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So, a lot has happened in the last couple of years in my life.  Not really important (though I will likely blog about some of it later).  Meanwhile, I'm now in the midst of packing and moving as my living and ministry situations are both about to change.  From Redwood City, CA, I'm moving back to San Francisco and my darling sisters at St. Rose Convent.  I say darling because I've missed them tremendously in my two year (voluntary) exile.  I'll let you know how that darling holds up after months back in and the shine begins to mellow as it does when one lives with other human beings.

I'm also changing ministry.  In the fall, I will be joining the campus ministry team at Dominican University of California.  I've thought for years that college campus ministry might be a good fit for me and my talents and skill set.  So, this move will put that to the test.  And I'm eager to take that exam.

Since my studies in sociolinguistics back in the ASU days, I've been enamored of words.  Actually, was enamored of them long before those days. . . which is of course what lead me to study linguistics in the first place.  But, I digress. . . (again). . . I really enjoy the blog Language Log in which linguists analyze, explore and otherwise share the science of language and the use thereof by humans.  Today's entry was particularly interesting (to me) because I'm packing and sorting, and tossing and generally going mad, it seemed appropriate to share:

to say *heading distinctly dagenham is heading distinctly away from being grammatical in Standard English, though it's close that you can follow the drift if you pick up on the fact that Dagenham is three stops beyond Barking and thus dagenham means three steps round the twist or, in other words, cuckoo, crazy, insane, loopy, mad, deranged, nuts, loony, bonkers, gaga, out of one's gourd, out to lunch, off one's trolley, round the bend… (British English has so many words for mental illness and defectiveness that if lexical profusion were a sign of cultural importance you would think Britain was a nation of psychiatrists rather than shopkeepers.)

I am, as ever, Dagenhamingly yours,
Vertical-me

Sister Christer

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because i love that mason-dixon knitting

Reality continues to do its tedious dance, only occasionally colorful, and hardly ever at the right time.

Jon Carroll

— betcha thought I was gone for good.  no such luck.

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