cuteness

I try not to eat out of hotel mini bars. Things are always expensive and mostly not very good for me. (Although I guess expensive is all relative in a city where a buffet dinner and bottle of water cost me over $35 last night. In my perpetual quest for vegetables and protein while traveling I like the options of a buffet, but the prices here!! The "here" would be Abuja, Nigeria.)

But tonight I am so tired all I want to do is lie in bed, watch TV, and munch, and I saw these in my mini bar. How could I resist gummy fried eggs?? And the little ring even fit on my pinky finger. Those Europeans have the coolest candy.

choose your own adventure Christian romance novel

This morning I found out that the deadline for the AIDS book I've been "almost" done with since last summer has been extended from tomorrow until next week (sometime). I don't know if I feel more relieved (lots of work left to do) or horrified (another week of this?). In the meantime I just needed to let my brain have a little vacation, getting caught up with my Google blog reader.

Where I found this from the always-hilarious guy at Stuff Christians Life. Read and laugh.

Christian Romance Novels (with a special choose your own adventure version)

(It was either post this or a really horrifying article about the persecution of homosexuals in Africa, read if you are up for a really horrifying article today)

hit by a bus

I don't mean that metaphorically-- I really was hit by a bus this morning. A few minutes after 9, I was late for a meeting in Cambridge, and right across the street from my destination I entered the crosswalk (I did have a walk signal) and suddenly there was a bus in my face. I don't know how I didn't see it until it was right there, but I was focused on getting to my meeting and listening to my iPod and I was supposed to be in that crosswalk...

It was one of those very long moments-- I saw the bus about a foot away from my face, she saw me through the glass of the bus door, but it was too late for either one of us to do anything. I was hit at about the front door and apparently went flying and smacked my head on the ground. I think there is a second I don't remember because I don't really remember hitting my head, but a witness says I did. I just remember both my shoes flying off and being on the ground and then struggling to my feet and looking for my shoes.

Besides some scrapes and bruises on my hands and being a little sore on the side of my body where I hit the ground, I am fine. My wedding ring is scratched and dinged where it also hit the ground but I'm sure that can be fixed. I do feel plenty sober about what could have happened-- it could have been so much worse.

The main witness was a woman who works at the hotel across the street where I was headed for my meeting, and she said that there have been a lot of accidents in that crosswalk just like mine, some of them serious. Apparently the bus had a green light (it was making a turn) at the same time that I had the walk sign. This stuns me-- no wonder they have accidents.

I am just so, so glad it wasn't worse. That I glanced off the side of the bus rather than being hit on the front, or ending up under the wheel. By the grace of God.

Coupon Crazy

I have never been a coupon user. Even when I used to live in a household that got a paper (and that would be many years ago), combing through those glossy inserts, clipping and organizing little slips of paper, and then finding them when I needed them just seemed like way too much trouble for 50 cents. Plus I don't eat much cereal, and very little processed food (with the exception of the Great Cheese Curl Pig-Out last week), so there aren't many coupons out there for things I actually use.

But last week I stumbled upon an article that got my attention. I love 'most anything on Slate.com (including the couple hours of podcasts on finance, politics, and culture I devour each week)-- but coupon-clipping suburbanites aren't quite their demographic, so I was intrigued. The article led me to a blog, where I became even more intrigued. (I admit to being on said blog last night at midnight, looking for her weekly run-down of specials, impatiently wondering Why hasn't she posted it yet?) Getting perfectly good stuff for free? A carefully planned strategy designed to outsmart the system? These things appeal to me.

As much as I have eschewed coupons, few things get me more excited than a good deal. I knew one of my new neighbors was a kindred spirit when (after an acquaintance of a few days) she excitedly showed me her new bargains from the Gap, told me what percentage they were marked down, and told me that she always makes her husband guess how much the item was originally and how much she paid for it. I don't quite go that far, but I do gloat about my deals to anyone who cares to listen. I rarely buy clothes that aren't at least 75% off. I comb through TJ Maxx's housing goods section for fancy expensive things that have been priced by people who didn't know they were fancy and expensive. (I bought some Laguiole steak knives there last year, and I didn't even know about Laguiole knives, just that they were expensive. I have a good eye for expensive things.) I take out new credit cards once or twice a year so I can get a free airline ticket or $100 off U2 tickets. (No, my credit is not terrible.)

And grocery shopping-- I truly enjoy grocery shopping. I can't wait until the new grocery circular comes out each week so I can plan my menu for the week, and I am shamelessly excited of how much I save on all those buy-one-get-one deals, not to mention when some nice protein is on sale and gets marked down because it is nearly expired-- this happened last week to organic chicken drumsticks and I bought four packages. (I am always bemoaning my lack of freezer space.) Even more exciting, my main grocery store here marks down a lot of perfectly nice produce, allowing me to buy a couple pounds of baby zucchini, strawberries or tomatoes (in winter!) for a song. As I recently hulled some slightly past prime strawberries to stick in the freezer for my smoothies, I reflected that considering how much I make hourly as a consultant and that I currently have a contract where I can work basically as much as I want, I would be far better off doing paid work than chasing deals, but hey, I enjoy it.

So, the new couponing obsession. In the last week I have entered a whole new world of printable online coupons (which I hardly knew existed), "catalinas" (to be explained), stackable deals (use a coupon and get a rebate on something that's already on sale), and wow, I am hooked. Once again, I'm not sure it is worth my time to spend two hours poring over coupons and planning my strategy (as I did this afternoon) to save twenty bucks at the grocery store-- but I have been working extremely hard the last couple days and needed something that didn't require a fully awake brain and promised instant gratification. This getting something for nothing thing really has me excited.

I actually got money back on Chex snack mix today. And paid under a dollar for a 1.5 pint carton of Breyer's ice cream. (Isn't it weird how ice cream now comes in 1.5 pint ice cream containers rather than half gallons?) This is how it works (prepare to be proselytized).

Jewel-Osco (known as Shaw's/Star Market out here, Albertson's back in Oregon, who knows what else in other parts of the country) is currently having a deal in which you can get $15 in store credit if you spend $30 on certain items. (These store credit vouchers, which print out at the register, are oddly knows as "catalinas" in the couponing world. You see, they even have their own lingo, those couponers.) The trick is that you want to buy something that is already on sale, then use a coupon, double it if possible, and because the pre-coupon price is applied to the $30 goal, once the coupon is applied an item can even be free, as my Chex snack mix was. (You bet I had a good time crunching these numbers!)

Exhibit A: 8.75 oz bag Chex snack mix. Regularly $2.69, on sale this week for $1.69, and I had a $0.50 coupon (actually a number of coupons, one for each bag), which were doubled. But, it also contributes towards the catalina deal, which is like getting it half off the pre-coupon price. $1.69- $0.84- $1.00 = $0.16 I earned on each bag! (I know, who cares about 16 cents, but it's more the idea of it.)

Exhibit B: Breyer's ice cream. Regularly $5.79, on sale for $2.99, I had a buy 2/$1 off coupon (which I couldn't double), and then of course it counted towards the catalinas. $2.99- $1.49 - $0.50 (half the coupon) = $0.99. Such a deal!!

Granted, I bought some things I didn't really need today-- 3 cans of Progresso soup for $0.38/each (probably still not as cheap, or good, as soup I could make myself!), some new fancy Yoplait yogurt-trying-to-be-dessert things for $0.25 for a 4-pack, Pillsbury Toaster Pastry (Joel was excited) for $0.99.

They were actually out of a number of things I was planning to buy (Cheerios for $0.44/box, Progresso chicken broth for $0.24/quart)... so I may be out of luck on those. But still, I want to go back and try it again just because it was so fun. As I was perusing the list of items included in this deal suddenly it occurred to me-- why not buy a bunch of stuff for a food pantry! (Actually, the Super Couponer whose blog I linked to suggests donating extra items-- but I had never thought of doing a shopping trip just to buy food for food pantries.) The holidays are coming up, I know a lot of people are struggling this year, and there are a lot of things in that deal which I won't eat (frosting in a can, scalloped potatoes in a box), but someone will probably be really happy to have. If I can get Betty Crocker frosting for $0.35, Betty Crocker cookie mix and scalloped potatoes for $0.35, rice and noodle mixes for $0.17, and some more of those free Chex mixes-- I call that a win-win!

wacky week

It has just been one of those really wacky weeks. The weeks where I find myself out-of-sorts, restless, bored, unable to concentrate on work, and up til all hours doing who knows what because although I am plenty tired I can't sleep. And when I do sleep it's these ultra-vivid and terribly strange dreams that have been plaguing me the last year or so (fibromyalgia comes with serious sleep issues)-- last night I dreamt that we had a baby only it was a cat (for hours on end) and then eventually it was a baby. There is this whole other world that lurks in my sub-conscious, and I just don't get it.

So maybe if I write a bit it will help me to unwind some of the stuff in my head. For sure I have been incredibly distressed about a friend-- a dear friend who is in a situation so tragic and painful that every time I think about it, even start to imagine myself in her shoes, I feel like my heart is physically being torn out and I just cry. Many tears this week-- for all the brokenness and fallenness and things you never thought would happen to good friends of your who love Jesus and seem to have great lives... until something horrible happens. So many things I don't understand.

Last Sunday we celebrated All Souls Day (and All Saints Day, but I missed that service)-- another cause for somber, if not altogether sad, thoughts. J and I have joined the amazing choir at our new church-- we love the church and it is just pure delight to get to sing real music under a phenomenal director with a very fun and close-knit group of people. (Such traditions as going out for a pint after Thurs night practice, and choir backrubs.) I hadn't realized how much I missed making music-- nor how rusty I am when it comes to those pesky fourths, minding my consonants, not breathing in the middle of the phrase, and trying to read in Latin while singing in sixteenth notes. Wow.

We sang an entire requiem last Sunday night-- one that Joel and I (and the rest of the choir) had had all of 3 weeks to get acquainted with. There is a backstory to the short timeline-- this church just started meeting a month ago, after splitting off from an established Episcopal Church (with the rector and a number of clergy, plus a good part of the congregation). Did you know as of this summer there is now an Anglican Church in North America? But back to our choir-- we were thrown into this nearly hour-long piece of music, which was fast and in Latin and just quite challenging. I can't say I sang every note perfectly last Sunday night, but hearing that glorious sound pour out of the choir and my little voice a part of it was just sooo much fun. I highly recommend Cherubini's Requiem in C Minor-- beautiful and powerful music. (And I have not been able to get it out of my head all week...)

The very notion of a requiem, and a day to remember those who have died, is really foreign to us practical Americans. But one thing I really like about the Anglican Church is that they have rites for everything-- and I am glad they make a place in their worship to remember the dead. I had one startling moment, as they were reading dozens of names of those who had died (loved ones of people in the congregation, although Teddy Kennedy also came up!)-- when I thought I heard the name of my great uncle Ellis, who just recently died. I later found out that the name was actually Alice, not Ellis, Roberts. (Alice Roberts is also a relation of mine, my great-grandma and partial namesake!) I had been so intrigued by the thought that someone in the congregation had known him and requested his name to be read. (I would have submitted his name had I known I could do so, but I didn't.) In the process of trying to track down the mystery I ended up talking to a woman who recognized my last name and turned out to be J's aunt's college roommate-- so you see it is a small world. But even thought Ellis wasn't publicly acknowledged the service was still a meaningful time for me to remember the people I love who are gone-- and rejoice (because that is also part of the service) that they aren't really dead, but just passed on to another kind of life, waiting for us to pass through the veil as well. These profound mysteries. Another thing I like about the Anglican church is the icons-- which remind you of those dead-but-not-dead saints, still with us in a way.

So, a week of crying, reflections on death (I can't get away from it-- an NPR podcast I caught up with today informed me that in Europe they celebrate Nov 1 by having picnics on their ancestors' graves)... and we have been sick. Joel has been in bed for most of 2 days, which is so unusual for him, and I have also been feeling lousy, though much less unusual for me (and I haven't been knocked quite so flat). And I munched through an entire back of flourescent orange cheese puff whatever-those-things-are-supposed-to-be-- in 2 days-- which is enough to make one feel tremendously gross. I never eat stuff like that. I never have stuff like that in the house. But in a moment of weakness (on an endless grocery run in which I left my wallet at home, had to spend half on hour going back to get it, went to three different stores, etc.) I bought that silly bag of junk, and couldn't kick the craving for a food I don't even really like. As I said, it's been a wacky week.

Tomorrow I am going into Boston for a dentist appointment and to breakfast and lunch with a couple friends-- so hopefully a change of pace (and lunch at a swanky restaurant at which I have a fantastic coupon) will cheer me up. Then off to a 24 hour women's retreat-- also looking forward to that. I can't even remember the last time I went on a retreat like this!

Andrew Peterson stories

I've been a huge Andrew Peterson fan ever since my friend Carolyn introduced me to him a few years ago. His album The Far Country is one of my most played ever-- it's all about Heaven, and I love that! I have to be honest, I don't think he has the most amazing voice ever (something that initially put me off), but the stories he tells and the depths of his insight into the Christian life are incredible. And he's an amazing musician.

So anyway, I got to see him in concert last night! He's doing a series of free concerts to promote his latest CD, Resurrection Letters Volume II. And he was playing at Park Street! And I even got to go to the concert with Carolyn, who moved to Boston a couple weeks ago (how cool is that?)

It was such a great concert. He played through the whole album, telling stories along the way of where the songs came from, the Scripture and minor revelations behind the songs, and also being hilariously funny along the way. He is such a gifted storyteller, in song and not in song. (He is actually writing a series of kids' fantasy novels right now!) I loved the story he told of his friend who died at 29 and was buried in a Superman costume (actually, it's better than that-- he wanted to be buried in a suit with his hands pulling his shirt back from his chest to reveal the Superman costume underneath)-- and this young man's hope of Heaven and his resurrected body. I literally could not stop laughing when he showed a picture of his parents posed as American Gothic (apparently they were not only game but said, "Well, son, we don't even have to change clothes-- we're dressed like that right now!")-- and said that it amazed him how his mother looked more like George Washington every year (I was kind of in shock that he said it, but really, it was a striking resemblance!)

But my favorite story was one he told about his song Queen of Iowa, on The Far Country. I've never understood what the song was about, so I've never really liked it. Joel and I speculated that it was about his wife, but that didn't seem right-- I just couldn't figure out what it was talking about. So here's the story. A woman named Jodi was brutally raped back in the early 1990s and contracted AIDS. She got married to a man who had known and loved her before, and married knowing her she had AIDS. (As far as I know he is still not infected.) So much of their marriage he has been her caregiver, and a few years ago she started to get seriously ill. She and her husband weren't Christians, but the churches in their town (Sioux City, Iowa) heard about them and started reaching out, taking them meals and such, and Jodi and her husband became Christians.

Andrew Peterson was asked to perform a private concert for Jodi in her living room when she was very close (so it was thought) to death. She hadn't been conscious for a week (I think she was heavily sedated by drugs) and she was lying on her living room couch, but they did the concert, and partway through she woke up. She was able to talk a little bit-- about the goodness of Jesus. At this point she was having massive complications from AIDS, tumors in her brain so large the doctors had no explanation for why she was still alive, and all the other horrible things that go with late-stage AIDS. But she and her husband were full of joy.

A few years later AP was able to see her again, and she was still alive-- although this time she had been in a drug-induced coma for three months. The doctors swore that she was essentially brain dead, but her husband was sure that he could feel her moving her little finger. The doctors told him he was wrong. AP talked with her and held her hand and was also sure that she was moving her little finger. She was lying on the same couch and again he played a private concert for her, and again, midway through, she woke up!! He said it was like watching someone come up through layers of water, she kind of gasped, but then was there. I don't think she was able to speak this time but she motioned for a piece of paper and wrote on it (her hands clawed, another symptom of late-stage AIDS)-- I believe in the invisible God. (This became a song on his new album.) And as he played songs that she had only heard during her 3 months as a supposed vegetable, she mouthed the words. Amazing.

Needless to say, now I love the song!

I couldn't find an online video of Queen of Iowa, but here is a video of another song I love.

overwhelmed (in a good way)

Before I get to the overwhelmed in a good way part, let me first say that I have been overwhelmed in a bad way for the last few days. I got back to town on Monday after a wonderful 10-day trip visiting Best Friend, Best Friend's Husband, and Best Friend's 4 Adorable Children in beautiful Arizona, then a few days in Tampa to go to a friend's wedding and hang out with another friend and hubby. Really good times.

But traveling always leaves me tired and I have arrived home to a house in disaster mode (J returned from a solo camping trip on Monday), loads and piles of work, and the shocking realization that we have to pack up the house and wrap up our life in Boston in less than a month. (I get onto a plane to Oregon on Aug 1, and when we return in mid-Sept we will be living on the North Shore.) I have a book to finish (that I confess I have done exactly nothing on in the past month). I have friends to see and family to call and so many friends/family who have been ignored lately. We have a million things to sort out, from car insurance to health insurance to cross-country road trip to two very worthy causes (Zimbabwe shoe drive and Uganda orphans) which are taking loads of times. The weather here has been crappy, cool and pouring rain, which has left me feeling really crappy. I turn into this little old lady whose bones and joints ache, and it is hard to get anything done.

And as I was moaning to a friend just last night, I have no idea how we are going to pay for our lives next year while J is in school (tuition bills plus car we need, etc.) Money has had me stressed. Once again it feels like we are stumbling into the unknown.

Except-- once again-- God reminds me that it is all known to Him. And that He delights to meet our needs. Last night J got home from small group (which I had skipped due to feeling crappy) and told me that our dear friends who are moving to Dubai in August are going to GIVE us their 2000 Corolla. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that someone would just give us their perfectly good car!! I am still amazed. We are now trying to figure out how to ship it from Boston to Oregon in time for us to start our road trip going the other direction (which we don't want to abandon), but who cares if it costs us a little money, we have a free car and no car payment to worry about next year! Hallelujah!

J has already been accepted into one fellowship at Gordon Conwell that basically matches any donations that people make towards his tuition, and last night we fell asleep talking about this other fellowship program that he badly wanted into. It's a little bit of money, but after meeting with the director what he was really excited about it not because of the money but because of the experience-- basically it is a mentored ministry thing in which he'll be leading a small group on campus as well as meeting with all the other small group leaders regularly. The only problem is that he's only going to be at Gordon Conwell next year, and the director didn't sound very positive about J's prospects for being accepted since he was only going to be on campus one more year. But miracle of miracles, he just found out that he WAS accepted!!

When J started seminary (a number of years ago) he told God he didn't want to borrow any money to do it. This has meant a very long and often very trying road for him. When we made the decision for him to go full-time next year we decided that we would stay that course even if we did have to borrow some. Quite honestly, I have thought that there was no way we wouldn't have to borrow for either tuition or the car, so I (the "realist", ha ha) have had this $10,000 figure kicking around in my head. But in the meantime I have picked up a very nicely paying consultancy gig whose timeline keeps lengthening (probably going through at least November), and now we have these other two little miracles. Wouldn't it be incredible if we didn't have to borrow at all? Oh me of little faith.

it's that spelling bee time of year

A couple hours ago J and I came back to our hotel room, flipped on the TV (having a TV around is kind of fun, I have to say), and there was the National Spelling Bee! Actually, it was a rerun of the 2008 National Spelling Bee. The 2009 bee starts tomorrow.

So it reminded me that it's that spelling bee time of year again. It's kind of funny, because the last 5 years I have been in DC during it, which brings back memories of my own national spelling bee experience in 1992, here in DC.

There's not much to say about the bee itself. I spelled out in the first round. (On sagittal, which I believe I spelled sagital. It means arrow-shaped. If only I'd been a little more into astrology I might have figured it out-- think Sagittarius!) But that week in DC was kind of a dream come true. I have this memory of reading a magazine article about the National Zoo, specifically about the monkeys in the National Zoo-- this must have been when I was in 7th or 8th grade. I wanted to go to the National Zoo and see them so badly. Who knew that at the end of 8th grade I actually would get an all-expenses-paid trip to DC (Mom and Brian went as well), where I would not only get to see the National Zoo, but all sorts of other great DC sites, as well as stay in a fancy hotel and meet lots of other nerdy kids my own age? It was all a blast. I remember this fancy barbecue at a historical house that had belonged to George Mason (and square dancing with an intern who was so glamorous in my 13-year old eyes), seeing the DC sites, going to some other historic city (Old Town Alexandria perhaps?), and parties at the hotel.

I do remember crying my heart out, like I couldn't stop, after I spelled out. I think it was from all the tension of the event (bright lights, cameras, not to mention months of build-up) as much as disappointment at spelling out. Or maybe I had delusions of winning the bee, who knows. So many things seemed so grievously disappointing at that age, that I just laugh at now.

Other memories: Being on the front page of the Corvallis paper a couple times. (They were sponsoring me so of course were interested in doing features about their little contestant!) Being recognized in the Albany mall once (I guess from my newspaper picture). One little boy I used to babysit was (by his mother's account) so starstruck over his babysitter being on the front page of the paper that he sat at breakfast staring at the paper and refusing to eat. Months were consumed in studying little flashcards with color coded words. (Mom, how many hours did you spend making those cards and coloring the vowels-- ironic that it wasn't vowels that tripped me up but double consonants, in the actual bee!) I remember getting 2 new snazzy (so I thought) outfits for the trip-- my favorite being a baggy turquoise t-shirt tucked into long baggy shorts with a torquise-and-hot-pink on white plaid, all from The Closet. (Ah, early 90s fashion!) That was what I wore in the actual bee. Oh, and the trophy I won at the local bee sitting in the entryway of my tiny junior high school for an entire year. I think I actually felt pretty awkward about all the attention. (Thirteen was a very awkward age for me anyway.) But getting to go to the bee was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And now, every year when the National Spelling Bee rolls around and I see those cute, awkward kids on TV, it brings it all back...

I have been at a conference this weekend and also working crazy hours on a consultant project that just threw me an impossible deadline. I am past the deadline, and exhausted from too little sleep and too much conferencing, and drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon just to keep my eyes open and my fingers typing, and I think I am almost done and then can have a bit of a break tomorrow before my next conference starts on Wed. In the meantime, while I am working away this afternoon, I am taking little breaks to amuse myself with all things Spelling Bee. Their website actually has a quiz you can take to see if you would qualify (well, supposing you were in 8th grade). Supposedly I would, although every year when I watch the kids spell I think that they are waaay smarter than I am. And I also found this fun article about what has happened to some of the champions, when I was looking up what happened to Miss 1992 (who, it turns out, has her own Wikipedia page). The article seems to be quite interested in whether or not they still put their win on their resumes!

aren't they beautiful?

springtime and life is good

Lately I’ve been noticing something: life is good. The last two weekends I’ve spent good chunks of time gazing at art and reveling in nature, and have been moved to awe and tears and pure joy at the beauty of the world. I’ve been wanting to eat everything in sight (and cook til I drop)—everything just tastes so good. Music amazes me (we just discovered Jon Foreman of Switchfoot fame’s EPs fall/winter/spring/summer—awesome stuff) and I’ve been writing more fluidly than I have in I don’t know how long. This is helpful because I have a book deadline in less than a month (book I’m writing with my boss, first draft is due June 1 and final draft Sept 1!!)—but I’ve even written a couple poems in the last couple weeks. (Lots of work to do still before I’ll let anyone read those!) What is this strange creativity that is bubbling up everywhere??

I’m sure it has a lot to do with the thaw (finally!) of the weather here in Boston—blue skies and flowering trees do wonders for the soul. But more than that I think I’m feeling good. Okay, I am not totally clear of pain, exhaustion, and occasional bad attitude tantrums, but things are definitely getting better. The fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue that have been hanging around the last 2 years—maybe longer?—have left me feeling like the “old” me is something of a long-lost distant acquaintance. So it’s nice to have that gal (the one who feels like living life!!) around more.

I should mention that I've also been feeling like photographing everything in sight! We've just had two really great weekends and the pictures probably tell the stories better than I could here. So click your way on over to picasaweb.google.com/joelandallison and check out the photo albums of Joel's birthday weekend in Providence (this weekend) and our beautiful day hanging out in downtown Boston last weekend-- and the Art in Bloom album, if you want to see lots and lots of pictures of flowers. :)

Here are a couple pictures of us:

in Boston Public Gardens, on the day last weekend it reached the 90s!

at Waterfire in Providence, this weekend

Recipe: Vietnamese Fried Rice

I'm mourning the demise of West Wing. Five years or so late, I know. I've always heard from fellow WW devotees that the series took a serious dive in Season 5, when Aaron Sorkin left. But I had no idea. The writing stinks, it's full of cheesy dramatics and soap operatic moments, and the characters keep doing things that are so out of character (like constantly being at each others throats) that I just want to do something angry. I can hardly stand to watch it anymore. But J and I have been working on this show for a year and a half and we're not going to quit now.

Also, we're kind of a sickie couple at the moment-- J has been sick with some kind of flu for a couple days and I am now feeling kind of rotten myself.

But on the bright side at least it wasn't 96 degrees today (like yesterday!) and I made some awesome fried rice tonight that I thought I would blog about before I forgot what I did.

This started with a package of Chinese sausage that was in the meat mark-downs a month or two ago. I can't resist anything that is half price and a potentially exciting new ingredient, so I bought the package and threw it in the freezer. Ever since I have wondered what to do with it. What is Chinese sausage, anyway? Now I know-- it's kind of sweet, like the barbecued pork they use in Chinese fried rice sometimes. But I actually couldn't find it mentioned anywhere in my cookbooks or recipe websites, so for a while it languished in my freezer.

Then today I was struck with inspiration-- fried rice! What doesn't go in fried rice? Let me just digress here to say that there is a lot of really bad fried rice in the world, and I was never much of a fan until I discovered SE Asian food (primarily Thai and Vietnamese) here in Boston. SE Asian fried rice is not the soggy, oily, bland stuff you get in Chinese restaurants, with a few benighted vegetables and rubbery shrimp. Vietnamese fried rice, like all good SE Asian food, has that magical mixture of salty, sweet, savory, and sour-- it's a total revelation if all you've ever had is the bad Chinese stuff (or at least it was for me).

Anyway, I'm not sure I've nailed it yet, but this is what I threw together, and it was pretty good. (I guess fried rice is like soup-- just throw in what you have, and it's pretty hard to ruin.)

Vietnamese Fried Rice

I've discovered the secret to any kind of stir fry is to have everything ready to go, because it goes so quickly once you start cooking, Also, cook ingredients that cook differently separately, remove when almost cooked, and combine everything with the sauce at the end. This both keeps anything from being overcooked, and gives you as much heat as possible for your ingredients (rather than dumping in a whole bunch of stuff at once). And have the wok as hot as possible. (Even with my real wok over a full gas flame a lot of stuff ends up getting more steamed than stir-fried-- I've heard if you want to really wok something you've got to do it over a real flame in a barbecue!)

Also, the secret of good fried rice is to cook the rice a day or more ahead of time and use it when it's cold and a bit dried out from being in the fridge

• 2 c. short-grain rice (I use brown), cooked (about 6 c. cooked)

Sauce

• 1/4 c. nam pla (Vietnamese fish sauce, kind of like soy sauce, or you could use soy sauce)
  
• 1/4 c. Chinese cooking wine (like fish sauce, it comes in a big bottle and is dirt cheap)
  
• 1 1/2 T. rice vinegar
  
• 1 T. chili oil (bright red, very hot, comes in a small bottle-- use less if you don't want it too spicy or are using fresh chilies in addition)
  
• 1 T. sugar

Stir together so you have it ready to go.

• 4 eggs, lightly scrambled and seasoned with some salt and pepper
  
• 2 T. peanut oil (or other neutral oil)

Pour the oil into the wok, let heat for a few seconds, then pour in the eggs and scramble them. Remove when still a little soft (should take about 1 minute).

• 1 lb. Chinese sausages (chicken, pork, or shrimp would also be delicious-- I would marinate in a little mirin (sweet rice wine), soy sauce or nam pla, ginger, and garlic first)

I just threw them into the wok with a little more peanut oil and cooked over high heat (turning once in a while) until they were somewhat charred on the outside, and cooked inside. Then I removed them and sliced them into thin slices. It's easier to cook and slice them if you cook first, slice later!

• 1-2 T. fresh ginger, grated (or to taste, I didn't have as much as I wish I would have!)
  
• 1-2 T. garlic, minced (again, to taste)

There should be some grease in the wok from the sausages. Use it to stir fry the ginger and garlic, for about 1 minute. Then add (don't remove the ginger/garlic):

• 2 red bell peppers, cut into thin strips, then strips cut in half
  
• (I wish I would have added) sliced onion, sliced fresh hot Thai or jalapeno chilies, fresh mushrooms, bean sprouts-- or any other veg that sounds good (if you have the patience to dice carrots into little dice, more power to you)

Stir fry until crisp tender.

• handful of dried shitake mushrooms, soaked in warm water an hour or until soft, then sliced
  
• 1 c. or so frozen peas

Add to wok with rice and sausages. Stir fry until hot. Then add egg and sauce. At the last minute add:

• 1 bunch green onions, chopped (you can use the dark green parts as well)

And all SE Asian food tastes so much better if you top it with:

• lime wedges (squeeze juice on to taste)
  
• chopped fresh cilantro
• fried shallots-- the ne plus ultra and tonight I actually had some, fry in a little oil until beginning to char, salt liberally, yum!

I actually took a picture of it but it isn't a very exciting picture-- it just looks like rice with red peppers, sausage slices, and cilantro lying on top. Food photography is a trick, one I definitely haven't mastered yet! I'll keep trying. But believe me (even if I don't have a picture as evidence), this is delicious stuff!

good-byes

I was at a wedding with my college friends about a month ago, and over Sunday brunch we started talking about good-byes. One of my friends had gone out to the car without saying good-bye to any of us; her husband explained that she had done this on purpose, because she didn't like saying good-byes. (You know how it is, you have a group of ten or fifteen people and everyone has to hug everyone else and then sometimes enough time passes that you pass the good-bye stage and enter plain old hanging out stage, and then you have to start the good-byes all over again. It can be exhausting.)

Someone else told a story about a couple other college friends who, on a beach in California (at the end of a college friends weekend together), suddenly sprinted away from the rest of the group, calling good-byes over their shoulder, got into their car, and drove away. I guess they didn't want to deal with the good-bye process either.

I get that. I say so many good-byes, and most of the time I would rather skip the whole production. And in my mind, most good-byes are really just see-you-laters. (At least for other Christians, this is true.) I've even started saying "See you later" instead of "Good-bye" a lot of the time-- which may strike some people as weird, say, when I'm flying off to a different continent and we really have no idea when we'll meet again.

In this particular conversation over brunch I said something about how most good-byes were really just see-you-laters, as we are all going to see each other in Heaven. To me, that's a really comforting thought-- that so many of the relationships I have here, in which there never seems to be enough time and people I love always seem to be too far away-- are really just the prelude to the real relationships that I'm going to have with people in Heaven. It's comforting that there's going to be something infinitely better and more whole after all this crazy coming and going and moving around and away, here on Earth. It's comforting that our lives here really are just a mist that appears for a little while, and that all the pain of missing people and not having the people I love around is going to be just a distant memory in the light of eternity, when we're going to have all the time I would ever want just to hang out and enjoy each other.

But this thought of "See you in Heaven!" struck all my friends as really funny, as if I expected my friends to get flattened by buses shortly after they walked out the front door, and they had quite a field day with it. You know, waving to each other and saying "See you in Heaven!" as various people departed. Oh well, I knew what I meant. And Priscilla (the only other Third Culture Kid in the room!) did too.


I was thinking about this again last night as I said another good-bye. Here is a picture of my small group. We meet every week in theory but sometimes we cancel and with all the traveling and crazy schedules that people have sometimes it's many weeks that I don't see certain people. I haven't been at small group in a month or so, actually. But last night we had everyone over here (I made falafel for the first time ever, a mountain of it that all got eaten, and fattoush, and it was great), and we were almost all here. (Missing Jen who defended her dissertation and ran the Boston marathon in the last week, and Bennett who plays his string bass in several different ensembles and had practice.)

We took a picture, as we it was Marcel and Anina's last night (standing in the back next to J and I). They are from Switzerland (he's actually a pastor, working on a PhD here), have been here a year and were hoping to stay for several, but life has not worked out that way. I will miss them!! Trading cooking tips and ideas with Anina, talking about the Gospel with Marcel, hearing stories about the very idiosyncratic place that is Switzerland and trying to explain America, with both of them. I will miss their gifts of fine Swiss chocolate and their graciousness. (Theirs is the only small group house where we actually sit at a table to eat; the rest of our houses we have to sit on couches and chairs and wherever, which I think mildly shocked our classy Swiss friends.) I learned so much, and we laughed a lot. A whole lot. I'm so glad they've been here to share our lives.

There's always a ton of change afoot in that group-- just in those who were there last night we have a 3-week old marriage, an engagement to someone on the other side of the country, a move this week across the world, two of us applying to PhD programs (both with dreams deferred, at least for now), and six of us looking for jobs! Last night I looked around to realize that only one person in the room actually had a stable job that he expected to be in a year from now! (Although his firm just laid off 20% of the staff...) Crazy times we live in. We pray a lot for trust of God and His ways.

I guess that's all for today. I'm thankful for friends, even the ones who enter and leave my life far too quickly. And I'm thankful that we will meet again.

the great ham soup disaster

I don't want to make this blog a place to vent, but this morning I need to vent a little, and ask for prayer. Please? 

Before getting to the ham soup part let me set the stage. It is a stressful time. I am exhausted, not keeping up with work very well, and in addition to my first job that I already wasn't keeping up with very well have taken on a part-time consultancy with the World Bank. I want to do it, but don't quite know how I will manage it. I guess it's a good thing I'm doing it as yesterday (the day after I accepted the consultancy) Joel was informed his job is being cut-- his last day will be next Thursday. He's already been looking for other jobs and has a second interview at a very promising looking job next Friday (the day after his last day of work and the day we leave on a 2 week trip to Saudi), so I'm sure it will all work out, but yet it still feels like major uncertainty. 

Meanwhile I'm in the little six-week window in which I'm going to hear back from three PhD programs and have to make a decision, and a couple nights ago I had a major freak-out over it all. I'm sleeping terribly, long nights of incredibly active and stressful dreams (this has been the pattern for a while now, maybe the med I'm on for fibro?), and I half wonder why I even bother shutting my eyes-- my nights are almost more chockfull of activity than my days. We're leaving for Saudi in 9 days and there's such a list of things to do-- from work projects to doing my 6 week accumulation of laundry.

And I'm in a dear friend's wedding at the end of March, so this weekend I spend the whole weekend in New York City helping to pull off the bridal shower (I'm the designated chef) and the weekend after we get back from Saudi I spend the weekend in New York City at the wedding. This morning I spend a little chunk of time answering emails about wedding/shower details, then decided I was going to skip a shower (for the second morning in a row), be late for work, and sit down for a quiet half hour with God. I have not been good about making time for this in the recent past, but today is the first day of Lent and I am excited about renewing this discipline. Prop up the eyelids, and away I go. 

Enter the great ham soup disaster. We have a shelf that hangs over the stove with all of my pots and pans on it. The thing is really heavy and occasionally I give it worried looks but it has never fallen off the wall before. But this morning,  five minutes into my quiet time, one of the big drywall screws rips completely out of the wall, and my biggest pot plunges off the shelf and onto the pot of ham stock that was bubbling away, to make split pea soup tonight. The ham soup pot is knocked onto the ground. A gallon of broth, celery stalks, ham bones, and pieces of wall and pot (my enameled cast iron pot lost a big piece of its enamel coating) are flung 10 feet (I am not kidding), nearly all the way to the front door. It was like one of those movie scenes that are funny, but also really cringe-inducing. Where you think, "Gosh, I hope that never happens to me." 

Yes, this was that morning. Just as I was beginning to wade into the disaster the buzzer rang-- the postman was delivering a package. So down I went in my pajamas. 

Now the mess is at least somewhat mopped up, I am still in my pajamas, still having to prop up my eyelids I am so tired, but heading back to my quiet time...

Please pray for us.

postscript: When I went to rinse the pot lid off before putting it and the pot with the broth-less bones back in the fridge, the handle suddenly broke off and the very heavy lid fell onto my butter dish and one of my favorite melamine spoons which were both sitting in the sink. Breaking both. The screw that held the handle on had shot into the garbage disposal so I had to root around in there before I found it. I wonder what else I can break on my way out the door this morning? What a morning.

faith journeys (the vicarious edition)

Lately I've been feeling low. I've been experiencing chronic fatigue, and more recently some pain and other symptoms, for many months-- really since we got married 8 months ago. I have my theories about what may be wrong, but the couple medical personnel I've seen so far haven't been helpful, so there has seemed to be no answer or relief in sight. (I do have an appointment with a specialist in a week.) Certain parts of my usual normal life have ground to a halt, and there are many things I usually love that I either can't/don't do these days or have no joy in (cooking comes to mind). The list of undone things in my life (housecleaning, phone calls, wedding thank you notes) just piles up. I come home from a 7-hour day at work and it's all I can do to eat dinner, talk to my husband a little bit, and go to bed. Last night I was looking around my messy house, thinking of how much I wanted the energy to clean my house and do so many other things-- and just feeling sad.

I have been feeling discouraged, like I am in survival mode, like much of the joy has drained out of my life and I don't have anything to give to anyone right now. It feels like deep waters-- not in the grand scheme of things (daily news about other parts of the world keeps that in perspective)-- but deep waters for me. Is God still caring for me? My faith is weak.

So, last night I was really encouraged to hear from two people in my life about how God is working, tenderly and powerfully, in their lives. I needed the reminder that God is around, caring, working miracles all the time.

For some reason I couldn't sleep, so I was up at 11 when my mom sent an email describing three recent "God sightings" in her life. The events were small, but I understand why they were so important. Things like having the earring my brother gave her as a child turn up in a most unaccountable way, after it had been presumed lost. Stuff with God's fingerprints and care all over it.

Then at 11:30 my phone rang, and it was my best friend, telling me that her baby had safely come into the world, through a home birth no less, and on the day that for various reasons she really had to come. (Welcome to the world, Shalom Lindy Lael!) Not only that, but God has really taken care of them in super-special ways. My friend had to deliver in a town several hours from where they live, and none of her family could be there to help her during the birth. I wanted to drop everything and go-- but I knew I couldn't at this juncture. I felt so bad, thinking about her and her husband with 3 small kids and one on the way, and no one to help. But God sent a family they didn't even know, with 5 kids of their own and a 15 passenger van, to befriend them and serve them in so many ways. I cried hearing about it-- that God had met their need in such a way. Now they just have to buy a vehicle to replace the two vehicles that have died in the 3 weeks they've been waiting for the baby in this other town (well, and move out of the rental house by noon today-- that was why the baby, who was late, really needed to come yesterday.) This all seems to be in a day's work for my friend-- have a baby, buy a car, move houses-- but pray for them if you can.

Anyway, the point is that I am glad I have people around to share their God sightings, because it builds my faith and hope. God is with us, period.

Pictures!

I have finally at long last managed to upload a bunch of pictures to a Picasa album. And more to come, when I get around to it. You can access them through clicking on the nifty slideshow on the right.

The most recent pictures are from our wonderful trip on Saturday up to Rockport. J and I take turns planning dates-- one month it's his turn, the next mine. It's really fun because we get to plan surprises, as well as receive them. He planned this month's date, and I really had no idea where we were going. We got on the train (one of the commuter rails) and went all the way to the end of the line, which ended up being Rockport, a beautiful little fishing village that is now a beautiful little tourist spot. Lots of art galleries and boutique shops. We ate hot dogs (see menu in the pictures!), got coffee, walked around in the sparkling sunny day, and enjoyed the beautiful ocean views all around. J bought a $4 kite which actually flew-- see pictures. It was a really great day.

Africa news: the bad, the good, and the ugly

Zimbabwe is breaking my heart these days. Two weeks ago the news was so hopeful-- it looked like they had had a free and fair election, and Mugabe was finally going to step down and let the work of rebuilding the country begin. How naive. Here's today's Washington Post story. The news really is worse by the day.

Preparing for the Worst in Zimbabwe: Opposition Faces Violent Reprisals After Election Wins

Here's something considerably more hopeful (and much more fun), from Charity:Water, one of the coolest save-the-world campaigns I know: http://www.charitywater.org/mailings/psa.htm

And to return to maybe the saddest subject of all, I saw the Congolese doctor who is repairing rape victims in eastern DRC speak on Tues, so I'll add a link to the same article (about him) that I posted a few months ago. The article says it all. The amazing thing to me (at the Tues event) was that Harvard is setting up all these research projects and teams to "study" the question of why hundreds of thousands of women are being raped in violent, horrible ways as an act of war (but in a "war" with no real objective or sides)... but (of course) no one in that group had a clue why men were doing this or how to stop it. This is the kind of pure, chilling, pathological evil that seems to drive people away from believing in God-- but from my point of view it should be driving people towards God. What else but an infinitely loving, healing, powerful, and good God is ever going to change those men, or restore those women? The Congolese doctor had a very interesting comment-- I was sure he was a Christian (well, I think the article says so) but nothing spiritual was ever discussed, except this one little comment he slipped in at the end, basically that those women who keep asking God why this has happened to them do not heal, but the ones who come close to God and believe that He is with them do heal. Good luck, Harvard, ever figuring out how to heal these women, without the loving presence of God.

Here's the article: Women left for dead—and the man who’s saving them

(Oh, and on an entirely frivolous note, I was somewhat disappointed with Aujourd'hui. Some of the food was spectacular, but they were into these tiny fancy portions, so that my four large seared scallops that were supposed to come with pasta actually came with exactly four tiny bow-ties. And my tarte tatin for dessert, by far the most disappointing, was "deconstructed" to the point that it was actually four chunks of apple, a little cinnamon sauce, a little strip of pastry balanced like a teeter totter on the apples, and two thimble-sized scoops of ice cream. I wanted to say, "What is this?" Who could possibly want a dessert like that over a nice big caramelized slice of apple tart that you can really sink your fork into, especially when one is paying $12 for it? It seems I am not as much of a food snob as I thought, but it was really a bit haute haute haute for me.)

Texas style

I know, I know, I'm boring and never post pictures. Largely because I rarely take pictures. This is from weekend before last, and I finally got it from my friend who took it. This is with some dear friends who were visiting for the weekend (so good to get to share our lives with them!!), and we were all at a 30th birthday party for another friend. This other friend (the birthday girl) is from Texas, and thinks J is great because he is too, so she had him run a table of Texas Hold 'Em.

It was hilarious. Most of us had no idea what we were doing-- my wonderful husband had to keep telling us how the game was played over and over all night-- but the really hilarious thing, from my point of view, was that I WON. I do not think this is any evidence of great poker talent on my part-- I just kept getting crazy good cards. And feeling really guilty when I would, um, take people out. In an early hand I, in consultation with the cheat sheet, figured out that I was one card away from a straight flush, and though I was disappointed it wasn't and a bit daunted by all the things that could be better than a plain old straight, I figured a straight was probably okay. (Any of you who know poker can probably guess-- I think that was the only straight we saw all night!) At one point the experienced poker player to my left bet everything on a couple pairs, and I (through another consultation with the cheat sheet) realized that, my goodness, I had 5 cards of the same suit. Wow, who knew 5 cards of the same suit was such a good hand. The poker player to my left just kept saying, "Wow, I never even saw that coming. Wow, I never thought about that. Wow, I had no idea." And there I was, just rolling in the chips, until it came time to take out my wonderful husband. Sigh. I can see why people get hooked. It was a blast.

My friend the birthday girl said that people kept talking about us, and J especially (although I had made a 4-layer carrot cake, always a sure-fire way to make friends)-- they thought it was great that he was dressed up and playing the part. Ha ha! Bostonians aren't used to someone who wears a hat and boots just normally.

moving day

Today I had to move out of my office. We all had to move. The Center is changing hands. Politics. It will be renovated, shut down completely, we will be displaced to various parts of the university (me to a 4th floor windowless office that's nowhere near the university), and we don't know if we will ever return. They say 4 months, but everything is changing, people (including my whole project) are being kicked out in stages, and no one is telling us anything. Politics.

It was a sad day, because in spite of the fact that we're not the kind of work environment where everyone is all chummy and eats lunch together on a regular basis, we don't want to be broken up. We don't want to not know when we'll be together again-- if ever. We're the kind of place where we hardly see each other, where most days the building is half-empty, where people are always in another country or under the pressure of various deadlines, where it's taken me, quite frankly, a long time to get to know people. But I have, a year and a half later, built some significant relationships, that I am sad to see go.

There is my colleague that I see sometimes at mass, who is also hiding a fervent faith under her professional academic persona, who passes on to me rich morsels of her Catholic faith. She is a very deep person, who if you can get her to talk about herself and her experiences, always has amazing things to say. Today as we were all packing up, wandering in and out of offices, feeling sad and in-transition, talking more than usual, I got several incredible stories. A rather famous friend of hers just made her the godmother of his child, but what I didn't know is that his family has also just adopted an African baby that was abandoned in a latrine. An unexpected encounter today brought up a connection from her past, a close friend who got AIDS (and later died) while shooting up with his 4 brothers-- they all got AIDS. And then, while packing up a framed (and beautiful) Oscar Romero quote, she got more animated than I had ever seen her while talking about her "main men", the Jesuits, and passed on this quote:

Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything. (Fr. Pedro Arrupe, 28th Superior General of the Society of Jesus)

In other news, I won a huge, gigantic, nearly 1-lb. Toblerone today. I frequently participate in psychology studies for the extra cash. Sometimes I earn quite a bit of money. I have now beaten the odds with such diverse talents as winning simplified computer versions of Texas Hold 'Em, showing very selfish/anti-social behavior in a version of the Prisoner's Dilemma, and discerning which line is infinitesimally longer in hundreds of computer trials. But I think this study was the most exciting ever-- the regular money PLUS a giant Toblerone.

Our other big news is Joel finally got a job! Three days before our six month anniversary! It was quite a weekend.

a melted cheese kind of day

I am working from home today, because I'm working on an article that is soon to be published, not in an academic journal, but in a journal that I had actually heard of before writing the article, which is something. Stay tuned. There's a winter storm warning in effect (my other reason for working from home), so I am watching the stages of winter storm go by in the outside world-- first several inches of snow, then torrents of rain, and supposedly there is flooding about.

Because my brain is working so hard and because it is this kind of a day, a day that makes you want to eat warm and gooey things, I have been eating way too much cheese. First a grilled ham and cheese sandwich (as my LOTR-obsessed husband would say, an "elevensie"), and then a very nice quesadilla. I'm not sure the cheese is helping my writing-- mostly I just feel like taking a nap.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and I'm excited, because I've always loved Valentine's Day. Even in all my lonely single years. I just think it's a great day to celebrate the people you love and how much they mean to you I'm reading a Paul Theroux book right now (he's a travel writer) and he is paddling around The Happy Isles of Oceania (that's the title of the book) and observing the indigenous people and their culture (this is about 20 years ago). In one group of people he found that the relationship they valued above all else was friendship-- and that even marriage was only seen as being a uniquely strong friendship, and that's why it was special. I thought that was interesting, and not untrue.

Not that I'm not really happy to have a Valentine this year, in addition to all my great friends. He took me on a very cool date on Saturday-- a reading of John and Abigail Adams' love letters to each other (some of the letters-- there are over 1000) accompanied by small courses of food taken from Abigail Adams' cookbooks. The letters were read by a pair of actors who did a masterful job. The letters were really interesting (and beautiful), and then the actors stayed in character and took questions. I happened to use the restroom afterwards at the same time as Abigail and she was still in character, exclaiming over the toilet paper and other modern amenities of the bathroom. Very funny. A bit later she was talking to someone at the next table over and J was listening in and suddenly she turned around and said, rather sternly, "Young man, I see that you are admiring me. If you have anything to say to me, you had best direct it to my husband." John walked by about then, heard the comment, and said to J, "It's quite all right sir, I admire her too." We laughed!

Here's a picture of us:

Second day of Christmas

I was going to upload some pictures tonight of my apartment in its Christmas splendor, for people like my mother who would like to know what my apartment looks like, but I can't find the cable for my camera. Sometimes I can find my camera, and sometimes I can find rechargeable batteries for my camera that are actually charged, and sometimes I can find the camera cable, but all three together-- that is the trifecta. Not attainable by me, at least not recently. In my defense we are still at that stage of moving in which things don't really have a place yet, and the trip to Africa and associated packing and unpacking of things like my camera added further confusion. And today we were painting the kitchen so there is kitchen stuff all over the rest of the apartment and it's all a mess. I actually made toast today by setting the toaster on the toilet seat because it's the only place outside the kitchen I could find a three-prong plug! I suppose this is kind of gross and not something I should admit to.

Anyway, although I don't have the pictures to prove it, our apartment is looking quite Christmas-y (no tree, but we do have a quite glorious poinsettia), and we had a great Christmas. We received two invitations to spend Christmas with people but they both were a fair distance away and we didn't really feel like going anywhere so we didn't. I cooked a bit and we ate a big breakfast and I cooked a bit more and we ate a big dinner and in between we opened our gifts (piled under the poinsettia) and read the Christmas story, Joel the Matthew version and me the Luke version. (Have you ever noticed how the Matthew version is all about Joseph and the Luke version is all about Mary? I never had, til this year.) Then we sang Christmas carols with Joel playing guitar and me playing my flute very badly. And then watched March of the Penguins, which Joel had bought me for Christmas. I confess I hadn't had a burning desire to see it-- the premise had struck me as a bit dull and I wondered how I would sit through two hours of nothing but penguin footage-- but in fact I was completely fascinated by it. Riveted. I highly recommend it.

We got to sing quite a few Christmas carols this year-- in our living room last night and in a great, lengthy Christmas Eve service we attended at St. Paul (the big Catholic church by my office). There's so much great theology in Christmas carols-- so much that is so strong and powerful, especially compared to all the bland ridiculous candy cane and snowman stuff that has taken over Christmas in America. I was buying up 50% off Christmas cards today and felt nearly ill at all the syrupy, weak-willed Christmas greetings I ran across. The heart of Christmas is actually something really radical. Think about these words from O Holy Night:

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;

And in His name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,

His power and glory evermore proclaim.

His power and glory evermore proclaim.