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

f is for fear less

when i sit down to write a position paper, i want to produce something airtight. but when it comes to situating my discipline (history) within the broader context of theological interpretation, the answers aren't entirely clear to me yet. what is emerging from the haze, as my eyes struggle to focus, is the fact that what i really love doing is comparing conviction with action. i love studying political philosophies/theologies and then finding out how - if? - they were practiced, on the ground. even though i'm pretty tied up in ideas, history is a good place to ask those kinds of questions. and it keeps me rooted in the real world, rather than the abstract.

the anthropocentrism implicit in (my approach to) historical interpretation would probably bother some of my colleagues. (as would several of my other views.) but i like it because to me it feels hopeful, rather than arrogant. if the goal of the historian is to further human understanding of history (a phrase i adapted from william p. thurston's brilliant piece about mathematics), then this isn't about finding a corner office in the ivory tower. (dude, like, the oooonly good ivory tower ever is the one in neverending story.) and my academic pursuits anticipate the future, rather than being wedded to the past.

this assignment forced me to take a step back and consider what i'm doing. thinking big picture is wonderful, even if (because?) it's terrifying. throughout my life, i've been so lucky to have people in my life who demanded that i do something i was too afraid to do on my own. they've invited me into crazy adventures - and not just stupid drama - often without even knowing it. they asked more of me than i knew how to give, and in so doing helped me to live, rather than merely daydream or, to put it a better way - the way bastian did, as a matter of fact: "i will! i will do it! i will do what i dream!"

i know i'll never be fearless. but, big picture: i can fear less.

e is for effervescent

neutral milk hotel reminding me to name the beauty.
berries, coconuts, peppermint rubbed into my skin and hair.
one bathrobe, two slippers, three candles, forethought.
the weightlessness. how does water do that?
clutching my tall blue/brown mug... sweet, rich, warm chocolate sliding down my throat.
wet tresses on my shoulders.
the sound of the bath salts when they hit the bubbles.

i heard and felt the bathbomb disintegrate, and effervescence became an unspeakably attractive option.

d is for delinquent

he: some people think success is when people do what i say; i think it's when people do what i want without my having to say it.

me: i think success is when i do what i say.