When I woke up this morning it was 4 outside, but with the wind chill it felt like -16. Neat. Now it's up to 8, but it feels like -4. So, you know, we're gaining ground.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Guess How Many Layers I'm Wearing
So...the Charles is mostly frozen over:
When I woke up this morning it was 4 outside, but with the wind chill it felt like -16. Neat. Now it's up to 8, but it feels like -4. So, you know, we're gaining ground.
When I woke up this morning it was 4 outside, but with the wind chill it felt like -16. Neat. Now it's up to 8, but it feels like -4. So, you know, we're gaining ground.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Sometimes Bono gets it Right
Sometimes it really is a beautiful day. And today was a beautiful, interesting day. So that new church I mentioned in my last post...I went to it today. Turns out it is a Spanish-speaking congregation.
Me: *looking at the stained glass and trying to figure out why the pews were oriented incorrectly*
Haley: Do you think this is going to be in Spanish?
Me: *shrug* Maybe...well, the hymnals are entirely in Spanish...so...probably...
Haley: *chuckles*
Lady 1 (Mary): Welcome! Do you speak Spanish?
Me: Not really.
Mary: We're going to have to find a translator...
Lady 2 (Anna): We'll try to find someone to translate for you. We also have a woman's group that meets every other Thursday at 7pm. You should come. It's a lot of fun, but you have to keep track of whose house it's meeting in.
So the service begins and it's 90% in Spanish. They tried valiantly to do it bilingually, and at one point Mary was translating the Powerpoint slides on the fly during the Psalm reading. During the responsive reading poor Jose got flustered and ended up reading from one chapter while the congregation was reading from another chapter (both in Spanish). We sing something about dancing like David (yo danzo, yo danzo, yo danzo como David) that sounds like Gloria Estefan. And then we sing Chris Tomlin. In Spanish.
Then Anna gets up and explains that this song is something they like to sing while they greet one another, and, "we are so glad to have visitors with us today, so please welcome Haley and....um...my brain isn't working..." and the lady next to her whispers into the microphone, "I think it's Megan." "...Megan?" she asks. So I respond from the back of the room, "No, it's Maggie, but that's okay." "Okay, well, this is the time when we either greet you or make you feel really awkward." At least she's honest about it. I can get behind honesty. And then I got 30 hugs from complete strangers.
The testimonial time was entirely in Spanish as was the message. And surprisingly enough, I understood almost all of it. My translation wasn't perfect, but I understood the high points. Like when the pastor whacked the microphone like it was the back of someone's head and said, "Yo soy tu padre, tengo (the word for plan)." As in, "Wake up you idiot and follow me--I'm your father and I have a plan for you."
We ended with another song, and then everyone greeted us and asked us to come back. Mary offered to pick us up since we lived about a 45 minute bus ride away. I thanked her for making accommodations for us (something that hadn't happened to me before) since it obviously wasn't planned, and she said, "Oh, we're supposed to be bilingual, but we've gotten lazy and just do it in Spanish," which made me feel less bad about it. Mary also said, "You should come back--it'd be nice to have some more gringos." How do you respond to that?
I told Mom about it tonight and when I told her about us figuring out it was going to be in Spanish she said, "Did you stay?" "Of course we stayed. They were making special accommodations for us--how could we leave?" And I'm so glad we stayed. It was such a blast!! The music was fun (as far as I'm concerned every church service should include a samba), the people were nice, the kids were hilarious during their "testimonials" (ever heard a 5 year old give a testimonial?), and the message was good.
It made me think about in Romans where Paul is talking about the spirit mourning for us when we can't find words deep enough for it on our own. While that is definitely true, sometimes the spirit also finds words of praise and worship for us when we can't find them on our own. It really was a beautiful thing. We're going to look around some more, but I do hope we go back.
Me: *looking at the stained glass and trying to figure out why the pews were oriented incorrectly*
Haley: Do you think this is going to be in Spanish?
Me: *shrug* Maybe...well, the hymnals are entirely in Spanish...so...probably...
Haley: *chuckles*
Lady 1 (Mary): Welcome! Do you speak Spanish?
Me: Not really.
Mary: We're going to have to find a translator...
Lady 2 (Anna): We'll try to find someone to translate for you. We also have a woman's group that meets every other Thursday at 7pm. You should come. It's a lot of fun, but you have to keep track of whose house it's meeting in.
So the service begins and it's 90% in Spanish. They tried valiantly to do it bilingually, and at one point Mary was translating the Powerpoint slides on the fly during the Psalm reading. During the responsive reading poor Jose got flustered and ended up reading from one chapter while the congregation was reading from another chapter (both in Spanish). We sing something about dancing like David (yo danzo, yo danzo, yo danzo como David) that sounds like Gloria Estefan. And then we sing Chris Tomlin. In Spanish.
Then Anna gets up and explains that this song is something they like to sing while they greet one another, and, "we are so glad to have visitors with us today, so please welcome Haley and....um...my brain isn't working..." and the lady next to her whispers into the microphone, "I think it's Megan." "...Megan?" she asks. So I respond from the back of the room, "No, it's Maggie, but that's okay." "Okay, well, this is the time when we either greet you or make you feel really awkward." At least she's honest about it. I can get behind honesty. And then I got 30 hugs from complete strangers.
The testimonial time was entirely in Spanish as was the message. And surprisingly enough, I understood almost all of it. My translation wasn't perfect, but I understood the high points. Like when the pastor whacked the microphone like it was the back of someone's head and said, "Yo soy tu padre, tengo (the word for plan)." As in, "Wake up you idiot and follow me--I'm your father and I have a plan for you."
We ended with another song, and then everyone greeted us and asked us to come back. Mary offered to pick us up since we lived about a 45 minute bus ride away. I thanked her for making accommodations for us (something that hadn't happened to me before) since it obviously wasn't planned, and she said, "Oh, we're supposed to be bilingual, but we've gotten lazy and just do it in Spanish," which made me feel less bad about it. Mary also said, "You should come back--it'd be nice to have some more gringos." How do you respond to that?
I told Mom about it tonight and when I told her about us figuring out it was going to be in Spanish she said, "Did you stay?" "Of course we stayed. They were making special accommodations for us--how could we leave?" And I'm so glad we stayed. It was such a blast!! The music was fun (as far as I'm concerned every church service should include a samba), the people were nice, the kids were hilarious during their "testimonials" (ever heard a 5 year old give a testimonial?), and the message was good.
It made me think about in Romans where Paul is talking about the spirit mourning for us when we can't find words deep enough for it on our own. While that is definitely true, sometimes the spirit also finds words of praise and worship for us when we can't find them on our own. It really was a beautiful thing. We're going to look around some more, but I do hope we go back.
Burn Out
So classes started again on Wednesday. Wednesday was a rough day for me for reasons that I can't entirely explain. I'm still a little upset from being at home at Christmas, I'm stressed about my RA application and trying to figure out where I'm going to live if that doesn't work out (which I won't find out about until March), and I think I'm trying to get sick (but only being awake for a total of five hours today has helped that significantly). And I just generally feel really, really stressed.
The theme of my Practices of Faith class for this semester (which meets on Wednesday for 4 hours...) is "Narratives of Loss and Possibility". Quite frankly, lately my life has felt more like the loss of possibility than anything else, so when we had to share a story of possibility/loss from our break I kind of had a melt down. Which is not something I enjoy. Especially in front of people who are basically strangers. But I just couldn't stop myself.
Ten minutes later we were having a discussion and someone brought up gun control (really? must you?) so of course we had to have this conversation:
Person A: It's ridiculous that in states where there are liberal representatives but a conservative
constituency that the representatives have to vote the way their constituency wants instead of
voting their conscience.
Me: But that's their job--to vote the way the constituency wants. That's what it means to in be a
representative government.
Person B: But I vote for the candidate who knows the most, trusting that they know more than I
do and can make better decisions than I could. (Sidebar: How can you tell which politician
knows the most? Please, do share.)
Me: That's not how I vote. If my representative doesn't actually have to represent me then my
vote doesn't count. Why would I even bother voting?
Person A: So you vote for the candidate that shares your political beliefs.
Me: Yes.
Persons A & B: *strange looks Maggie's direction* *cue total disbelief*
So.Many.Problems.With.That. So, from crying and blubbering to giving a civics lesson to being a circus sideshow in under a quarter of an hour... I feel like that should earn me some kind of medal. Or I need to be on one of those 5 Hour Energy commercials--what can YOU do in five hours.
Thursday started with the second half of Reading the World, focusing on modernity. This week's class title was "Locating Ourselves in the Diversifying Currents of Modernity". In small groups we were supposed to share with one another our narratives, exploring themes of modernity, and then share reoccurring themes with the class as a whole. The resulting class discussion was a lot of "options for social mobility", "individual freedoms", "rationality and reason", "geographic relocation from ancestral roots" kinds of things, but the overarching theme was moving from agrarian to urban settings, with agrarian playing the part of lesser/antiquated in contrast to the salvific nature of modernity.
And I sat in the back of the room trying desperately to control myself. I was actually shaking. My story is exactly the opposite of that, and I don't feel particularly antiquated. In fact, I think I do a pretty good job of embodying the above mentioned themes of modernity, as do my rural-dwelling relatives. I don't like rocking the boat [mostly because I have found that people here aren't interested in having their ideas challenged (if you already know everything would you please go home and let the rest of us get on with learning?) and won't enter into a meaningful, calm discussion; the resulting angry barrage is not worth it to me.], but after listening for a half hour to the virtues of modern urbanity as opposed to the backwardness of rural, agrarian life I just couldn't be quiet.
"I have a problem with the way we're characterizing agrarian life as antiquated. I was born in LA. My dad owned a plastering business. He chose to sell that business and buy a dairy farm in Missouri, where I was raised. If we're looking for themes of modernity, I suppose that demonstrates his social and geographic, as well as individual, freedom to live life as he chose." At this point one of the professors interrupts me and says, "But you chose to leave." "Yes, but I plan on going back. We're calling agrarian culture lesser, but we all eat. And if you think about it, corporate (modern) agriculture has its own share of huge problems. I clearly don't have all of the answers, and haven't thought this through to a full conclusion, but I'm not comfortable with the way we're vilifying agricultural society." I'm sure I wasn't quite that eloquent verbally, but that's what was going on in my head, and it's a reasonable facsimile of the exchange.
So in the discussion that ensued, one professor totally missed what I was saying, one professor had moderately helpful things to say, and the third one was completely with me and was able to more fully flesh out what I was saying. Yay! So, come to find out, the desire to return to tradition, appreciation of things prior to modernity and other such things are hallmarks of post-modernism. Way to be post-modern, Dad. You know, before the hipsters ruined it.
The point of all of this (I know what you're thinking, "There can't possibly be more--surely that WAS the point.") is that, what with all the dissenting opinion having and talking and stuff, I'm feeling a little burned out. I kind of feel like I have to bring a little of the real world to the East Coast. Not that they're clueless or backward or anything, but they really have no concept of what life looks like outside of their LL Bean clothed world. A couple of months ago I saw a sign at Trader Joe's that said, "You know your from Boston when you think of anything west of Philadelphia as The Midwest," which is funny but sadly true. And at times I very much feel like Jane Goodall, but I hope to get out before they turn on me.
But I find when I'm burned out I come across something, like this advent sermon, that makes me feel better and less alone:
"I mention all of this because right about now that sounds like good news, beccause I am tired of our story. I’m tired of rationality and political posturing and over consumption and a world in which the tyrants seem to still be on those thrones. I’m tired of my own self-righteous notion that I am not one of those same tyrants. I’m tired of shootings and culture wars and genetically modified food. I’m ready for God to show up with God’s impossible story. I’m ready for some magic. To be enchanted again.
But this week I started to wonder if I miss noticing God’s reality of the impossible and the unlikely because instead I’m focusing on the important.
Because I think we often miss that God is incarnating the impossible among the unlikely because we are busy with whatever seems important to us instead. And I wonder if this is the same way people missed it in first century Palestine. Perhaps they were so busy at their prayers, that no one noticed God walking among them because God was inside the womb of an insignificant peasant girl rushing to the hills to visit her kinswoman and that’s not the kind of thing you pay attention to when you have important things to do.
But this is how God moves through the world – like how Mary is making haste. She is quickly walking by us still. Hastily passing us disguised as our children asking us to play and in the street worn man on the corner whose eyes I am trying to avoid and in the woman who just made my coffee and Mary is walking briskly carrying the Christ within her in more impossible and unlikely ways than we can possibly take in. This is God’s story. And it is all around us. And the impossibility of it all is exactly what continues to enchant this world of ours in things we think are just ordinary.
We see the impossible all the time, you know, we just think that if we can come up with a suitable and rational explanation: scientifically, psychologically or sociologically then it’s not really something God is doing. But that is just the hubris of a modern age.
So I dare to say this as this is the only Christmas sermon I get to preach this year: you brothers and sisters, you are an unlikely people of the impossible. We see the impossible work of God all around us."
"To be enchanted again." What a thought. So. In a place where there is so much that is important going on, I'm going to do a better job of looking for God. It makes me a little sad that in seminary (and this one is the only one I can speak about) what is important and what God is doing aren't the same thing, but maybe that's something I can change in some small way. If not for anyone else, then for me.
On the upside, I've been absorbed into The Collective. Don't worry, it's not a communist plot. It's just a group that takes turns cooking dinner. I made vegetable pot pie for dinner last night which was good. And I've been having discussions outside of class with people who aren't crazy or unthinking, which is a nice change. And I got two really nice compliments related to my comment in RtW and two really nice unrelated compliments. And it's a three day weekend. And I'm going to a new UMC church tomorrow (which is a good and sad thing because I'm really going to miss mass). And we're going to the art museum on Monday. AND MY GLASSES CAME!! So there are good things too. If only I look for them in the midst of everything else.
Message received. Lesson learning in progress. Abundant grace appreciated.
The theme of my Practices of Faith class for this semester (which meets on Wednesday for 4 hours...) is "Narratives of Loss and Possibility". Quite frankly, lately my life has felt more like the loss of possibility than anything else, so when we had to share a story of possibility/loss from our break I kind of had a melt down. Which is not something I enjoy. Especially in front of people who are basically strangers. But I just couldn't stop myself.
Ten minutes later we were having a discussion and someone brought up gun control (really? must you?) so of course we had to have this conversation:
Person A: It's ridiculous that in states where there are liberal representatives but a conservative
constituency that the representatives have to vote the way their constituency wants instead of
voting their conscience.
Me: But that's their job--to vote the way the constituency wants. That's what it means to in be a
representative government.
Person B: But I vote for the candidate who knows the most, trusting that they know more than I
do and can make better decisions than I could. (Sidebar: How can you tell which politician
knows the most? Please, do share.)
Me: That's not how I vote. If my representative doesn't actually have to represent me then my
vote doesn't count. Why would I even bother voting?
Person A: So you vote for the candidate that shares your political beliefs.
Me: Yes.
Persons A & B: *strange looks Maggie's direction* *cue total disbelief*
So.Many.Problems.With.That. So, from crying and blubbering to giving a civics lesson to being a circus sideshow in under a quarter of an hour... I feel like that should earn me some kind of medal. Or I need to be on one of those 5 Hour Energy commercials--what can YOU do in five hours.
Thursday started with the second half of Reading the World, focusing on modernity. This week's class title was "Locating Ourselves in the Diversifying Currents of Modernity". In small groups we were supposed to share with one another our narratives, exploring themes of modernity, and then share reoccurring themes with the class as a whole. The resulting class discussion was a lot of "options for social mobility", "individual freedoms", "rationality and reason", "geographic relocation from ancestral roots" kinds of things, but the overarching theme was moving from agrarian to urban settings, with agrarian playing the part of lesser/antiquated in contrast to the salvific nature of modernity.
And I sat in the back of the room trying desperately to control myself. I was actually shaking. My story is exactly the opposite of that, and I don't feel particularly antiquated. In fact, I think I do a pretty good job of embodying the above mentioned themes of modernity, as do my rural-dwelling relatives. I don't like rocking the boat [mostly because I have found that people here aren't interested in having their ideas challenged (if you already know everything would you please go home and let the rest of us get on with learning?) and won't enter into a meaningful, calm discussion; the resulting angry barrage is not worth it to me.], but after listening for a half hour to the virtues of modern urbanity as opposed to the backwardness of rural, agrarian life I just couldn't be quiet.
"I have a problem with the way we're characterizing agrarian life as antiquated. I was born in LA. My dad owned a plastering business. He chose to sell that business and buy a dairy farm in Missouri, where I was raised. If we're looking for themes of modernity, I suppose that demonstrates his social and geographic, as well as individual, freedom to live life as he chose." At this point one of the professors interrupts me and says, "But you chose to leave." "Yes, but I plan on going back. We're calling agrarian culture lesser, but we all eat. And if you think about it, corporate (modern) agriculture has its own share of huge problems. I clearly don't have all of the answers, and haven't thought this through to a full conclusion, but I'm not comfortable with the way we're vilifying agricultural society." I'm sure I wasn't quite that eloquent verbally, but that's what was going on in my head, and it's a reasonable facsimile of the exchange.
So in the discussion that ensued, one professor totally missed what I was saying, one professor had moderately helpful things to say, and the third one was completely with me and was able to more fully flesh out what I was saying. Yay! So, come to find out, the desire to return to tradition, appreciation of things prior to modernity and other such things are hallmarks of post-modernism. Way to be post-modern, Dad. You know, before the hipsters ruined it.
The point of all of this (I know what you're thinking, "There can't possibly be more--surely that WAS the point.") is that, what with all the dissenting opinion having and talking and stuff, I'm feeling a little burned out. I kind of feel like I have to bring a little of the real world to the East Coast. Not that they're clueless or backward or anything, but they really have no concept of what life looks like outside of their LL Bean clothed world. A couple of months ago I saw a sign at Trader Joe's that said, "You know your from Boston when you think of anything west of Philadelphia as The Midwest," which is funny but sadly true. And at times I very much feel like Jane Goodall, but I hope to get out before they turn on me.
But I find when I'm burned out I come across something, like this advent sermon, that makes me feel better and less alone:
"I mention all of this because right about now that sounds like good news, beccause I am tired of our story. I’m tired of rationality and political posturing and over consumption and a world in which the tyrants seem to still be on those thrones. I’m tired of my own self-righteous notion that I am not one of those same tyrants. I’m tired of shootings and culture wars and genetically modified food. I’m ready for God to show up with God’s impossible story. I’m ready for some magic. To be enchanted again.
But this week I started to wonder if I miss noticing God’s reality of the impossible and the unlikely because instead I’m focusing on the important.
Because I think we often miss that God is incarnating the impossible among the unlikely because we are busy with whatever seems important to us instead. And I wonder if this is the same way people missed it in first century Palestine. Perhaps they were so busy at their prayers, that no one noticed God walking among them because God was inside the womb of an insignificant peasant girl rushing to the hills to visit her kinswoman and that’s not the kind of thing you pay attention to when you have important things to do.
But this is how God moves through the world – like how Mary is making haste. She is quickly walking by us still. Hastily passing us disguised as our children asking us to play and in the street worn man on the corner whose eyes I am trying to avoid and in the woman who just made my coffee and Mary is walking briskly carrying the Christ within her in more impossible and unlikely ways than we can possibly take in. This is God’s story. And it is all around us. And the impossibility of it all is exactly what continues to enchant this world of ours in things we think are just ordinary.
We see the impossible all the time, you know, we just think that if we can come up with a suitable and rational explanation: scientifically, psychologically or sociologically then it’s not really something God is doing. But that is just the hubris of a modern age.
So I dare to say this as this is the only Christmas sermon I get to preach this year: you brothers and sisters, you are an unlikely people of the impossible. We see the impossible work of God all around us."
"To be enchanted again." What a thought. So. In a place where there is so much that is important going on, I'm going to do a better job of looking for God. It makes me a little sad that in seminary (and this one is the only one I can speak about) what is important and what God is doing aren't the same thing, but maybe that's something I can change in some small way. If not for anyone else, then for me.
On the upside, I've been absorbed into The Collective. Don't worry, it's not a communist plot. It's just a group that takes turns cooking dinner. I made vegetable pot pie for dinner last night which was good. And I've been having discussions outside of class with people who aren't crazy or unthinking, which is a nice change. And I got two really nice compliments related to my comment in RtW and two really nice unrelated compliments. And it's a three day weekend. And I'm going to a new UMC church tomorrow (which is a good and sad thing because I'm really going to miss mass). And we're going to the art museum on Monday. AND MY GLASSES CAME!! So there are good things too. If only I look for them in the midst of everything else.
Message received. Lesson learning in progress. Abundant grace appreciated.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Dubbing Over Swearing
Someone is watching a (terrible) movie in the other room. It's one of those police/crime dramas from the early 90's where they swear at everything, so, naturally, when they show them on TV there's a lot of dubbing over. David Caruso just said, "I just did three years for you, you paranoid monster follower."
I wish people were more creative swearers in real life.
I wish people were more creative swearers in real life.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Introducing: My Room!
So I realized the other day that I don't have any photos of my room, and my mommy is probably wondering where it is I'm living (other than in the nosebleed section of the house).
To that end, here is my room. All 60 square feet of it.
And that's where I live. It's not fancy; it's not large. It is, however, nice not to have so many things. You know, until you want to cook something using a pan that doesn't have the Teflon peeling off the bottom. Then it's kind of a pain.
So, now that I've shown you...the plan...I'm going to go show the plan...to someone else...
To that end, here is my room. All 60 square feet of it.
 |
| You may remember this door from my previous post about stairs. This door is where the story (and magic) begins. |
 |
| So...this is the magic. As viewed from the aforementioned door. Desk, noisiest radiator on the planet, dresser, closet door, and bed. I've noted a few things that might, or might not, be of interest. |
 |
| This is the view from the bed. Doorway to the hall, desk, closet door, and the world's brightest lamp. |
 |
| And this is my door bling. Yes, nun Rockettes. |
And that's where I live. It's not fancy; it's not large. It is, however, nice not to have so many things. You know, until you want to cook something using a pan that doesn't have the Teflon peeling off the bottom. Then it's kind of a pain.
So, now that I've shown you...the plan...I'm going to go show the plan...to someone else...
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Boston Baked...
I had the urge to bake something tonight, unfortunately I haven't yet been grocery shopping since getting back to Boston. I get by with a little help from my friends. I managed to scrape together the ingredients for a lovely apple tart (not enough apples for a pie).
It came out really good, especially considering I'd never made one before! Apples, orange flavored dried cranberries, toasted almonds, honey, and Grandma Huckelberry's pie crust -- YUM!
Other than Jenna calling me a tart ("A tart making a tart...what is a tart? I hope it's not rude."), it was a fun time. I've eaten a lot of Korean food in the last couple of days, so it was nice to be able to share with them. Yoojin is going to teach me to make Korean food. The Korean guys say she's not a very good cook (kind of rude if you ask me...) but I've assured her I probably will never be cooking for people who know the difference. Besides, what are the chances I'll follow any sort of recipe anyway?
 |
| The lighting in the basement is terrible! |
It came out really good, especially considering I'd never made one before! Apples, orange flavored dried cranberries, toasted almonds, honey, and Grandma Huckelberry's pie crust -- YUM!
Other than Jenna calling me a tart ("A tart making a tart...what is a tart? I hope it's not rude."), it was a fun time. I've eaten a lot of Korean food in the last couple of days, so it was nice to be able to share with them. Yoojin is going to teach me to make Korean food. The Korean guys say she's not a very good cook (kind of rude if you ask me...) but I've assured her I probably will never be cooking for people who know the difference. Besides, what are the chances I'll follow any sort of recipe anyway?
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Leaving Missouri
There are things about being in Missouri that are stressful, but, nonetheless, it's still home. Which makes it hard to leave. I have realized that, for me, home isn't necessarily a location but is more a group of people. I got to see most of those people this visit.
Christmas was spent with my family. We did minimal presents this year, which I prefer. Gifts, expecially excessive ones, often make me uncomfortable, and given my current goal of simplifying my life and posessions (funny how moving 1500 miles will make you realize all the crap in your life you don't need), I didn't really need anything. Except pants. I always need pants.
I got some really warm socks, which I did need (man, am I old or what?), a book, tic-tacs (yay!), tea, and money for, you guessed it, pants. I spent the pants money, and somehow my pants are smaller than previously. Not sure how or why, but I'm excited about it anyway. All kinds of interesting theories for another day.
New Years was spent with Dugan, Ashley, and Kyle--some of my favorite people on the planet. There are no words that will make any of what happened make sense to anyone else, per the norm. Food, games, fun. Lots of talking. And actually, this is what made me homesick the most.
The rest of the time was spent catching minutes with friends, lunch with Cristin and Kyle, dinner with Kristen, lunch with Tamara, dinner with Stephen and Carlyle, helping as best as I can at home, spending precious minutes with my ornery nephew, and laughing with my sister. And forcing tea on everyone in the vicinity.
But I'm looking forward to seeing people in Boston again too, some of which are becoming a part of home. Boston is stressful in a different way, and I'm still not quite sure how I got there. So I'm getting on a plane and leaving home to head to home, when neither is really home. Sometimes it's very confusing.
There was an end to this, but I seem to have forgotten what it was going to be. I do that a lot lately.
Christmas was spent with my family. We did minimal presents this year, which I prefer. Gifts, expecially excessive ones, often make me uncomfortable, and given my current goal of simplifying my life and posessions (funny how moving 1500 miles will make you realize all the crap in your life you don't need), I didn't really need anything. Except pants. I always need pants.
I got some really warm socks, which I did need (man, am I old or what?), a book, tic-tacs (yay!), tea, and money for, you guessed it, pants. I spent the pants money, and somehow my pants are smaller than previously. Not sure how or why, but I'm excited about it anyway. All kinds of interesting theories for another day.
New Years was spent with Dugan, Ashley, and Kyle--some of my favorite people on the planet. There are no words that will make any of what happened make sense to anyone else, per the norm. Food, games, fun. Lots of talking. And actually, this is what made me homesick the most.
The rest of the time was spent catching minutes with friends, lunch with Cristin and Kyle, dinner with Kristen, lunch with Tamara, dinner with Stephen and Carlyle, helping as best as I can at home, spending precious minutes with my ornery nephew, and laughing with my sister. And forcing tea on everyone in the vicinity.
But I'm looking forward to seeing people in Boston again too, some of which are becoming a part of home. Boston is stressful in a different way, and I'm still not quite sure how I got there. So I'm getting on a plane and leaving home to head to home, when neither is really home. Sometimes it's very confusing.
There was an end to this, but I seem to have forgotten what it was going to be. I do that a lot lately.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
When Life Hands You...
...a sturgeon, you know, like it does, what do you do? Well, if you're in this family we do something silly, like have an impromptu fancy tea party in our pajamas. To be fair, we didn't plan to be in our pajamas, we just still were... So, yeah...
I blame the champagne flavors for the last photo.
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| This photo session brought to you by the makers of Strawberry Rose Champagne tea. |
I blame the champagne flavors for the last photo.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Grandmas Are Pretty Neat
I've had a couple grandmas myself, so I feel pretty confident that when I tell you grandmas are neat: it's true.
Huck has a thing with rolling around two liters of soda. They make a very satisfying sound as they hit the ground. Being a crafty lady, Grandma made Huck a toy, which I'm sure she'll post about later. Suffice it to say, he thought it was great -- so great they merged into one person!
Huck has a thing with rolling around two liters of soda. They make a very satisfying sound as they hit the ground. Being a crafty lady, Grandma made Huck a toy, which I'm sure she'll post about later. Suffice it to say, he thought it was great -- so great they merged into one person!
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| Where does that baby end and that lady begin? Why are those heads floating? Agh! |
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Scavanger Soup
Today was Mom's first day back at work so I thought it would be nice to have dinner ready when she got home. I didn't quite get it done in time, but it turned out pretty good so I think it counts. The problem with not planning meals is that it's pretty hard to scrape one together, but, surprisingly, it came out okay.
Ingredients: whatever you have on hand.
What I had on hand:
celery
carrots
onion
great northern beans
long grain brown rice (the real stuff)
sliced mushrooms
red wine
Worchestershire sauce
curry powder
tarragon
thyme
salt and pepper to taste
I chopped the onion, carrots, and celery (classic mirepoix) and sauteed them in some olive oil until the onions were caramelized. Then I deglazed the pan with some red wine I found (surprisingly not in the refrigerator). I added the beans (12 oz can) and about 5 cans of water (same can the beans came in). Then I added about...3/4 cupish...of rice and another can of water. Next I sauteed mushrooms until they were brown, and added them to the soup. Finally, I added some Worchestershire sauce, more wine, curry powder, tarragon, and thyme until it tasted right. Let it simmer until the rice is cooked, the soup thickens, and the flavors come together, about an hour. While that was going on I baked biscuits (flour, salt, baking powder, shortening, and milk).
All in all I think it came out pretty good. It should be even better tomorrow after it sits overnight. Yum! So, you know, let me know when you want me to cook you dinner. You're in charge of clean-up.
Ingredients: whatever you have on hand.
What I had on hand:
celery
carrots
onion
great northern beans
long grain brown rice (the real stuff)
sliced mushrooms
red wine
Worchestershire sauce
curry powder
tarragon
thyme
salt and pepper to taste
All in all I think it came out pretty good. It should be even better tomorrow after it sits overnight. Yum! So, you know, let me know when you want me to cook you dinner. You're in charge of clean-up.
Calm Before the Storm
On the list of things that make me feel calm, a good sunset is pretty near the top. Today was a good one. Wish I'd caught it earlier, but I was making soup. Soup on a cold day is also, to borrow a Martha-ism, a good thing.
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