? To get oxygen to your brain when you simply must remain clear thinking. Like when your kids are in the back seat of the car and you're driving your husband to the emergency room at 11:30 p.m. An hour and half on the road in the rain. The best thing to do if you feel panic coming on is to pull off the next exit, open the window, and take deep breaths. If you have a brother who is a paramedic, that can be helpful because he can actually drive your husband so you can focus on the kids and yourself and not getting into a car accident. Plus, your paramedic brother can take vital signs before you go and personally greet the ER staff upon arrival. You should arrange a midnight meeting with your parents at the ER front door to transfer sleeping kids from your back seat to theirs. Then take more deep breaths, park the car and walk into St. Mary's ER in Rochester, MN, your home town. As for your husband, he should just try not to think about the itching from the inside as everyone makes decisions for him.

This is how we entered the Mayo Clinic system for the first time. Already, Bob had been sick for almost two months. Already been hospitalized. Already been seen by many doctors. Already had received tons of all different kinds of advice from family, friends, and strangers.

This night started quiet. The kids at a dinner with friends. Bob in his casket position. I was actually trying to do some LWR work. Then the phone calls started. Paramedic and MD in unwitting collusion. My brother Tom and Dr. R (not sure he wants me to use his name publicly), who is the father of my dear friend, Martha. I started working the phones. Calling them, calling me, calling back, calling the local doctor on call, swearing at the local doctor on call who was useless.

They didn't know each other, but separately Tom and Dr. R started to ask me the same questions.

• What is the biliruben count? How long has it been this high?
• Does he get dizzy? Is he clear thinking?
• Does he have a fever? Can he walk?
• He sounds dehydrated.
• Have you thought about taking him to the Mayo Clinic emergency room?
• I'll drive to St. Paul to pick him up myself.
• I'll call the emergency room and tell them to expect you.

I never did finish that LWR project. Just closed my lap top and entered into the panic zone. It was clear we needed to take Bob to Rochester. Tom would come to pick him up, a four-hour round trip for him. I started packing. My neighbor, Maren, prepared the kids. This was before the Speirs delegation from NYC came to be with us. My panic was telling me that Bob would die before Tom could get here . . . By 3:00 a.m. Bob and I settled into a room on the GI (gastro-intestinal) Unit at Mayo. Me, on the first of my series of little cots, thinking about the comments I would have for the morning round of dressed-to-the-nines team of doctors; thinking how I would assert my authority in my groggy, wrinkled yoga suit and without badly needed make-up. The first thing I did when I woke up a few hours later is sob.

Some people say that God works through coincidences. I have no idea. But I think a lot about that night, when out of the blue, in separate phone calls both my brother Tom and Dr. R contacted me about Bob's condition and worked their respective know-how to get Bob into a very competitive health care system. It was surreal. Surely, I made it through in some part due to deep breaths. With sighs too deep for words to express.

*

Today Tom is making his way back from the biker rally in Sturgis, South Dakota. I'll post pictures if he has any.

With love, T

So, what is Alice Cooper's marketing scheme?

I can't believe that I forgot to tell you that! Because that was the main point of my supervisorly discussion with Phil about Alice Cooper.

Alice Cooper's marketing scheme: Do whatever will most offend parents of teenagers. Because that's exactly what teenagers will want to buy into. At least that was true in the 70's.

Alice Cooper's branding tool: Alice Cooper, the character. I know, I know, I too used to think Alice Cooper just popped out of the womb as, well, Alice Cooper. Surprise, it's all fake. He carefully created the character from head to toe, including the name, which he intentionally wanted to sound as pretty and nice as possible. What really gave it all oomph was the fact that he was able to pull off a succession of hit songs. And really, even now, you could say the music isn't half bad. He said that his concerts never had security issues because everyone was so focused on the stage show. (How to keep order 101.) Add on top of all that, he's a very charming guy with a gift of negotiation. He has a head for business and a heart for relationships. He did get into a bit of trouble with drugs, but says that golf and his Christian faith miraculously healed his addiction.

He says that he has a good relationships with his copy cats: KISS and Rocky Horror Picture show people; he used to be friends with Marilyn Manson, but now Marilyn Manson doesn't want anything to do with Alice because of his devotion to the Christian faith. By the way, my aunt once served on a jury for a trial accusing Marilyn Manson of something. I can't remember which way the verdict went.

Well, anyway, I was just thinking that you were probably wondering about Alice Cooper's marketing and branding scheme.

With love, T

Welcome to my Intern

He's really nice and will bake cookies for you.

I'm talking about Alice Cooper (photo right), according to Phil (photo left).

Let me back up. Phil was my intern this past year and Friday was his last day. Well, OK, he wasn't *my* intern, but I fully claim him because he did such an awesome job and saved *my* you-know-what because I took so much of last year off, courtesy of Bob's liver sabbatical.

Phil came courtesy of Lutheran Volunteer Corps, a kind of Lutheran peace corps if you will. LVC volunteers are placed in various agencies and churches across the country for one year of service. People like me are supposed to provide meaningful projects, supervise, support, etc. Actually what I did is not show up. And my LVC intern flat out took over the LWR Virtual University.

When I tepidly started back to work it was Phil who advised me that it was time to step back into the moderator role with the Virtual U. "People will be happy to hear from you," he encouraged me. Little did either of us know that the guest presenter that month would be announced as our new LWR president a few months later. For that class, Phil had rigged up a way for the presentation to be called in from Zambia. That's right, from a country in central Africa. He has explained it to me numerous times but I still don't get exactly how he pulled that off. And he made so many overall improvements that I am honestly quite nervous as to how I will carry on without Phil.

Even when I was back on the job, Phil put up with working long distance with me. Him being in Baltimore, me being in Minneapolis/St. Paul. Thanks to Phil, I learned the art of instant messenging. We IMed all the time. One way for a telecommuter to connect.

So one day I was IMing Phil about this interview I had heard on the Fresh Aire radio show. That NPR interview program I mentioned before. The interviewee was Alice Cooper -- you know that mascaraed rock singer of my generation who scared the begeebers out of concert-goers by decapitating himself on stage. I found out in that interview that Alice Cooper is a master marketer as he told how he created the character of "Alice Cooper." And how dog gone charming he is. And that he is a PK (pastor's kid) and a devout Christian. It was interesting to chat up the branding genious of a ghoul rocker with a philosophy major. That's how I supervise and guide.

Phil told me the story about his college friend who had home stayed with Alice Cooper during a choir tour. He said that Alice baked cookies for his homestay guests and was totally hospitable to young church choiristers far from home. The 6 degrees of separation theory lives on.

Last year Phil had a job helping former prison convicts to re-enter successfully into society.

So anyway, Phil said it was OK for me to blog about him. The ways that people came through for us during the liver vacation are too much to count. And I will miss Phil. Our new LVCers come in later this month and I will go to Baltimore to train them, or they will train me, or something like that.

Thanks for coming over to the liver blog everyone! Take care.

With love, T

The Call

Associate Pastor
St. Johns Lutheran Church (see all pics)
Des Moines, Iowa

*

The Call Committee and church council have unanimously approved to call Bob as their associate pastor. On August 19 the whole congregation votes and then the call is officially extended. Bob has already told them that he will accept. I said that even if the call was not extended, the Call Committee ran such a first-rate process that it was healing just to take part. The Call Committee offered to continue to act as a support group for our family after we arrive if we wanted them to. We do. I got the impression that the group kind of bonded in this very long process. Bob first interviewed with them, I don't know, last April or May. They started working on their congregational profile almost a year ago.

I'm really trying to temper my excitement until the official vote on August 19, when it's truly final. But as you all know, the church is not a building, it's the people. And so I have to tell you why it took about 6 hours or so for my preconceived notions about Des Moines to *poof* vanish. And why I do believe that this is a spirit led process and that it's really, really the right thing.

Italian wine bar for dinner. Duncan Hunter for president.

So when Ed, a member of the call committee, and his wife Mary, toured us all around Des Moines we happened across a Middle Easten Restaurant. "We love Middle Eastern food!" I say all excitedly. Then of course we tell them about our two brother-in-laws from Egypt and how they're all there for the month or so.

Then Ed drove us by the Egyptian restaurant. And he told us how he is an engineer and goes to Egypt and Saudi a lot for business. Mary is an artist. In fact, I can't believe how many times the word "art" turned up in so many conversations with various people. You should read the bio of the organist. They have a writing team with published writers and university English professors. I love music. I love art. I love writing.

For lunch Jim, the Call Committee Chair Extraordinaire, took us to the Drake Diner. I think he planned this. It's true what they say about the presidential candidates politiking in diners in Iowa. On this day all the Republican candidates were in town for a debate. After my BLT I left the booth to powder my nose. Upon return the would-be first lady of Duncan Hunter was chatting with Bob and Jim right there as they finished up their plates. Her husband's platform is something like Pro Life, Pro Death, Pro Walls, Pro Hate, Pro God. Bob was so happy I was in the bathroom.

My platform is simple too. Pro What Would Jesus do.

Anyway, when we got to the church to chat with the whole Call Committee there happened to be a moving truck parked on the street in front of the church. The Call Committee hadn't even met me yet and they started laughing and joking that Bob and I had come with all our stuff. They were so kind and interesting and full of life.

Well, I guess this isn't all about me, but those are just some of my impressions. And I'm in week four of sans-thyroid and am crawling to the finish line. Next week is my radioactive iodine treatment, and then can start back up on the replacement pills. My doctor said that it will kick in fairly quickly. Good thing because I'm starting to operate like a kaleidoscope in shades of grey. It's really hard to pin down anything -- a decision, a task, a thought, etc. My doctor said that the thyroid is like a clock and without it the timing of all bodily systems go haywire. I've been OK but am noticing the haywire this week.

Anyway, we had a lovely, lovely time with the Call Committee of St. Johns Lutheran Church in Des Moines. They really know how to make a beaten down seminary couple believe that the Spirit is truly at work in the call process. They really know how to make a pastor's family believe that the Spirit is telling them that there is a place prepared for them in Des Moines, Iowa. They've even thought through my LWR office space.

Ed and Mary recommended an Italian wine bar for dinner. Bob and I made our way there, later after a quick rest. We basked. We just flat out basked. And ate Italian food that we couldn't pronounce and listened to a torchy singer croon in low tones.

But now, I am not going to write anything else about this call until after the congregational vote on August 19. Even though there is so much more I could say. Because you don't even know yet about Rachel Thorsen Mithelman, the Senior Pastor who will be Bob's supervisor and colleague. Ordination plans are underway. I'm bugging Bob to come up with a date, like quick, so I can tell you all, so you can come.

With love, T