One of my great joys since we moved in our new home has been the extra little office room we have. We painted it green and when my mom came to visit, she bought me a great arm chair, which I've fluffed up with some colorful pillows. This chair in this green room has now become my own little place. Most every evening this summer, when it's still light until late at night and children are out playing in the street, or lately, when it's storming and people stand at their windows to watch the rain like people do here in the desert, where rain is a novelty, I spend at least a few minutes here in blissful peace. I journal or read and just generally relax and reflect a little. I'm trying to train myself to view it as a place of quiet and refuge so that I don't turn it into yet another place where I have to Accomplish Great and Important Things on a Very Urgent Deadline. The only other things in the room at this point are a bookshelf and a computer desk where Dan surfs the Internet and pays our bills. But I don't think even he would deny that it's really my place. I'm so thankful for it, and just this once, you can see it:

In case you were waiting for my movies reviews here is an update on the progress of the Haley Wachdorf Film Festival: Apparently, the overall lack of concern with time that pervades the culture of the great state of New Mexico (Which non-natives affectionately refer to as the "Land of Manana," a variation on the state's actual motto "The Land of Enchantment") also affects the delivery schedule of Netflix in the state. Which is to say that my movies aren't here yet. They'll be here manana ... ish. So since I have plans tomorrow night, the festival is delayed for a little while. Good thing I have books. And my reading chair. Stay tuned, if you care.

Since I am not writing much these days, please take a moment and visit a few of the blogs I visit every day. I keep saying that I'm going to get one of those sidebars that links to your friends' blogs, but in the meantime, I'll start posting a few links at a time. Today, we'll start with people I actually know, and whose blogs I check on a daily basis. I check a lot of blogs every day, so eventually, we'll get to People I Don't Know At All, and Who Would Probably Think It's Weird That I Read Their Blog.

But for today, people I actually know.

Rebecca.

Charity

The Grand (Formerly Charity, Renae Joie and Brook, now Renae and Jason.)

Bryonie and Josh

When these people don't post for a while, or go on vacation, I feel sad and lonely in my online world. So go show them some readership love.

We're headed out of town to celebrate the marriage of Dan's sister, Dinah, to a wonderful man named Chris. So there will be yet another lengthy silence here. But in the meantime, amuse yourselves by viewing the following blogs. These blogs fall into the category of People I Know from Church, or, as I like to call them "The Evil People Who Forced Me to get a Blogspot Password." I must have missed the memorandum endorsing Blogspot as the hosting forum of choice for the PCA.

Kelly (Who just moved away and broke our hearts.)
Summer
Tim
Pinky
Mike (He also moved away, but we handled it with reasonable composure. Barely.)
Patrick and Jasmine (Who had the audacity to move to Austin in spite of the fact that they are not in the military, and were, therefore, not expected to move away ever ever ever.)
Jennifer

More links are coming, so if your blog hasn't turned up here yet, I'm probably just trying to figure out how to categorize your blog so that it looks like I have some kind of logical pattern behind my blog-reading addiction.
Back in a few days with photos.

Hello, all. We are back from the wedding, which was wonderful and perfect and very, very tiring, as weddings tend to be, no matter whose they are. We got back to our house at about 12:30 on Sunday evening, and have been trying to get caught up on sleep since. We must be the oldest 26-year-old couple on the face of the earth, because we were completely wiped out after three days of wedding festivities.

But before I forget, I have to share two more Jesus signs for you to add to your collection, one that I saw myself and one that my Dad told me about.
Monday morning when I was driving to work in a haze of sleep deprivation, inhaling coffee from a travel mug and praying that the day would go quickly and allow me to go home and go to sleep at a resonable hour like 6:30, I found myself following a minivan much too closely in traffic. As in, had they slammed on their brakes, I would have been wearing my coffee instead of drinking it. And from that vantage point, I was able to read the following bumper sticker. The punctuation is rendered here exactly as it appeared on the Caravan:

"Do you follow JESUS this close?"

I have to admit, I laughed, and I quit tailgatng them.

Then today, my dad called me from his truck, as he does occasionally, to pass on the following jewel that apparently is displayed on the sign of one of the churches of the Baptist persuasion near our family home in Sumrall. This one requires no further explanation, feel free to groan, or laugh to keep from crying if you want.

"Be an organ donor. Give your heart to Jesus."

I think I'm going to offer a reward to the first person who can prove my hypothesis that there is some kind of massive list of these cheesy slogans that is circulated by well-meaning, but theologically impaired churches all over the country. People can't just be coming up with these things on their own.

Pictures soon. Sleep now.

Lately, Albuquerque has been drenched in record-breaing, torrential rain. This has dumbfounded the population and made life really unpleasant for people living in low-lying areas, since the city is not exactly built for rain. But for us, the most serious ramification has been that our home, viewed from the outside, looks like a drug house. We don't have any broken windows or grafitti, but we make up for that with plenty of overgrown weeds, which are flourishing in the abundant moisture. Pretty soon, you won't actually be able to see the house, just the weeds. When we came back from our trip late Sunday night only to be mugged by the overgrown arms of our rosebush on the way in the door, we knew it was time for a BIg Yardwork Saturday. And so that's what we'll be doing tomorrow. Envy us.

Here's a photo of one of the weeds. The scary thing is that I took this photo about three weeks ago. So this monstrosity now has its own zip code.

Here at last are the long-promised photos from the wedding. But first, a few words about being part of the Wachdorf/Dubovik family. I am a relative newcomer to this clan, having joined only three-and-a-half years ago, so I don't exactly qualify as an expert. But if I have learned anything about being loved and welcomed in this family, as I have been, it is that it will not be a quiet process. Nor will there be a lot of sleep involved. Basically, you should eat your Wheaties if you're going to hang with this group.

I should clarify my meaning with some background. In my family, as everyone gets older, the way we enjoy one another's company is by cooking gigantic meals, drinking some good wine, having a long conversation during which we usually laugh a lot, and then we either lie around in a daze fom the cholesterol, or we watch a movie, or sit on the pier, or in some other way enjoy a period of silence. Then we go to bed and no one except my dad gets up until we absolutely must eat something or risk failing to meet our weight-gain quota for the visit, which is firmly set at five pounds a piece. Rinse and repeat.

There are some similarities between a Rice family event and a Wachdorf/Dubovik event. Food is involved with the Wachdorfs, and it's good food. There's also a lot of talking. But the fundamental difference becomes clear at 11:30 at night or so. Around this time, my family is usually at least starting to ponder sleep. Not so the Wachdorf/Duboviks. Eleven-thirty is EARLY for these people. Let me tell you a story, in case you don't believe me. On Thursday evening, Dan and I arrived in San Antonio, suitcases in tow, ready to celebrate the wedding of Dan's sister Dinah and her fiancee Chris. However, since we arrived at 11 p.m. and didn't get to the house until midnight, I was pretty much assuming that we would sneak into the house quietly so as to avoid waking up the rest of the family, go to bed, and start the partying the next day. But I had forgotten the basic tenet of Life in the Wachdorf Family, which is: Thou Shalt Not Sleep if thy Blood Kin are Anywhere Within a 150 mile Radius.

Well, Amen. Because when we walked into the kitchen that night, we were greeted by no fewer than 10 family members, who all appeared as chipper as if they had just gotten up from a nice four-hour nap, except that they hadn't. So hugs and kisses ensued, and during that process, I heard words I was sure I must have been dreaming into existence. But no, it was not a dream, but rather my sister-in-law Hannah informing Dan and I that we were expected to leave the house momentarily to join the bride, groom, and friends for drinks. I was on the verge of refusing on grounds that it was, umm, way past my bedtime, when Dan's aunt Jerlene, a woman who has FOUR SONS, said she wanted to come. And I mean, if the woman with four kids wants to go out, your 26-year-old childless self is just going to look like an utter wimp if you don't go. So we went, and it was great fun, and we got back at 2:30 a.m., whereupon the bride, Dinah, and sister Hannah proceeded to talk SOME MORE and somehow sucked me into continuing to have fun with them just exactly as if we were 13 and at some kind of high-powered slumber party, until about 3:30, at which point, I collapsed. Rinse and repeat.

Perhaps that story will explain why, in the one photo in which I appear in the following set, I have a sort of dazed look going on. It might also help explain why it has taken me a week to post these photos ... I've been going to bed at 7:30 every night in a desperate attempt to catch up. But that is totally worth it because we had an absolutely fabulous time at the wedding, and it was the first time I got to spend any significant amount of time with a lot of Dan's side of the family. And it turns out that they are wonderful, loving, hilariously funny people. I wish we lived nearer to them so we could hang out with them more. I'm sure we'd get used to the sleep deprivation, and I know for a fact we'd laugh even more than we do now. So with that, many thanks to the Wachdorf/Dubovik family for taking me in with such open arms over the last few years. I feel so rich.

And now, the pictures.

Dinah, Hannah, flower girl Dani, and I spent the morning at the hair salon getting beautiful before the big event. This photo was taken moments before I went on a Starbucks run that pretty much saved my life. Rest assured that this was not the final product of the hair lady, and that Dinah was much more enthused than she looks here.

A few hours later, we were in the bride's room getting ready to go and being art-directed by a very enthusiastic woman with a European accent who was taking the photos and at one point had Hannah and I holding the back of Dinah's dress aloft so that the train could serve as a backdrop for a portrait of Dinah. Since it was a pretty lengthy train, Hannah and I were starting to feel our arms give out at one point, but we soldiered on, because being a bridesmaid is not about you and your joint pain. It's about the bride, and we were committed to that. In the end, that was the most hardcore moment of commitment Hannah and I had to exhibit, since Dinah was the world's least demanding bride, but here is Hannah helping Dinah get into her dress.

And then, at three o' clock in the afternoon, Dinah and Chris got married, and it was beautiful. Here is the happy couple. Much joy to Dinah and Chris Gilbert.

As ringbearers and flower girl in the wedding were Sammy, Dani and Blaine, triplets and close friends of the Wachdorf family. They nearly stole the show walking down the aisle in their miniature adult outfits and cherubic smiles. Here they are posing for the paparazzi with Dinah, Chris, and Hannah.

Dan and I in our matching chocolate brown ensembles:

The next day, we went to church with the family and then everyone came over to help with some cleanup-related activities, whereupon ensued the Folding of the Tulle. Behold Hannah and Jerlene in action:

There was a great deal of cake left over after the house, and at one point in the afternoon, this resulted in Hannah getting a nice fistful of it smushed into her face by her boyfriend, Josh, aided, of course, by her big brother Dan. Here are Hannah and Josh washing up in the kitchen sink.

And as the credits roll, here are some photos of the family we spent time with during the wedding. To the Wachdorfs and Duboviks and other last names I have failed to remember, thank you for traveling all the way to San Antonio. I know it meant a lot to Dinah and it was fantastic for me to spend time with you as well. Who can we marry off next?
From left are Papa (Dan's grandad), Dan's mom, Angela bending down in front (Dan's cousin), Aunt Kim, Nana (Dan's grandmother), and Aunt Jerlene, the coolest mother of four in the Western Hemisphere.

From the Wachdorf side, Dan's Aunt Diana far right, and her girls Tracey, left, and Whitney, center.

And last but not least, we have Maggie, the Wachdorf dog, who really runs the show. I think it's a sign of what kind of weekend it's been when even the dog looks kind of worn out.

Another blog I read is dooce.com, which is actually very popular reading with a whole lot of people, so many that its author now supports her family off the advertising revenues. (Let me know any time you're prepared to make me a similar offer.) Heather Armstrong is kind of a blogging legend for many reasons, one of them being that she once got fired for writing about work on her blog, but it helps that she is a truly funny woman and a great writer, even when you don't agree with her. And be forewarned, you will most likely be offended by something on her blog if you read it long enough.
But this post made me laugh so hard I cried big, rolling tears and had to step away from the lap top. So I think you should read it. For background, Leta is Heather's daughter, and Jon is her husband.

It's probably a result of being a person who works in media, but I find an awful lot to be annoyed with in television news broadcasts, especially cable. Most of the time, I just don't watch because I don't need the blood pressure spike. But in recent weeks, with the re-emergence of the JonBenet Ramsey case, everything that I loathe about the way news gets done in our time has been shoved to the forefront.

Now, with the news that John Mark Karr apparently had nothing to do with anything related to this girl's death, I keep wondering if any of the news organizations that gave this non-story such obscenely constant and completely un-examined coverage will be issuing public apologies. I think they should. But somehow I doubt it will happen.

In any case, Dan and I have both enjoyed a couple of pieces of media criticism that the Christian Science Monitor has written in recent weeks examining how it has come to be that a story like this can come to receive more coverage than, I don't know, genocide in Africa or that pesky war we're still involved in in Iraq.

I think that this and this are good reading on the topic. So read if you want. They're saying it better than I can. Especially since my head will explode if I think about it much longer.

You know your husband loves you when you develop a fever blister and he is willing to go to Walgreen's to fill a prescription that normally indicates that the purchaser has, for lack of a more polite term, a social disease.

I am getting ready to leave on a trip that is one of the highlights of my year. It's not going to be quite what it usually is this year, due to the unavoidable absence of a couple of members of the group. But I'm very much looking forward to it. We will miss you, girls. We love you and the cabin misses you too.

I'll be back on Tuesday. In the meantime, stop by the blogs of a couple of friends and mentors of mine. David Stevens is the editor of the Clovis News Journal, and is the man who gave me my first job in newspapers back in 2002, when there was very little real evidence that this was even remotely a good idea. David convinced me to move to Clovis, taught me everything I know about newspapers, including that there is no crying in journalism and that sometimes you have to play hardball, and he is one of my heroes. Still, I like to think I have some influence over him, too. After all, he did get a blog after he started reading mine. His blog is "Falling, With Style" and I have linked directly to a great post he wrote about his anniversary with his wonderful wife, Rhonda.

Get Religion is a blog headed up, in part, by Terry Mattingly, religion columnist and known to those who love him as Tmatt. Terry is one of the leaders of a journalism program in Washington D.C. that recruits students from Christian colleges and unversities, which often don't have established journalism programs, but often have students who would like to get into the field. (This lack of journalism programs by evangelical schools is another soapbox of mine, but that's for another day.) Tmatt admitted me into the program in the summer of 2000 based on a set of clips that, once again, indicated very little about why this might be a good idea. And on the other side of that month in Washington, I knew I wanted to be a journalist. More importantly, I felt like it might be something I could do, because Tmatt believed I could do it. Six years later, I'm a newspaper reporter, and that's a very important calling to me.

Tmatt's blog is run by a group of media types who critique and analyze mainstream media coverage of religion.

These men taught me a lot, and in the terms of human influence, they collectively set in motion a chain of events that got me to New Mexico, where I started dating Dan, where we fell in love, got married, moved to Albuquerque and on and on and on. In retrospect, it's always tempting to remember the moments that ultimately changed your life as having this radiant glow around them. I'm pretty sure that when I met Tmatt, and later, David, I was mostly just incredibly nervous with that unique form of anxiety that comes from knowing you're in over your head. But when I look back, it's hard not to see that it was all meant to be.

Happy Labor Day.