picture this

2009...

it was to be a year of weddings, renewed friendships, goodbyes, and hellos...

cori got married and we danced.

i finished my course work and carried an orange balloon.

i turned 28 and made an awesome cake.

i went to the bahamas and studied for the lsat.

i went to collingwood and played on the swings with nancy and pat.

i said goodbye to cori and made her a cake.

mon got married and we danced.

i got my lsat score and nearly wept with joy.

i went all out for hallowe'en but no one else did!

while on a research trip, i commemorated the 20th anniversary of the fall of the berlin wall.

i celebrated the holidays with more "family" than ever before - friends so close they're family, my little sister's in-laws, distant cousins in london, my little sister, her husband, and my parents. and i missed my older sister and her fiance.

there was a lot more in there... new ideas, new areas of research, major life decisions (like applying to law school), terrible disappointments (the detainee allegations and the recent proroguing of parliament rank high, but there were personal ones, too). but there was growth. and there were good tears.

not bad for a year's work. on to the next!

fa la la la la!

out with the old year,
in with the new!
january's nearly here,
december's nearly through!
though we don't know where the time has flown,
it obviously flew... so

out with the old year,
out with the old year,
out with the old year,
in with the new!

fa la la la lalalalala,
fa la la la la!

~"out with the old year," from the "adventures in odyssey" christmas album

merry, merry

a warm merry christmas to all my readers... all seven of you. a special cup of cheer for michelle, amanda, ab., and cori, who are among the most faithful blog-visitors (and friends) i know.

holly and ivy,
~m

london sweets

the best hot chocolate i've ever had, trafalgar square

anna's christmas cookies

german mini pancakes, south bank of the thames

anna's pavlova (mmmm...)

glasses

madonna and child (me and eddie).

christmas gift (w)rap

it's christmas eve and woe is me,
gotta do some shoppin' in a big hurry,
gotta make a list, gotta check it twice,
gotta read the ads, gotta ask advice
better start right now, better start today,
gonna be in trouble if i delay,
just look outside at all that snow,
got the christmas spirit
HO HO HO!

gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop -
shop-doo-op!

look in my wallet, what do i see,
empty space staring back at me.
check my pockets, news is bad,
can't go shoppin' 'til i talk to dad.
ask him nice for a little loan,
some collateral to call my own,
then FA LA LA, i'm out of here,
to spread a little christmas cheer!

gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop -
shop-doo-op!

how 'bout a watch for my brother bob,
he's always late for his downtown job,
a fruitcake for my aunt eileen,
she's a REAL fruitcake if you know what i mean,
there's mom and dad, and uncle smitty,
and all those cousins in kansas city,
the list gets longer, every day,
jing-jing-jingle, i'm on my way!

gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop -
shop-doo-op!

hurry home to wrap and tie,
st. nick will be here by and by,
pile those presents on the floor,
light the tree and lock the door,
tiptoe off to fall in bed,
sugarplums dancing in my head,
can't wait 'til christmas comes, but then
i can't wait 'til i go shopping again!

gotta shop, shop,

gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop, shop,
gotta shop -
shop-doo-op!



~ huron street public school christmas pageant, 1991

corina and i can still recite most of this by heart :)

solo?

there's an important distinction between a monologue and a soliloquy. the former is an extended uninterrupted speech by one person, while the latter is similar, but not intended to be heard by any of the other characters. it's addressed only to the (passive) audience. it's hamlet's "to be or not to be" rather than, say, emilio's speech about how he ended up in detention in "the breakfast club" (which i just saw!). hamlet was just talking to himself, working through ideas outloud, but the jock was actually communicating. i mean, yes, he was working through stuff, but he also wanted the rest of the crew to know. and he wanted them to respond.

if you're asked to recite a monologue, either kind will do. but when you're writing a blog... you have to kind of decide which kind of "performance" it's going to be. for the record, i don't want this to be a soliloquy.

ok?

capital/capitol

things you need to know about me, if you don't already:

1 - i'm insanely into "the west wing."
2 - the only time i've ever been to washington dc, i hung out with the older sissy, but never saw the sights.
3 - united airlines flies to heathrow through dc.
4 - i don't know how to sight-see by myself. it's hard to stay motivated and to know what to do... and i always wish i had someone to talk to about what i see.
5 - my thesis work revolves around the vietnam war.

with some help from my expedia-expert (i.e. dad), a 13-hour layover was planned. the benefit of this particular trip was that it was so short that it could only allow for a whirlwind tour. in other words, i had no choice but to stay motivated. it also demanded some triage.

i focused on the national archives, the lincoln memorial, and the vietnam war memorial. i also broke down and got a reader card at the library of congress. ("broke down" because they really discourage getting the card unless you intend to do research. in all fairness, i would have done so if i had the time.)

apart from the coincidence of seeing an enlisted soldier at the vietnam war memorial, my favourite thing was discovering that one of my tour bus drivers (taking advantage of the freedom to hop-on-hop-off, i met four different ones) was a vietnam vet. he was in grad school and got a student deferment, but then he ran out of money. so he enlisted and flew fighter planes! then he moved to d.c. in '73. i know vets abound, especially in the states, and especially when it comes to this particular war... but it was still kinda neat.

globu, globu!

my chubby fingers reached for the christmas ornament and mom tentatively placed the shiny sphere in my hand. within seconds, it was on the ground, in pieces. to this day, whenever i reach for something delicate, i hear mom’s singsong voice: globu, globu! it reminds me that, as a two-year-old, i begged for and was entrusted with a treasure, only to fail miserably as its steward.

the 26-year gap between that christmas and today seems to have done little to shake the feeling that i cannot handle the fragile. it is enough to make me hesitate before i reach out. i pause for a moment and consider: can't i enjoy this beautiful thing without touching it, without risking it? perhaps i can relish it by observation, rather than experience. we will both be safer that way.

even the things i love most – especially the things i love most – i am bound to be too aggressive with, to smother, to crush. my fingers are not nimble enough, my grip is too tight, and i find myself counting down to the inevitable disappointment of loss.

~ adapted from my "soul paper," 2004.

where the brilliant ideas are...

in case it wasn't intuitively obvious from my last post, i've been spending a whole lot of time working at a coffee shop lately. namely, a starbucks at a certain chapters near my house.

sometimes i feel guilty about being here: at first, i would get a (vanilla rooibos, loose-leaf in a bag!) tea in the morning, ask to have it topped up with more hot water a few hours later, then have a snack or lunch, and finally a (vanilla rooibos, loose-leaf in a bag!) tea latte in the afternoon. then i started bringing my lunch and snack from home. they let me stay, which i really appreciate. (for all i know, the staff is just uncomfortable asking people to please spend more than $7 if they're going to hang out all day and use their power outlets.) in any case, it works out well for me, but i feel awful when people are lookin' for a place to sit.

incidentally, even $7 a day (plus transit) isn't cheap. if you click on the ads on the left, you can help me pay for my "office"! :) i'll even put a little sign on my table that says, "paid for, in part, by..." i swear i will.

the thing is, i get work done at an alarming rate when i'm here! there are fewer distractions and i only have internet access for 2 hours. plus, the very act of getting up and out of the house helps put me in the right frame of mind for productivity. (fact: i could never be self-employed.) listening to "glee" constantly also seems to help. it's predictable (there are only twenty tracks, at this point) and cheerful. my mom actually describes the show as my way of recovering from hours and hours of being immersed in the gory details of the vietnam war and the infuriating selfishness of certain corners of the mennonite and united churches.

she may have a point. it's hard to be too upset about tiger cages when you're listening to this:


what helps you get work done?

brilliant idea alert!

someone needs to start this business:
- part kinko's, part coffeeshop
- pay for fancy coffees, tea bags, treats, food, printing, binding, sending or receiving faxs, renting a voicemail box or locker
- normal coffee is refillable after you pay for the first one of the day
- as long as you're spending at least $2 per hour on goodies or services, you can hang out as long as you want
- lots of powerbars so all customers can plug in laptops
- internet access by the hour or monthly unlimited access
- and it's called the office. as in, "i'll be at the office today."

seriously... someone do this. please!

"you *have* to be kidding!"

too many mornings, those are the first words out of my mouth. it's been taking me hours to fall asleep at night and forever to wake up in the morning. my dreams have been vivid and occasionally emotionally exhausting, so i often walk through my day like a zombie. the dumb kind of zombie. the kind that thinks cauliflowers are brains. [(c) seth grahame-smith]

last night, as i lay in bed, between playing "6 degrees of separation"* and realizing that i have only two weeks to complete my first draft of my thesis, it was very hard not to wonder what my life will be like a year from now. will i be in toronto? will i be more sure of myself? will i be more disciplined? will i - dare i ask? - be happy?

anyway, i think my cell phone is beginning to resent the abuse. does anyone know a surefire way to convince the body that sleep is for nighttime and alert wakefulness is for daytime?

* for instance: at his audition for "glee," chris colfer sang "mr. cellophane" from "chicago." his character, kurt hummel, also sang that song in the pilot. how can i connect "glee" and "chicago"?

glee - jane lynch - julie and julia - stanley tucci - it could happen to you - nicholas cage - the rock - sean connery - entrapment - catherine zeta-jones chicago

nb: this was before i knew that jane lynch was in talladega nights: the ballad of ricky bobby. this piece of information would have simplified things considerably, since john c. reilly is mr. cellophane himself.

poirot's investigations

genre books tend to get a bad reputation, on account of appearing superficial. but the more agatha christie i read, the more i see important psychological and sociological insights in her writing. "appointment with death" has more to do with dysfunctional families than with sleuthing. the murder seems entirely incidental to the story. and it's not just the mystery genre - or, indeed, just christie - that works this way. if verne and wells are any indication, science fiction is likewise a means of dissecting sociological/political themes.

anyway, one well-documented characteristic among the more interesting fictional detectives is that they're sort of rogues - their relationship with the established process of law enforcement is a precarious one. holmes, poirot, marple, and even house all fall into that category. i haven't read enough of arthur canon doyle's work to say if this part is also ubiquitous, but it is absolutely fascinating to me how often in hercule poirot's "practice" the murderer manages to escape charges by committing suicide, suffering from a terminal illness, or ending up in a fatal accident. agatha christie just didn't seem all that interested in legal procedure, though the importance of justice was underscored in all her mysteries. indeed, she gave tacit (and sometimes reluctant) approval to vigilante justice in at least three of her novels.

i've been collecting the poirot books for years now, and when i got to 24 out of 39, i realized that the editions i wanted were no longer in print. i'm determined to get all the titles, one way or another, in close-to-similar-editions. my most recent acquisition was "dumb witness" which involves a posthumous letter, a rich spinster, and an adorable dog named bob.

owned
read
missing!

The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920)
Murder on the Links (1923)
Poirot Investigates (1924)
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926)
The Big Four (1927)
The Mystery of the Blue Train (1928)
Black Coffee (1930)
Peril at End House (1932)
Lord Edgware Dies (1933)
Murder on the Orient Express (1934)
Three Act Tragedy (1935)
Death in the Clouds (1935)
The A.B.C. Murders (1936)
Murder in Mesopotamia (1936)
Cards on the Table (1936)
Death on the Nile (1937)
Dumb Witness (1937)
Murder in the Mews (1937)
Appointment with Death (1938)
Hercule Poirot's Christmas (1938)
Sad Cypress (1940)
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe (1940)
Evil Under the Sun (1941)
Five Little Pigs (1942)
The Hollow (1946)
The Labours of Hercules (1947)
Taken at the Flood (1948)
Mrs McGinty's Dead (1952)
After the Funeral (1953)
Hickory Dickory Dock (1955)
Dead Man's Folly (1956)
Cat Among the Pigeons (1959)
The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding (1960)
The Clocks (1963)
Third Girl (1966)
Hallowe'en Party (1969)
Elephants Can Remember (1972)
Poirot's Early Cases (1974)
Curtain (written about 1940, published 1975)

also posted at diet of bookworms.

joyful, joyful...

i know this is terribly novel, but i may be addicted to glee. this undoubtedly comes as a shock, given that i cry *every* time i watch sister act. (granted, this show is more in the style of the sequel.)

anywho, it's superclever, the music is sweet, and jane lynch is a genius. i especially dig that rachel works out to "break my stride" because, as some of you may remember, i do, too.

additionally, i need to work out a normal sleep schedule.

and so, goodnight unto you all.

now, where were we...?

thanks for stopping by over the last year! please keep coming back, and always feel free to leave a comment!

it's time to share

announcing the launch of my spin-off blog: http://gemsfrommymother.blogspot.com

it will be updated as new gems permit. :)

crushed

a little while ago, i wrote about the movie "the reader" and reflected on the limits of our compassion.

"sometimes we find ourselves at the end of our compassion and love. there is only so far any one of us can go, and we are, perhaps, surprised to discover we are at that border. crossing over would be right - so virtuous, so noble, so good - but it is not within our strength. we are at the end of ourselves."

it's not even always the case that you suddenly look up and realize the border lies between you and your next step. sometimes you just slam right into the brick wall that prevents you from giving more. at least i do. at least... i just did.

and it hurts. i want to be someone who can always give more... but maybe you can't achieve that without inevitably giving less. and who wants love that is a hundred miles long but only one inch deep?

a friend of mine recently asked me if there's anything i do halfway. he was referring to my hallowe'en costume (see here), but it gave me pause. when it comes to people i care about, i very rarely go halfway. i screw things up, but it usually has nothing to do with my lack of investment.

i hope... i really do hope that, one of these days, i'm going to bust a me-shaped hole right through that brick wall. but until my heart is strong enough for that, i suppose i'll have to suffer through many more bruised shins and broken noses.

for now, i'm curled up at the foot of the wall, wishing my tears could dissolve it, brick by brick.

"our best hope is to love as fiercely and give as freely as we can - as we can - and learn to forgive ourselves for the rest."

putting my red queen face on

this hallowe'en, inspired by tim burton's new take on alice in wonderland and countless youtube how-to videos, i decided to recreate(ish) the look of the red queen, as played by helena bonham carter.

enjoy the step-by-step!



two hours later, all made-up, i just added a regal costume (all stuff i had in the house) and a red wig. oh, and a crown and a card-deck purse i made myself!



and then i went off to my very important date!

morning report

i woke my parents up in the middle of the night to let them know that my lsat results had arrived, three days early.

and the news is so very, very good. like, hyperbolicly good.

i suspect they've forgiven me for the rude awakening.

early to bed and early to rise...

hello! i'm still alive. working hard these days. you know, for a change ;)
- lsat is done. results coming in 12 days!
- law school applications in the works
- thesis research behind, but progressing
- actual social life happening
- missing cori and james
- anticipating ioana and dov's wedding
- only one actual tiff with mom since i moved back here two months ago! big smiles!
- "house" is pretty cool
- i'm always tired by 9pm, but...
- i think i just might be happy

's-one-derful

the raw materials:


the finished product:


ginger and green tea cake with green tea frosting.
thinly peeled cantaloupe and wasabi frosting on the side.

happy belated birthday to me!

two thumbs up!

i'm fairly sure the "product" reviews i've done on here have been focused on restaurants, books, movies, and yummy ingredients. it's high time i branched out to beauty products! this might not interest all of you, so feel free to go eat some fruit and cheese instead.

after ogling it a few times at my local drugstore, i finally decided to invest in a clean & clear advantage blackhead eraser* on the basis of a review on cosmo's website - by a man!

a little background on what informed this tremendous gamble: most face cleansers cause problems for me, because i have normal skin most places, dry skin on my forehead, around my eyebrows, and along my jawline, and blackheads but not super-oily skin on my nose. biore strips remove the blackheads but leave the pores wide open for attack - and that's not something cold water can fix. exfoliating masks don't get inside the pores, either. it's not that i'm uber lazy... but i don't care for laborious or costly attempts at solving this. as long as my skin is basically clean and healthy, i don't worry too much about blemishes and such. however, if this product could do what it promised - actually *reduce* the chances of recurring blackheads - it was worth a try. plus, facials are fun.

short of an actual scrubbing pad, which clean&clear makes and i've purchased many times before, this is the simplest thing ever. also, it's kind of fun. you attach a medicated pad onto the velcro top, turn the little device on, and quickly run it under the tap. as you slowly rub it all over your wet face, it vibrates, removing dead skin and applying that magical ingredient (salicylic acid, embedded in the pad) which "dissolves blackheads." um: it really does. a final wash with cold water removes the suds and leaves your face feeling smooth and beautiful. or, you know, clean and... clear.

they recommend repeating this process every three-four days, which means i'll need a refill pack of medicated pads (about $7) every ten weeks. that brings the annual total cost to about $54. seems quite reasonable to me.

experience: a
results: a
long-term: ?

i'll keep you updated! i know you'll be waiting on the edge of your seats ;)

*note that the price listed on the website isn't what i paid. at my shoppers drugmart, that kit was $25.99 and included the device, 20 one-use medicated pads, and the requisite AA battery.

tri a little tenderness

* someone i once cared about very deeply lost a significant person in his life
* my brother-in-law didn't get the grant he was hoping for, so he and my sister are worried about their future plans to move to the uk
* my mom's highlights turned out blonder than she anticipated

i'll give you one guess as to which of the three my mother thought was worth worrying about. confession: i really don't understand.

four-thoughts

- bought a zester!
- made couscous for the first time!
- am happier with luther than i thought i'd be!
- still find time for heartache.

5

when you're sitting two feet away from someone who is stomping her feet, slapping her face and ears, trying to throw the heating vent at you, and screaming at the top of her lungs until she is in tears... five minutes feels like an eternity.


p.s.
michael: have you seen any new movies lately?
me: well... oh, i saw "17 again"!
michael: oh, so you've seen in twice already?

i love my job. there's so much laughter there. so much trust. and it brings me tremendous joy even - and maybe especially - when it's heartbreaking and terrifying.

6

the other day, while hanging out at cornerstone, i asked casey, "have i ever cooked a meal here that didn't involve asparagus?" he pondered this and answered in the negative. upon further reflection, i realized that i couldn't remember the last meal i'd prepared *anywhere* that didn't involve asparagus. and while i looooove that veggie in a multitude of ways - steamed, stirfried, enfolded in eggs, encircled by prosciutto, roasted, bbqed, etc - enough was more or less enough.

tonight's dinner featured no asparagus. and (for high values of six or loose definitions of "ingredient"*) it relied on only six delicious ingredients. yummers!

here are the more photogenic ones:










oh, salsa, spread by my (new!) pastry brush. so spicy. so penetrating.
oh, red onion, sliced into gentle arcs. so target-shaped. so aromatic.
oh, roma grape tomatoes, cloven in half. so juicy. so fleshy.

siiiiigh.

the finished product looked something - but only *something* - like this.

as you can see, in addition to the yummies mentioned above, there were:
- "grains" of orzo (rice-shaped pasta that manages to be moist and light and still pasta-esque!)
- two halves of a rib-eye steak (which is what the salsa was spread on!)
- many peas (many!)



for those who are interested in the done-ness of said steak, it was a little less pink than it appears in this photo. i like my meat a bit closer to well-done, to be honest, but these were juicy (and therefore delectable) nonetheless.






all gone!

('cept for the containers of orzo and veggies now in my fridge.)

* my fajita spice combo, some kosher salt, and olive oil cooperated with the starring ingredients to create top-notch yum. love also helped.

7

we haven't seen each other in seven years, but about a month ago he told me this was true, if a little exaggerated.

and neither of us said anything at the time.

8

i heard my mom on the phone once, finding out her friend had leukemia... nu se poate (it can't be) was all i could make out. it can't be, it can't be... but it is, you know? it's hard to escape stories of people sick and dying, people in pain, in general - i know you guys are all touched by hurt, too, whether it's your own or that of other people. it's like all that stuff in the united states of leland: if you look deep enough into anyone's eyes, it's like there's this tremendous sadness, and they're just fighting to bury it under pta meetings and card games and status reports and facebook and shoes and books and movies and garbage.

i was thinking about how irrational love can be. i was thinking about how, when i sit beside nancy and no one's at home, i ask her, "are you happy?" and there is no earthly reason to hope that she will ever be happy, let alone be able to tell me that she's happy. how love is about hoping against all odds, without ignoring the sadness. i don't know what st. paul was on about, separating faith, hope, and love. i mean, you can argue with me if you really want, but i'm pretty sure those three aren't that distinct from one another.
 
my dad and i were talking about what it would be like to actually live each day as if it were your last. i joked that your friends and relatives would finally say, "listen, i get that you love me... you don't have to call every day and spend an hour on the phone with me, telling me how much you value me. i get it, i really, really do." sometimes i wonder if anything "practical" could get done if i took love seriously. maybe what scares me most about death is that there isn't enough time to really love people. maybe the beatles were right: eight days a week is not enough to show i care.

9

it snowed this morning. and then, when i got home from work, it was freezing in my apartment. well, perhaps not quite freezing: nine degrees. i was all bundled up, to no avail. plus my internet wasn't working.

so, i'm sleeping at charbonneau house tonight! so grateful for my adopted family.

10

this song popped up on my ipod the other day and i was struck by how well it described the way i felt about god, particularly toward the end of those ten years...



these parts especially resonated:

i sang your songs, i danced your dance
i gave your friends all a chance
but putting up with them
wasn't worth never having you*...

well, if i was in your position
i'd put down all my ammunition
i'd wonder why'd it'd taken me so long

but lord knows that i'm not you
and if i was, i wouldn't be so cruel
'cause waitin' on love ain't so easy to do

(*not in a blanket sense. but, yes, this resonates profoundly)

the music video makes me wonder whether i'd like to turn back time. and in many ways, i would. my life would be very different if i hadn't begun attending church in 1997. my career path, my family life, my friendships. but maybe i'm better for having arrived here the way i did. maybe it's ok to go down some painful paths, because otherwise you'd always be wondering about them. plus, i have met some wonderful people and learned some crucial lessons along the way.

in fact, i know i'm more compassionate to those who disagree with me than i used to be. maybe that just comes with growing up and caring less about "winning." or maybe spending ten years thinking a lot about character and integrity and sacrifice and kindness and truth and beauty has been good for my soul. so it's not so much about regret as... cutting my losses.

d. and i are speaking again, which is to say that he's arguing with me again. and i now realize what my sister was talking about when she said, "all christians seem to care about is whether i'm a christian." again, a blanket statement, so not quite accurate. but still... it hints at something real. and silly. and even a little painful.

there are a few things i'm an evangelist for: lars and the real girl, asparagus, chick peas, the west wing, toronto's ravines, and some social justice issues. but i hope i always, always care more about the people i'm talking to than i do about being right.

z is for zounds!

which is short for "christ's wounds" and is a curse shakespeare invoked a lot in his plays. and maybe my invoking that so close to easter is a little insensitive.

but i finally told my supervisor. well, i let my position paper on providence/"god as cause" tell him. i agonized over that assignment, but once it came time to write it, and i decided to take the plunge, it wasn't very hard. in the end, it was more apologetic (in both senses) than i'd really intended. but i was relieved to have finally told him, even though this will definitely change everything. *everything.*

here's are two excerpts:

"Most of all, however, a historian advances human understanding of history. This seemingly intuitive statement demands some meditation: The historian does not conduct research for her own satisfaction, spurred only by her own curiosity. She does the work of history in order that she might communicate both findings and interpretations to a world desirous of meaning. The historian is not only a reader, but a writer."

"The Biblical scholar need not be a native speaker of Hebrew. An acquired fluency in the language of his source material is sufficient. So, too, a historian of Christianity must be conversant in the doctrine of providence. In many cases, she will have been completely immersed in that theology. Yet it need not be her own."

y is for yes, indeed.

i think i understand a little. and i want to help.

x is for xylophilous

i like calling my apartment "my treehouse," for a couple of reasons: it's the third floor of a house, accessible by a skinny metal outdoor staircase, and when i stand on the top landing, i really am among the tree tops. likewise, when i look out my bedroom windows or crawl out onto the fire escape, i'm chillin' with trees. also, all of my furniture is wooden, i have those wickery baskets all over the place, and the floors are old and tired parquet. i feel cozy in my little nest :)

it's been seven months since i moved in and in another five i'll be probably be heading out. staying here through the summer isn't ideal - rent isn't free and i'd love to spend more time with cori and james before they leave for the uk. but i signed a rental contract, and l'arche will need me to cover vacations, so here i'll be at least some of the time.

while i'm trying very hard not to do too much planning until i have all my papers and my thesis proposal done, thoughts of summertime still dance in my head. research trips, breathing deeply in the ravine near my parents' house, a summer course, going to the park with nancy and pat, holidays in collingwood, shakespeare in high park, and this treehouse: wood aglow with sunshine, breezes blowing from the bedroom through the kitchen and out the front door, tanning on the back stoop with a book on my face, evenings of sipping smirnoff ice on the fire escape. i really want to make the most of having my own space - and this space, in particular - while i can.

you're welcome to join me :)

w is for wedding!

corina and james are married! and dov knows how to look like a very creepy passer-by:)

but, seriously: though there were some delays and surprises - broken furnace, broken necklace, iron barfed rusty water on dov's shirt, spa morning took an hour longer than anticipated and involved a minor scolding from the hairdresser - the bride's side eventually made it to the u of t campus to take photos on the west side of university college.

the groom's family were patiently waiting with smiles and corina's bouquet, having already completed the requisite combinatorics exercise and taken all of their photos.



james' dad held coats while we tried out all the possible combos:

- cori & james
- cori & james & cori's parents, cori & james & james' parents
- cori & james & cori's family, cori & james & james' family
- cori & parents, corina & siblings, corina & siblings & dov
- cori's family, cori's family & dov
- all the siblings, siblings & significant others
- both families, both families & significant others, both families & significant others & james' friends

despite the sunshine, it was pretty cold out there and whenever we weren't on-camera we huddled for warmth!

right, so off to city hall!

there was a bit of a wait there, but soon it was our turn to fill up the little wedding chamber. cori and james glowed, the tissues ran out, the justice of the peace spoke beautifully, we got ink on our fingers, and ioana and dov passed around truffles once the pronouncement of husband and wife was made.

i really appreciated that there was no hint that this was simply one of a thousand weddings the justice had performed in his career. he made their moment significant, and it really felt like he valued the role he played.

but enough reflection... dinner time! off to the courtyard restaurant in yorkville!

the food was yummy, but i have no pictures of it! gulash, spinach crespelle, and apple strudel were my choices, while others enjoyed combinations of spinach salad, salmon, chicken snitzel, and some chocolate crepe dessert. not all on one plate.

soon after the moldovian musicians showed up, my mom and ana grabbed the mic and sang. while unplanned (by the rest of us), this definitely broke the ice! in fact, it wasn't long before the wait staff pulled the carpets away to make room for dancing! (pictured here) romanian, italian, cuban, and other sweet tunes led the feet of bride, groom, family, and friends. oh, and yes: i did request "hava nagila."



there had been sufficient wine served to ensure touching speechs (i cried through the end of mine), and we topped it all of with champagne, chocolate-hazelnut cake, and a little more dancing.

one of the things i mentioned in my speech was that, standing beside cori as she recited her vows, it occured to me how many of those promises she and james have already been keeping for three and a half years. the wedding shouldn't really be a beginning... it should be a celebration of what already is, and what is to come.

v e pentru viaţă, care este şi grea şi frumoasă!*

* v is for life, which is both hard and beautiful!

u is for unpredictable

as hug-an-engineer day ends and pi day threatens to dawn, i reflect on the messiness of life. (the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter may be a constant, but it is after all an irrational one.)

their flights were delayed, but ioana and dov finally arrived and we sat down to the lovely late supper mom had prepared. cori put on her dress and we helped her choose jewellery. we decided which dress i should wear, too. then the heater broke. also, cori's necklace. so we drank champagne and i mended the string.

there were wee arguments along the way and cori's skin began reacting to the stress, but by now we've all pretty much settled in to bed/couch for the night, supported by the diligent work of some strategically placed space heaters.

"life is messy," i said to cori as i hugged her "good night."

i hope that getting so tangible a reminder of that on the eve of her wedding was as instructive as it was ironic. the truth is that promises like the one corina and james are making tomorrow aren't about an immaculate ideal, but about reality. cori says that, very early on, she told james just that: "i want something real," she said.

fifteen hours from now they will commit to walking through the messiness of that reality together. it occurs to me that you can never know what you're going to face, but you can know who you'll face it with. maybe when you're walking hand-in-hand even a mess can be a beautiful adventure.

t is for taking risks

some times you just have to do the crazy thing because it's the right thing - critics be damned! that sort of creative courage is hard to come by, i think. i mean, many people do insane things just to shock or otherwise provoke those around them, but that isn't particularly cool to me. neither is breaking rules for the hell of it. nor selfishly and recklessly disregarding how your behaviour affects others. those are super-childish things.

but doing something you need to do, despite how others might react, is in fact a deeply mature thing.

that's why this news story has impressed me so very much: a few guys got together and took stuffed crust pizza to very next logical level - buffalo-chicken-stuffed-crust pizza!!!

they tried three different variants of buffalo chicken, topped the pizzas with tomato sauce, lots of cheese, veggies, and even some meat, and offered a blue cheese sauce for dipping. the results of their ground-breaking, earth-shaking, and courageous experiment are recorded on their blog. do give it a read... i'm definitely tempted to try it myself!

inspired by the gentlemen at mealticket, i thought eating supper would be a good idea. for the second time in recent weeks, ashwyn and i tried to go to "bar on locke." no dice! so we ducked in at nearby il fiasco. so super!

we started off with the baked brie and fruit salsa. it was really a dry fruit salad but, all the same, the saltiness of the phyllo-wrapped cheese was cut by the sweet/tart combo of green and red apples, strawberries, and some other yummies. the brie and phyllo were in brilliant proportion! often one overwhelms the other, but not so here! i must add that it was very well constructed from an aesthetic point of view, as well :)

since ashwyn claims to be a vegetarian, he ordered the mediterranean pie - spinach, goat and feta cheese, roasted red peppers and phyllo. there was tomato sauce and pesto around the edges, and he seemed pretty happy. in case you're actually looking at the online menu, do note that the price has increased since the website was last updated.

i have few qualms of my omnivority, so i ordered the cashew crusted chicken stuffed with a goat-cheese-and-sundried-tomato paste and served with a small serving of a potato dish, green beans, carrots, broccoli, and zucchini. for starters, the crispy cashews and creamy stuffing were a beautiful contrast. the potato was surprising - technically it wasn't unlike a scalloped potato bake... but it wasn't creamy at all, and held together very well. it actually defies description!

some women who had been sitting near us had ordered maple creme brulee, and ashwyn followed suit. again, no complaints. meanwhile, i ordered passion fruit ice cream, in light of my recent discovery that this mysterious crop is as visually off-putting (inside) as it is tangy and delectable. (at corina's shower i brushed passion fruit guts on the asparagus to add notes of citrus-esque yum. mission accomplished!) the the dessert felt more like a sorbet than a dairy product. i was struck by the intense taste, which was essentially fresh and tart... not unlike myself!

in retrospect, there was a lot of dairy on our little table. il fiasco features cheese and seafood quite prominently, and also offers an impressive wine menu for such a teeny place. there are about ten seats up front, with a handful more at the bar, and more tables as one wanders toward the back. incidentally, the light fixture in the bathroom was beautiful! there are twinkly lights decorating the front space, and the decor is generally simple but somehow both warm and modern... not unlike myself!

il fiasco is definitely worth a return trip, in part because its menu offers many opportunities for exploration.

and i'm all about taking crazy risks.

s is for saucy

the last while has been a whirlwind!

between all the busyness of papers and presentations, weird nightmares, mini-conferences that involved travel (cambridge and ottawa), awkward dates, the death of a family friend, corina's bridal shower, commuting to do laundry, going into toronto to shop for the wedding, day and night shifts at work, looong (but often wonderful) meetings, living out of suitcase for a bit, and the typical barriers to real grocery runs, circumstances have not been ideal for cooking from scratch. in fact, apart from the snacks at that shower, i don't think i've prepared anything in about a month!

little did i know what i was missing out on...



i could have been feeding saucy onion rings to cute boys by now?! i seriously need to re-evaluate my priorities!

p.s. no preservatives? soooo hot!

r is for reconciliation

i'm doing some research on donatism for my bib theo's interdisciplinary volume on forgiveness and reconciliation. these christian schismatics from north africa were survivors of the diocletian persecution... and they didn't want to re-admit lapsed christians into their churches. having endured imprisonment and torture, it was especially hard to summon up respect for clerics who had folded out of fear of the same. the christianity of north africa was distinct from both that of the eastern roman empire and that of the european world... and many of those distinctives cemented their resolve. for one hundred years donatism persisted as a schism, before being declared a heresy. it never actually disappeared until three hundred years later, when islam swept through the region.

i've been thinking about how difficult it is do combat the effects of inherited pain and institutionalized resentment. and how for sure you can't combat those without offering consolation. without coming alongside. like so many things that matter, reconciliation demands imagination. and in the midst of anger and hurt - even when they're inherited rather than immediate - it's hard to imagine anything else. but it helps to know that others hope for you. maybe, like anger and hurt, that hope can be contagious.

p.s. regarding my last post: no, i haven't gone off the rails permanently. i blog and journal and talk to people to prevent *just* that :)

q is for quitting time...

... i.e. right now.

one time my mom, sister, and i were "talking about boys." when my dad came into the room and wanted to watch a movie, my mom stopped him: "we're talking about boys. do you have anything to contribute?"

"all they want is sex. turn the tv back on."

some people think that because i can sniff a typo a mile away and i'm a(n incompetent) perfectionist that i must be pretty negative. but the truth is, i'm an eternal optimist. i really want to believe the best about people... and i hope hope hope until it hurts.

newsflash: it hurts. and i kinda think i'm done hoping that my dad was wrong.

i once told someone i loved that when i looked at him, i didn't see an acorn - i saw an oak tree. he told me that he didn't know anything about how to grow into an oak tree. i told him the acorn doesn't know, either. but a few months later, after we had misunderstood and hurt each other countless more times, i realized i was tired of getting pummelled with acorns.

all relationships are based on imagination: imagining that i can be more generous, imagining that you can be more thoughtful, imagining that sharing a life with someone is even possible.

but what happens when your heart runs out of creativity? what happens when it's too tired to dream anymore? what happens when "love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres; love never fails." (1 cor. 13:7) sounds like a big lie?

i give up.

p is for prosciutto

pork and i have a strange relationship. i'm really quite ambivalent about it. (truth be told, i have no idea what it thinks of me.) bacon and pork chops are fantastic, but the ham+melon thing makes no sense to me, and pancetta is odd in more ways than one.

despite all that, i'd heard such goooood things about prosciutto that i decided to give it a try by making up some super sandwiches: two slices of swiss, one thin slice of prosciutto wrapped around three spears of asparagus, and a squeeze or two of honey mustard. arrange on pre-toasted multigrain bread, and broil in the oven until the cheese melts.

you'll be tempted to just stare, basking in its beauty and aroma... but please don't forget to eat it!

o is for otta-otta wa-wa

there really isn't enough internet ink to describe my "weekend" in ottawa. i was there for a mennonite central committee student seminar - pursuing security in an insecure world.

aside from the formal agenda, there was time to eat sushi with heather, look for a dress for corina's wedding (no luck!), gawk at ice sculptures, try my first beavertail, enjoy a good steak, and catch up with mel for the first time in nearly two years! the weekend was jam-packed and wonderful, apart from snow bullets, puddles, bitter wind, and the fact that the tv in our room stopped working after i watched american's best dance crew.

but back to the seminar... it covered food security, poverty in canada, principles of non-violence, and restorative justice. we ate butter chicken and shawarma and chatted about khadr, fair trade, and obamamania. i was offended by the candy sold at the war museum's gift shop and the elevator broke while we were in the peace tower on parliament hill. there was a lot in there to think about, but i'll just share three:

one: a long trek through the snow led us to the war museum, where we wandered independently, at our own pace. on the way to the four galleries, there's a display of photographs depicting battlefields from the first world war. they're downright brilliant - the colours, the clarity, the composition. and this deeply disturbed me. when i take photos of nancy, kevin, michael, and pat, they often don't turn out very well. it's hard to capture on (digital) film the beauty i see in my friends at l'arche, because that beauty isn't always aesthetic. by contrast, these battlefields - the sites of countless bloody, torturous deaths - were absolutely, even devastatingly, gorgeous. the irony was almost palpable.

two: finally, something occurred to me at the war museum as well as during the tour of parliament, after we'd spent a little time in the memorial chamber. my thought was, is there room for expansion? has the museum set aside space for a gallery devoted to future wars? where will the names of the 108 soldiers who have died in afghanistan go?

there's something deeply disturbing about the need to make room for reminders of future death and devestation. that question's been haunting me. maybe in a good way.

three: the last gallery in the museum is a catch-all, covering everything since world war ii. one creative display featured music videos of some songs addressing the cold war: genesis, u2, elton john, the scorpions, and so on. who knew that the final countdown was not so much about magic tricks as it was about mutually assured destruction? (wait... given gob's mad skillz, those two might not be so different.)



another of the songs on the list was nena's 99 luftballoons. the (english) lyrics are super - all the more so if you've read the backstory.

n is for nightmare

over the last few months, my dreams have gotten more vivid. they've always been pretty weird, but they've become more detailed and memorable. and emotional.

a couple of nights ago, i couldn't sleep because of a bad storm - my windows are pretty lousy, and the wind made an enormous racket. i lay awake for about two hours, holding wesley close and fighting to find slumber again... but i also had a lot on my mind, and the coincidence of storms within and without left me sleepless.

since then my sleep's been quite shallow. (i know this because elements of "the west wing" have snuck in, which means i could hear the dvds playing on my laptop.) i've decided to avoid naps from now on because they leave me grouchy and throw off my clock even more.

last night, i dreamt that a bunch of us were being held at gunpoint in my parents' house. i managed to sneak away and kept trying to call 911 as i ran down the snowy road toward the main street. i misdialed. my fingers fumbled, my cellphone locked. it rang and rang and no one picked up. i begged the people i passed to get help, but they waved me off.

i was simply overcome with helplessness and anxiety. how overcome? well, this morning i found mystery bruises. also, one of my teeth is slightly chipped. my desire for genuine rest is taking a turn for the desperate.

she's talking in her sleep -
it's keepin' me awake,
and anna begins to toss and turn,
and every word is nonsense, but i understand...
~ counting crows, "anna begins"

m is for mandolins and memories

this song has defined so many moments in my life... listening to it feels like a solid, all-enveloping hug from a faithful friend. i remember that chris hated it and ross and i bonded over it and that adam duritz rocks my world. you know, when he's not busy killing me softly with his song.

when kindness falls like rain...

(start at the one minute mark)

l is for leeks

first off, leeks remind me of elwyn. back when we all worked together, he was working in "r"zone and a customer came up to let him know that another customer was taking a leak. elwyn's british ears thought he said "lead" (as in cord, i guess)... the truth was an unpleasant surprise. this is still funny to me after more than five years :)

secondly, they remind me of yum. check them out! they're incredibly pretty and the taste is equally lovely... that mild bite mingles with whatever it's cookin' with... mmmmm. when they're sliced up, they even look like little bullseyes. and the reason you want to slice 'em is that they have dirt trapped in all kinds of cracks and crannies, and the best way to get all that out (or so the internet tells me) is to cut the leek into coins and swirl it around in water until the grit is loosened up. then we scoop the coins out of the water! easy as (leeky) pie.

after looking left and right for recipes, i decided to create a leek, spinach, and spinach risotto, only using wild rice. so, wild rice isn't ideal... it's a bit too tough. from my understanding, the point of frying the rice before adding broth is to crack the grain so that the liquid can enter in. a) yummy flavours on the inside and b) faster cooking. in any case, wild rice ain't meant for this. and it's not super starchy, which means it doesn't turn out so naturally creamy.

what i'm confessing here is that maybe what i actually made doesn't officially count as risotto. but i'm ok with that. and you should be ok with it, too. ok? and you know why? 'cause it tasted marvelous!!! especially with the spinachy, leeky, shrimy, green oniony, craisiny deliciousness i added :D

give leeks a try... and not just in potato soup. you'll be glad you did.

k is for kisses

cannot *believe* i've only been awake for thirteen hours... it's been a dense day.

i) a group session for our "carving out your discipline" position papers: two hours of peer review, with ginger cake! i still don't know how my work contributes to humanity, exactly.

ii) research on jeanne guyon: this led to general commentaries on the phenomenon of mysticism among women, which in turn led to simone de beauvoir's chapter on women mystics in "second sex." there was a great deal to process there, and i'll be reflecting about it here when i can. but, to start with: i'm not as healthy as i wish i were.

iii) cornerstone: walking home with charles, cleaning for an inspection, making a birthday card, teaching theresa how to use excel, decorating, drinking on the job, having a party, coming thisclose to trying guitar hero, almost making a med error (i blame the wine!), and helping bev get ready for bed.

iv) so tired. didn't bother going home... came straight from cornerstone to charbonneau, to sleep. trying to decide if i can stay awake long enough to laugh at jon.

vi) by the way, brian and beverly both kissed me today. plus, brian took my hand and sat me on the couch and passed me his jungle book colouring pad and some crayons. the glittery and metallic crayons are especially wonderful.

the crayons weren't really the point, though. it was the kisses that made my world all sparkly.

j is for just desserts

it's been so very long since we've had a food story. let's fix that right now! on wednesday, i took a break from my jeanne guyon marathon at freeway to run across the street and peruse the yummies at denninger's. two stellar purchases resulted! first off, a viennese cheesecake that is ricotta rather than cream cheese based. which is how we do things in europe, you see! so, if you're looking for something more than brotherly love, do yourself a favour and acquire your very own slice of this heavenly, raisiny, light-as-a-feather, baked dessert. pronto! (shoot... something tells me that wasn't german...)


so, lemons are wicked! i picked some up the other day. and then i put them into my shopping basket, took them to the cashier and paid for them. then they decorated my kitchen counter for a bit. the trouble is, i don't actually have a zester. the humanity! so i tried to use my cheese grater to help make my ginger cake zestfully yum... with mixed success. fortunately, i have been told that presentation isn't everything!


so, what was the second purchase? the stuff that gave the ginger cake its name: crystalized ginger. it's superhot to eat on its own, but i'd bought it with every intention of using it in baking anyway. i sliced it thinly and tossed it into the cake mix, along with green tea ginger ale (rather than oil). the result was kinda crumbly: the online vegan consensus seems to be that pop can replace oil/milk/eggs, but i decided to add one banana for binding. it did not suffice. nevertheless, yum was achieved! along with the ginger candy (middle) are homemade tangerine salt (left) and some dried cranberries (right) dad brought home from his bridge game. i like the colours together :)

i is for irony

there are episodes of the west wing that are inextricably linked to episodes in my own life. i started watching the show during the summer before the second season. the first episode i ever saw was celestial navigation. i missed the first hour of the brilliant season premiere (in the shadow of two gunmen), and came home waiting for the second hour to finish, so i could watch the tape from beginning to end. that was my first year in university, and i never missed a night. often, my family would watch with me.

between the second and third seasons, along with the tragedy of 9/11, my family imploded. i remember watching isaac and ishmael at the mcarthurs', shortly after we had moved in. having people over to our apartment to watch the women of qumar. calling ildiko and screaming in her ear after commencement.

between the fourth and fifth seasons, i moved to alberta. while sleeping on the couch in front of angie's computer, i dreamt about zoey bartlet's abduction. i stopped watching on a regular basis after aaron sorkin and thomas schlamme left the show, but read about it once in a while. finally, in 2007, i bought all seven seasons on dvd. i'm often in the process of rewatching them in order.

the last episode i watched with my family was two cathedrals. i don't remember who else was there, but i know dad was. it's a very emotional episode: in the wake of a devestating personal loss, president bartlet reveals to the world that he has had an undisclosed disease for eight years. in the mix, he ponders re-election and questions his faith.

two scenes especially stand out: first, bartlet standing in the midst of national cathedral, cursing God in latin. second, bartlet making his way from the white house, post-revelation, to the press conference. dire straits plays "brothers in arms" in the background, and the faces of the staffers remind us how much is riding on the question he will undoubtedly be asked by reporters: will you be seeking a second term?

my dad and i debated the pseudo-cliffhanger in may. by the time it was resolved in late september, we were no longer watching together.

the reasons why my family imploded weren't simple. and the last eight years have been a long process of healing without talking about it. at first, some of the reasons just weren't a point of friction anymore. then, surprisingly, some of the reasons simply ceased to exist.

we were actually talking about that on the way home from dinner last night. just me and dad. i said, "i'm not sure how it happened, and i didn't plan on it happening." we pulled into the driveway and he elbowed me playfully. "well, i'm glad it did."

i don't know if i'm glad it happened. i don't really know what's happening at all. but as we watched "the west wing" later that night - the few episodes i'd brought with me simply because they were next - i was consumed by the irony of watching bartlet curse in latin and listening to dire straits... with my dad. again.

these mist covered mountains
are a home now for me
but my home is the lowlands
and always will be
some day you'll return to
your valleys and your farms
and you'll no longer burn
to be brothers in arms
~ dire straits

p.s. i gave dad that irony shirt a while ago... he has iron issues.

h is for hohote

i actually had to leave class today. în hohote. i'm just heartbroken. i sat in the bathroom stall, sobbing, for 20 minutes before returning to gather up my stuff.

it stings and burns and aches.

i just don't understand.

and i don't know why it's taken me so long to really feel it.

will we ever heal from this and that? and from whatever it is that all of it comes from?

g is (taken) for granted

following my recent laptop catastrophe/calamity/tragedy, gepetto and i held hands and proceded through the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) with grace and humour. it's been a difficult process, but we've leaned on each other and have great hope that the healing will continue.

but scars will remain, and one of the most marked is the now defunct letter g. consider: it's right there, in the middle of keyboard, begging to be used! and so very many participles rely on it! i can't even call gepetto's name without it!

the irony is that i have been teased for my pronunication of (hard) g's on more than one occasion, and since this catastrophic and calamitous tragedy, my class notes and emails have resembled a southern hymnbook.

so, in memory of my recent loss, i offer a brief (and by no means comprehensive) list of other things i take for granted, in the hopes that by naming them now they won't decide to crap out on me in the spirit of that immortal principle: "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

- big yellow taxis
- the letter x, the key for which is also not working
- the shift+f7 (the thesaurus function) which has helped me avoid that letter while enhancing my vocabulary
- platelets and white blood cells. (all blood cells, really, but those white ones have been doing a bang-up job lately!) i'm a klutz of sorts, and have really put these little guys to work over the years: overtime, called back from holidays, you name it.
- music
- forgiveness. a handful of people in my life have been very, very kind to me, tolerating more than they should have, because they had hope for me. and loved me. and were capable of giving, even in their hurt.
- equality. i've never actually felt discriminated against for being a woman or an immigrant... and i'm realizing the degree to which my experience is a function of the particular time and place in which i live. it's quite crazy. and humbling.
- time
- colours. especially blue, green, and persimmon. and purple. they feel like beauty to me.
- money. it's always come, somehow or other.
- literacy
- bobby pins. i rarely reuse one, because i'm quite careless about putting them away when i take them out... also, i destroy them. it's a nervous habit.
- today