Friday, December 20, 2013

Random, etc.

Part I: The Random

I don't have anything planned as far as writing today, so I'm going to subject the few poor souls who read this to a little 'free association,' and just write whatever comes to my head - and there are reasons for this.  They're mostly selfish reasons, but here goes:

1. Because on Tuesday (or was it Monday?) I didn't take the time to write, not in my journal, not a blog post, nothing.  I think I just posted something I had written already and saved the previous week.  And I noticed something.  All day, the only thing I wanted to do was call my mom and try as I might, I couldn't get in touch with her.  I was a little despondent...I was bored, I realized, despite being busy.  I guess I had too many half-finished thoughts bouncing around in my head without an outlet.  On the days when I do write something, that doesn't happen.

2. Because I'm trying very earnestly to do this blogging thing consistently.  I'm not very good at sticking with something once I've started (as evidenced by the early archives of this blog as well as the myriad books I've never finished reading).

Usually I try to think ahead of time about what I'm going to share with the world wide web, because very few people should be exposed to the wilderness inside my head.  It's a place where the wind almost always blows - kind of like here, on top of the mesa, and over the train tracks down below - and sometimes, the laws of gravity don't quite work, and once in awhile, I have very convenient ninja skills.  Nevertheless, in the spirit of Christmas, I think it's only appropriate to deal out some unprepared, unfiltered disorganization.  Because I, for one, have spent much too much energy this month trying to be organized.

Part II: The etc.

On that note - no, wait, on both of those notes, I am currently packing in preparation to make our trek far away from Far Away.  In other words, we're going home.  At last.  I can't tell you just how long this week has seemed, nor how excited we are.  What I don't know is whether or not I'll have any time for blogging, but I'll try.  If nothing else, I'll take lots of pictures and think up scads of posts that I will probably never post.  Great promise right?

I would go on to share with you more of those ricocheting words, but I am now on borrowed time.  Nap time is over and soup-making time is about to commence.  This post probably did not enrich anybody's life except for mine, but if you read it, thank you.  And I really, really hope that you're having a good day.  Really.

Love,
Me :)

Thursday, December 19, 2013

How to Use a Baby Swing


Ever since she became mobile, this girl has been teaching us to look at, and approach things in a whole new way.

More than once, I've turned around with my hands buried in dishwater to see her attempting yet another daring feat of acrobatics, centered around her swing.
The most amazing thing is that she has yet to lose her balance and find herself on the kitchen floor with a large goose egg.
It's becoming clear that we have a girl of many talents, not the least of which is keeping her parents entertained. :)

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Things That Really Matter

Yesterday, someone referred me to a letter written to the public and posted on the internet regarding a statement that a well-known celebrity recently made.  The letter was brief, sarcastic, and has so far incited over two thousand comments.  While skimming through the first few of those comments, I had a nauseating realization.

My natural inclination was to reply directly to some of the responses I saw, but by the wording in many of them, I decided that the writers might be too worked up to take the things I wanted to say as anything but an insult.  Furthermore, those things would have taken a long time to write and I didn't think that would be smiled upon either.  So I'm writing some of them here.  I know that only a handful of people read my blog, at best, but I have to say something.  I have to react to this, because it's my world, too, and more specifically my country, that is reflected in that long line of discussion.

When, I wondered, did we become a society so set on violence?  When did it become so repulsive for anyone to express an opinion that is in any way contrary to our own?  Why is it that so many people, upon reading something that doesn't reflect their own views exactly, feel inclined to respond with as much venom as they can project?  I quickly lost count of the epithets, both toward the author of the letter, the subject, and toward others who had left their comments.

One highly unpopular comment following this particular document stated that "our society, as a whole, has fallen..."  If that's so, I think I can see why.  People were so up in arms about this letter and the resulting discussion that they were striking at each other in any way they could.  I don't think I've ever met a person who would look another human being in the eye and say to him or her anything of the repulsive, hateful nature of these comments.  And yet, there they were, spitting fire at complete strangers over the internet.  They might have been saying those things to their best friends or grandmothers, for all they knew.

It's not just this incident, either.  I've begun to notice that almost any article, blog post, etc. that 'goes viral' like this one, is followed by comment after comment of people jumping down one another's throats.  What is wrong with us?  Do we so thoroughly despise our neighbors?  Both among those who do and those who don't believe that we are all the children of one God, I did not imagine that we could put so little premium on the lives or feelings of others.  We are not our opinions.  We are children of God, brothers and sisters.

I know there isn't much rhyme or reason to this post.  For that, I apologize.  I was surprised to realize how upset I was at reading the letter and comments, and I had to get some of that out of my system.  So here it is, along with one final thought:  I mentioned that the letter that sparked the whole discussion was highly sarcastic.  During my time in anatomy labs and physiology lectures, it was easy to see the common thread between words like 'sarcoplasm,' and 'sarcomere.'  Just about any word containing that 'sarc' refers to muscles, flesh.  Combined with the '-asm', the meaning of the word becomes, 'to tear flesh.'  Whether or not the letter's author was right in his views, the manner in which his letter was written invited more vindictive words to follow.  It's almost Christmas, for goodness sake.  Surely the rush of adrenaline and the surge of anger that comes from attacking and being attacked cannot be worth the peace they cost us.

I know I probably sound rather high and mighty, to be writing this way.  I don't mean to be.  I recognize that my own tendency toward sarcasm is stronger and more evident than it ought to be.  Perhaps my little token of peace on earth and my gift to the gentle and loving Savior whom I commemorate this season, can be to temper those habits that hurt.  When I open my mouth, put pen to paper, or reach for my keyboard, may my words be kind.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Christmas Rhymes: A Rant

OK, I know that pretty much everything I've posted this month condemns me as a miserly Scrooge-y, grinch-y type, and I know that this won't help my case, but I just have to say something about it.  Publicly.  Because that makes all kinds of sense.

Right, so during the last few years, I've started paying closer attention to Christmas songs, and there is one rhyme that almost EVERYONE uses that has never sat quite right with me: 'mild' and 'child.'  I have a bone to pick with that rhyme and pretty much every song that uses it.

First off, many of said songs describe the newborn baby Jesus as 'mild.'  I really don't think that he is ever described biblically as being 'mild.'  In the King James Version, at least, it doesn't happen.  It just alliterates nicely with 'meek.'  Secondly, according to my dictionary, 'mild' means "gentle or kind in disposition or behavior."  Very well, touche.  That description probably does fit Jesus very well in the Christmas story, but then again, what newborn couldn't be described that way???

Secondly, and this includes the lyricists who have described Mary and/or Joseph this way, what ever happened to creativity?  I thought that was what poetry was all about!  How about 'smiled,' 'un/defiled,' 'un/beguiled,' 'riled' 'piled,' 'exiled,' or 'trialed'?  Yes, most of them are probably not as clear cut as 'mild' and 'child,' but you could work them in, right?  If you wanted to get really crazy with it, 'filed,' 'wild,' or 'dialed' would also work.  Or here's an idea - don't use 'mild' or 'child' at the end of a line at all.  I can't stop applauding whoever wrote 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing,' for rhyming 'mild' with 'reconciled.'  *Looking it up...*  Charles Wesley - bravo, well done, sir!

Alright, alright.  I don't mean to be irreverent here and despite all I've said, I really don't mean to be a Scrooge.  I love Christmas songs, and particularly Christmas hymns.  I love the message that they relate and I love to sing and hear them again and again and again.  I'm just writing this for any up and coming poets who might happen to read my blog and are planning to write the next classic Christmas song, to let them know that this caroler is ready to celebrate the season with some new rhymes.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Blah, Blah, Blog

Some days, I ask myself, 'What exactly is a blog?  And what on earth should I write on it?'

Sometimes, I answer that a blog - this blog, at least - is my forum for using big words.

I've heard a lot of people mention, lately, how blogs and social media are often used to post our best selves online, and I think, 'Oh, is that what I was supposed to be doing?'  Because it seems like most my posts go something like this: 'wow, today was crazy/hard/non-productive...but that's OK.  I'm happy anyway.'

Other times, I'm convinced that a blog is really just a public, online scrapbook, so that I can post pictures for my friends and family to see how cute my baby is.  But as far as that goes, I've discovered that I am definitely not a photographer.  Maybe someday, but not today.

If lots of people read my blog consistently and I were a really, really, really good cook, I could post a new, fantastic recipe every day.  For awhile, cooking blogs composed the majority of my recreational reading.  Nevertheless, I'm not cut out for that either.

I could post about my opinions, because I'm very opinionated, but I'm not always up for the incendiary comments that follow those types of posts.  I could post about the books I read, but I am a notoriously slow reader.

Sometimes, my head is full to bursting with things that I want to write and post...but sometimes, it just comes out like this.  None of the above.  :)

Friday, December 13, 2013

Where are you, Christmas?

Christmas this year is kind of a first, in some ways.  It's the third I'll have spent with my husband, but the first in which the pressure has really been on my shoulders to 'make Christmas happen.'  For our first Christmas, we were living a mere twenty minutes from my in-laws' and about an hour from my parents' home, so while I did my best to come up with pajamas for the two of us and a little something to place under the tree for my husband, our frequent visits to both families made up for the atmosphere that our little apartment lacked.  On top of that, we were both attending school and were working, so our workplaces and the campus also contributed to the yuletide ambiance.

This time last year, I was about thirty-eight weeks pregnant, was working full-time and had just finished a grueling semester of hybrid schooling (part online, part face-to-face).  Ben was working full-time too, so in the midst of our business, although we were constantly looking for Christmas stories to read and gifts to wrap, and although we even took the time to thread thousands of pieces of popcorn onto a length of fishing line, Christmas was largely overshadowed by the fast-approaching arrival of our first child.

This year, all of that is different.  We live too far away to borrow Christmas from our families.  I am not working outside of my home, so I haven't enjoyed any of the seasonal rituals kept by most or many employers.  And finally, I am awaiting no enormous and palpably life-changing event to take my mind off of Christmas itself.  I found myself asking, as we raised our wiry tree, 'why don't I feel Christmas-y yet?'  I was singing right along with Cindy Lou Who.

I found the feeling I was looking for, of all places, in Walmart.  The store was crowded beyond belief and, unable to find that item that I just had to have (I know, I know), I was just about to have a meltdown.  I've since decided that, along with store greeters, Walmart should invest in store psychologists for just such episodes.  I can't be the only one, right?  Luckily, I had something better.  As I was weaving my way down the crowded baking aisle, no doubt looking murderous, my husband found me.  He listened sympathetically to my woes, put an arm around me and took the crying girl (because who wouldn't be indignant at being told that they mustn't stand, facing backward in the seat of a grocery cart?  Yes, she was wearing the seat belt) from my cart.

Somewhere between then and the manic check-out lines, I felt a little change of heart, or maybe the change of seasons finally registered with my heart.  Leaving the store, and still feeling somewhat like a train wreck, I realized that it now felt like Christmastime.  Yes, of course, Christmas doesn't come from a store - yes, Christmas is indeed a little bit more.  Doctor Seuss and his Hollywood followers taught all of us well.  Nevertheless, it's one thing to accept mentally and another thing to internalize it, and I guess it's something I have to do a little bit each year.  I've come to the half-solid conclusion that the bustling store did the trick because it provided the atmosphere, complete with cheap decorations and cheesy holiday tunes that I would never allow on my Pandora Christmas station, that I was lacking.

What is the message I am sending here?  That Christmas will never be complete without commercialism?  No.  That's not my intention, anyway.  The gaudy ornaments and overflowing toy aisles don't make Christmas what it is, but I wonder if the throngs of people all flocking to that crazy supermarket for the same purpose as I was - in preparation for a common and well-loved celebration - do.  Maybe the mayhem of thousands of people all seeking to bring their families together for Christmas brought it to life for me.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A Gentle Hum

It begins with a 'click' and from the far side of my house, our propane furnace kicks into action.  Often, that's my signal to get up from wherever I am - if I'm already sitting down - and to find a nice, cozy bit of carpet or linoleum, just beside a heater vent.  The hum of warm air that follows, rising through the vents, is usually accompanied by a soft metallic 'clang, clang, clang.'  That's partially due to the fact that someone has discovered that not all of the vent misers are attached to the floor, and that the holes she exposes by removing them are great for stowing her favorite toys, such as padlocks, pens and socks.  Consequently, bits and pieces have begun to go missing, leaving some remaining parts loose.  The passing air easily rattles them.

Ben says that we should get the grates fixed so that the sound will go away.  He's begun to devise clever ways of stilling the flaps on his own.  I don't think I would mind the absence of the noise, but I don't mind its presence either.  I love to be warm in the winter.  Who doesn't, right?  And the sound of the miser flaps clapping to the warm air has begun to register in my mind as a comfort, just like warm milk, favorite songs, a familiar sweater, or the heat itself.

I had to take a moment, earlier today, to remind myself that the end of November doesn't have to mean the end of giving thanks.  In fact, it really shouldn't.  The wintry cold hit our house the week after Thanksgiving, whereas before it had been pretty mild.  If we had come so far south hoping to escape frigid winters, we would be feeling sorely disappointed right now.  And although I was grateful for those vents - a luxury we didn't enjoy in our last home - and for the heat that comes up through them a week ago, I feel doubly so now.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Wild Running

When I was in college, I was crazy about running.  I was never a very good athlete, certainly never good enough to participate on a college team, but it was my escape and I loved it.  As my schedule became more demanding, I began to wake up at 5:00 or 5:30 in the morning to get my daily exercise, winter or summer, rain or snow or clear sky.  I found that there was something oddly enchanting about the silent, frosty mornings that I met between November and March.

It's been years since I had that routine.  I'm discovering that one of the most puzzling challenges raising a very young child is finding a way to exercise in the winter.  Fed up with the handful of cheesy televised workouts through which I usually rotate, I decided, this morning, to attempt to recover the daily ritual that was so dear to me a few years ago.

I have to admit that I'm not in the shape I once was.  My legs aren't accustomed to carrying me the way they did before and when I was doing this sort of thing every morning, my lungs didn't mind it.  Now the jolt of the cold alongside the increased demands of my muscles awakens the usually-dormant exercise-induced asthma, limiting how far I can push myself.

Nevertheless, as I pushed myself around and around the track - a far cry from the mountain trails and twisting streets I used to chase - covered from head to ankles to reddened knuckles with layers of fabric, the enchantment returned.  I had the clear, cold stars all to myself and from my ear buds, music kept time with my steps.

I'm not saying that I recommend this routine.  I'm not entirely sure that I'll be willing to drive myself to do it again soon, but there is something unique about it, and beautiful.  There's some element of insanity and some feeling of power, even as I'm all but shivering between sweat and wintry cold.  And the music is...exquisite.  Running out there on my own reminded me of a passion for music that I had long since forgotten.  The cold, the dark, the solitude, the movement or the wildness - or maybe a combination of all of them - gives the music a whole new dimension.
   

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Curry Fry



Once upon a time, I was making stir-fry, and I had a thought.  It went like this: I'm using about 1/4 cup of soy sauce and just as much brown sugar for this meal...for two people.  That's a lot of salt and sugar per serving.  Since then I've been trying to style my Asian-inspired foods after curry, rather than regular stir-fry.

Usually, I'm very good at over-steaming my vegetables so that the result is somewhat...gray.  Ugh.  The following was a lovely success.  I wouldn't go so far as to call it curry, as I don't keep things like coconut milk around, but maybe 'curry fry' would be an appropriate name.

Ingredients:
 - 3/4 cup of brown rice
 - 1 1/2-1 3/4 cups water
 - 1 tsp butter
 - pinch of salt

 - 1 large carrot, chopped
 - 1/2 large onion, wedged
 - 1/2 cup of frozen peas
 - 1/2-1 cup of pumpkin, peeled and cut into 1 inch cubes (remember my nativity pumpkin?)
 - 1-2 Tbsp oil
 - 1/2 tsp garlic
 - salt & pepper to taste

- 1/2 cup of chicken broth or 1/2 cup water + chicken boullion
 - 1 Tbsp cornstarch
 - 1 tsp curry powder
 - 1/4 tsp ginger powder
 - 1/8 tsp mustard powder
 - shot of soy sauce
 - teeny tiny dash of red pepper, if you like it spicy

Prep:
1. Combine water, salt, butter and rice and prepare per package instructions (mine cooked for 45 minutes).

2. Heat oil in a frying pan and add onion and carrot.  Toss until coated and slightly softened.  Add peas, pumpkin, garlic, salt, pepper and 1/2(ish) cups water.  Decrease heat, cover, and let steam - and be careful.  That pumpkin and carrot will absolutely LOVE to adhere to the bottom of your pan.

3. While veggies are steaming, combine water/broth, boullion, cornstarch, curry, ginger, mustard, soy sauce and red pepper.  Whisk together until smooth.

4. When the water has all evaporated and the vegetables are soft, turn the heat up a little and add the sauce (cornstarch mixture).  Mix with a spatula or wooden spoon until the sauce thickens and begin to bubble.  Remove from heat.

Serve curry fry on top of rice.

*Only after the fact did it occur to me that it might have been very very yummy to crush some fennel seeds and saute and steam them with the vegetables.  If anyone tries this before I get the chance, please let me know how it goes!*
And here's a picture of my helper. :)

Friday, December 6, 2013

December Evening

Happiness is...

The girl who sits in my kitchen
at the edge of the light,
wearing the banana I sliced for her
on her fingers and face,
only a window away from new snow.


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Changing Seasons

Nativity pumpkin...hehe...

Halloween ran away from us before I could really, properly celebrate...so here I was, in early December, with the little pumpkin I'd gotten for carving still on my kitchen table.  And let's not forget the two-dollar cleaning and carving kit I'd splurged on.  That was still in the cabinet, where it had been waiting for two months.

So we carved our pumpkin, really only a month an a few days overdue.  Somehow, Halloween seems much longer ago than that and I'm not precisely sure why, but I think that time moves so much more quickly around this time of the year.  I can only base that hypothesis on something I've never confessed to anyone, except maybe my husband...maybe.

In my mind's eye, I see the months of the year like blocks in an oblong loop of sidewalk, moving clockwise.  From about mid-May to mid-September is one long, straight portion and the other goes from January through April, so there's not much of a corner at the spring-summer end of the loop, but on this end, it curves from September to the end of December.

I don't know what came first in my mind - the idea that this season is a bend in the calendar or the feeling of constant, rapid change, but they exist together in my head and have been that way for as long as I can remember.  So there you go, thought of the day.  Nothing profound, but it's a little insight into my own personal weirdness. :)

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Lovely Nonsense

Someone decided to help me blog today, so I decided to let her.                        

/g jK VGBNHTYJU7
GH1   hJNVVVRF





'1

Usually she only wants to push keys like 'alt,' 'ins,' 'F11,' or the keys that will change the language on my computer to Hebrew, so this is kind of a special treat, just so you know. :)

Monday, December 2, 2013

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...?


I'm coming to a daunting realization about motherhood (yes - another one!), and that is that Christmas is largely my responsibility now.  As a 'stay-at-home mom,' it is up to me to get Christmas wrapping, Christmas Eve pajamas, stocking stuffers, and everything that Santa will leave under the tree.  In addition, any Christmas cookies, fudge, or other goodies are also up to me to provide.  I say everything, but that isn't quite fair.  It's more like 90%.

The other day, as I wove my way through Walmart crowds and sparkly red and green displays, I found myself complaining aloud to my husband.  "No one told me this about motherhood!"  Yes, I had fully expected to get spit-up, boogers, poop and every other bodily fluid or goop on my hands, face and clothes (and those expectations have been realized, I assure you).  I anticipated long, sleepless nights of taming wiggles and banishing nightmares.  I was amply warned about the perpetual messes I would spend my days chasing from one end of the house to the other.  But no one told me that the magic that my kids will anticipate all year round, the magic that is Santa Claus, would  be mostly mine to forge.

In the midst of all of this, I also heard a little voice in my head, reminding me that I've only got one child, and she isn't old enough yet to know what a present is, or to care.  If I'm stressing now, am I ever in trouble!

And then, there was last night, as we raised our Christmas tree, our modest little shrine to the season.  Taking the advice of many blogs and magazines we'd found online, we began to decorate by putting the more fragile ornaments up top, and the ones that could stand a little almost-toddler investigation down low.  As I hung little stuffed Santas, felt candy canes, and bulbous silver jingle bells on the lower plastic boughs, Addie decided to pitch in, removing each ornament as soon as I had moved on to the next.

I realized that if I can focus on those little things, the memories and photographs of my almost-year-old's first real Christmas (last year didn't count), somehow all of this manic buying, baking, planning and wrapping will all make so much more sense.  It's a thought that's made it into my mind, but I haven't fully internalized it yet.  Maybe that's what I'll focus on this month.

Goodness - and I thought I had already learned that Christmas isn't about what's under the tree.  I guess I have a lot to discover yet.