walking to the sky

courtesy of J2, hastily snapped from a traffic intersection.

road trip

driving through the snow to pittsburgh.

why i love panera bread

1. cinnamon crunch bagels, with
2. honey walnut cream cheese, on
3. non-disposable flatware & cutlery, and
4. always by irving berlin playing in the background. mmmm.

magic

one reason why a trip to the thrift store is always so deliciously full of possibilities.

blitz

a combined attack of compunction and pizzazz leaves the interior of the toyota bereft of our usual complement of dog hairs mud prints and leaves. in the way of these attacks, this one is mercifully short, so that the outside looks as shabby chic as before.

the farthest shore

J1 gets an offer to college today. in my gratitude, and bittersweet though it is, i realize that i prefer an emptying nest to keeping the status quo. time for the birdlings to fly, and to build their own life. time soon, perhaps, to be done with doing.

whoooooo hoooooo 2

J1 gets an offer to college today. in an instant, i shed my maternal worries about his gpa c.v. chances and future. the college application process is fraught with deadlines regrets hopes gambles and writers' blocks, and one awaits the results prayerfully and totally on tenterhooks.

i am so thankful that my usual irreverance escapes me, and i am reduced to earnest and humble gratitude.

dog's life

pet geoduck.

not a p.c. posting

we are inflicted with a rather strange sermon on sunday about loving our neighbors. the message is that we need to love our neighbors, open our lives to them, do something that starts with the letter v, and look to our heavenly example.

there must be a boundary, i want to think, beyond which the pulpit should not be dragged. doth a sermon proceed from an acronym?

the bible passage, incidentally, is luke 4:14-21. much mental acrobatics, and some suspension of belief, are required to draw a hermeneutic line from jesus' reading of isaiah's words to said acronym.

imelda

pairs of shoes per family member:

16 (J1); 15 (J2); 12 (me); 8 (HOM).

trivia:

J1's collection comprises an abundance of running shoes and spikes.

J2 favors funky flat casuals.

i am surprised at the number i own.

of HOM's eight, perhaps five are black leather oxfords, all identical.

and that's not counting the five pairs of expired footwear i put in the trash today.

postscript. turns out one of the five is regretfully J2's unexpired #16.

the green years

what's left after the jet lag attack. putting up the holiday lights is an annual exercise in prolonged inertia exploding into an afternoon's frenzied activity by HOM and J1.

i think we may have had our final outing with the lights, owing to imminent changes to family dynamics.

jet lag

HOM's, i mean, which is why our house is the only one in the neighborhood that gets its outdoor holiday lights taken down at five in the morning.

knite

the little japanese blog has already linked this, but i want to do it too... here. it is rather exquisitely tender art. look out for the little girl on the hospital bed.

also, although i have pretty much abandoned ethnic writers because of their painfully limited english, i am captivated by the refreshingly grammatical lines in this one.

how many shades of tack

de rigeur for a middle-class chinese wedding in singapore:
1. gags galore on the groom and his men before admission to the bride's home,
2. ten amateur photographers and videographers augmenting the hired help, with
3. costume changes by the bride keeping pace with dinner courses, and
4. running from crack of dawn to midnight.

my ideal wedding, which i hope to see my children have, would be:
1. restrained,
2. quiet, and
3. short.

bibliography: some bodies' wedding photograph collections.

mortal truths

the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop... and those looking through the windows grow dim; -eccl 12.

these days, reality intrudes upon:
1. pulling a late nighter,
2. doing a satisfactory manicure,
3. flying coach long distance with impunity.

a winter's tale

in the forecast for tomorrow: rain sleet snow and HOM's return flight. he is batting three for three for business trips this season.

still, it does a body good to have another to snuggle onto of a cold winter's night. spring may be for lovers, but this frost is not for celibates either.

is it

concerti or concertos, if you are speaking in english?

i lean to concertos, but these days the radio guys say concerti, which somehow sounds like a brand of shady italian old-fashioned radiator.

mod con rip-offs

1. placemats. tacky.

2. vinyl tablecloths. sticky.

3. plastic flatware and cutlery. greasy.

these have clearly been inventions of the plastic-polymer industry to seduce us into novel ways of parting with our money, at which objective they have succeeded quite wildly.

divine providence*

God's providence is His almighty and ever present power, whereby, as with His hand, He still upholds heaven and earth and all creatures, and so governs them that leaf and blade, rain and drought, fruitful and barren years, food and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, indeed, all things, come not by chance, but by His fatherly hand.*

*#27, the heidelberg catechism.

God allows suffering, quite simply, because in his infinite wisdom and power and love, he is, and can, and does.

the question is not, why does a good God allow suffering, but, what is my right response to suffering?

current events

today's breaking news is disseminated according to hiearchy:
1. round the clock, on the hour, tv network coverage,
2. round the clock, news-in-a-minute updates on the internet,
3. daily front page headlines in newsprint,
4. personal interest stories off the front page, with
5. a summary from the pulpit on sunday.
and, with disastrous news, the default sermon topic on sunday is, why does God allow suffering?

to HOM

reflecting on the demands of kith and kin on personal space, to paraphrase lovelace*:

i could not love thee so much, dear, lov'd thee not honor more.

*to lucasta, going to the wars

what really gets my goat

is any encroachment, whether real or perceived, direct or indirect, upon the admittedly nebulous boundaries of my personal space. i am quite unable to relish being ambushed by an unthinking exuberance of generosity that presumes upon my cooperative gratitude in response.

in any case, it's HOM's personal space, and his response, just my vicarious indignation, and possibly my time of the month.

more somber thoughts

a little girl i know is winging to a new life studying away from home. she is between J1's and J2's age and has grown up with them. i suddenly want to tell them all, as they perch on the cusp of excitement discovery and independence:

1. see, do, be. time can be short.

2. but life longer, and perspectives change. move on.

3. strive to be righteous. God forgives.

perhaps the last most of all, not as insurance but assurance, for when their way has become long enough for them to be acquainted with remorse.

ten thousand blessings

i am fearfully and wonderfully made/ your works are wonderful/ all the days ordained for me were written in your book/ before one of them came to be.

you know when i sit and when i rise/ you perceive my thoughts from afar/ you discern my going out and my lying down/ you are familiar with all my ways. 

there is no shadow of turning with thee/ thou changest not thy compassions they fail not/ as thou hast been/ thou forever wilt be/ all i have needed thy hand hath provided/ great is thy faithfulness lord unto me.

in some ineffable way i understand that even as my days are not my own they are not un-owned, and that though i surrender dreams and desires i do not surrender future or hope. to know that i have not, yet that i have so much, is infinite comfort.

litany

i am midway through bagging my stuff in the self-service aisle when along comes another shopper who ignores the empty aisles on either side of us and proceeds to ring up his purchases onto mine. just as well for him that i do not bag his groceries and make off with them, as he clearly does not look three feet in front of his nose.

in the parking lot i find that another car is parked so intimately close to mine that my trunk door can only coyly peep open, mandating a series of heroic contortions on my part in order to load a week's worth of groceries.

and, as i drive off, i am privy to the ghastly sight of an elderly woman nonchalantly depositing a load of mucoid liquid per os onto the sidewalk. it almost inspires an emetic reaction from me.

on the other hand, i have a lovely transatlantic conversation this morning that reminds me of blessings that are mine, with ten thousand besides.

somber thoughts after the earthquake*

this is what i would tell a young physician:
1. don't hurry. it's a life-long art.
2. serve, for no return. your soul will be richer.
3. teach. you owe it to your teacher.

and this i would tell a medical student:
1. it's not too late. there are smoother paths.
2. it satisfies only if you give almost all.
3. if you would walk this path, don't hurry.

there goes my sudden attack of earnestness.
shades of mr collins and all.
*haiti, january 12, 2010

heredity

J2 presents her SLR camera project and gets a rave review and a ticket to the science fair. which, i tell her, is a darn sight more than anything i have ever achieved. duh, she says, don't you know i take after dad, not you?

wilted wit

absurd person singular - alan ayckbourn (1977)

second person singular - alice meynell (2004)

third person singular - kj erickson (2002)

first person plural - cameron west (1999)

do you see a pattern? i'll bet the second and third persons did not. in any case i stumble onto the first three whilst trying to acquire the absurd from amazon.com. the last one is a failed attempt at intellectual stimulation from last year.

milestones 2

aging is a step-wise process. my steps:

b.c./a.d.
having kids
norplant
driver's license (mine)
home ec class(J2's)
driving privileges (J1's)
alarm clocks (J1, J2's)

milestones

J1 is thinking through college course options. so are my little nieces and nephews.

my years of being avuncularly questioned about my life choices are suddenly done, as are my years of looking on whilst other people get patted and quizzed. somehow i have irretrievably slipped to the other side, and now am ranged with the adults who may enquire and dispense as they see fit.

growing older chronologically is a continuum, but aging is a step-wise process.

the emptying nest

kids today are smarter.

their way promises to be more arduous.

there is more iniquity and evil in the world.

on the other hand, adult moaning is time honored and well documented. perhaps, for all our concerns, current adolescents will in time find their equilibrium, climb their mountains, leave their marks and whine about their own juveniles, thereby proving the good book correct* again.

*that there is nothing new under the sun.

product review - microwave oven

must haves:
1. no turntable.
2. large capacity.
3. minimal functions.

product review - washer

must haves:
1. top loading.
2. super fast cycle.
3. no center tub agitator.

delegation of duties

J2 is building an SLR camera for her science project. should i make it turn here like so, do you think, she asks. do you want me to simply agree, or do you want me to make intelligent noises, i ask her.

she should know by now that for school projects my job is to keep the pantry stocked and the gas tank full. i don't feel obliged to engage the synapses above the spinal cord.

and again

i get stuck in the snow on the hill on my way back from the grocer's. this is my third winter mishap at the same spot. you would think an idiot would have learnt by now.

remind me not to take the short cut to the village after a snowfall.

weather forecast

snow tonight.
snow in the morning.
highs in the upper twenties.

nooooooo.

tall tales i've been told

it's the natural hue, says the storekeeper, of the wheat colored fringe that attaches to our new kilim. hah. if it's not white after a wash i'll eat my metaphorical hat.

the fat's been leached out by the cooking process, says the tour guide, of the three-layered pork. he clearly thinks we are hungry simpletons.

of course it's leather, says the salesgirl, of the cheap couch we're eyeing. it's car leather. euphemism for pretend stuff.

superb silk rug, says the salesman, of the kashmiri rug. art silk, from mercerized cotton.

this is solid plywood, says the young man, with a straight face.

dinner tonight

i tend my pot of soup and notice tongues of fire licking at the base. fascinating, i catch me thinking, that flames can emerge from an electric cooker.

it's my version of kiam-chye-ak soup that is more properly a szechuan-vegie-leftover-turkey substitution. not very authentic, J2 sniffs. hey, i say, if i can set soup on fire, i am permitted to be inauthentic.

bathroom shenanigans 2

J1 discovers an alien pool of clear liquid on the kitchen floor. we are unable to trace it to any plumbing, and reluctantly observe that it has both a distinctive tint and odor. this, together with the creature trying to look invisible under the dining table, clearly points to an inconvenient truth.

maternal thoughts

J1 drives J2 to church for worship practice and back. they go on their own! without me to watch over them!

it drains me to trust and to let go. yet when i do, i am surprised that it is a non-event. the J's return, unscathed, in due course, to Dog's exuberant welcome.

i am reminded that if i do not loosen the ties, bonds will in time be bondage.

quickie reminder

i know, o lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps. - jer 10:11

not my will

nor my agenda

not my wherewithal

nor my outcome

but

my peace

unexpected joys

and sufficient grace

for the days

fahrenheit 27

come walk Dog with me, says HOM. i'd like the company.

on a blustery winter's day with a make-believe sun? there's lurve, darling, and there's frostbite.

new skill

dinner treat

we have dinner with little M and her family. i find myself delighted then adopted by a gentle imp, who brings me to visit her bathrooms her christmas gifts and her artwork, and who charmingly asks HOM to remove himself so i can sit beside her. M is a pleasant reminder that not every tyke is a stridently spinning ninja star.

spend time with a child and you pretty much open a window through the good manners parents put on for public display and catch a glimpse of what prevails when life intrudes.