7QT–Spring Has Sprung (Sorta)!

7 Quick Takes


Prayers for Jen and Joseph and the whole family.


I feel like the little kid in Julie Fogliano’s and Erin Stead’s lovely picturebook and then it’s spring, waiting for the day when I wake to a world dressed in white and pink and green. Ladies, you simply must check out this beautiful ode to the season. But for now, it is still brown trees and gray skies and chilly winds.


“Ah spring, when a young [woman’s] thoughts turn to [moving].” Living where I do, April tends to be the month for conversations about whether you are rooted in your current apartment and will just plant new roommates, or if like dandelion fuzz, going to blow off into the wind and settle somewhere new. I have discerned I need to find a new situation (and landlord!), so I have three appointments this weekend. Pray for me!


Spring also means: immodesty. MALE immodesty. And not even of the emotional sort. No. I mean physically fit runners without their shirts. Basketball and soccer and volleyball playing men without their shirts. Men emerging from lakes and pools and oceans without their shirts. I intend to write a longer post about this—maybe next week for the marathon—but for now, I am begging my brothers in Christ to help me out (just like how I help them out with modesty tabs and not-form-fitting clothes) and put a shirt on!


My department work just made a big move from a nucleus of offices in the basement to a whole wing on the first floor surrounding a patio. That I can access. My own space has four five-foot windows the span of one wall (about 7 feet) with a view of trees on the suburban hills and the sky and sunshine. Even with the overcast weather, I haven’t needed to turn my light on once.


Just as spring weather can change on a dime, so can the tone of this post. I am particularly saddened/RAWR that the mainstream media is not covering the trial of Kermit Gosnell. We can have screen-to-screen coverage of one woman in Florida about the death of her little girl, but nothing on the many deaths and  horrific practices at this “clinic” in Philadelphia.


And because we need something happy:

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