Browsing Random Thoughts

The Parable of the Phone Charger

August4

Once there was a woman who was about to embark on a journey. It was a bad time for a journey, as the woman had very little money and many tasks to attend to at home, but the journey needed to be made regardless of circumstance. As the woman prepared for her journey she realized that her phone charger was broken. The phone was old, but she was fond of it, and she had no desire to replace it, however, she knew it would be difficult to find a charger for such an elderly piece of equipment. Nevertheless, she set out in search of a charger. Read the rest of this entry »

Weakness

July27

This year has been, well, a nearly non-stop roller-coaster of stress and it’s left me feeling overwhelmed and deeply inadequate, which has led me over the last month or so into contemplation of scriptures concerning weakness, especially Ether 12:27.  And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

So, I was thinking I’m pretty aware of my weaknesses already. To demonstrate this I made a list, a long list. We are so good at cataloging our failures, aren’t we? And it seemed to me that since I already knew all my many weaknesses, and there doesn’t seem to be any way that anyone, even God himself, could turn them into strengths, then there isn’t really anything for me to gain from this scripture. Clearly, this bit of God’s word was meant for someone else. And then God said “We’ll see about that…” and my legs started to swell up. Read the rest of this entry »

Story addiction, or how I flunked 8th grade English

June2

Yesterday the Beekeeper and I were headed down to Vegas, he had work and I had errands and it was shaping up to be a busy day. Before the busy could get started, though, there was the three hour drive from here to there. This is secretly the best part. We complain, a lot, about the distance, the time it eats up, oh, and the gas prices are killing us, but really, I get nearly three hours, each way, of uninterrupted, kid-free, almost phone-free, me-and-him time. We have… conversations! :::gasp:::: Not that we don’t talk all the time, but it’s different, you know?

Anyway, yesterday we were driving along and I’d been admiring the spring wildflowers and gazing off into space for several miles when he asked what I was thinking about. “Pivotal moments in my early life as a reader,” I said.

“Seriously?” he said. “Sometimes I wonder about you.”

“Yes, seriously.”

“Okay. Like what?”

So, I started telling him stories about first readings of books and stories that shaped, changed, or completely re-wired me. The Beekeeper didn’t start reading recreationally until adulthood, so he tends to look at my uber-geek childhood with detached alien-like interest. He suggested that some of my more outrageous book relationships really should be documented. In that spirit, I’m going to tell the world how I utterly failed 8th grade English. Read the rest of this entry »

That other Christine

November28

It’s happened a couple of times now, so I suppose I need to say something.

I realize it’s a kind of unusual name, and the chances that there would be two of us with the same name who are both writers is fairly slim, but the fact is that I am not that other Christine Mehring. She is an accomplished Associate Professor of Art History who writes a great deal of apparently well-received books and articles concerning fascinating artists about whom I have never heard. I am simply a novelist. She lives somewhere around Chicago. I live in rural Nevada. From what I can tell, I suspect that my hair is longer. It is an odd experience to google your name and find it associated with someone else, who probably, quite justifiably, thinks it is their name. Such is life. Anyway, if you have wandered in looking for the other Christine, in the words of Bob Dylan, it ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe. Try the University of Chicago.