and we're back!

After a month of living like Luddites we're finally wired again, thank you Gord. (How he did it is another post involving homemade satellite dishes, seriously!) But for now, on to the important stuff.

A couple of weeks ago I went to Winnipeg to hang out with my entire family for a couple of days. I wish we could have been there for a couple of weeks. We had such a great time. I was having focusing issues with my camera while we were there so there are few pictures and the ones I have are not as good but hey when the subject matter is a cute as this little girl even a bad picture turns out ok :)

I love the photo of Corrina above because it looks so much like her. She has quickly learned pointing as an effective communication strategy and she uses it a lot. In this case, I think she wanted my camera...

Rachel & Mark flew in late Saturday night, a little later than anticipated because of a missed connection in Denver. Everyone seems to have trouble flying in and out of Denver. I think it's where Dave & Janie got stuck flying down to Arizona a couple of years ago. Note to self...

It was great to see them and spend some time together. They have safely arrived in Australia now. I can't wait to go and see them there. I'm still trying to figure out the details, but I'll get there.

It only took Corrina about 3 seconds to warm up to everyone this time around. She was very excited to show her Uncle Mark how comfortable she is on a Mac. Daddy's little girl for sure. It's crazy to think that I was in grade 9 when we got our first computer at home and here she is, not even two and she's figured out the mouse. Wild world.

On Sunday Dave had the brilliant idea to have an 'All Holidays' meal to make up for missing Christmas, Easter & Thanksgiving together. Mom & Janie made a full turkey dinner and the guys were responsible for decorating.

We had Fall leaves, little, white Christmas lights, jack-o-laterns, Easter eggs, a Happy Birthday banner. We even had Christmas music. What a hoot.













Corrina really enjoyed the New Year's noise makers. I had to pause for a minute and reread that sentence. It is an amazing thing, just months after her implant surgery to be able to write that. "Corrina really enjoyed the noise makers". What a profoundly beautiful thing to be able to write.










On Monday the guys went go cart racing and the girls headed over to BrushFire to decorate pots.
Turns out, we're quite a creative bunch! Janie picked the venue and it was perfect. Relaxed, colourful, warm and inviting it was just the place to let the creative juices flow. It's been a long time since I spent an entire afternoon with a paint brush in my hand. We should definitely do this again. I can't wait to see how the pots turned out but it almost doesn't matter.

The time in between was spent talking, laughing, playing board games (I was SO CLOSE to winning Pirates) and marveling over Corrina's progress. I found when I first got there that I had imagined in my head a hearing child. And that is not what Corrina is. But she is making remarkable progress. Right now she is a listening child and that is a huge improvement and the result of a lot of hard work on her part, her parent's part and all of the doctors and therapists.

One thing that really stood out to me on this trip is that Corrina is a joy-bringer. She makes people smile. Sunday morning we went to Dave & Janie's church a beautiful old, stone Anglican church complete with pipe organ. Early on in the service we were invited to greet the people around us with the traditional "Peace of Christ" greeting. Everyone got up to do so and Corrina, in her fashion beamed and waved at everyone. There was a lady in a wheelchair sitting in the row behind us, two rows behind Corrina, and Corrina leaned all the way over, nearly falling off her Daddy's shoulder to smile and wave at her. The Peace of Christ indeed, passed from a little deaf girl who can't speak to an old lady who couldn't stand to reach her. This photo is a little out of focus, I know, but it is an important shot for me because this is what Corrina does when she hears something new -- she points to her ear. It is evidence of what is going on inside her brain as she learns what sound is and how to use it. I love the focus on her face in this picture, how engaged she is in what is going on around her.This one is just a gratuitous Auntie picture :) We have a set of frames up by the door in our new place that is going to be filled with Aunties and Nieces. I don't know if this one will go in there, but it can go here for sure.
Just because....
Possible future flute player? Or is that just Auntie's wishful thinking? She would be the third flautist in the family...What a great way to spend a few days. I can't wait to do it again.

before death parts us

Ann Packer is all over the New York Times these days for her new novel, Songs Without Words. But in reading about the new book I came across a review of her first novel The Dive from Clausen's Pier and I knew that it had to be next on my reading list.

The Dive asks one ambitious question, "How much do we owe the people we love?" One perfect summer afternoon Carrie Bell's fiance dives from Clausen's pier and breaks his neck. She knows that if they were married there would be no question, she would stand with him (in a manner of speaking). But they have not taken their vows yet and much to her surprise Carrie finds that there is a question. Will she stay or will she go? Which is the crueler choice -- to walk away from this man, a new quadriplegic or to stay and get married to someone she has long suspected she no longer loves?

Packer asks no easy questions and blissfully offers no easy answers either. Carrie finds herself torn. Her confidence in who she thought she was lies as broken and ruined as Mike's body. She finds that there is no aid to help maneuver a broken soul. Some things are so quickly stripped away and others, she finds, cannot be reduced or lessened. They simply are. As one character notes, "you cannot take away the chair-ness of it." It is what it is.

Carrie is left to navigate a new world wondering, "whether there is a single me I could be in the presence of them both?" Are we who we think we are? Are what we we do, or what we did? In times of crisis can we become someone new or do we simply reveal who we always were?

Here at the end of the novel I'm still not sure if Carrie made the right choice. Would I have acted differently? I don't know. But this is a story masterfully told. Brilliantly paced and skillfully shaded I am left to ponder, satisfied but not yet settled.

good news and bad news

Good news:
My house has books in it again. It's starting to look like I live in it.
I had an amazing time with my family in Winnipeg.
My new commute to work is slightly shorter than the old one.

Bad news:
Still no computer at home. I'm starting to get the shakes.
Canceling the old Shaw account resulted in deleting the header graphic from my blog. Argh.
Can't post pics of trip to Winnipeg unless I haul my gear to the office and stay late to post.

Back to good news:
I am reading an amazing book and if I ask nicely, just might be able to borrow a computer to blog about it.
I still have 45 minutes of lunch time left. Time to eat.

i'm still standing

We survived the move, hurrah! Alas the computer has still not returned from its 'the good news is that's covered, the bad news is you have to send it away' warranty odyssey. Argh and argh. I hope it doesn't get lost on its way home.

The new place is great, the neighbours are stellar (hi Wall family!) and I have a plane ticket for Saturday. Not too shabby. Mom & Dad should be almost there by now, Mark has flown in from Australia and he and Rach arrive either just before or just after I do. Five whole days of Corrina cuteness are just around the corner. All in all it's only Tuesday and the week is shaping up nicely.

Now if I could just convince the boxes to unpack themselves. . . I'm sure most of the books remember where they're supposed to be. I've tried Wingardium Leviosa but it doesn't seem to work for me. (Even if I follow Hermione's admonision that it's levio-sa, not levi-oh-sa.) Ah well, it will be good to spend a little time and do it properly. Hello my old friends. Safe travels?

taking my toys away

If it weren't enough that ALL of the books in my house are in boxes (I'm pretty sure I can hear them whimpering, but maybe it's just me) it looks like we're going to be without internet access at home for the next while as well. The laptop is going for a service + new battery while it's still under warranty. I will be going a little crazy in the corner. I supposed this is one way to get to me to focus on the packing that must be done. Thank goodness for lunch break access from work, but I'm guessing that posts will be thin on the ground until we get this little baby back. See you in the new diggs.

three cheers for ModCloth.com!

If you're looking to add a little interest to your wardrobe, I highly recommend ModCloth.com . ModCloth.com specializes in one - of - a- kind, vintage, indie and retro items. I recently made my first purchase (can you guess what it was?) and was blown away by their service.

A little over a week ago I saw their ad on cuteoverload.com for this incredible silver tree pendant. I loved it, but I knew I'd be moving in a couple of weeks. I wondered if I placed an order, would arrive in time? I fired off an email to ModCloth to see if they could give me a ball park figure. I hit send and went to lunch. When I got back from lunch there was a response telling me that their FedEx International was guaranteed to deliver in 6-10 days. Impressive. Needless to say I quickly placed an order.

Today, right on schedule, my necklace was delivered. When it arrived it was exactly as pictured, carefully wrapped in blue tissue paper and accompanied by a $5 gift certificate towards a future purchase. I am a very happy customer. If you're looking for something different be it one of a kind accessories, vintage shoes, dresses or original wall art head over to ModCloth.com. I promise you won't be disappointed.

dream a little dream of me

Some dreams are so strange you have to share them. Last night I had just such a dream.

The strangest part of last night's dream is that I was in it twice. I was there, experiencing the action and then there was another me, the omniscient observer. As the dreamer of the dream, the real me (at least I'm pretty sure it was the real me) could hear the thoughts of both participant me and observer me and, here's where it gets really strange, I was not agreeing with myself.

The dream took place in a tattoo parlor. I had just received my first tattoo. The dream started just as the artist was wiping down the finished tattoo and saying, "There you're done. Do you want to see it?" Participant me went over to the mirror, took a look and was thrilled with the result. I couldn't stop looking at it and saying things like "it's so beautiful! I love it!" The artist was there beside me equally thrilled with his work. "It turned out so well" he said. "You've got an amazing piece of art."

And while the party over by the mirror celebrated, observer me was less enthusiastic. "I got it on my left calf?" I asked. "I would never get a tattoo on my calf, left or right. And it's so big, look it goes almost all the way to my knee and wraps around the sides." Observing me was not impressed with myself. Participant me then turned so that the tattoo was visible to the other me and we got quite a shock.

What the first me and the artist had been gushing over was the worst tattoo I have ever seen. Inexplicably it featured a life-size tube of toothpaste, a few playing cards and a hand written list done in the artist's own hand writing. I think it was a list of song titles. The other two continued to marvel at the brilliance of this piece of ink while observing me went a little crazy in the corner. "I got that?!" I asked myself (although I don't think I could hear me). "What was I thinking?"

It was certainly an odd experience to watch myself celebrate and rail against a single thing at the same time. Three dimensional me really never would get a tattoo on my calf. I'd be much more likely to go with back of the shoulder. And I think it's safe to say that it wouldn't feature toothpaste, playing cards or song titles.

I checked my leg when I woke up, just to be sure.

Photo courtesy of Jawad Zakariya. Used with permission under Creative Commons 2.0 license.

a little moving gift

Moving day is getting closer. It's starting to show itself in the growing piles of boxes stacked around the house and in the shadows and spaces where things are missing. Yesterday I decided to get myself a little moving present.

I find comfort in symbol and ritual. I can understand why people build cairns and get tattoos. I came across a quote a while ago that says, "Put something where you can see it so your mind will remind your heart." That really resonated with me. There are going to be times when your heart can't see past your emotions, but if there's something you can look at it can remind the logic in your head of what you already know is true.

To that end, I got this figurine. It's the "Happiness" statue from the Willow Tree collection. What struck me about it is that her hands are open -- she's not holding on to anything. She has been given this incredible moment, one that she would not have been able to experience if she had her arms crossed, or her hands clenched. Instead, she has opened her arms wide. She was ready to receive the gift because her arms weren't already full of other things.

I imagine that you'd have to stand pretty still for birds to land on you. I can picture the moment that must have preceded the sculpture -- a girl, hands empty, arms open wide waiting with her face turned to Heaven. Did she have any idea that something wonderful was about to happen? Did she even see the birds as they were arriving? Was the gift already hers before she guessed it was coming? Was she just basking in joy of sun on her face when this new wonder appeared?

For me, there's a lot to let go of in the next few weeks. There are things that I have to put down. In the midst of the fear of empty arms, this little figurine is a wonderful reminder that empty arms aren't barren or forgotten; they are ready and expectant.

Oregon Christian Writer's Conference

Back in January I was invited to come and give a workshop at the Oregon Christian Writer's Conference. With much fear and trepidation, I accepted. The conference was this past week and while I'm still tired, it was an amazing experience.

Arguably the most encouraging thing that happened was walking back into my room that first day and finding these flowers waiting for me. My parents knew how nervous I was about speaking and so they sent these to cheer me up. It worked! As I told them on the phone, I didn't know you could send a hug FTD. Once the lilies opened they made the room smell lovely and every time I saw them I was reminded of all of the support I had behind me.

As for the conference, I don't think I've ever been in a group quite as open and welcoming as this one. There were all levels of writers in attendance from newbies to those with 20+ published works. It didn't seem to matter if this was your 15th year at the conference or your first, everyone was interested in what the other had to say and more than willing to share their expertise.

I met some incredible people all of whom had stories that need to be told. Between us I think Gail and I have a list of two dozen authors whose work we want to use. The days and nights were full and by the end of the week so was my head! There were so many ideas, so much to learn...so many stories floating through the air. I had a writing teacher at Trinity who used to say "Scientists will tell you that the world is made up of atoms, but they're wrong. The world is made up of stories." That's certainly what it felt like last week in Canby Grove.

It felt a little strange to be one of the "experts" when so many of the attendees had been to a million writer's conferences and this was my first one. The workshop went pretty well. It was short -- who knew 6 pages of notes wouldn't get you through 45 minutes? -- but it was the last one at the end of a full week so I don't think people minded. They all asked a lot of questions so I think it went OK.

It's been a wild summer. First the conference with my first ever workshop and now I need to focus on packing up and getting ready to move. Hard to believe that there are just a few weeks left. I feel very close to the surface of myself these days. It's like the protective layers have been stripped away and I'm just right there. Exposed? Accessible? Maybe we have to lose our shells to be flexible enough for what comes next.

ps. If you ever want to feel like a movie star, walk through a major airport with an armful of lilies. I have never had so many strangers come up and start talking to me. It was better than a puppy. And can you believe it? The customs guy in Vancouver actually let me keep them :)

western conference

This will be the view tomorrow morning -- well, this or something like it. I'm heading out on my second business trip ever to attend the Oregon Christian Writer's Conference. They've got a great line-up of coaching classes and workshops (although there's one Wednesday afternoon that might be dodgy, it's mine!).

I don't know if I'll be able to post from the conference itself, but if not I'll do so when I get back.

Photo courtesy of Jeff Booth. Used with permission under Creative Commons.

if you need me, I'll be at Hogwarts

it always rains on moving day

It rained and rained and rained and rained today. Not great weather for walking in but it sounded wonderful. I kept the windows open all day. After work I snapped this guy making his the arduous trek across the driveway. I'm sure somewhere the kids are asking "are we there yet?"

transformation

First of all, if you haven't seen the new Transformers movie, go and see it. This was the most fun I've had at the movies in a long time. Not since Mr. & Mrs. Smith have I so thoroughly enjoyed a flick. It had everything -- a cheesy love story complete with a throwback 80s soundtrack, decent suspense, interesting camera work and he-llo ROBOTS! A good time was had by all [ even if the crowd we saw it with weren't quite smart enough to catch that early "I knew there was more to you, more than meets the eye" reference. Philistines. That's what you get for catching a movie at Metrotown -- the mall crowd. Yikes. ]

Earlier in the day I had indulged in a little transformation of my own by way of a long overdue cut & colour. On the way back from the salon we stopped by the Benefit Cosmetics counter at the Bay to see what was new. While getting made-up I inadvertently managed to shock the Benefit girl. "This is our new eye cream blah blah....Which eye cream are you using now?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't" I replied.
And she stopped, literally brush in midair. "You don't use eye cream?" she asked, using the same tone of voice I'm sure she would use if I just told her I didn't believe in brushing my teeth.
"Nope"
"Why? Don't you know that the skin around your eyes is the second most delicate on your body? Don't you know that it ages at twice the rate of the rest of your face? You really don't use eye cream?"

No I didn't know. (And to be honest at this point I was much more interested in which type of skin edged out the eyes for the win. But this didn't seem to be the time to ask.) I didn't know. She was shocked. And yet, amazingly I have survived 31 years without this knowledge. Earth shattering indeed.

I was a little intrigued and so a few days later I stopped by Wal-Mart and checked out the selection of creams. Did you know that there is an entire aisle in Wal-Mart that is all creams & lotions that do fundamentally the same thing - moisturize? If you believe the hype you need a totally different product for every nook and cranny of the female form, plus another if you don't want to age and two really because your supposed to moisturize day & night and there's a difference. Unbelievable. And we're buying it, literally, by the millions.

It reminded me of that part in Genesis where Adam and Eve are hiding and God asks, "Who told you that you were naked?" I think implied in that is the additional question "who told you that it was shameful?" Who told us that we absolutely cannot age, that wrinkles are the enemy? Who told us that we need to use eye cream and night cream? Who told us to scrutinize ourselves with magnifying mirrors and to try to scrub the memories off of our faces? Why is it a bad thing to resemble your Mom?

There is a line in Romeo and Juliet where Juliet is admonished "God gave you one face and yet you paint for yourself another." And I have to admit that I do think of that as I add a little colour in the morning in one place and try to take a little colour away somewhere else. I don't think that make-up is evil or that trying to look your best is wrong but why so much pressure? Why has the whole thing been so intentionally complicated. And why, why did I walk out of Wal-Mart with just a little tub of eye cream?

Oh. Maybe that's why.

cupcake anyone?

When did cupcakes become so trendy? Sure I've been to Cupcakes on Denman Street, a delightful little bakery. But I was disappointed to find that the are cakes high on looks, short on taste. Recently I read an article about the LA version, Sprinkles, with their extensive list of flavours and mod decorations. There was even a list of stars who just can't live without them. [Right, cause I believe Katie Holmes has eaten refined sugar in the last five years.]

It all hit a little closer to home on the weekend when I walked into my neighbourhood Safeway and saw this on sale:Designer cupcakes, six varieties. The box with a decidedly Martha feel bore no resemblence to anything else the store sold. When they tied a ribbon on the box before handing it over, for a minute I thought I was shopping in Whole Foods. I have to admit I was delighted, charmed even. I rushed home, put on a decent cup of tea and prepared for a treat. It was not meant to be.

The first problem was a practical one. With an almost equal icing to cupcake ratio this dainty delight was impossible to fit in my mouth. You couldn't take a bite. For a moment I wondered if they were marketing this as the ultimate diet dessert -- the uneatable cupcake. I found a fork and dug in and hit problem number two. It didn't taste very good. The icing had a bit of a chemical taste to it. I'm sure the cake had good intentions of being chocolate, but really it just tasted brown.

Call me crazy, but aren't cupcakes actually supposed to taste good? Great even? Isn't that the whole point? I'm no professional, and I don't own a trendy bakery in LA or Vancouver, but in honor of Canada Day last week, Kendra, Coli and I went freestye on these little beauties:And while they may lack the polished perfection of their more delicately dressed contemporaries our cupcakes tasted FANTASTIC.

If I do say so myself.

So what's the deal with beautiful, but tasteless cupcakes? Must even the humble cupcake lose all substance the moment the cool kids want in?

can't we just be friends?

These guys remind me of Moxy Fruvous (any other Moxy fans? you know you're out there) and a little of old school BNL. DO they speak the truth about the future of friends (not to be confused with Friends), Facebook and the internet? Who cares, it's a very entertaining vid. And I'm so not hooked. . . .much.

play part 2 (but it's really part one)

When I was getting yesterday's post "play" ready I was sure I had already started putting some thoughts together but I couldn't find them. Today, after already posting the other post I did. Reading them over, I think I like this version of the post better but the other was already posted. So here, mostly just for myself, is the second edition of "play" which is really part 1 but...well you get the idea.

Keri Smith, a professional illustrator originally from Toronto, believes that each and every one of us has art inside. We have creativity and beauty and passion but so often it gets all tangled up and stuck inside of us. We’re afraid to let it out because it’s messy. We can’t draw a perfect tree so we stop trying to draw trees altogether. We believe the lie that “it’s not very good” or “it’s not supposed to look like that”.

Keri’s book is all about creating. Each page has a suggestion to take action. Rip this page up and paste it back in! Set this page on fire! Scribble madly. It’s not about creating fine art, it’s about creating and the great surprise is that some of these messes and mistakes turn out to be quite beautiful.

We all need a little pixie dust before we can fly. Keri provides that spark of inspiration to put pen or paint or mud to paper. I have to go now. Time to play.

play

I bought myself a present the other day -- Keri Smith's latest book Wreck This Journal. If you're not familiar with Keri's work, I highly recommend her blog, The Wish Jar Journal (and in particular her list of How to be Miserable as an Artist). Keri makes her living as an illustrator but has put out two books now that are all about getting other people to get their art on. Wreck this Journal is the new one.

The whole idea behind Wreck is that everyone has art inside them but it gets all tangled up in our idea of what art is "supposed" to look like. Forget art, this book dares, just create. The pages are mostly blank and filled with ideas on how to wreck the journal. Don't be afraid to hurt the book she warns. Don't be afraid of making mistakes, you can't make a mistake. Simply create.

The pages suggest things like "cover this page in circles", "save your fruit stickers", "drip your coffee" and even "tie a string to the journal and drag it through the mud". Make a mark, any mark, she entreats and you just might find the beginning of a piece of art.

It may sound like no end of silliness, and I assure you that it is. But take a look at the gallery of what people have been doing over at Flickr and tell me that's not art. It's incredible stuff. Before I got the book, I tried a couple of ideas and got these unexpected little art-lings:
This came from the suggestion "cut the page into little strips and roll them into balls". Such a simple beginning, and a simple result, but an interesting one. Keri makes the bold assumption that art is fundamentally simple and essentially accessible to all and I love that.

A couple of days ago I told a co-worker we were planning a brainstorming session and that everyone was invited. "Even the uncreative ones?" she asked. And it took me aback a little. I don't think there's such a thing as an uncreative person. It's not logical. God is incredibly creative and we're made in His image.

Creativity isn't necessarily the creation of art; creativity is simply looking at one thing and imaging another way it could be. Creativity takes many forms, some of which are easier to recognize than others, but they are all creative.

There is art and beauty inside each of us. Sometimes we just need a little help getting it out.

We all need a little pixie dust before we can fly.

world refugee day

Imagine being told that you couldn't go home. Where would you sleep if all your friends and family were in the same situation and the hospitals and shelters, even the hotels were no safer?

Today is World Refugee Day and according to the UNHCR, almost 10 million people have had to answer this question. They are refugees of war, famine and disease. Tonight they will sleep in camps, in tents of plastic tarp and string. Some of them will sleep in ditches on the run. I'd be willing to bet that many of them have a hard time sleeping at all.

Take a minute and think about where you'll lay your head tonight. If you're like me it will probably be somewhere soft and warm, somewhere dry and clean and dark and quiet. It probably even smells good. There's room to stretch out and if you're really lucky, someone to stretch out beside. Above all of this, it will be somewhere safe, inviolate.

World Refugee Day isn't supposed to be a big downer but it is a day to take a wider look at the world. It's a day to think about the millions of people who have an almost inconcevable definition of "very little". Is it a day to be aware of what we have and be intentionally thankful for our own abundance. It's a day to look and see if there is just one little thing you can do, I can do, to ease the situation.

I heard a representative from an aid organization speak last week. Someone asked him what it's like to see suffering over and over again. He said that it leaves you with two choices: harden your heart to it or allow your heart to be broken. Maybe the one little thing we can do today is to allow our hearts to be broken. We can think about all of these people and acknowledge that this planet is their inheritance as much it is mine. We can refuse to let them be the forgotten.

For more information see the UN High Commisioner for Refugees.
For practical ways to help GAiN, Samaritan's Purse

zen and the art of lawn maintenance

Ahh. Finally.

The last two weekends have been soggy and wet leaving me with a front lawn that looks about ready for harvesting. It's been driving me crazy, but you just can't mow a wet lawn. I checked the lawn Sunday, it was still wet but after a full 24 hours of sun on Monday things were all set.

So.
Much.
Better.

Now I can relax and revel in having a lawn. (Even if I do suspect the moss is outnumbering the grass two to one. Shhh. We won't talk about that.)

Just enjoy the moment.

'wallflower' left me standing on the sidelines

On a recent trip back east I got to spend some time in The Book Keeper, one of my all-time favorite bookstores. Many moons ago I had an English teacher who was always reading something from the New York Times' list. The Book Keeper kept a table at the front of the store stocked with books from that week's list. They, along with that English teacher, started me on a habit that continues to this day. I don't choose all my books from the list, but for the most part on any given day I've read at least something that's currently on the list.

The Bookkeeper also keeps a well-stocked "We recommend" shelf and that's where I found Stephen Chbosky's novel The Perks of Being a Wallflower. According to Wikipedia, Perks is in its twentieth printing so admittedly I've come to the party late. But now that I'm here I'm not convinced I want to stay.

Perks is all about being in high school. Chbosky has captured the utter confusion of the experience perfectly -- which makes for admirable art but somewhat uncomfortable reading. I found myself remembering, "o yes, I felt that way too" and then realizing that I was quite happy to have forgotten the feeling.

Towards the end of the book the main character, Charlie, asks, "Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense." Isn't that exactly the heart-cry of so many high schoolers? The perk of being a wallflower seems to be Charlie's willingness to accept his different-ness without question. It is simply a fact about him as indisputable as his height or the color of his hair. Throughout the book people keep telling him to participate, but they miss that Charlie is participating, he's just doing so differently. He sees everything -- what is really going on and who is and is not who they claim to be.

Action is always so highly valued but the advantage of being on the sidelines is that it gives you such a clear view of the room.