In recent months I have been learning some valuable lessons about faith. I have learned that those simple little chorus words "to trust in a way that I cannot see" are a pretty good description of what it's all about. Faith is continuing to trust in God even when you can't see and you can't understand. Otherwise it would be called sight, not faith. It is the main task of the Christian – and the one that will get the incredible reward of sight at last.
More recently I learned what it is to have simple, childlike trust mingled with that solid faith. I was faced with a potentially tough situation, and at first was thrown into confusion. But the previous lesson had not been learned in vain, and I knew, even while the questions whirled, that He was totally trustworthy. But it was when I reflected (or was helped to reflect) on the nature of God that the peace of childlike trust entered the picture. I serve a God who loves His people. I serve a God who is totally good. I serve a God who has a plan that reflects that love and that goodness. Therefore I can make my requests known to Him in perfect confidence that He will do the right and best and highest thing. I have been resting in that sure knowledge ever since then. My God loves His people! He will care for them perfectly. I can ask Him with fullness of faith for the best things.
Today we had a wonderful prayer meeting here in RI. We did the work of God ("This is the work of God that you believe..."). We expressed faith in a powerful God. I thought of that verse "We are not of them that shrink back to perdition, but of them that have faith to the saving of the soul." We can have perfect faith in a perfect God. So let's do it! Let's connect with His goodness and His love and His power, and believe for big things.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Another New England Rhapsody
Days like today are the reason I think New England is the best place in the world. The temperature is perfect – a little this side of warm – the sky is blue, blue, blue, and the rest of the world is in vivid color that suggests Ritz developing. And on top of all that, Dad recently set up the hammock. Sorry everyone, about the fact that I am using the best spot in the best place in the world. I've been there for hours, reading a fascinating teaching book, but interrupting my reading periodically to look up at the sun in the maple leaves – an amazing contrast in light and greens – and to listen to the nearby running water or the chirping bugs. Phew! What a place! I even relented and let Bluebell (our cat) into the hammock to enjoy it all with me. She had been poking her face between the cords (a most amusing sight) in an effort to get in. I don't blame her. It was blissful.
The day was enhanced by a barefoot walk to the garden to pick corn. You can't get much more carefree than that. Although I did get more carefree by shouting merrily back and forth with KJ who was at the main house. That reminded me of yesterday, when I was seized with a similar affection for the place and opened my front door to yell about it. I was quite surprised to get a shout of agreement back from the main house! And THAT reminds me of the time I walked out of the main house singing "Summertime, and the living is easy…" only to hear the next line wafting down from the apartments (it was Tim Stoneman). Ah the happy summer moments.
Like I said, I'm afraid I took the best spot. But I trust you will all find second best spots to enjoy this beautiful weather!
The day was enhanced by a barefoot walk to the garden to pick corn. You can't get much more carefree than that. Although I did get more carefree by shouting merrily back and forth with KJ who was at the main house. That reminded me of yesterday, when I was seized with a similar affection for the place and opened my front door to yell about it. I was quite surprised to get a shout of agreement back from the main house! And THAT reminds me of the time I walked out of the main house singing "Summertime, and the living is easy…" only to hear the next line wafting down from the apartments (it was Tim Stoneman). Ah the happy summer moments.
Like I said, I'm afraid I took the best spot. But I trust you will all find second best spots to enjoy this beautiful weather!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
On a More Serious Note than Usual...
I recently had one of those quality discussions with friends, and we arrived at some important and thought provoking conclusions.
Travelling a circuitous route that included blogging, children, and tales of substitute teachers past, our final conversational destination was the spiritual state of the 20/30-somethings in the church. We recalled the meeting at the Fall Convention, and the call to action we'd had at that time. We spoke of the blows we have faced and the fatigue that seems to be plaguing our number. No one seems to have energy to spare, and each is just trying to keep afloat. We acknowledged the fact that this may very well be the time of the “wearing out of the saints.”
And yet this cannot be an excuse to slack off in our pursuit of God, and in our furthering of His Kingdom. One of the girls I was talking with said something about our group seeming to “drag its feet.” I could identify with that. In one sense I feel like I'm doing everything I can do. I've been called to teach. Fine, I'll teach. But is this the best? Is this the highest? Would I be willing to ditch the job, move, and live by faith in some kind of community situation (that was the most drastic thing I could think of)?
In a way I almost wish we would be called to something drastic. A clean break with the old routine and the usual cares of life - a group of like minded followers of Christ willing to put everything they have into His service - some more of the old glory days. I would be willing! And yet it seems like that probably isn't what God is requiring of us at this point. So what is He calling for? How can we be sure that our group is doing what it needs to be doing?
Soon the conversation turned just enough to remind me of something I felt God brought to my attention a few years ago. At the time I was praying for the church, and praying that we would be able to fulfill what God had in mind for us. All at once it was very real to me that the most important thing I could do for the church is to be right with God myself. I need to make sure that my relationship with God is alive and flourishing. I need to make sure I am totally submitted to His will myself. I need to “tend my own vinyard” (Song of Solomon) before I can worry about anything on a community/corporate level.
This was eye opening to me at the time, and was again the other night while we were talking. If all we 20/30-somethings are totally committed to the will of God then we will be sure to be doing what He intends for us! If we are doing His will totally, then we are okay.
The conversation was so rich at the time that I think we should have a 20/30-somethings meeting at the upcoming convention in order to talk through some of these things. Anyone want to join me?
Travelling a circuitous route that included blogging, children, and tales of substitute teachers past, our final conversational destination was the spiritual state of the 20/30-somethings in the church. We recalled the meeting at the Fall Convention, and the call to action we'd had at that time. We spoke of the blows we have faced and the fatigue that seems to be plaguing our number. No one seems to have energy to spare, and each is just trying to keep afloat. We acknowledged the fact that this may very well be the time of the “wearing out of the saints.”
And yet this cannot be an excuse to slack off in our pursuit of God, and in our furthering of His Kingdom. One of the girls I was talking with said something about our group seeming to “drag its feet.” I could identify with that. In one sense I feel like I'm doing everything I can do. I've been called to teach. Fine, I'll teach. But is this the best? Is this the highest? Would I be willing to ditch the job, move, and live by faith in some kind of community situation (that was the most drastic thing I could think of)?
In a way I almost wish we would be called to something drastic. A clean break with the old routine and the usual cares of life - a group of like minded followers of Christ willing to put everything they have into His service - some more of the old glory days. I would be willing! And yet it seems like that probably isn't what God is requiring of us at this point. So what is He calling for? How can we be sure that our group is doing what it needs to be doing?
Soon the conversation turned just enough to remind me of something I felt God brought to my attention a few years ago. At the time I was praying for the church, and praying that we would be able to fulfill what God had in mind for us. All at once it was very real to me that the most important thing I could do for the church is to be right with God myself. I need to make sure that my relationship with God is alive and flourishing. I need to make sure I am totally submitted to His will myself. I need to “tend my own vinyard” (Song of Solomon) before I can worry about anything on a community/corporate level.
This was eye opening to me at the time, and was again the other night while we were talking. If all we 20/30-somethings are totally committed to the will of God then we will be sure to be doing what He intends for us! If we are doing His will totally, then we are okay.
The conversation was so rich at the time that I think we should have a 20/30-somethings meeting at the upcoming convention in order to talk through some of these things. Anyone want to join me?
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Joe Schlabotnick
When I was young and idolized Danny's every move, I picked up on his fascination with Joe Schlabotnick. Joe Schlabotnick, for those of you less comic literate, is Charlie Brown's baseball hero, from the comic strip Peanuts. Unfortunately he is a pretty lousy player, with a batting average of something around.016. And .016, for those of you less baseball literate, is terrible.
Now that I am older and still idolize Danny's every move, my childhood fascination lingers. Joe Schlabotnick has become my standard filler. Next time there is an awkward pause in conversation, try inserting a reference to this comic/baseball great. Or if you are struggling to remember a name, just use his instead. I even type his name when I'm having writer's block on an essay or an e-mail.
His name is like a magic charm. It staves off the pauses, the writer's block, and all manner of faux pas. It forces my brain to include something new in its thought processes, thus stimulating it to re-invigorated action.
Although Joe Schlabotnick never made it big in the world of baseball, he made it big in my world. I have certainly never used any other fictional person's name so frequently. He has bailed me out many a time. Most recently, he bailed me out when I sat down to a lovely new document to compose a new post (when I'm home I type the post off-line so I don't tie up the phone line). As I sat there thinking about what to write my fingers automatically flew to the J-o-e S-c-h-l-a-b-o-t-n-i-c-k keys. And I thought, aha! Joe Schlabotnick deserves recogniztion after these years of faithful service.
So thank you, Joe, for enriching my life in so many ways.
Now that I am older and still idolize Danny's every move, my childhood fascination lingers. Joe Schlabotnick has become my standard filler. Next time there is an awkward pause in conversation, try inserting a reference to this comic/baseball great. Or if you are struggling to remember a name, just use his instead. I even type his name when I'm having writer's block on an essay or an e-mail.
His name is like a magic charm. It staves off the pauses, the writer's block, and all manner of faux pas. It forces my brain to include something new in its thought processes, thus stimulating it to re-invigorated action.
Although Joe Schlabotnick never made it big in the world of baseball, he made it big in my world. I have certainly never used any other fictional person's name so frequently. He has bailed me out many a time. Most recently, he bailed me out when I sat down to a lovely new document to compose a new post (when I'm home I type the post off-line so I don't tie up the phone line). As I sat there thinking about what to write my fingers automatically flew to the J-o-e S-c-h-l-a-b-o-t-n-i-c-k keys. And I thought, aha! Joe Schlabotnick deserves recogniztion after these years of faithful service.
So thank you, Joe, for enriching my life in so many ways.
Friday, August 12, 2005
FYI
I agreed to be spokesman for the most esteemed of Lindsays in order to come before you at this time and inform you that, although her blogging has seemed to fall out of existence of late, it is not because of any lack of desire on her part. On the contrary, she has much about which to blog. Unfortunately, her computer is suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and is on the blink. She will therefore be unable to update until such time as the humidity decreases or she wins the lottery and gets a new computer. Don't give up hope, Lindsay's dear readers. She will indeed be back.
Family Fiesta
Note: I haven't asked parental permission to use children's names on this blog, so I'm going to refer to them by first initials only. I don't think they'd say not to use names, but it's more exciting this way anyway. They do it in books sometimes, and it makes me SO curious.
I am sitting here, hunched over my computer screen, while Kimberly is downstairs playing a beautiful Chopin piece on the piano. Wow do I feel like the uncultured sheep of the family. But I feel better knowing that she is playing the piano while she waits for me to get off the computer. That does not diminish the fact that she blows me out of the water when it comes to Chopin pieces. Not to mention her throwing arm. Oh well, she has to be compensated somehow for being the youngest (and therefore slave) of the family.
Speaking of families, ours had a wonderful outing to the Seashore today. (Have you ever noticed how Victorian children's books talk about the seashore a lot? Or enough for me to realize it just now, anyway.) We haven't taken an outing all together since our family started rapidly expanding, and it turned out to be such a success that we might actually make an annual pilgrimage of it! I think Kimberly will have a more detailed report (outdoing me yet again), so I will leave that to her and just describe a few highlights of the day.
As I headed toward the rendezvous point (the van, of course) I saw T___ riding about on a little plastic riding device (can you call it a tricycle if it is made out of plastic?) and was suddenly filled with this incredibly warm and fuzzy feeling to think that now all of my nephews are getting the chance to grow up in the idyllic circumstances and surroundings that I did. I had the same reaction when I saw a picture of M___ looking in awe at some Bible School students during some function or other. I remember that feeling. And my childhood was so incredibly happy that I rejoice at their opportunities.
Another highlight came when I decided to teach M___ how to play 20 questions on the trip. He is a little young for it still, but I simplified it down a bit, and he understood right away. And it was so much fun to see his absolute delight when he would guess mine, or I his. It was really an exciting little triumph every time. Ah the joys of seeing things through fresh eyes. G___, however, had a harder time with things. The first time he was “it” we started guessing and it quickly became apparent that he had nobody in mind at all, but was relishing being able to say “yeeeees,” and “nooooo” in an authoritative and mysterious manner. The second time it was his turn Gretchen told him to make sure he was thinking of an actual person. “Are you thinking of a person?” she asked. “No I want to think about a statue!” he responded.
The joys of sharing happiness with a new generation increased when we actually arrived at the ocean. They have very rarely seen the ocean, and they all loved it. I__ especially enjoyed the waves, and having Dad hold him with his feet in the way of the spray. We were in an area that was rocky, not a beach, and we climbed all over the place finding new breath-taking vistas and seaweed treasures and even feathers and shells.
These are just a few snapshots of what was a wonderful day - a definite highlight moment in family history. I took (speaking of snapshots) a bazillion pictures, and now that Blogger lets you put them up so easily, some of them might actually end up here! But not being the digital type, I'll have to wait until I get the pictures developed next week.
I am sitting here, hunched over my computer screen, while Kimberly is downstairs playing a beautiful Chopin piece on the piano. Wow do I feel like the uncultured sheep of the family. But I feel better knowing that she is playing the piano while she waits for me to get off the computer. That does not diminish the fact that she blows me out of the water when it comes to Chopin pieces. Not to mention her throwing arm. Oh well, she has to be compensated somehow for being the youngest (and therefore slave) of the family.
Speaking of families, ours had a wonderful outing to the Seashore today. (Have you ever noticed how Victorian children's books talk about the seashore a lot? Or enough for me to realize it just now, anyway.) We haven't taken an outing all together since our family started rapidly expanding, and it turned out to be such a success that we might actually make an annual pilgrimage of it! I think Kimberly will have a more detailed report (outdoing me yet again), so I will leave that to her and just describe a few highlights of the day.
As I headed toward the rendezvous point (the van, of course) I saw T___ riding about on a little plastic riding device (can you call it a tricycle if it is made out of plastic?) and was suddenly filled with this incredibly warm and fuzzy feeling to think that now all of my nephews are getting the chance to grow up in the idyllic circumstances and surroundings that I did. I had the same reaction when I saw a picture of M___ looking in awe at some Bible School students during some function or other. I remember that feeling. And my childhood was so incredibly happy that I rejoice at their opportunities.
Another highlight came when I decided to teach M___ how to play 20 questions on the trip. He is a little young for it still, but I simplified it down a bit, and he understood right away. And it was so much fun to see his absolute delight when he would guess mine, or I his. It was really an exciting little triumph every time. Ah the joys of seeing things through fresh eyes. G___, however, had a harder time with things. The first time he was “it” we started guessing and it quickly became apparent that he had nobody in mind at all, but was relishing being able to say “yeeeees,” and “nooooo” in an authoritative and mysterious manner. The second time it was his turn Gretchen told him to make sure he was thinking of an actual person. “Are you thinking of a person?” she asked. “No I want to think about a statue!” he responded.
The joys of sharing happiness with a new generation increased when we actually arrived at the ocean. They have very rarely seen the ocean, and they all loved it. I__ especially enjoyed the waves, and having Dad hold him with his feet in the way of the spray. We were in an area that was rocky, not a beach, and we climbed all over the place finding new breath-taking vistas and seaweed treasures and even feathers and shells.
These are just a few snapshots of what was a wonderful day - a definite highlight moment in family history. I took (speaking of snapshots) a bazillion pictures, and now that Blogger lets you put them up so easily, some of them might actually end up here! But not being the digital type, I'll have to wait until I get the pictures developed next week.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Some of My Favorite People
And then, all at once, I remembered that you can easily put pictures on your blog now! And blogs are always so interesting when they include pictures. Of course, not having a ready stash of digital photos on computer, my options were limited. But I remembered that I had saved this one, and so here it is. Hurrah for Bushy and Mrs. Bushy!And this font is called Trebuchet, which I just think is a great word.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Blogging Drama!
I've notice several people writing about blogblock (as Lisa so aptly termed it), and I was recently suffering from that malady myself. I'm happy to report, however, that my blogblock has passed, and I am just overflowing with earth shaking ideas.
I could write, for instance, about how I just FINISHED reading The Odyssey this evening! Woo hoo!
Or I could write about how all of a sudden I couldn't remember whether the thought I'd just been thinking was about The Lord of the Rings or President Bush. That was one of my stranger moments, but sadly not nearly the strangest...
And there are lots of other things, too, but those are all safely stashed away as drafts for days when I'm not so full of ideas (good idea, Craig!).
But what I want to write about this evening is the amazing drama that has entered my life now that I have become a blogger. This afternoon, while taking a break from (only slightly) more pressing duties, I decided to enter the realm of blogs (from now on I will term it r.o.b.). I sallied forth to the ever-helpful court of Sir Elfenknight2.blogspot.com to begin my quest.
Once there, my duties were clear. I must progress down the list from RyuSoma to those that linger even beyond the bottom of the list. As I passed the invigorating household of Pass, I noticed that someone of a sort of Japanese bent had been there before me. Thanks to my excellent tracking skills I determined that he had left only moments before. I did not pause long to consider this strange happenstance, but instead doggedly pursued the adventure I'd been given. My next stop was at the fair Lady Kimberly's domain, and I tarried there to partake in the fruits of her lovely word crafting. I was moved to respond, and as I offered my gift of verbiage, I was horrified to note that this same Japanese fellow had beaten me to the punch! Even as I knelt to place my gift on the table I saw his slipped in before mine.
Outraged I realized this action for the personal affront that it was. No gauntlet had ever been thrown more viciously. I left my gift and leapt back upon my horse (who only remained unmentioned before this point because I didn't think of him until right now. We'll call him Pal). Calling Pal to outrace the very winds of Heaven, I sped down the hill until I arrived at the Halls of Elizabeth. I clattered into the courtyard, and raced for the gift hall. Still gasping for breath, I wrote out a scathing challenge and placed it there on the gift table. There was still no sign of the Japanese guy with spiky hair. Aha! There! His gift appeared almost simultaneously! But MINE was offered to the fair Elizabeth before his. I had prevailed! The r.o.b. remained free of Japanese-guy-always-posting-before-me-itis. All was well once again.
I could write, for instance, about how I just FINISHED reading The Odyssey this evening! Woo hoo!
Or I could write about how all of a sudden I couldn't remember whether the thought I'd just been thinking was about The Lord of the Rings or President Bush. That was one of my stranger moments, but sadly not nearly the strangest...
And there are lots of other things, too, but those are all safely stashed away as drafts for days when I'm not so full of ideas (good idea, Craig!).
But what I want to write about this evening is the amazing drama that has entered my life now that I have become a blogger. This afternoon, while taking a break from (only slightly) more pressing duties, I decided to enter the realm of blogs (from now on I will term it r.o.b.). I sallied forth to the ever-helpful court of Sir Elfenknight2.blogspot.com to begin my quest.
Once there, my duties were clear. I must progress down the list from RyuSoma to those that linger even beyond the bottom of the list. As I passed the invigorating household of Pass, I noticed that someone of a sort of Japanese bent had been there before me. Thanks to my excellent tracking skills I determined that he had left only moments before. I did not pause long to consider this strange happenstance, but instead doggedly pursued the adventure I'd been given. My next stop was at the fair Lady Kimberly's domain, and I tarried there to partake in the fruits of her lovely word crafting. I was moved to respond, and as I offered my gift of verbiage, I was horrified to note that this same Japanese fellow had beaten me to the punch! Even as I knelt to place my gift on the table I saw his slipped in before mine.
Outraged I realized this action for the personal affront that it was. No gauntlet had ever been thrown more viciously. I left my gift and leapt back upon my horse (who only remained unmentioned before this point because I didn't think of him until right now. We'll call him Pal). Calling Pal to outrace the very winds of Heaven, I sped down the hill until I arrived at the Halls of Elizabeth. I clattered into the courtyard, and raced for the gift hall. Still gasping for breath, I wrote out a scathing challenge and placed it there on the gift table. There was still no sign of the Japanese guy with spiky hair. Aha! There! His gift appeared almost simultaneously! But MINE was offered to the fair Elizabeth before his. I had prevailed! The r.o.b. remained free of Japanese-guy-always-posting-before-me-itis. All was well once again.
Brushes with Fame
I was typing out a list of music to put on a new mix I'm hoping to make, when I realized that Fernando's name starts with "Fern." Hm! I thought. No wonder I like him! And this reminded me of a few gripping stories that have taken place within the span of last girls week to this girls week.
Last girls week we went to the Boston airport to welcome home the triumphant Katie and Lisa. It was a wonderful event on its own, but there was a little bonus involved as well. As we stood there, eyes glued to the entrance gate, a familiar figure stepped through the doors surrounded by several un-familiar figures in black suits. That looks like Rudi Giuliani, I thought to myself. Wait a sec, that IS Rudi Giuliani! That was pretty exciting - my first informal glimpse of someone famous.
Then, this summer, I was preparing for the GW (as I like to fondly call it), and wrote to the address given on Fernando's website to ask for permission to photo-copy one of his songs so we could sing it for the Fam Con (as I like to fondly call it). LO and BEHOLD, in my inbox a few days later was an e-mail labeled "Fernando." Eh? I opened it up, and SURE ENOUGH, he had personally answered my question! With a yes, I might add. I was so impressed. So now I have his personal e-mail address, if anyone would like it. Haha, just kidding all you privacy advocates!
Okay, so then the GW was actually about to begin. I was at the airport with Steph (having just picked her up) and we were waiting for Meredith. Then, before our eyes the tallest guy ever walked by, and he looked SO familiar. He had to be an NBA player. So off we scampered, to ask the security guard who had just checked his papers. The first person I talked to was a girl, and all she could tell me was that he played for the NBA. Hm, no kidding! So we waited around a little longer until we could get a man's attention. "That was Robert Parish, center for the Celtics." WOAH! [And hey, buddy, you don't have to tell me who he played for - not all girls are as ignorant as your co-worker there... Okay, okay, I guess I was lucky that time.] THE Robert Parish, of the glory days?! No wonder he looked so familiar. I definitely remember him playing, and I also remember watching the ceremony in which his number got retired (00, for those of you who are less up on their 80s Celtics). I was so excited I almost cried. I had just seen a legend!
Incidentally, I made Danny try to guess who I'd seen at the airport. First I gave him the clue that it was someone wicked tall. "Steve Demme" he guessed. So I threw in the clue that he was black. "Robert Parish." Wow! That was pretty fame-worthy right there!
Anyway, there are the brushes with fame from my Girls Weeks. I wonder who I'll see/hear from next year!
Last girls week we went to the Boston airport to welcome home the triumphant Katie and Lisa. It was a wonderful event on its own, but there was a little bonus involved as well. As we stood there, eyes glued to the entrance gate, a familiar figure stepped through the doors surrounded by several un-familiar figures in black suits. That looks like Rudi Giuliani, I thought to myself. Wait a sec, that IS Rudi Giuliani! That was pretty exciting - my first informal glimpse of someone famous.
Then, this summer, I was preparing for the GW (as I like to fondly call it), and wrote to the address given on Fernando's website to ask for permission to photo-copy one of his songs so we could sing it for the Fam Con (as I like to fondly call it). LO and BEHOLD, in my inbox a few days later was an e-mail labeled "Fernando." Eh? I opened it up, and SURE ENOUGH, he had personally answered my question! With a yes, I might add. I was so impressed. So now I have his personal e-mail address, if anyone would like it. Haha, just kidding all you privacy advocates!
Okay, so then the GW was actually about to begin. I was at the airport with Steph (having just picked her up) and we were waiting for Meredith. Then, before our eyes the tallest guy ever walked by, and he looked SO familiar. He had to be an NBA player. So off we scampered, to ask the security guard who had just checked his papers. The first person I talked to was a girl, and all she could tell me was that he played for the NBA. Hm, no kidding! So we waited around a little longer until we could get a man's attention. "That was Robert Parish, center for the Celtics." WOAH! [And hey, buddy, you don't have to tell me who he played for - not all girls are as ignorant as your co-worker there... Okay, okay, I guess I was lucky that time.] THE Robert Parish, of the glory days?! No wonder he looked so familiar. I definitely remember him playing, and I also remember watching the ceremony in which his number got retired (00, for those of you who are less up on their 80s Celtics). I was so excited I almost cried. I had just seen a legend!
Incidentally, I made Danny try to guess who I'd seen at the airport. First I gave him the clue that it was someone wicked tall. "Steve Demme" he guessed. So I threw in the clue that he was black. "Robert Parish." Wow! That was pretty fame-worthy right there!
Anyway, there are the brushes with fame from my Girls Weeks. I wonder who I'll see/hear from next year!
Monday, August 08, 2005
Blurbs
- I'm down with food poisoning for the second time this summer. Burger King salad was the culprit the first time, and I'm pretty sure Subway is responsible this time. I have decided to forswear eating from now on.
- Imagine all the time we would save if we didn't have to eat! I know I'm going to have terrible eating habits when I'm on my own, because it just isn't worth it to do much work to eat. In fact, it has actually happened that I have grabbed a piece of store bought bread with nothing on it in order to quell that hungry feeling. Yum.
- I went down to the school to get some materials this morning. I found out I'm going to be teaching two more classes than I thought. I'm now not only teaching 2 Lit classes and US Government, but also Typing and... Survey of the New Testament! Step over Dad and Uncle Neil! I realized as I was driving home, that my life for the next year is going to be somewhat like having a long-term paper/project due every single day. There is going to be so much to really prepare for! While you can get by with the minimum for quite awhile in the short-term at college, being ready to teach the "eager young minds of tomorrow" every day is another story, methinks.
- Also on the way home I was driving over the Newport bridge (one of my all time favorite spots on earth) and I saw both a Z-3 and a Jaguar. Not bad.
- I'm adjusting to reading the Odyssey. The first chapter took me an hour (I was reading very carefully and taking notes), but today I got through 4, I believe (still reading pretty carefully and taking notes). I might actually finish it after all!
- While driving to the school, I went through the little toll booth, and the man thought I was so funny. All I did was ask for tokens! But he beamed away, and kind of chuckled while he gave them to me, and I drove away grinning and feeling like I was part of some incredibly funny inside joke. I'm pretty sure he was still smiling b/c of the guy in front of me, but it was still an interesting experience. I should try just randomly laughing at people so they have that same happy "I'm part of a great joke" feeling.
- I sent an e-mail to my PC English profs to let them know of my new teaching career. Today I got this reply back from Dr. Delasanta, one of my absolute favorites: "It occurs to me that the PC English Department has doomed all three of its Murray graduates to a life of academic poverty. But then isn't poverty one of the three (poverty, chastity, obedience) monastic vows? You didn't expect to take a monastic vow when you came to PC, did you?"
- While I was totally charmed by Dr. Delasanta's words, I don't think I'll share them at the school. They are already a little jumpy about my having been educated at a Catholic school.
- Nonetheless, I feel like I got the best possible English education. No other school could have done better. Gretchen and I were recently talking about this, and thanking God for the way He worked it out. He does have a good plan!
Friday, August 05, 2005
Head for the Hills!
I have just returned from several days at the Hills, and I feel somewhat akin to Hercules after he accomplished his nine great tasks. (Was that Hercules? Hmmm. Well, I’ll know after I brush up on my mythology in preparation for my Classical Lit class.) I went out to help Linda, and all that stuff they say about your spirits being lifted when you help other people is sure true. I feel totally refreshed, even though I haven’t worked so hard in quite awhile. And manual labor (if you can call dish washing manual labor) is exhilarating after four years of mental labors.
So guess who is now a fan of farm life? Actually, I’ve always kind of been attracted to the idea of living on a farm. (When Amy and I told Lindsay’s grandfather that we thought it would be cool to live on a farm he couldn’t repress laughter - he who knew what farm life was really like.) But after this week the attraction has stepped up a notch. It seems kind of idyllic in a way. There is serenity and stability and something that connects with so many past generations who have earned their livelihood with good, honest toil. Of course, it means a lot of flies. But one morning Caleb, Ruthie and I had a fly-killing party (not to be confused with the raspberry-picking party or the floor-washing party) and managed to fell nearly 20 of the foe. So even the flies have their charms.
I especially loved my job of being responsible for the younger kids. I could say so many wonderful things about the children in that family! But here are a few tid-bits of my experiences with the younger ones. Caleb does not appreciate being called such things as “matey, laddie, or lad.” “Sir” is acceptable, but “Caleb” is safest. He expresses affection by telling you what kinds of disasters he would be willing to save you from. Especially if he was Spiderman. Ruthie has an amazing sense of humor. She saw a picture of a baby that I drew, complete with the little hair squiggling up from the top of the head, and burst into sincere, uninhibited, from-the-heart laughter. I laughed till I cried more than once, thanks to her. She has a very happy worldview. Rebecca and I were together a lot. Our old bond from the days when I was last there as "mother's helper" (over 7 years ago) is still strong, even though her main memories of me included sitting outside of my room because I wouldn't let her in (I did relent, however, when I saw her adorable 3-year-old little fingers wiggling in under my door). And all of them are excellent companions for anything from cooking to Candyland. (Liane! Caleb’s Candyland game had the same recipe as Ethan’s! Fortunately, I was forwarned, and therefore forarmed.)
And of course, the beauty of the location was stunning. I drove there with Kimberly (the ideal traveling companion - we had such a great time! And she also saved me from heading off toward who-knows-where by shrieking “WEST!” at the opportune moment) and we couldn’t stop talking about how amazing it was.
So there you are, friends, another cast iron excuse for why I haven’t posted in so long!
So guess who is now a fan of farm life? Actually, I’ve always kind of been attracted to the idea of living on a farm. (When Amy and I told Lindsay’s grandfather that we thought it would be cool to live on a farm he couldn’t repress laughter - he who knew what farm life was really like.) But after this week the attraction has stepped up a notch. It seems kind of idyllic in a way. There is serenity and stability and something that connects with so many past generations who have earned their livelihood with good, honest toil. Of course, it means a lot of flies. But one morning Caleb, Ruthie and I had a fly-killing party (not to be confused with the raspberry-picking party or the floor-washing party) and managed to fell nearly 20 of the foe. So even the flies have their charms.
I especially loved my job of being responsible for the younger kids. I could say so many wonderful things about the children in that family! But here are a few tid-bits of my experiences with the younger ones. Caleb does not appreciate being called such things as “matey, laddie, or lad.” “Sir” is acceptable, but “Caleb” is safest. He expresses affection by telling you what kinds of disasters he would be willing to save you from. Especially if he was Spiderman. Ruthie has an amazing sense of humor. She saw a picture of a baby that I drew, complete with the little hair squiggling up from the top of the head, and burst into sincere, uninhibited, from-the-heart laughter. I laughed till I cried more than once, thanks to her. She has a very happy worldview. Rebecca and I were together a lot. Our old bond from the days when I was last there as "mother's helper" (over 7 years ago) is still strong, even though her main memories of me included sitting outside of my room because I wouldn't let her in (I did relent, however, when I saw her adorable 3-year-old little fingers wiggling in under my door). And all of them are excellent companions for anything from cooking to Candyland. (Liane! Caleb’s Candyland game had the same recipe as Ethan’s! Fortunately, I was forwarned, and therefore forarmed.)
And of course, the beauty of the location was stunning. I drove there with Kimberly (the ideal traveling companion - we had such a great time! And she also saved me from heading off toward who-knows-where by shrieking “WEST!” at the opportune moment) and we couldn’t stop talking about how amazing it was.
So there you are, friends, another cast iron excuse for why I haven’t posted in so long!
Friday, July 29, 2005
E-mail Closings
Does anyone else ever have problems with how to end e-mails? Letter-writers: same question only with letters. I just had to reply to an e-mail from my organ teacher. That was awkward. Similarly when I had to write to a group of English professors, and a classmate whom I didn't know very well, and the principal of my new school.
It's all very well when writing to family or girl friends. You simply end "Love, Andrea." (Or whatever your name happens to be.) Or, if you're feeling more effusive, you could say something like "I LOVE YOU! Andrea." Or even, "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Andrea." And then you can throw in as many exclamation points as are appropriate to the situation. And of course, you can preface it with many other words of aff.
It gets a little more sticky with guy friends. "See ya" usually works pretty well, or better yet "see you tomorrow" (or Tuesday or next week or whenever you will actually see him). But then you run into problems with such guy friends as may be in the Navy and whom you probably won't see for a good long while. Somehow "See you in a couple of years" doesn't really work so well as a frequent closing. But then, if it's long term you can be a little more pious and close with a "God bless" or "I'm praying for you" or something. And of course, you can always do something a little more informal, like "your pal, Andrea" or "your land lubbing friend, Andrea." Hee hee hee. I just thought of that last one. I'll have to remember that. And as a last resort you can just abruptly stop, and hope he doesn't notice. "And then we all laughed really hard. It was wicked funny. Andrea".
When it comes to professors and non-peers it gets a little more stressful. I've used things like "warmly" (which seems a little more their generation than mine) and "I hope you're having a wonderful, relaxing summer" (which sounds suspiciously like I wasn't sure how to close the e-mail, or worse, like I'm signing their high school yearbook). The best is when you're writing a thank you e-mail. Then you can get away with "Thanks Again, Andrea" or better yet, "Thanks Again (SO much), Andrea." But in all of this I still haven't hit upon the perfect e-mail closing.
Recently (as in, within the past few months) Melissa and I were discussing this, and our conversation began the downward spiral into frivolity, as it is wont to do. We began coming up with all sorts of fantastic adverbs with which to close e-mails. "Concomitantly, Andrea." "Stylistically, Andrea." "Fanatically, Andrea." The next e-mail I sent to Melissa ended "Salubriously, Andrea."
So really the dilemma need not be a stressful puzzle so much as an opportunity for creative greatness. Go to it friends! Write those e-mails! And embrace the awkward closings!
It's all very well when writing to family or girl friends. You simply end "Love, Andrea." (Or whatever your name happens to be.) Or, if you're feeling more effusive, you could say something like "I LOVE YOU! Andrea." Or even, "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Andrea." And then you can throw in as many exclamation points as are appropriate to the situation. And of course, you can preface it with many other words of aff.
It gets a little more sticky with guy friends. "See ya" usually works pretty well, or better yet "see you tomorrow" (or Tuesday or next week or whenever you will actually see him). But then you run into problems with such guy friends as may be in the Navy and whom you probably won't see for a good long while. Somehow "See you in a couple of years" doesn't really work so well as a frequent closing. But then, if it's long term you can be a little more pious and close with a "God bless" or "I'm praying for you" or something. And of course, you can always do something a little more informal, like "your pal, Andrea" or "your land lubbing friend, Andrea." Hee hee hee. I just thought of that last one. I'll have to remember that. And as a last resort you can just abruptly stop, and hope he doesn't notice. "And then we all laughed really hard. It was wicked funny. Andrea".
When it comes to professors and non-peers it gets a little more stressful. I've used things like "warmly" (which seems a little more their generation than mine) and "I hope you're having a wonderful, relaxing summer" (which sounds suspiciously like I wasn't sure how to close the e-mail, or worse, like I'm signing their high school yearbook). The best is when you're writing a thank you e-mail. Then you can get away with "Thanks Again, Andrea" or better yet, "Thanks Again (SO much), Andrea." But in all of this I still haven't hit upon the perfect e-mail closing.
Recently (as in, within the past few months) Melissa and I were discussing this, and our conversation began the downward spiral into frivolity, as it is wont to do. We began coming up with all sorts of fantastic adverbs with which to close e-mails. "Concomitantly, Andrea." "Stylistically, Andrea." "Fanatically, Andrea." The next e-mail I sent to Melissa ended "Salubriously, Andrea."
So really the dilemma need not be a stressful puzzle so much as an opportunity for creative greatness. Go to it friends! Write those e-mails! And embrace the awkward closings!
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Lamentations
I lament the passage of great words from the English language. There are some words, prevalent in societies past, that enhanced vocabulary to a remarkable degree, and which we, in our society, are poorer without. Words like shan't and wither and wherefore (which means why, just so we're perfectly clear) made conversation so rich. For that matter, it seems that the desire for artistic sentence structure has totally passed from the every day American scene.
I, however, would like to propose the first step towards bringing back the ancient eloquence. We, my fellow Americans, should re-adopt the word FORSOOTH. What flair the word has! What clarity of meaning! What weight it lends to the ordinary sentence! Just think about the possibilities in today's world for all manner of people.
The Red Sox fan: Keep Schilling in middle relief forever, forsooth!
The English teacher: Split infinitives, forsooth!
The Liberal: Allow people to have more control over their own lives, forsooth!
The Vegan: Leather glasses case, forsooth!
You get the picture.
And so I leave you all to contemplate the merits of thus enhancing your vocabulary. Stuck forever in the mindless drivel of unitelligible slang, FORSOOTH!
I, however, would like to propose the first step towards bringing back the ancient eloquence. We, my fellow Americans, should re-adopt the word FORSOOTH. What flair the word has! What clarity of meaning! What weight it lends to the ordinary sentence! Just think about the possibilities in today's world for all manner of people.
The Red Sox fan: Keep Schilling in middle relief forever, forsooth!
The English teacher: Split infinitives, forsooth!
The Liberal: Allow people to have more control over their own lives, forsooth!
The Vegan: Leather glasses case, forsooth!
You get the picture.
And so I leave you all to contemplate the merits of thus enhancing your vocabulary. Stuck forever in the mindless drivel of unitelligible slang, FORSOOTH!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Joy of Cooking
Today was my day to make dinner. I haven't cooked a dinner in months, I believe. I pulled out the trusty "Joy of Cooking" cookbook, and sallied forth. It had been my personal opinion that the cookbook's title was a misnomer of giant proportions. Cooking is not fun. It is hard work, and not at all rewarding. I have no flair, and no matter how closely I follow the recipe, something always seems to be a little off. Sigh. But my turn was my turn, so (as I said) I sallied forth.
Much to my delight, I discovered a lot of joy along the way! I cannot quite describe the grin of mad glee that broke over my face when I peeked under the towel and saw that my bread was (gasp) rising. And it was so beautiful and puffy and Adams-ish! My goodness.
And then, while I packed the brown sugar into the cup measure, I had a quick flashback to childhood. I was completely entranced when Mama showed me how you pack brown sugar and it comes out in the shape of the cup measure! It was as good as a sand castle. So I continued happily packing, and turned the measure over, and there, sure enough, was that nicely shaped clump of brown sugar! Just like when I was little. The trick had lost none of its charm in 20 years.
This wasn't so much joyful as interesting, but I decided that cabbage is not a sort of food for the wimpy. It is tough, and strong, and crisp, and that probably explains why it's pretty much only eaten by Germans and New Englanders. You have to be pretty tough yourself to enjoy it.
My favorite part of bread making is when you get to butter the top after it comes out of the oven. Mmmmmm. It's so warm and shiny and edible! And did you know that if you have already used both brushes and put them in dirty water in the sink that it's possible to butter the top of your bread with a paper towel? It is.
And so I discovered today that there really is a great deal of joy in cooking. Take heart all you non-flairish chefs. There is fun even for the most basic cookers among us!
And what, you may ask, was I possibly making with bread, cabbage, and brown sugar? It sounds like a most atrocious combination. Well, actually, the bread was for meatball subs, the cabbage for coleslaw (coleslaw or cole slaw?), and the brown sugar for apple crisp. So far the meal has been met with approval, although some of us have not yet returned home from our baseball games to sample it. The suspense continues...
Much to my delight, I discovered a lot of joy along the way! I cannot quite describe the grin of mad glee that broke over my face when I peeked under the towel and saw that my bread was (gasp) rising. And it was so beautiful and puffy and Adams-ish! My goodness.
And then, while I packed the brown sugar into the cup measure, I had a quick flashback to childhood. I was completely entranced when Mama showed me how you pack brown sugar and it comes out in the shape of the cup measure! It was as good as a sand castle. So I continued happily packing, and turned the measure over, and there, sure enough, was that nicely shaped clump of brown sugar! Just like when I was little. The trick had lost none of its charm in 20 years.
This wasn't so much joyful as interesting, but I decided that cabbage is not a sort of food for the wimpy. It is tough, and strong, and crisp, and that probably explains why it's pretty much only eaten by Germans and New Englanders. You have to be pretty tough yourself to enjoy it.
My favorite part of bread making is when you get to butter the top after it comes out of the oven. Mmmmmm. It's so warm and shiny and edible! And did you know that if you have already used both brushes and put them in dirty water in the sink that it's possible to butter the top of your bread with a paper towel? It is.
And so I discovered today that there really is a great deal of joy in cooking. Take heart all you non-flairish chefs. There is fun even for the most basic cookers among us!
And what, you may ask, was I possibly making with bread, cabbage, and brown sugar? It sounds like a most atrocious combination. Well, actually, the bread was for meatball subs, the cabbage for coleslaw (coleslaw or cole slaw?), and the brown sugar for apple crisp. So far the meal has been met with approval, although some of us have not yet returned home from our baseball games to sample it. The suspense continues...
Monday, July 25, 2005
On Hot Drinks
Hot drinks are my ultimate comfort food. It all began with hot chocolate in high school. I was rather stressed out at the time (although it's strange how time changes you perspective - it all looks like a breeze from this vantage point. Knowing how time changes your perspective I actually started off a high school journal telling my future self not to scorn the writings of my present self, but to read with understanding. If my future self belittles my past self, I hope my past self comes and kicks my future self. Dear readers, be sure to judge your past selves with mercy! But I digress...) and at one point was having a mug of hot cocoa every morning and night! It was very comforting, but also very bad for the caloric intake count. So I tried to cut back to not-even-once-a-day.
Once I hit my second year of college, the coffee monster started nipping at my heels. I did quite well at staving it off, but by junior year wasn't doing so well. When I began giving up breakfasts of dry cereal as a senior, and found it much easier to grab coffee and a muffin on my way to school (this also cut down on the absolute essential time needed to get ready, thus allowing me to push the snooze button one or two more times than usual), things started to get serious. I cut back when I realized I was starting to get addicted. Besides, I was minoring in voice, and caffeine is very bad for your singing voice. Dries out your vocal chords. Of course, there is decaf coffee which works great when you aren't a huge coffee connoisseur anyway (no one who asks for extra cream and sugar can be called a coffee connoisseur - and it is only black coffee drinkers who demand the respect due to coffee snobs, as I like to call them).
But thanks to voice lessons, and to a terrible bout with laryngitis, I discovered the joys of tea with honey! Herbal tea has no caffeine, and honey is great for getting your voice back in shape. Tea used to be just too water-y for me. But with a healthy dose of honey the flavor fills right out, making it a rich drink instead of a thin one.
And Aunt Laura quickly taught me to appreciate chai tea. Some of this is caffeinated, but you can also get decaf chai, which also tastes excellent.
All of these options are perfect for those I-feel-overwhelmed-with-life moments, when you just need to take a little break from the grind. You can encircle that mug with your hands (this is greatly enhanced if a dear friend like Lindsay has given you a hand painted mug of perfect size, weight, and aesthetic charm), drinking in warmth through your finger tips as well as in the usual manner. The steam warms your face as you slowly take a sip (for some, like my grandfather, this cannot take place without the raising of eyebrows - I find this trait particularly endearing), and the rich taste makes you realize that life can't be all bad. Not while hot chocolate/coffee/tea/chai exist in the world.
So friends, if any of you are feeling overwhelmed, may I advise a spot of Chopin, a comfortable chair, and a mug of something warm. (Um, also, this works best when it is not over 75 degrees outside - and for optimum enjoyment try more like 50 or below. Good thing I thought of this in high summer. But I never said I was the most rational creature alive.)
Once I hit my second year of college, the coffee monster started nipping at my heels. I did quite well at staving it off, but by junior year wasn't doing so well. When I began giving up breakfasts of dry cereal as a senior, and found it much easier to grab coffee and a muffin on my way to school (this also cut down on the absolute essential time needed to get ready, thus allowing me to push the snooze button one or two more times than usual), things started to get serious. I cut back when I realized I was starting to get addicted. Besides, I was minoring in voice, and caffeine is very bad for your singing voice. Dries out your vocal chords. Of course, there is decaf coffee which works great when you aren't a huge coffee connoisseur anyway (no one who asks for extra cream and sugar can be called a coffee connoisseur - and it is only black coffee drinkers who demand the respect due to coffee snobs, as I like to call them).
But thanks to voice lessons, and to a terrible bout with laryngitis, I discovered the joys of tea with honey! Herbal tea has no caffeine, and honey is great for getting your voice back in shape. Tea used to be just too water-y for me. But with a healthy dose of honey the flavor fills right out, making it a rich drink instead of a thin one.
And Aunt Laura quickly taught me to appreciate chai tea. Some of this is caffeinated, but you can also get decaf chai, which also tastes excellent.
All of these options are perfect for those I-feel-overwhelmed-with-life moments, when you just need to take a little break from the grind. You can encircle that mug with your hands (this is greatly enhanced if a dear friend like Lindsay has given you a hand painted mug of perfect size, weight, and aesthetic charm), drinking in warmth through your finger tips as well as in the usual manner. The steam warms your face as you slowly take a sip (for some, like my grandfather, this cannot take place without the raising of eyebrows - I find this trait particularly endearing), and the rich taste makes you realize that life can't be all bad. Not while hot chocolate/coffee/tea/chai exist in the world.
So friends, if any of you are feeling overwhelmed, may I advise a spot of Chopin, a comfortable chair, and a mug of something warm. (Um, also, this works best when it is not over 75 degrees outside - and for optimum enjoyment try more like 50 or below. Good thing I thought of this in high summer. But I never said I was the most rational creature alive.)
Thursday, July 21, 2005
"The groves were God's first temples" - Bryant
We have some lovely guests right now, but the conversation has turned to such things as children's naptimes, feeding schedules, and sicknesses, so I decided it was time to bow out. On to new subjects...
I have recently decided that I love woods. There's a lovely path behind the house that leads off into the trees, and eventually arrives at an old foundation. A few of us went off to connect with our inner Deerslayers during the Girls Week, and it was such a charming walk. I loved seeing the sun slant into the green of the woods, making pools of light that give promise of things like fairies and talking animals. The ground is covered in ferns, and the trees overarch the way. It is quiet and peaceful (except for the times where I am screaming down to Jayne, our forward scout, to see whether she's found anything exciting).
The place is also swarming with deer ticks. (Those squeamish among you may want to skim.) I discovered three after my little sojourn in the woodlands, and was 0-3 trying to pull them out intact. That meant fun with needles, razors, and tweezers, because it is no good to leave their little mouths in you, even if the rest of the body is removed. Ah the joys of the woods.
I had almost given up on the foundation, since we'd been walking for a long long time (like maybe 20 minutes or so) without seeing it. But then, all at once, we came out into a clearer spot with a stream and a foundation! It was fascinating. I felt this strange connection to the past (reincarnationists would have loved it) as I walked where a family had lived and worked and grown. We discovered the place where the door must have been, the well, the fireplace area. We saw the stone walls they must have worked hard to create. And here we were, all those years later, admiring their handiwork, and being inspired by what they had accomplished. A rewarding end to our wilderness-woman journey.
I have recently decided that I love woods. There's a lovely path behind the house that leads off into the trees, and eventually arrives at an old foundation. A few of us went off to connect with our inner Deerslayers during the Girls Week, and it was such a charming walk. I loved seeing the sun slant into the green of the woods, making pools of light that give promise of things like fairies and talking animals. The ground is covered in ferns, and the trees overarch the way. It is quiet and peaceful (except for the times where I am screaming down to Jayne, our forward scout, to see whether she's found anything exciting).
The place is also swarming with deer ticks. (Those squeamish among you may want to skim.) I discovered three after my little sojourn in the woodlands, and was 0-3 trying to pull them out intact. That meant fun with needles, razors, and tweezers, because it is no good to leave their little mouths in you, even if the rest of the body is removed. Ah the joys of the woods.
I had almost given up on the foundation, since we'd been walking for a long long time (like maybe 20 minutes or so) without seeing it. But then, all at once, we came out into a clearer spot with a stream and a foundation! It was fascinating. I felt this strange connection to the past (reincarnationists would have loved it) as I walked where a family had lived and worked and grown. We discovered the place where the door must have been, the well, the fireplace area. We saw the stone walls they must have worked hard to create. And here we were, all those years later, admiring their handiwork, and being inspired by what they had accomplished. A rewarding end to our wilderness-woman journey.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
We're Baaaaaack! And other observations...
In bracing you all for the fact that I wouldn't be posting during the Girls Week, I should have mentioned I would also be out of commission for the Family Convention. But that would still not have accounted for the past week, since Melissa and I were SPONTANEOUS (gasp) and blazed off in a trail of glory for Georgia! But now we are back, and thus I must resume the great responsibility of blogging.
The rest of the summer will be full of curriculum planning. I am supposed to be developing a Classical Literature course for 10th and 11th graders and a more generic Literature course of 7th and 8th graders. I was on-line today looking at Great Books lists, and dreaming big dreams. I was also on the phone with Danny, and looking at a Lit book Dad loaned me. I am rich in resources. And good thing, too, since this is all so very new!
But I am reminded of how much I love Literature. I love the incredible way that it shows you insights into your own world, and allows you to see beyond your own world into things you would never otherwise experience. Literature can reflect the self and simultaneously transcend it. It can express in concrete ways the things that are often only vaguely troubling the edges of one's consciousness. It can present huge truths in beautiful and lasting ways. It can capture the human condition. It can demonstrate the way of escape. It comes the closest of any medium to expressing what is inexpressible about "this mortal coil." Unfortunately, since I can only appreciate Literature, and not produce it, this little tribute doesn't even do it justice.
So, needless to say, I think I have found my niche as an English teacher. What better career than one dealing with the lasting, the illuminating, the beautiful? And yes, I will be willing to discuss this further at the drop of a hat.
The rest of the summer will be full of curriculum planning. I am supposed to be developing a Classical Literature course for 10th and 11th graders and a more generic Literature course of 7th and 8th graders. I was on-line today looking at Great Books lists, and dreaming big dreams. I was also on the phone with Danny, and looking at a Lit book Dad loaned me. I am rich in resources. And good thing, too, since this is all so very new!
But I am reminded of how much I love Literature. I love the incredible way that it shows you insights into your own world, and allows you to see beyond your own world into things you would never otherwise experience. Literature can reflect the self and simultaneously transcend it. It can express in concrete ways the things that are often only vaguely troubling the edges of one's consciousness. It can present huge truths in beautiful and lasting ways. It can capture the human condition. It can demonstrate the way of escape. It comes the closest of any medium to expressing what is inexpressible about "this mortal coil." Unfortunately, since I can only appreciate Literature, and not produce it, this little tribute doesn't even do it justice.
So, needless to say, I think I have found my niche as an English teacher. What better career than one dealing with the lasting, the illuminating, the beautiful? And yes, I will be willing to discuss this further at the drop of a hat.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Call Me "Knit-Master"
Step aside, Liane. I am knitting up a storm. Actually, just a boot. It's supposed to be a slipper, I suppose... but that's a bit of a stretch, since it's oddly sort of square.
I was supposed to learn how to do something new for my training-me-how-to-be-an-effective-tutor-in-the-writing-center class (oh man... totally unrelated, but I had to read a book for that class and the author did that whole hyphenate the world thing that I just did and it got SOOOOOO annoying). I guess the idea is to see what it's like being on the other end of the whole teacher/student relationship (although we're not suppose to teach people who come in; we're supposed to collaborate with them on an equal playing field [and, while I'm on a roll, I apologize for using parentheses to house large chunks of randomness in every other sentence I write]). So anyway, I chose knitting as my "learning project." I went over to visit an elderly woman in our church (we'll just call her Mrs. L to protect the innocent and be mightily mysterious), because she is an expert. I was terrified at first as I watched her fingers flying in all different directions to her running commentary of helpful things like "you just do this, and this, and loop this around here...". But she kindly slowed down and I caught on to the basics before too long.
So, after attempting a few rows of lumpy and holey knits and perls, we decided I was ready for a project. But what do you knit in the middle of the blazing summer? I feel no need for sweaters or hats or gloves or parkas or earmuffs (hmm... knitted parkas and earmuffs... I'll make millions), and as Mrs. L said strongly, "scarves are boring as all get out." So, of course, the obvious conclusion was slippers!! After being fairly warned that knitted slippers are slippery unless you spray some kind of traction-spray on them, I frisked some thick brown yarn from Amy (brown is a cozy sort of color, don't you think?) and began. Man alive, this hobby is addicting! I finished around 1 am last night. I was all alone in my room and kept laughing out loud by myself because it looked so ridiculous. I chuckle even now. I improvised a bit, and tucked some corners in here and there, so now it's kinda cute and vaguely slipper-like. I'm pretty proud of it, and figure I've basically arrived as far as knitting goes. Does anybody know someone with only one foot?
I was supposed to learn how to do something new for my training-me-how-to-be-an-effective-tutor-in-the-writing-center class (oh man... totally unrelated, but I had to read a book for that class and the author did that whole hyphenate the world thing that I just did and it got SOOOOOO annoying). I guess the idea is to see what it's like being on the other end of the whole teacher/student relationship (although we're not suppose to teach people who come in; we're supposed to collaborate with them on an equal playing field [and, while I'm on a roll, I apologize for using parentheses to house large chunks of randomness in every other sentence I write]). So anyway, I chose knitting as my "learning project." I went over to visit an elderly woman in our church (we'll just call her Mrs. L to protect the innocent and be mightily mysterious), because she is an expert. I was terrified at first as I watched her fingers flying in all different directions to her running commentary of helpful things like "you just do this, and this, and loop this around here...". But she kindly slowed down and I caught on to the basics before too long.
So, after attempting a few rows of lumpy and holey knits and perls, we decided I was ready for a project. But what do you knit in the middle of the blazing summer? I feel no need for sweaters or hats or gloves or parkas or earmuffs (hmm... knitted parkas and earmuffs... I'll make millions), and as Mrs. L said strongly, "scarves are boring as all get out." So, of course, the obvious conclusion was slippers!! After being fairly warned that knitted slippers are slippery unless you spray some kind of traction-spray on them, I frisked some thick brown yarn from Amy (brown is a cozy sort of color, don't you think?) and began. Man alive, this hobby is addicting! I finished around 1 am last night. I was all alone in my room and kept laughing out loud by myself because it looked so ridiculous. I chuckle even now. I improvised a bit, and tucked some corners in here and there, so now it's kinda cute and vaguely slipper-like. I'm pretty proud of it, and figure I've basically arrived as far as knitting goes. Does anybody know someone with only one foot?
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