Bread & Wine

The sacred…places and objects set aside by a people of faith to use solely for expressions of that faith. The profane…ordinary or everyday places and objects for everyday, common use.
Bread and wine. Two of my favorite things. Especially after a hard day of writing brilliant prose, and receiving nothing but scathing rejection letters. The life of a writer. But, on Sundays bread and wine take on a completely different meaning. Still comforting and sustaining, they now become blessed, holy and transcendent. Something I cannot go get for myself. I prepare myself, approach the rail, acknowledge God and receive “the gifts” from the priest or deacon.
While I grew up in a very non-liturgical, Evangelical church, which looked down on all things “Catholic.” I found the experience mostly lacking. Most people fell asleep, including my father (who has a doctoral degree in missions and a masters degree in New Testament. I always figured if he couldn’t stay awake, there was no need for me to pay attention, either.)
When I was nineteen, my mother, sister and I started attending a little Episcopal church. We had to stand up and sit down and recite things as a group. The priest said something and we had to respond back. There was no way to fall asleep. We were included. God calls us to participate, not be spectators. How can one participate in faith in daily life if they aren’t even allowed participate on Sunday mornings?
So, back to the bread and the wine…. On Mother’s Day I went to church with my mother, who now attends a different church from me. The minister told a story that struck me. He said he noticed every time the Communion plate was passed, (they sit in the pew and pass Communion in this church) people would rummage around for the smallest piece of bread they could find. Then one week he instructed those preparing for Communion to break all the pieces of bread large and evenly. Everyone was forced to take a large piece of bread. The bread equals the Body of Jesus Christ, which is the embodiment of God’s grace. He then said he wanted to administer the wine with a firehose, but thought he might get in too much trouble for the mess.
So often we go through life taking the smallest piece of everything for ourselves and leaving the larger, more generous portions for others. We serve everyone else wine at dinner and take the last sip for ourselves, insisting it is what we really wanted anyway. We don’t want to make a mess. I say we are fooling no one and that line is a load of crap that needs to be taken out to the trash and left there. We do not really want the smallest bite or sip. We want the whole loaf and whole bottle for ourselves. If we can start living life with the idea that we are just as worthy of grace and abundance as everyone else around us, then how much more will we have to share with those we love?
A whole loaf and a whole bottle. A little mess. A girl cannot give that what she has not received.

Better Late Than Never...

Okay, I think I was the last person to read The Da Vinci Code, which I did this fall. As anyone who is a writer or avid reader knows, you have a massive, mental reading list which just gets hopelessly longer with each new release. Then others find you are a writer/reader and cheerfully add more books to the list (whether or not you really want to read the suggested books, you smile and say, "of course I'll check it out!")

Anywho...I found The Da Vinci Code an interesting yarn, if not the best researched or unbiased (as someone with a Bible degree in Old Testament Literature). But I found myself thinking of this blog and it's title and how Mary Magdalene is the perfect heroine for The Sacred & The Profane. I've always been facinated by her...the historical and cultural impact of the words written about her are lost on the modern reader...she was affluent enough to follow Jesus around and support his ministry, no mention is made of a husband or wealthy father or brother and yet in that society, women had no income, no cash without men. This is where the Catholic story of Mary M. being a prostitute cropped up. This is totally unproven, yet so prevasive, and I think that says more about us as humans and our skewed view of faith than of Mary herself. Why are we so quick to think a well-to-do woman who finds faith and saving grace with Jesus must have a sketchy past? Why are we so quick to assume the worst of people? Why do we insist on pinning blame on someone, guilty until proven innocent? The French police did it to Robert & Sophie, the Church did it to Mary Magdalene. It is this concept of guilty until proven innocent and the faithful of Europe to pin their sin on someone else human that our own founding fathers were trying to correct and change with our own Declaration of Independence and Constitution.

As I just posted, this year has been rough, and I'm not proud of how I've behaved and reacted to things around me. But I certainly don't want to be judged for the rest of my life, or all eternity, on this year. I want to be someone who keeps growing and changing and asking for forgiveness and being forgiven and becoming a better person.

Perspective

The last month and a half has been a never-ending whirling dirvish of insane activities and sudden stops for illness. Why do these things always converge right as the rush of the holiday season picks up??? And, once one thing goes the tinsyist bit wrong, it feels like everything else snowballs like an Olympic downhill skiier? I don't know either.

But, I do know it's embarrassing that I haven't written anything since Election Day. My grand experiment to write daily or weekly to get the creative juices flowing has been floundering. Not that I haven't come up with several great blog entries...I just haven't seemed to have any control over what I do all day until I fall into bed around midnight. Hmmmm, sounds like a new year's resolution is lurking in there somewhere....

One thing I have gained perspective on is no matter how much you try and how hard you work, you just can't make things always go your way. As adults, we are supposed to accept this and work with this and move on in an adult way. Too bad there's no manual handed to you at 21 to tell you how to do this. The specifics of my posting? Doesn't really matter...isn't it always changing for each of us? It does for me. And I don't think a weekly laundry list of how I've failed for the whole world to read (okay, the three friends of mine who read this) isn't really productive or classy.

But, I do know that as I look back on 2006 - a year I can't wait to say good-bye to - I have been afraid to be confident
I have been afraid to ask for things I should have asked for, and had a right to ask for, of myself, my clients, my family, my boyfriend
I have put myself last
I have let fear and anger rule me

I am not proud of these things and look toward a new day, month and year to make changes. And isn't that the best thing about a new year? No matter how bad you sucked up the past year, you always get the chance to start anew and decide to make this coming year a little better than the one you are finishing. I love that about January, the new year. It is so full of promise and hope.

My sacred hope and prayer for myself and all of you is the courage to grab the opportunities in front of each of us and make 2007 a great year...or at least a good one...

God Bless in the New Year.

HAPPY ELECTION DAY!

Happy Election Day everybody! I hope you voted today. This was probably the hardest election I've gone through yet. I've been voting since 1994 (my first election - City of Chicago, Mayor Daley in the March Primary.) I think it's partly because I have been very involved in the politics of the area and personally know many of the candidates, good bad and ugly...and because I've been super busy with work and the book and haven't been following the newspapers as I normally do. Partly, I think it's because I'm getting older and finally more grumpy with the whole system. Do I vote for the person who is pig-headed and doesn't listen to anyone around her...or the incumbent who gets in fights on the house floor and routinely doesn't show up for committee work? Do I vote for the governor who votes and writes legislation I like, but is under a cloud of suspicion...or do I give my vote to the Green Party guy who's never held office and may have some great progressive ideas, but will get eaten for breakfast by the state legislature on his first day and be completely ineffective? (Forget the third option, despite the best pleas, I am just not buying the fact that she worked for us, not the former governor who is on his way to jail.) Sigh. It was so much easier when I was 22 and idealistic!

But, I am still idealistic and hopeful, so I went...my mom and I met up and went together. We joked around about the people we know and discussed who we voted for and why. And now, I sit and watch the news, flipping through the channels for local races and national races. Going back and forth between the local channel and CNN. I'll be camped out here all night, happy as a clam, enjoying one of my favorite days...and all the sweeter because with the insanity of holiday overlap and Christmas Creep, there is nothing commerical about Election Day and there are no annoying songs...

Livin' In the Land Before Time

Okay, not exactly before time, but pre-1980 in many ways....Having moved into a new place a month ago, then promptly leaving town, coming home with a sinus infection and now book promo and author events, there are a few basics I am still living without.

I have been sans cable and internet for a month. I am writing this post from my parents' family room, where every few days I show up with my lap top and check my email and do other internet things here. It's getting a little old. I've never been a big computer/internet person, in fact most days I check my email and immediately get off the internet, but I have become dependent on email as no one sends snail mail anymore. Especially in promoting my book, it is so much easier to send out press releases through the internet, mass emails to friends and co-workers about my book and events and for them to R.s.v.p. to me via email rather than catching me on the phone.

Cable, on the other hand, other than the crystal clear picture, I haven't missed as much. I am going through CNN-withdrawl and I love me my Bravo TV and Queer Eye and Project Runway. I work until 9 p.m. most nights and even on my "days off" from work I am working on my books, so I don't watch that much television. I go through spurts and I know having cable, I will watch more TV. Without cable, there's not much to choose from, I listen to more CDs, I read more books, I go to bed earlier!

A few more weeks without internet or cable and my "to do" projects may get done (the garage, the bathroom) my next novel may actually get finished and all my friends may start getting handwritten notes on hand-stamped stationary again. Hmmmm, the land before time may not be such a bad place after all. People lived without cable TV and internet for roughly 6,000 years, I can probably due to live without it a few more months myself.

Grace & Peace
CAA

Swirling Chaos!

Until the day that Random House or Viking or Penguin, etc. comes calling with the big fat royalty contract, I am a struggling writer just trying to keep my head above water. And, when it rains, it pours! Moving to a new place, a new book out and my PR person is me, who is moving, work is slow - clients wanting to wait until October - my other PR person for that - me - working my little tail off to bring in clients.

How did someone who has little talent for PR and marketing end up doing so much of it for so many different things? I am a writer, for sobbing out loud! I am not a marketing maven. Tell God your plans and then wait for the laugh...tell God your strengths and then wait...you'll be handed a hot and steamy pile of (no, not laundry) exactly the thing you don't want to do. But, that's what being a grown-up is really all about. I was once told in college by my RA that being a true leader is being the person who willingly does the jobs no one wants to do, does them first and without asking or expecting anything in return. Sigh, I wish she wasn't right! So, I trudge along and hope the unpleasant tasks of moving and public relations are over soon so I can get back to writing, which is what I love. That, and puppy shopping...I really need a fluffy roommate for my new place.

National v. Local

Ask any of my friends what is one of my strongest personality traits and I've got twenty bucks that says they'll say "loyal." Loyal as a friend (I still speak somewhat regularly via email to my friend Becky, from kindergarten, who now lives in Germany HALLO BECCA!!!) and to my best friend Heather of 22 years and counting...my friend Jenn of 18 years and my girls from D.C., going on 10 years. I am LOYAL. Is this concept dead in the marketplace??? Seriously, does anyone other than myself and a small, haggard band of Chicagoan still mourning our loss care about local, regional loyalties?

Okay, so for those of you not from Chicago, I'll back up the truck. The late, great Marshall Field founded one of the greatest department stores this country, and dare I say, the world has ever known. Marshall Field's wasn't just a store to Chicagoans, it was part of the anchor of this city, part of who we are. The big green bags, especially at Christmas, the old Victorian clock and flagship State Street store with the Walnut Room and Tiffany glass domed ceiling...it was all magnificent. Until the Fields decided to sell and a chain reaction of mediocrity and falling sales took over. Mr. Field coined the phrase "give the lady what she wants!" You used to be able to return things to Field's without a reciept and with visible wear and no questions asked, if it was their stock, they took it back. Sales girls were well dressed, attentive and trained to anticipate what you wanted before you asked. If you were trying on dresses, they would scurry down to jewelry or shoes to make sure your outfit was complete. The hat department made you personalized, hand-made hats and tucked them inside hat boxes stamped with Marshall Field's on the top and sides (I actually just found one of these, circa 1961 in an antique shop and you would have thought I found the holy grail.)

Now we are all subjected to an insane and condescending marketing campaign by the newest owners...Macy's/Federated Dept. Stores. They did away with the Field's name and logos, color green and other hallmarks and are trying to convince us that this is a good thing because "now where ever you shop in the nation, you can go to Macy's!" Barf.

I would like to take a minute as a former Field's sales girl and on behalf of Field's employees everywhere...I want to apologize to everyone who had their Dayton's and Hudson's stores taken away from them. We did not understand then, that even though we thought Field's superior, it was hard for you to loose your local favorite. We understand now.

Now, I work for one of the last retail outlets to remain firmly in control of a Chicago family and they have no thought of selling. I support Chicago companies as much as I can and hope others will join me.

Sept. 11

Here is a review of the movie "World Trade Center" that I wrote for HollywoodJesus.com, but was never posted. It's now 12:15 a.m. on Sept. 12 and I have survived one more anniversary. Sept. 11 is a draining and horrible day, even 5 years later. Why do we need to keep remembering? keep dragging out the families and survivors on television once a year? Because even though I wasn't conscious of it, my body knew what day it was and I woke up at 7 a.m. this morning wide awake, heart aching, head pounding and it went downhill from there. And the survivor's guilt won't quit. I was insanely lucky that day. I had strep throat and instead of being on Capitol Hill, I was at my doctor's office in Chevy Chase. My friends in the White House, Supreme Court, Capitol Building, Pentagon and WTC all survived. And the sacred pain of not knowing why I was so blessed on such a profane day is stored up in my bones and lets itself out a little bit at a time, once a year. So, the day is over, dry your eyes. We're all older and hopefully wiser. Hug everyone a little longer and tighter and try to push the questions away and just sit and be thankful that you survived and it wasn't worse.


The new Oliver Stone film, “World Trade Center” a critically acclaimed ode to those who acted bravely on 9/11 with cutie Nick Cage and the newest girl next door Maggie Gyllenhaal. May be the water cooler topic du jour on Monday for those in the heartland, but I’ve already made it clear to those around me, I’ll be passing on this one.

“World Trade Center” is the newest and hottest by Oliver Stone, who has been inexplicably laying low the past few years. The guy who loves to whip up conspiracy and spin fanciful yarns to make Middle America think, has turned his sights on the darkest day in U.S. history in the past thirty years.

Now I love Nicolas Cage as much as the next girl. Loved him since “Raising Arizona” and his rant in “The Rock” about being a chemist who drives a tan Volvo. I haven’t actually seen any of Maggie G’s movies, but I love that she’s a fellow brunette who doesn’t seem to have been brainwashed by what I call the Platinum Pack (the pack of young Hollywood starlets who have sold their souls to fashion and thinness).

But, back to the point of this article. I was a reporter in Washington, DC on Sept. 11th, 2001. I covered the Capitol, White House, Supreme Court and Federal Agencies. I knew people in the Pentagon, White House and Capitol that day. I had friends in lower Manhattan, one of whom we couldn’t locate for days. My cell was jammed and it seemed only one or two calls were getting through each day. I spent every spare moment watching the coverage. I actually dragged my bed into the living room and slept with the television on. When all friends and acquaintances were finally located safe and sound, I was able to relax a little. But then the survivor’s guilt set in. And then the military set in. Washington turned into one of those foreign cities you only see on the news.

Concrete barriers were set up all over town, roads blocked off, police and armed military were camped out everywhere. There was a guy in green army fatigues and a M16 in front of my grocery store for two weeks. The Capitol was in lock down. FBI, CIA, Capitol police, District of Columbia police and armed military guards were everywhere. The once ubiquitous, but seldom necessary ID tags now became mandatory to go anywhere.

Another thing that got under the skin of Washingtonians, although we never said anything was the second-class status. Part of that was the fact that the Pentagon officials wouldn’t let us wallow in self-pity or mourn over a hole in the physical embodiment of U.S. Defense and Security. They had a “there is no crying in baseball” (so to speak) attitude from the time it became clear everyone was accounted for and they were not going to waste any energy available to rebuilding. Partly, it was the fact that the Pentagon had fulfilled its ultimate purpose: protecting the Capitol and White House from attack, by literally taking a bullet in the chest for those they protect. Partly it was our 200 deaths as opposed to the 2000 in New York. Whatever the reason, Washingtonians refused to admit they were rattled and just picked up and moved on.

Then a month later…Anthrax! The building which was “hit” was the Hart Senate Building. It’s connected by hallways and air ducts to the Dirksen Senate Building. For two weeks after the anthrax attacks, all Senate hearings slated for the Hart building were rerouted to the Dirksen. This didn’t really make any of us feel better. Hallways suddenly turned into dead ends in mazes as you would be faced with plywood with orange spray paint and plastic wrap. It just didn’t make you feel as secure as say, the concrete barriers outside and we all wondered how exactly plastic and plywood were going to keep the anthrax out. I started getting sympathetic symptoms…rashes, hives, headaches, sleeplessness.

I took up kickboxing to release stress. It helped to go to that little aerobics room twice a week in the suburbs and beat the crap out of the imaginary, faceless, nameless guy terrorizing me, and my friends. They still haven’t found the person who sent the letters.

I moved back home to Chicago in August of 2002, but in December the snipers struck. And they struck two blocks from my former home. I spent every night by the phone waiting for news praying desperately that no one I knew and loved would be the next victim. One friend said it succinctly when she told me one night on the phone, “the worst part is that we would all love to meet at someone’s home or at church to pray and support each other, but it’s just too dangerous.”

I didn’t sleep for another two weeks. My friend Lisa (also an HJ writer) went home to Atlanta that Christmas and a fire alarm went off accidentally in the airport. She told me it was her first sign that maybe she’d been a tad stressed out for the past year. Everyone else was calmly walking toward the exits and she was going into a panic meltdown wanting to scream bloody murder at everyone for being so calm. I told her I felt the same way. I would hear people here in the safe, Midwest suburbs talking about 9/11 and New York and how hard it was and how their lives had changed and I wanted to smack them and yell that they had no clue! No clue! It was my first sign that I was a tad stressed.

Okay, so you’re thinking, Whoa Lady! “World Trade Center” is only about 9/11! Chill out. Yes and no. The movie is only about that one day and days following and I assume only about New York. But to many of us, those three events have all melded into one long nightmare that is no longer separable. And, while I no longer live there, every time I visit or see Washington on CNN I think about how different life is now, how much things have changed and how much we’ve lost. I still get stressed out in airports, one of my favorite places on earth as a child. I still get passive-aggressive with the TSA people because I know I’ll never get five minutes alone in a dark alley with someone responsible for any or all of this so I can beat the bloody snot out of them. (I’m really not a violent person, I swear.)

So, no…I won’t be in the theaters this weekend for “World Trade Center.” I’m still trying to get the original to fade from my memory and my soul. Although that flick about the Philly Eagles looks like a good choice….

CLICK GOES LIVE!

My book is FINALLY live!!! After four years, yes FOUR years of blood sweat and tears (okay, not blood, but you get the idea...) My first baby is finally here, hopefully if I ever have human children they'll show up faster and easier. Here's a free preview of the book. The book is now available at:http://www.authorhouse.com/BookStore/BookHome.aspx
Soon to follow it will be available on Amazon.com; Barnes&Noble.com; Borders.com and Target.com within 30 days.

CLICK

Carrie Ann Alford
(Paperback $ 11.99)

I. I was sitting at the bar. I swirled the thin stem of my martini glass between my fingers, finishing off my third martini in an hour. The murmur of a hundred conversations in a dozen languages swirled around my ears like the current of a river. I set down the glass, and waving off the bartender, half-hopped, half-fell off the barstool.
I started to walk across the lobby to the door, trying to walk more or less in a straight line. I stopped in front of the full–length mirror. I tugged at my white satin corset top and buttoned my black satin jacket. Ugh, I’ve gained weight. My heels clack on the floor like horse hooves… My blue eyes peered back at me critically from the mirror. I tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. The rest of my long, black hair was up in a bun. I leaned in close to check for hateful gray hairs. My attention turned from my reflection back to the lobby. I peered through the mirror at everyone mulling around. The lobby was thick with people in tuxedos and black gowns waiting for the American and Syrian motorcades to arrive so the partying could officially begin. It was an oasis of European culture in the midst of a burned-out Middle East.
The newly christened and baptized–by–fire Secretary of State was in Damascus asserting a new administration’s already thread–bare promises to the region. Everyone else was there to forget their dusty lives for one night. Usually, I thrived in these situations. I could mingle, ask questions and laugh with the politicians and glitt

Vanity Fair...

Until Vanity Fair magazine comes calling with a request to put me in their "My Stuff" feature...

I love magazines. I love how you can read an article in the time it takes to work out or commute on the train or wait in the doctor's office. My favorite magazines are: Vanity Fair, Vogue, Southern Living, Sports Illustrated, Biblical Archaeology Review, Chicago, NorthShore, Newsweek and Utne.

Favorite Things...
Coffee - Seattle's Best Coffee, Javanilla
Coffeemaker - Braun's French Press
Coke or Pepsi? - Diet Pepsi
Fast Food - Portillo's (a Chicago chain) and I am now addicted to Southwest Taco Salads from Wendy's
Ice Cream - Chocolate
Vodka - Grey Goose Le Vanilla

Lipstick - Neutragena "Nutmeg"
Make-up - Neutragena
Perfume - Channel 5
Nail polish - Anything Red
Hair care - Pantene Hydrating Curls & John Frieda Brillliant Brunette
Skin Care - Ahava, from the Dead Sea in Israel

Personal style - Preppie
Fave Designers - Ralph Lauren, Cynthia Rowley, Donna Karan & Chloe Dao (Project Runway Season #2 winner)
Shoes - Enzo Angiolini, Jimmy Choo
Jewelry - Yes please! Diamonds, pearls, gold, silver, unique pieces and big earrings (child of the 80s!)
Fave Color - Emerald Green
Fave Colors to Wear - Pink & Black
Decorating Style - I love antiques, soft, plush fabrics, a little plaid or stripe with a creamy solid earthtone, dark woods.

Travel...
I love travel. I've been to Paris, Debrovnik in Bosnia, Croatia, Austria, Italy and Israel, all over the U.S. and to Ontario in Canada, where my mother was born.
I love to travel and hope to visit Cancun, Tuscany, Argentina (mmm, beef) Germany, Iceland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Belgium, Tahiti, Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand and other places to be determined...

Fantasy Writing Assignments...
I would love to write freelance articles for Vanity Fair and Vogue
Chicago Tribune
Anything that would let me work with John Grisham
Turning my next book into a television show a la Sex & The City (like Candace Bushnell)

Current Writers I admire:
John Grisham
Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones' Diary)
Meg Cabot (Princess Diaries)
Plum Sykes
okay, it's not a long list...I actually don't read that much fiction...

Current Projects:
- Book Reviewer on www.hollywoodjesus.com
Mostly political non-fiction and humor, some novels as well

- CLICK
1st novel (yipee!) to be available on www.authorhouse.com in approx. 2 weeks
available on amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, borders.com, etc. about a month after that.
Stay tuned for free preview to be placed on my blog...

- Conquering Washington
2nd novel, hopefully published in Jan. 2007...of course I haven't finished writing it yet and it's almost fall...yikes!

- Non-fiction project
I am currently in negotiations to work on a non-fiction coffee table book on a botanical garden...more details to come

I do try and get a quarterly newsletter out to my Smithe clients on current projects, new trends in home fashions and new things going on with our vendors...of course I've been busy and haven't mailed one out this summer. oops.