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."