"we will have these moments to remember..."

can't believe the news today

i want my city back.

read more here.

regisdream?

isn't it a little sad that unless you're getting married it's not normal to register for gifts? maybe if i'm still not married by the time i become a lawyer and have my first real "permanent home," i'll just have an "i'm a grown-up" party and register for that. like a "housewarming plus."

here are some of the kitcheny things i would put on my registry. i was inspired to write this list down while reading "back issues" of alison's blog. she mentioned the first item a while ago. without further ado, my kitchen dreams:

gadgets and tools:
- oil mister (instead of using pam, you fill the spray bottle with your preferred oil)
- mandoline (for pretty slices)
- good spatulas (safe for good pots/pans, won't leech/melt into the food. yay!)
- pepper mill
- food mill (mashed potatoes made any other way are just wrong for me)

cookware:
- pots with glass lids with adjustable vents and a steamer insert
- dutch oven
- tart pan (with the separate bottom, so you can remove the tart/pie from the pan easily)
- springform pan (vital, no?)
- pizza stone

appliances:
- slowcookers in large and small
- rice cooker
- food processor
- high quality immersion blender (i figure if i have this and the above, i don't need a blender)
- obviously, a kitchenaid tilt-head stand mixer, without which no woman is complete

other:
- a sign that says "i only have a house because it came with the kitchen"
- a real fireplace in the kitchen - i know i can't register for that, but it's my dream. sigh.

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

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 :)

form v. function

when i was twelve and took family studies, i had to prepare a recipe at home and my parents had to mark it. my dad's only criticism of my brownies was the presentation. by contrast, my christmas eve appetizer plates were pretty enough, but didn't feel... warm.

come to think of it, most (of my) comfort foods aren't all that lovely to look at: chilis, stews, mamalia (cornmeal), sarmale (cabbage rolls), mashed potatoes. even classier things like risotto don't attract the eye.

prof. mealey once implied that the trend toward clean lines and metal/glass combos in home furnishings betrayed our society's departure from vulnerability and embrace of sterile interactions. we want our homes to look like pristine palaces, far from the human stain.

i smell a false dichotomy between form and function.

i want to hope that things can offer both comfort and beauty. because maybe then i can aspire to both, too.

i've recently been learning...

1. it will never be the same again
2. no matter which beach boys' song i start out singing, i end up with "(i wish they all could be) california girls"
3. "if i stand at all, it is certainly not alone"
4. being brave feels good (after the peeing-your-pants thing is done)
5. i am deeply loved and kinda needed
6. it's not about me
7. God really wants to be known... He is the "one who has waited long for you to speak" (the horse and his boy)
8. just because everyone seems to see you a certain way doesn't mean it's true
9. the way i deal with life is fundamentally flawed
10. my family is often very, very difficult... but somehow it can be beautiful
11. sometimes it is about me
12. every story is everyone's story, somehow
13. for the record, we still can't get through mother's day without my mom crying
14. if everyone seems to see you in a certain way, you should consider that it might be true
15. no one is indispensable
16. x hours of anything-other-than-sleep = 0 hours of sleep, no matter how restful you think the other thing might be
17. most friendships don't end... they just change
18. my mom may be difficult, but i don't always have to be selfish and sensitive
19. i didn't miss provincial sales tax
20. i already miss being driven home and sitting in the parking lot for hours
21. there is no formula. ever. ok, i'll give you the quadratic formula... but it prolly won't help so much.
22. it's never too late to be loving
23. "being miserable doesn't make you better than anyone else... it just makes you miserable" (house)
24. no one is replaceable (sorry, beyonce)
25. if God isn't ok with swearing, i am in so much trouble... because:
26. sometimes the only words i have are ones i only really trust Him to tolerate and understand
27. trajectory is so, so important. (i guess i need to take the derivative to find the slope of the tangent to the curve at this particular moment... oh, wait: no formuale.)
28. "every tear i've cried, You hold in Your hand" (casting crowns)
29. what i want most is home
30. listen
31. it will never be the same again

stumbling home

after tony the beat poet says something profound, donald miller says, it was obvious that something beautiful and true had hit the table with a thud (118).

that's how i feel about orthodoxy with a capital o. and, despite the fact that sometimes the thud is so loud that i pull away, i'm slowly heading back in that direction.

monday is the first day of great lent. after a year of having people question my motives all over the place, it's nice to know i do it, too: the lenten fast means my eating will change drastically for the next forty days or so. i know the real reason i'm doing this, but it doesn't take a genius to realize that there'll be health benefits in the process. how do i keep that from entering into the equation? it sucks that sometimes there are selfish reasons to do good things.

so, i've been thinking: maybe the first thing i'm supposed to learn is that only God can sanctify my will.

and maybe the second thing is that this - not just lent, but life itself - isn't about self-control or self-talk. it's about submission.

i think i know . . .

i'm figuring out what home is . . . slowly but surely.
i think it may involve tea and honesty and laughter.

for me, anyway.

there's no place like 127.0.0.1

i was challenged by this:
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We spend part of our time at home and part of it in the wilderness. Home is where we feel safest in our familiar surroundings. The wilderness, however, has danger lurking everywhere: animals that might attack us, trails that are hard to follow, and places where it is easy to become lost.
I have only one question to ask this evening at our last campfire together: Where are you at home and where are you in the wilderness?
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i had just finished telling someone about how i've been homeless for two years. this demands more thought.