tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-110148042024-03-06T23:41:12.630-05:00Madame Moon's MeanderingsThoughts & commentary from the daily life of a joy fairy.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.comBlogger256125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-77586227485392161362017-03-24T01:42:00.001-05:002017-03-24T01:42:22.566-05:00From 1700s France to Gold Rush Colorado in a Single WeekendLast week was another work travel week for Jeannene. She arrived home on Friday, St. Patrick's Day, in the late morning. After a long conference call, she took the rest of the day to recuperate from the very early morning required by her air travel. Since it was Bear's day with his nanny, we took advantage of being freed from childcare duties to go have drinks and a snack at The Copper Rail before taking in a movie. She had a green beer, much to my amusement, and I stuck with iced tea. We shared the hummus platter, which starred very good, creamy hummus and was accompanied by warm, soft pita triangles and very fresh veggies for dipping.<br />
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I love Disney's animated version of "Beauty and the Beast." What bookworm girl can't identify with Belle and her love of reading? Naturally, then, I've been eagerly awaiting the live action version since I first heard it was in the works. I was even happier when Hermione Granger---oh, I mean, Emma Watson---was cast as Belle. What usually happens, though, when I can't wait for a movie to come out, is that I end up not even seeing it in the theater. We just don't get out to the movies that often and, when we do, it's usually a Marvel blockbuster or some iteration of Star Wars. Those are fun, of course, but I would cheerfully go to the movies once a week or more, given my druthers. So, I was quite happy when Jeannene offered to take me on opening day! I'm not sure I've ever been to a movie on opening day before. It was a wonderful version, beautiful to behold and well-cast. One of my favorite things about it was that there were several interracial couples in it and it wasn't part of the storyline that they were interracial couples. They just happened to be.<br />
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After the movie, we spent an inordinately long time looking at refrigerators to replace ours, which keeled over mid-week. We finally decided on one and headed home, where I made Guinness stew, champ (which I have always thought was colcannon, until a friend of a friend pointed out that colcannon has kale, while champ has cabbage), and soda bread. Neither of us is very keen on corned beef and cabbage, so this is our traditional St. Paddy's Day supper.<br />
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Saturday was an astonishingly summer-like day, with blue skies, sunshine, and the mercury reaching 80 degrees! We had breakfast at a little mom & pop place here in town called Billie's. We enjoyed huevos rancheros, a green chile slathered breakfast burrito with chorizo, and some pancakes. Bear was not impressed with the biscuits & gravy we ordered for him, but he was wild for the sausage. In fact, we ordered him another patty because he gobbled up the first with such joy and enthusiasm.<br />
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We thought we were going to the zoo to see the new tiger exhibit, but traffic was backed up for blocks near the zoo and the parking lots around it were jam-packed. I don't know if everyone was headed for the zoo. Perhaps there was a special exhibit at the nearby science museum? Anyway, I had a great plan B in mind that would get us outside and also serve as the C date we'd been stuck on for ages. Without telling Jeannene where we were headed, I reset the Waze app for the Denver Botanic Gardens (C is for Conservatory and Children's Gardens). She was pretty pleased with my choice.<br />
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We started with the children's gardens, where Bear had a blast playing in the dirt, feeling all kinds of new textures, making friends in the kitchen, learning to use a drinking fountain, and making a plush mountain goat knock wooden blocks off a stump. This naughty goat got put in time out on another stump each time, with Bear saying, "Naughty goat!" Our wee boy was also completely terrorized by the existence of a swinging bridge. It was a very modest motion, when compared with the swinging bridge of my youth, but it really worried him. He refused to walk over the bridge, insisting on being carried. He remembered it Tuesday at school, too, and refused to have anything to do with the bridge on campus.<br />
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Across the road, we wandered through the tropical rainforest conservatory. I was astonished to see what a ginger plant looks like. We sniffed our way through the orangerie, where citrus trees were blooming with a scent that took me straight back to the Florida road trips of my childhood. From there, we progressed through the Japanese gardens and the more Western gardens. There wasn't much blooming, but it felt wonderful to be out in the sun and to see what was blooming. I will be glad to go back in another month or two and see more blooms. There is the promise of dozens of lilacs and peonies to lure me. There's also a beautiful house that I hope I someday get to visit for an event.<br />
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We ended our visit with lunch in the cafe, a ham and brie sandwich for me, a caprese sandwich for Jeannene, and a ham and cheese pinwheel sandwich for Bear, who slept through lunch, but awoke in time to eat lunch before we got in the car. We also visited the gift shop, where I had a very hard time reining myself in and not buying all kind of lovelies. I walked out with absolutely nada. Bear would like to have gotten some of the swirled blown-glass balls we saw there.<br />
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Sunday morning, my longtime online friend, Cathi, had invited us to her congregation in Golden to see her daughter in the children's program and to meet her in person for the first time. The people at the church were warm and welcoming---enough so that we felt completely comfortable leaving Bear in the church nursery for the first time. He had a blast! We really enjoyed the program, which was all about standing up for others and doing the right thing. It gave both of us quite a bit of hope for the future, if there are lots of kids like these, being religiously educated in such a way. Cathi was as delightful in person as she is online.<br />
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After church, we headed to downtown Golden to have brunch at the Table Mountain Cantina and Grill. We passed the Coors brewery and were astounded at the magnitude of it. Jeannene's run some pretty large and productive plants, but this dwarfed anything she's done. We plan to return sometime to take the tour.<br />
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Golden is very focused on its past as a gold rush town and definitely plays up the old Colorado feel. The hotel in which the restaurant is located reminded me a great deal of Santa Fe and I got even more excited about our upcoming anniversary trip there. I can't wait to show Jeannene around. Bear was pretty sleepy. He was intrigued with the stuffed (real) bear in the lobby, but I think he was even more interested in pulling the Southwest-patterned cushions off the couch and onto the floor, so he could rest on them.<br />
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When we were finally summoned to our table, any trace of sleepiness vanished and he was full of beans (literally and figuratively) the entire meal. That didn't prevent us from enjoying the food immensely. They brought toasty warm cinnamon rolls right away, which was much appreciated by all three of us. They also brought Bear things to keep him amused---gigantic coffee filters to wear for hats, crayons and wiki sticks that he found quite delicious, and condiment cups for stacking. The meal was quite wonderful and he shared my food, biscuits and chorizo gravy, with gusto. He was not as impressed with his Momma's chicken chimichanga, but he was wild for the black beans that came with it. I got to have the best mimosas I've ever had, as well. I don't know if they slipped a little vanilla in the orange juice or what, but they were out of this world.<br />
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After lunch, we strolled around town a bit more and found a world map to go on Bear's wall alongside his U.S. map. I was sorely tempted toward an ice cream cone, as it seemed everyone in town was walking around licking a scoop, but I was full enough from brunch that I resisted. We had a really pleasant afternoon. I mused on the oddness of spending the last day of winter walking around in the sunshine, wearing a tank top. You won't hear me complain!<br />
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<br />Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-5022599507680884552016-10-10T15:11:00.003-05:002016-10-10T15:43:39.681-05:00Pumpkin Season!Our weekend effectively began on Friday, with my wife arising at 3:30 in the morning to fly back home to us from Maryland. Elij and I picked her up about 10:30 and we stopped for brunch at the Moonlight Diner. The view of the snow-capped mountains was lovely! Our food was very good. Jeannene chose banana walnut pancakes and I opted for a traditional fried egg/hash brown/sausage/toast combo, which was great, while Elijah enjoyed scrambled eggs and bites of our meals. The diner itself was fun, with all kinds of Halloween decorations to add a little seasonal fun to the vintage soda shop type decorations all around us.<br />
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From there, we stopped by her office and a couple other places for a brief time before heading home. When we got home, we hung out and watched some t.v. and played with Elijah's new blocks, his souvenir from Maryland. I love them---traditional wood blocks with uppercase & lowercase letters, sign language, numbers, and pictures of things starting with those letters.<br />
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By the time dinnertime rolled around, neither of us felt like cooking or going back out, but we figured going out would be the easiest. Jeannene expressed a preference for something Asian, with tofu. I started checking out what's available---and available for delivery---and discovered that one of the local Vietnamese places delivers. So, we got scrumptious noodle dishes and some really great hot & sour soup and Vietnamese pork egg rolls. We were in bed by 9 or so.<br />
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Saturday morning, I woke up hungry for pumpkin bread and hot apple cider. I decided to make a loaf of bread, along with the chocolate bark I was going to make to take to our neighbor's house. We'd been invited to dinner and wanted to contribute something. However, we ended up deciding it'd be fun to go to a pumpkin patch and scrapped the bark idea, as it entailed a trip to the grocery. I quietly hoped the pumpkin patch would also have pumpkin bread.<br />
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We headed out to Rock Creek Farm and had a really good time checking out the pumpkins in one of their fields. Elijah wasn't too sure about the whole thing. He tends to get very, very serious when in new circumstances and it was certainly different to be on a farm! He was really interested, however, in the pumpkins and, especially, the vines. We got some cute pictures, too. We chose two pumpkins and headed to the area with booths to pay---and see what kinds of baked goods they had. Elij got to sit on some hay bales and have more pictures taken while he played with a gourd. He was fascinated by the shape. I picked a caramel apple, a loaf of pumpkin bread for our hostess, and a fabulous pumpkin bar with cream cheese icing and festive sprinkles. Jeannene opted for a couple of jack o'lantern cookies---one to share with Elijah and one to take home. Lunch was a concession stand hot dog and some of the best spiced hot apple cider I've had in years.<br />
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We walked around, enjoying looking at the activities for bigger kids. We met another little boy named Elijah, also 11 months, who adorable, with light caramel skin and ridiculously long eyelashes. We had a nice chat with his folks at the pig pen before moving on to let Elijah get cow snot on his hands. After strolling around some more, we headed for Michael's with our trunk full of farm loot.<br />
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It turned out they were having a huge "doorbuster" sale at Michael's and we got a fun trick or treat wreath, a bunch of craft supplies, and a cool birdcage. Then, we had to rush home and get ready to go next door for dinner. Gloria is the neighbor who showed up with a loaf of zucchini bread when we first moved into the house. It was so lovely to be invited to dinner. Gloria had expressed concern that Elijah might be afraid of the Halloween decorations in her house, but he was actually enchanted by the hanging witches and glowing ghosties. Me, I loved the murder of paper crows parading up her staircase. Jeannene and I were both really impressed with the beautiful murals she'd had painted, as well.<br />
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We started the evening with drinks outside. One of the men was a baby whisperer and took a great liking to Elijah, who spent much of the evening exploring the yard and house with him and playing. Gloria also very graciously offered him a seat in her grandkids' exersaucer, which he completely loved. After a meal of baked ziti, salad, and garlic bread, we all sat and talked for a long time over dessert. We got home at 10:30 and went right to bed.<br />
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In the morning, Jeannene got up early to greet the guy who built our custom baby gates. He'd asked if he could install them at 8 Sunday morning, which seemed like a weird hour to me. We're usually either asleep or getting ready for church then. But, we'd been waiting for the gates for awhile and definitely needed them, as Elijah has become incredibly proficient at stair-climbing and is sad when a mom isn't available to chaperone his upward trips. The guy and his cousin didn't arrive until almost 10, which was frustrating. We'd hoped to get the gates installed quickly and check out one of the area churches. Ah, well, we definitely needed them. Shortly after lunch, Jeannene took a nap while Elijah and I unpacked boxes. When he was ready for his nap, I settled him in on me and watched "Cujo" while he dozed. Jeannene joined me for the last part of it.<br />
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After that, we headed into Denver and picked up my cousin Lisa's husband, Alan, for dinner. He's in town for a work trip and we were excited finally to meet him! He turned out to be really nice---I would expect nothing less of Lisa's choice for a life partner---and we had a great time talking with him over pizza, calzone, & salad at The Mellow Mushroom.<br />
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When we got home, it was time to program the coffee and head to bed, another weekend in the books, another debate avoided.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-57590434047852543402016-10-05T16:10:00.000-05:002016-10-05T16:15:54.785-05:00Vancouver and ButterfliesAmong the food plants my wife oversees, one is in Vancouver. I spent a week in Toronto every summer of my teen years, visiting friends, and I've been to Niagara Falls a number of times. When I was tiny, I suspect I went other places in Ontario. I had never, however, been to Vancouver. Many of her business trips are short bursts of 2-3 days, not worth the extra money for me to tag along. However, last week, she was due there for an entire week. So, our Elijah's first international trip turned out to be to Canada. He's a great traveler and continued to be for this trip.<br />
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Jeannene went in very early on Monday and was done early, so we got to go poke around Granville Island's Children's Market (where we picked up a Good Night, World board book illustrated with Pacific Northwest First Nations art and a cute pair of high tops featuring the British flag for our boy) and the Granville Island Public Market (where we scored scrumptious maple yummies, a fab vanilla macaron, brie de meaux & 9-year cloth-wrapped cheddar, wonderful bread, and fragrant local strawberries). We also stopped in some neat shops, including DragonSpace, where I saw scores of fairies I wanted to take home. I did get a coloring book, a gorgeous pendant of silver and rainbow moonstone, and a wee dragon for Elij's Enchanted Forest room. We also got to spend time on the quay, eating meat pies and listening to a street performer's renditions of James Taylor songs, among other singer-songwriter type music. He was quite good. Supper was across the street from the Westin, at the Boathouse, where we had some quite good seafood and, more importantly, the best Pimm's Cup I've encountered.</div>
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Tuesday, Jeannene had the car for work, so Elijah and I just hung out in the hotel room, playing and resting---and eating too much room service! We had the car Tuesday evening, but I didn't feel like venturing out at night in a city I don't know at all with a baby.</div>
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Wednesday, we did get out, driving down to the Gastown tourist district. However, upon arriving in the area, I looked around and determined that it didn't look like much that would be interesting at midday for a 10-month-old. He had fallen asleep, anyway, so it was better not to rouse him for nothing. So, I turned around and drove back to Richmond, where we were staying. By the time we arrived, he was awake. So, we had lunch at Dinesty Dumpling House. I'd been wanting to try soup dumplings and theirs turned out to be excellent! Elij was not as big a fan. I was happy to see spicy green beans with pork on the menu. That's one of my favorites. However, I was concerned that it might be too hot for him, so I asked the waitress. She shook her head and said, "Oh, no! Too hot, for sure, for him!" So, I also ordered rice noodles with pork and veggies, which turned out to be good, if bland. Elijah enjoyed eating the noodles, but his favorite thing was, if you can believe it, the green beans! He was looking at them so longingly that I decided to suck all the sauce and chile flecks from one and let him try. It didn't seem particularly spicy to me---and I am a spice wuss---so I thought it would be fine to let him try. He ate a bunch of them with great gusto and no ill effects! For dessert, we nommed on some red bean paste buns. I love me some red bean paste. Elijah was impressed, as well. </div>
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For dinner that night, we tried to go to Espana for tapas. However, it was slammed and tiny. Luckily, I'd read good Chowhound reviews of Banana Leaf, just down the street and they had a table for us. We had roti with coconut curry sauce and excellent chicken satay with less-excellent, but still yummy sauce. I was not a fan of the roti, as it was a bit too sweet for me and I wanted it to have condensed milk on it if it was going to be sweet, but Jeannene and the boy were. I ate too much chicken to be very hungry for the pork side ribs I ordered, but the small portion I ate was good and the jasmine rice was perfect. Jeannene's rending beef curry, with coconut rice, was just right, as well. Okay, I need to be perfectly honest here. I could cheerfully have eaten my pork, had I not been intent on saving room for mango sticky rice. Am I ever glad I did, too! It was completely delectable. The mango was perfectly ripe. Oh, man. Elij adored it, too. We all three did. He'd had parts of both our dinners, but this was his fave, for sure. That boy is a huge mango fan. </div>
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Thursday, Bear and I went exploring the Kitsilano neighborhood while Jeannene worked. We stopped in for lunch at Nelly's Grill, where the waitress was so very kind. She even offered to bring some blocks or other toys for Elijah. He was perfectly happy just eating, though. He had pancakes for the first time ever, fluffy silver dollar ones shaped like Mickey's head and bursting with plump blueberries. I had an omelet full of delicious meats & veggies. I did not take my sweetie boy to the beach there, even though I am dying to introduce him to the ocean. I want Jeannene to be there for his first time. I'd also like it to be in warmer climes so he can put his wee toes in!</div>
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Thursday evening, we planned to have dinner at Thierry Chocolaterie, Patisserie, and Cafe. We found parking right across the street, a table indoors, and everything. Sadly, they were out of sandwiches and savories. Deciding not to allow that to put a damper on things, I suggested we simply eat dessert first. So, we did---and it was great. Jeannene had a shortbread cookie with a coconut liquid chocolate. I had a glorious palmier with Basque chile liquid chocolate. Elij had a vanilla macaron---well, a great deal of one. His moms did pinch off a piece or two. Then, we ventured out into the streets to find dinner. </div>
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We ended up at Pacifico Pizza, after considering and rejecting a number of other places. As soon as we walked in, we were swarmed by women who worked there, exclaiming over the baby. That was really sweet, but what really made an impression was the way it smelled in there! I knew immediately that our pizza would be stellar---and it was. We had terrific service and dinner was so, so good. We shared a pizza that was half margherita and half capriccios, with Genoa salami, ham, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and olives. The toppings were high quality and the crust was thin and chewy and delicious. </div>
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Jeannene's conference was over Thursday, so we were able to enjoy one more day touring the city as a family. The event planner (me) had Stanley Park and the Vancouver Aquarium on the agenda. We ended up buying a membership at the Aquarium before we even walked in, since Jeannene's going to be spending a decent amount of time in the city. Elijah and I will be back, as well. We had a bite to eat before exploring. Elij really dug the black bean burger! He was less keen on the sea lions, once we started looking about the aquarium. I think the crazy roaring sort of noises made him nervous. He was, however, interested in the dolphin show. I think Jeannene's and my very favorite thing to see was the belugas. It was a great time! In the gift shop, we found an adorable sloth onesie for Elijah, a red jacket for Jeannene, and a pewter necklace and earrings with a First Nations artist's depiction of Raven on them for me. </div>
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After the aquarium, we took a horse-drawn trolley tour of the park, with a stop at the totem poles (which were fascinating---each had a sign explaining the history and meaning) and a drop-off a lovely stroll through the woods from our car. We set our GPS for The Tomahawk Barbecue, assuming all the park's restaurants closed at 5. However, I decided, on a whim, to follow the "restaurants" sign further into the park, rather than the GPS' preferred road. It was a great whim to follow, as we ended up having a wonderful dinner (a shared cheese plate and roasted chickpeas as an appetizer, halibut for Jeannene, beef tenderloin for me, and a beautiful chocolate mascarpone cake with an almond wafer crust---some of everything for Elij, whose favorite was, by far, the chickpeas) at The Teahouse in Stanley Park, right by the water. Lovely service, cozy atmosphere. We'll definitely go back. </div>
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Saturday, we flew home. I'd been spoiled by our not getting to sit together on the way there---affording me the opportunity for a nap and several chapters of my book, while Jeannene kept our wee boy entertained. I assumed I would be entertaining him on the way home, but he surprised us and slept almost the whole way, after looking out the window with great interest for awhile. We were also surprised not to have anyone else in our row! What bliss, in this age of consistently overbooked flights!</div>
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Jeannene very energetically made us supper Saturday night. I'd assumed we'd just grab something on the way home from the airport, but she made us country-fried steak with white gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. A homey dinner for our first night home. </div>
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Sunday, she had to work for several hours from home, so I hung out with the boy quite happily. At 2:30, though, she said she was ready to go on our B alphabet date, if we had time. We did, indeed. We spent the rest of the afternoon checking out Butterfly Pavilion. I've started a blog just for our alphabet dates, so you can read more about that <a href="http://abcfrolic.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">at abcfrolic.blogspot.com.</a> After our date, we came home and I made a pot of chili, corn muffins, and apple slices to dip in caramel.</div>
Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-62424292577961470972016-03-09T12:28:00.002-05:002016-03-09T12:28:23.995-05:00Messy ChurchLast night, our church held our first Messy Church. I've been interested in the Messy Church movement, which originated in the UK and has been gaining in popularity, for awhile now, but have never had the opportunity to experience it firsthand. You can learn more about it <a href="http://www.messychurch.org.uk/">here.</a> When I heard our fabulous faith formation director was taking it on, I was delighted!<br />
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Our wee one, at 4 months, isn't really old enough to participate in the activities of Messy Church, so he spent the time sleeping and being passed around the room. My wife had a committee meeting, so she wasn't able to join the Messy fun until after dinner. We all ate together (I am thrilled the menu planners chose pigs in blankets) and had questions for conversation around the table. Dessert was fascinating, stained glass Jell-o. I'd never seen or heard of it and was amazed at its appearance. It's white (sweetened condensed milk mixed with plain gelatin) with squares of different Jell-o colors in it! You can find directions <a href="http://justjennrecipes.com/broken-glass-jello/" target="_blank">here.</a>We also heard the story of Holy Week, as presented through the use of objects hidden in eggs we got to choose and open when cued. My egg contained a die to represent the lots cast by the Roman soldiers for Jesus' clothing as he hung on the cross. I love dice!<br />
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After we ate, there were activity stations available for us to play. I first went to the station where Melissa was teaching us to make "resurrection rolls." You wrap a piece of crescent roll dough around a marshmallow (making sure there are no gaps through which you can see the marshmallow), then dip it in melted butter, then cinnamon sugar. Melissa wrote our names on cupcake papers and baked them for us (10-12 minutes in a preheated 375 degree oven will do it). Through the magic of the oven, the marshmallows "vanished," leaving the rolls as empty as the tomb on that first Easter morning. The rolls, however, were a lot yummier, although God's bringing good from a terrible tragedy was just as sweet.<br />
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Next, I went to the station Lisa was womanning, where we got to use fusible beads to create tiny crosses. I started out trying to make a cross that was all matchy-matchy, carefully choosing the colors. However, I decided I didn't like that look, so I undid my work and started again, randomly grabbing beads of various colors. You put the beads on a plastic sheet with bitty spikes to hold the beads in place, then you place some wax paper over the whole shebang and press down with a hot iron until the beads melt and fuse together. You could make all kinds of cool designs!<br />
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I watched (and greatly enjoyed) the little kids flinging paint around rather like Jackson Pollock, but opted not to participate, as I had not come dressed for serious messiness. Next time, I'll have to wear some paint clothes! My favorite thing about this was seeing Marilla, with flecks of paint all over her face, happily immersed in making her resurrection roll.<br />
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Next, I got to do one of my all-time favorite activities, coloring eggs! Jeannene joined me for this one and made a blue egg that said "Elijah" on it and had lines around it. It turned out really nicely. I drew a dragonfly on mine before dunking it into the purple dye. It's so hard to make a decent picture with a white wax marker on a white egg! I'm no great artist, but it's especially interesting when you can't see what you're doing. Matthew helped us by making sure our eggs didn't get messed up while drying.<br />
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Once we were done with art time, the kids got to whack the piñata, which looked like Mike Wazowski from <i>Monsters, Inc.</i> It was an extraordinarily sturdy piñata and it took some cheating by Lisa to get to the candy inside. She talked about the sweetness of Jesus' willingness to go to the cross in order to spread God's message of unconditional love and radical inclusion. The children were encouraged to share that sweetness with other people.<br />
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Finally, we gathered in a circle, everyone holding part of a length of green ribbon/rope. There was a basket of shorter ribbons for people to use for individual prayers, tied onto the large ribbon. We closed with prayer and then dispersed early enough that we could still swing by the grocery for the week's provisions. A wonderful time---I'm looking forward to next month's session!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-48721246433207777662016-03-09T11:44:00.000-05:002016-03-09T11:44:59.195-05:00On Coffee (an unedited 20-minute freewrite)<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was a kid, the only coffee in our house was instant.
I can’t remember what brand we had---I think Maxwell House---but my mom lived
on it. She worked a hard schedule and then had to take my stepdad to work and
pick him up, then start all over again, catching a few hours of sleep here and
a few there. All while managing also to spend time with me and tote me to
wherever I needed to be. What a woman! Seems like she at least deserved to have
some good coffee. We never had a coffeemaker in our house, unless you count the
stovetop espresso pot that I am not sure we ever used. I think that was
actually mine. I have a newer version of it now, a sleek red, in which I can
brew up some Cuban coffee when I’m missing Miami. If only Cuban bread were so
easy to come by up here. When we were last in New Jersey, I got a loaf, but
it’s just not the same up north.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My grandparents, on the other hand, had a Mr. Coffee drip
coffeemaker when I was a kid and on up until they died. They retired fairly
early and I remember coffee at a much more leisurely pace at their house. We’d
all sit around the breakfast table talking in the mornings. My grandmom would
make pancakes on her big griddle on Saturdays and there would be orange juice
from concentrate for us kids. When I helped make it, the final product was
always a little less intense, I think, because I loved to nibble on the
still-mostly-frozen juice can contents before dumping them into my grandmom’s
Tupperware juice container and mix, mix, mixing it up. I always thought juice
glasses, those petite things, were ridiculous and took mine in the bigger green
glasses or in one of the anodized aluminum cups in bright colors. We also had
some plastic toy soldier cups, but mostly we used those in the tub.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back in those days, my cousins lived close enough that we
got to play together all the time. It was like having brothers. That was a good
and a bad thing. They were fun to play with and they also tormented me, as most
brothers do, summoning me to come see something cool they found (which would
turn out to be a snake) or challenging one another to contests of who could pee
farthest off the flat garage roof, a challenge I couldn’t take on. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When I was older, I would stay weekends and whole weeks with
my grands. In seminary, I would sit at the breakfast table watching the birds
with them. My granddad and I would tell each other what we’d dreamed about.
Unlike my mom, who was strictly a black coffee girl, they both took it with
cream. When I was a kid, I recall them having a cow creamer container, although
that may have actually been for the milk. When I was breakfasting with them as
an adult, they had milk for the cereal (very frequently some variety of Chex)
in a speckled blue and white pitcher. It went into coffee, too. We would, if not
having cereal, munch on toast with my granddad’s favorite orange marmalade. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes, they had to rush off to table tennis games, water
workout, Ruth Circle or Bible Study at church. Other times, my granddad would
head down to the basement to talk to his ham radio buddies or tinker away on
some project of the house or car. I was always fascinated with his basement
work room, lined with shelves full of old metal coffee cans, the sort we used
to take on road trips to pee in. I once peed in a Folger’s can on the way up
Pike’s Peak. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway, Clydie’s cans were full of all kinds of interesting
bits and pieces. Nails of every size and variety. Nuts and bolts. Magnets.
Random small items he could magic into place to create all kinds of useful
household items. He once made a toothbrush holder from PVC pipe and his cars
all featured some kind of jerry-rigging he’d come up with to improve function.
My mom still drives his old silver Ford Taurus, the one with the tricky bypass
switch you have to turn on at just the proper time, in order to be able to
start the car. Now, though, her coffee comes from a French press.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-37230022527391887202016-01-27T16:56:00.000-05:002016-01-27T16:56:16.949-05:00Water and Fire, Wheat and Chaff<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Water and Fire, Wheat and Chaff </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">A Sermon for Baptism of Christ Sunday<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Offered at First Congregational Church, Rochester, Michigan </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">January 10, 2016</span></div>
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<h2 class="passageref" style="background-color: white; color: #880000; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.2em; width: 600px;">
Luke 3:15-22</h2>
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<sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">15</sup>As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, <sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">16</sup>John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. <sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">17</sup>His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” <sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">18</sup>So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. <sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">19</sup>But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, <sup class="ww" style="color: #777777;">20</sup>added to them all by shutting up John in prison.</div>
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<sup class="ww" style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">21</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><sup class="ww" style="color: #777777; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">22</sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #010000; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">As many of
you know, Jeannene and I have a new little baby, Elijah, in our household. He
didn’t get out much before he had his first round of shots, but we did take him
to the Christmas tree farm with us. There, a somewhat astonishing thing
happened. One of the owners, who looked a great deal like the real Santa Claus
to me, greeted us and admired Elijah. He talked to us about giving Elijah lots
of love and thereby changing the world. The not-the-real Santa who was there also
talked to us about how love, joy, and security, given to our baby, would give
him the tools to change the world---the messages were very strong and beautiful
that day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Just before
we left, the maybe-the-real Santa called us over for a hug. We talked more
about Elijah and he introduced himself as Frank, Francisco, and said he was
from Sicily and has traveled all over the world. Perhaps because I am a fan of the
Latin American literary genre of Magical Realism or because I read too many
fantasy novels, I actually pondered whether he could be St. Francis in
disguise, even though Assisi is actually in Emilia-Romagna & not Sicily
and, well, Francis is long-dead. Yes, silly, I know. But even if he was simply
Frank, the tree farmer, his words of wisdom were taken to heart, as was his
next action. This lovely man asked if it would be okay for him to bless Elijah
with some water he brought home from a pilgrimage that included a visit to the
River Jordan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Well, who
am I to refuse a blessing? We waited while Frank ducked inside to get his Jordan
River water. Upon his return, he very gently and kindly anointed Elijah’s
forehead and said a prayer of blessing over him. The end of the prayer touched
my heart most deeply, as he asked that God make Elijah an instrument of God’s
peace, a phrase from my beloved grandmom’s favorite prayer, the Prayer of St.
Francis. We drove home with an extraordinarily beautiful Christmas tree and
hearts full of gratitude for the kindness of this disciple of Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Of course,
when I started thinking about today’s story of Jesus’ baptism in the River
Jordan, by his cousin John, the Jordan water blessing given to Elijah
immediately came to mind. It wasn’t a baptism, but a simple blessing, asking
that God use our wee boy to be a disciple, too. He’ll be baptized later this
winter, but we already know that the Holy Spirit is with him and that he is
God’s beloved child. The baptism will be our human recognition of the work the
Holy Spirit is doing in Elijah. It will be our welcome to the community of the
church and our promise to help him grow in his faith and learn to walk the path
assigned by Jesus. It will be our recognition of him as a disciple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">You see,
the term “disciple” doesn’t refer simply to the Twelve who walked with Jesus in
his earthly ministry. It means, “one sent” and all of us who are baptized in
Christ are sent to spread God’s message of love for the world. We’re all
disciples, all God’s beloved children. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
of us are lucky enough to have been given the gift of affirmation by our
earthly parents. Others have never been affirmed by earthly parents. Know this:
whatever you have heard or not heard in the way of affirmation from your
earthly parents, you are beloved of and affirmed by God, just as you are.</span><span style="font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Baptism, then, isn’t fire insurance.
Baptism is a recognition of the working of the Holy Spirit that is already
going on in each of us. It’s also initiation into the community of Christ
followers seeking to do justice, love neighbor, be kind, live in humility. Look
at the promises parents, godparents, and congregations make when an infant is
baptized. Show love & justice, encourage her or him to renounce the powers
of greed, hatred, selfishness, and oppression, receiving new freedom in the
life of Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Baptism means we aim to live into
God’s audacious vision of the world as it could be, rather than cower in fear
at the world as it currently is. We are not only baptized into Christ’s death
and resurrection, but into his way of being human, a way that defies cultural
expectations and norms, a way gracious and loving to those on the margins, a
way that basically turns things as we know them on their heads. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">While the
world around us sensationalizes all the things we have to fear, all the things
that are wrong today, Christ would remind us that, as Tod O.L. Mundo states on
his “Saturday Night Theologian” blog, </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">because “God is seated on the
throne, bringing order to the world, we do have hope, and we can share our hope
with those who view the world as meaningless. In the midst of a world of
poverty, war, terror, AIDS, unemployment, and hunger, followers of God must
bring a message of hope to those who are suffering. Though things look chaotic
now, and life seems to have no meaning, God is in control. In the name of God,
let us proclaim a message of hope and make it our purpose in life to
demonstrate that life has meaning for every inhabitant of the planet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">If we,
like Herod in the Epiphany text, are listening too closely to the voice of our
fear, we can miss God’s still, small voice reminding us of all that love given
to us, all the work to which we are called for the benefit of the kingdom of
heaven. If we are looking too hard for danger and threats, we can miss the
shining stars God places to light our paths. Our baptism calls us to tune out
from fear and tune in to God’s voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Now, I’m
not even going to pretend this is easy. It isn’t. Not at all. But it is
necessary. Just as the fire of turmoil appears to be necessary. In today’s
scripture, John the Baptizer speaks of Jesus as one who comes with a winnowing
fork. He speaks of wheat being separated from chaff and Jesus’ flame ready to
burn the chaff into nothingness. This passage is used by a lot of hellfire and
damnation preachers as a warning to those of us who, in their eyes, need to
straighten up and fly right, for fear of being burned when we are discovered
not to be wheat, but only chaff, after all. For them, the burning is the
deepest fires of hell (they must not have read Dante, who envisions the deepest
circle of hell as frozen. He must have lived in Michigan in January and
February) and God is sending all the unworthy there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">The God I
know through the life of Jesus, though, is infinitely merciful and wise, so I
don’t really believe that’s the intention of the burning of the chaff. Further,
I did some research on the threshing process. First, the wheat heads are beaten
to remove the grain from the stalk and to loosen the hard, dry protective shell
from the outside of the grain. Then, they are (or were, back in Jesus’ time)
tossed in the air with the winnowing fork to allow the wind to blow the chaff
off the grain heads. The chaff was often burned, as the most expedient way to
deal with it, since it isn’t digestible by humans. However, it is digestible by
livestock, so it was sometimes added to their feed. It was also sometimes
ploughed into the ground to enrich the soil. So, chaff isn’t even all bad. It
can be useful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">My theory
is that the chaff is the parts of ourselves and our lives which no longer serve
us well and which hinder our participation in the work of discipleship. Sometimes,
we need that hard shell of protection to keep us safe. Sometimes fear, to name
just one characteristic that can be helpful or hindering, keeps us from doing
something dangerous. Other times, fear can paralyze us or even spur us into
taking harmful actions our rational brain wouldn’t take. When we have matured
enough, like wheat grain, and grown out of the need for a particular fear,
having Jesus winnow it out of our lives is a pretty great thing. It’s not a
thing to be feared or a sign that God disapproves of us. Quite the opposite.
God sees the potential we could reach, if the things that are not serving us
well were removed. God loves us and loves the world, so we are given
opportunities to grow and shed our chaff. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Another
example comes from my blacksmith mama’s forge. Steel must be heated in order to
make it hard enough that it doesn’t simply wear down quickly with use. However,
when it’s not properly tempered, going through only one heat and then cooled
rapidly by a plunge in the slack tub (a pretty gnarly tub of water kept in
blacksmith shops for the purpose of cooling metal), it will be plenty hard, but
too brittle. It won’t wear down from use, but it will break easily. Steel,
heated twice and allowed to cool slowly and naturally on the anvil, becomes
softer and stronger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Think of
that! Softer means stronger for metal. I think it’s the same for us humans. We
need to have some hardening so we won’t just wear down---crisis, hard times, and
tragedy are pretty good for hardening us, as are repeated news stories about
horrible realities. I don’t for a moment believe that God creates these things
to temper us, but they are a reality of life in our imperfect world, with all
its free will. So, if we are able to take our time and fully recover from
trauma and grief, rather than forcing ourselves---or being forced by
society---to “get over it” more quickly than is natural, we become stronger. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">However,
if we are simply hard and not at all resilient, we become brittle and can break
too easily. In order to be good, strong, durable tools employed by God in
working for the kingdom of heaven here on earth, we have to also lose some of
that hardness and allow some softness and vulnerability. Jesus, by asking to be
baptized, is continuing to make himself vulnerable, as he did with his
willingness to experience incarnation as a human baby. His baptism is another
immersion into openness, into making himself one with us humans, into
vulnerability. Jesus’ entire ministry, indeed, is built on vulnerability. Talk
about turning the ways of society on their heads! To submit to baptism is to
begin to live quite dangerously, to shed some of the protections of
defensiveness and to live with open hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Something
else magical happens in the fire of the forge and under the hammer of the
smith. Even in today’s world of steel that has supposedly had the impurities
worked out of it before it hits the blacksmith’s door, some (as my mom says)
“pretty wonky” steel, rife with impurities, comes through the blacksmith’s
shop. However, forging forces the impurities out and, in my mom’s words, “they
go zizzing out, as the hammer is striking, as miniature fiery comets.” As
alarming as I find the prospect of metaphorically being put in the fire, then
pounded between the steel of the hammer head and the steel of the anvil, I love
the image of all my impurities being forced out and flying into the air as tiny
comets, all ablaze. Perhaps I am, after all, okay with a certain level of trial
by fire. Not so much it destroys me. Just enough to make me strong, soft, and
resilient. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jesus
didn’t live a safe life, did he, avoiding conflict and following the rules? He
didn’t keep his heart and his person armored so he would never come to harm. We
don’t get that luxury, either, not if we are to follow him truly. So, in
remembering and affirming our baptisms, we are reminded that, as Christians, we
are called to act against injustice, strive for peaceful hearts and loving
interactions with all (this takes practice!), and work to end oppression
wherever we see it. A tall order, but one for which we are created, stronger
than we realize, softer than we might be comfortable being, resilient enough to
make a difference.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-78602554617181217652015-09-11T15:05:00.000-05:002015-09-11T15:05:14.063-05:00With Ears to Hear and Hearts Wide-Open<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I guest preached last Sunday---and joked with Jeannene as I was writing my sermon that I could see why our pastor would have avoided the text! It's a difficult one, indeed. Jesus not only gets it wrong, but does so while uttering a racial slur, getting it really wrong. The text is Mark
7:24-37:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup><span style="color: #646464;">24</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">From there Jesus set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He
entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not
escape notice, </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">25</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit
immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">26</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">Now the woman was a Gentile, of
Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">27</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">He said to her, “Let the children be
fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the
dogs.” </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">28</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">But she answered him, “Sir,
even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">29</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">Then he said to her, “For saying
that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">30</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">So she went home, found the child
lying on the bed, and the demon gone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup><span style="color: #646464;">31</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of
Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">32</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">They brought to him a deaf man who
had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">33</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">He took him aside in private, away
from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his
tongue. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">34</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">Then looking up to heaven, he
sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">35</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">And immediately his ears were opened,
his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">36</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">Then Jesus ordered them to tell no
one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. </span><sup><span style="color: #646464;">37</span></sup><span style="color: #010000;">They were astounded beyond measure,
saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the
mute to speak.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #010000;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #010000;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">After the service, I had one guy tell me he really needed to hear my message and said he got tears in his eyes. Another woman said she hopes I'm saving these so I can collect them in a book. So, I thought I'd share this, in case any of you needs to hear it: </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #010000;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Any Wonder Woman fans in the
congregation? Anyone else a bit disappointed that she doesn’t have her own
movie coming out next year, but is instead relegated to being part of<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Batman Vs. Superman</i>? (Take heart, I
hear the Wonder Woman movie is in pre-production!) I have loved Wonder Woman
since I was a little girl. She is just so cool, with her invisible jet &
her Lasso of Truth. Yep, she could make anybody tell the truth when she twirled
the rope and lassoed them. Definitely awesome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve been kind of immersed
in superhero stuff lately (big nerd), so when I read today’s passage from Mark
this time around, the Syro-Phoenician woman reminded me of Wonder Woman.
Usually, in stories about Jesus, Jesus is pretty much guaranteed to be the
hero. In this story, well, he doesn’t look so heroic. We don’t really feel
comfortable with a Jesus who comes across as less than heroic. We’re good with
it if the heroism isn’t the kind of dashing, riding in on a white stallion and
taking over sort of heroism first century Jews were expecting. We totally get
that sometimes heroism looks meeker than we expect, gentler, milder. We’re cool
with that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What we aren’t so
comfortable accepting is a Jesus who’s outright mean, even prejudiced. Wow.
What in the world do we do with that? Did Jesus really just basically call that
woman and her daughter dogs? Yup. He sure did. Doesn’t sound much like our
Jesus, does it? Believers look for ways to make this ethnic slur, very common
at that time among Jews, not really mean what it meant. The suggestion that
maybe Jesus just messed up, that he was, in addition to the “fully divine”
part, also fully human and, therefore, to some degree, a product of his
culture, though, makes people pretty uncomfortable. In this culture, both women
and foreigners were seen as pretty dang low, in fact, unclean. Touching or
associating with them could spell trouble. So, Jesus was working with a common
cultural assumption of his time. But declaring that Jesus was wrong? That can
be a tough sell. My dear UCC seminary buddy, Adam, posted the following words
to Facebook as he prepared his sermon for today: “<span style="color: #10131a;">This Sunday, come watch me tap-dance through a field of heresy
and come out smelling like orthodoxy, with a message entitled: ‘When Jesus Got
it Wrong...and Other Phrases that Will Get Your Minister Fired...’ (This event
is BYOP -bring your own pitchfork- torches, tar, and feathers to be
provided...)”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I’m not very
interested in a BYOP event with my immolation as the featured entertainment,
I’m not your pastor, so I will just say it. Jesus was wrong. He was a product
of his culture, so it’s not 100% his fault. We can’t expect the “fully divine”
part to kick in all the time, if he’s also to be seen as “fully human,” can we?
To take a step further in his defense, sort of, Jesus had just traveled to Tyre
for, basically, a vacation. Immediately prior to this trip to what is now
Lebanon, Jesus managed to completely shock and outrage the establishment by
declaring all foods clean. He proclaimed that it isn’t what goes into our
mouths that defiles us, but what comes out. This totally, completely flew in
the face of everything that had been established, practiced, long believed in
his culture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, he has withdrawn to
recharge, regroup, maybe even to consider the response of his people to his
teachings. He’s looking forward to a few days among foreigners who won’t be
pestering him for miracles or castigating him for, basically, heresy. He’s been
under a lot of stress and all he really wants to do is sit on the beach under a
palm tree, piña colada in hand, and let the ocean do its healing thing. He has
a little time off, a little time to breathe, and then along comes this woman
who knows of him and his miraculous works. She has actually had the audacity to
come into the house where he has been trying to keep a low profile and not have
to deal with people. And she wants him to do more work. And when he does that
work, he just knows, more people will come and demand his energy, his time, his
attention. And, suddenly, there goes his much-needed vacation. Really, what would
you do? Especially if you happened to be not only exhausted, but maybe a little
hangry? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We
may think Jesus’ response was harsh, but don’t we all know about faithful
Christians who still today think certain people or classes of people are
unclean or unworthy? Aren’t there plenty of Christians now who see outsiders as
undeserving of even our crumbs? Friends, there are still churches in our
lovely, open-minded UCC---I imagine even in our conference---that would never
tolerate a woman pastor, places where a woman may as well not even submit her
profile to the search committee. Or where a person with brown skin will hear
that churches “have other candidates that are a better match for our church”
after submitting a ministerial profile. This in the UCC. And don’t we
ourownselves sometimes think people are unworthy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, when the very common,
but very unpleasant, racial slur pops out of his mouth and he refuses to help
her, it is clearly not his finest moment. Now, here’s an ugly story about me.
At my last church, there was a really lovely woman, an artist, whose husband
and son had died. So, she was quite lonely and had developed the habit of, if
she saw I was free, coming into my office and talking for 45 minutes at a time.
I really loved talking with her. That is, when I had the time. When I was
frantically trying to pull together a confirmation pilgrimage, though, or hard
at work on a sermon, or girding my loins for a contentious Council meeting, my
heart sank when I heard her voice in the main office. Now, no slurs about her
person came immediately to mind, but I’m pretty sure some salty language did.
And I was often tempted to hide under my desk or pretend to be on the phone.
And this was a woman I really liked and respected a whole lot. It was nothing
at all to do with her and everything to do with my stress level and my lack of
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I can see why an
exhausted, agitated Jesus might respond automatically and unkindly to this
woman, this foreigner, this person who should never have had the temerity to
approach him, since his ministry has heretofore been specifically for Jews. But
here’s where the story gets really interesting. The woman, rather than showing
that she was offended or just giving up, stands her ground and speaks her mind.
Desperate to gain a cure for her daughter, whom no doctor could help, she
likely would have done anything to restore the girl. Who cares what Jesus
thinks of her, as long as her daughter is back to her normal self soon?
Wouldn’t you parents do the same for your kids? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, rather than insisting
that they are not dogs at all, as she may have wished to do, she calmly and
quietly, using her love for her daughter as her source of strength, uses a
logical argument in an attempt to persuade Jesus that they deserve his help.
Using her words, her steady gaze, her best manners, and all the dignity she can
muster as a kind of Lasso of Truth, she captures Jesus with her argument. She
owns the dog label, if it’ll get her what she wants. I mean, you never see
Wonder Woman arguing that she’s not whatever the villain chooses to call her.
She knows who she is, no matter what anyone says. She simply works toward her
objective. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, too, this
Syro-Phoenician woman. As Harvard professor and historian Laurel Thatcher
Ulrich famously said, “Well-behaved women seldom make history.” Making history,
this woman is most definitely not well-behaved. She speaks up and her words
convict Jesus. He sees her clearly, his own ears are opened by her words, and
he is forced to speak the truth, that, yes, even the dogs do get to eat the
crumbs. So, why not expend the smidge of energy, no more than crumbs of his
power, to give this woman what she has requested? He changes his mind, heals
the daughter, and, in that one act, that one piece of willingness to listen and
change, his whole ministry is changed. Can you imagine her joy, as she returned
home to find her darling, precious daughter restored? Jesus said yes to her and
her whole life changed. It reminds me of a poem by Kaylin Haught:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and she said yes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I asked her if it was okay to be short<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and she said it sure is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I asked her if I could wear nail polish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">or not wear nail polish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and she said honey<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">she calls me that sometimes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">she said you can do just exactly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">what you want to<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Thanks God I said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">my letters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sweetcakes, God said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">who knows where she picked that up<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">what I’m telling you is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes Yes Yes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Jesus said yes. Then, when Jesus
returns to Galilee by way of the Decapolis, a Greco-Roman area in what is now
Jordan, Syria, and Israel, his ministry opens up and he begins to work with and
heal Gentiles, as well as Jews. With her courage, born of desperation, the
Syro-Phoenician woman brought great benefit not only to her daughter and
family, but to many. Jesus may have been saying to her, “No” or he may have
been saying, “Not yet.” Either way, her refusal to take no for an answer, her
persistence, created an earlier onset of Jesus’ ministry to a broader audience.
In that way, really, we here in this sanctuary today may very well have the
unnamed Syro-Phoenician woman to thank for our own relationships with Jesus.
How about that? I think maybe she needs her own movie. And isn’t it marvelous
that even God’s crumbs are more than ample to feed all God’s children? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I find it interesting, too,
that the first healing miracle he performs after this is to open the ears and
release the tongue of a man who is both deaf and mute. Yes, this was of great
benefit, I am sure, to that man. But the symbolism of opening ears and
loosening tongues? Well, my friends, that is one of the greatest gifts we have
to gain by being in relationship with Christ. We have ears to hear---and we’re
called to hear the cries of the needy, the chains of the oppressed. We have
tongues to speak, to refuse society’s no to cries for justice, and to demand a
better world for us and for our children, indeed for all God’s children. These
loosened tongues, by the way, are excellent for speaking love and reconciliation
to one another, as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So,
what does it look like for a congregation to have ears to hear, tongues to
speak, and hearts open wide? Well, God’s realm breaks down barriers &
invites us to do the same. How do we embody our faith both within the church
and beyond? We are challenged to leave our comfort zones, as both Jesus and the
Syro-Phoenician woman did, not only beyond the church walls, but also our
comfort zones within the church. Sometimes, that will be messy and
uncomfortable. It might mean adapting to worship practices we might be leery
about, like doing communion by intinction rather than tray. It could mean not
looking askance at a teen who doesn’t fit traditional gender norms or not
wrinkling our noses if the person in the pew next to us really needs some
deodorant---or if the pastor wears jeans and a Wonder Woman t-shirt, like I almost did today. One of my favorite pastors, Nadia
Bolz-Weber of House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver, is tattoo-covered,
leather-clad, and completely unconventional---and her words are life-changing,
in a very good way. You should Google her, if you are not familiar with her
work. Whip out your smart phone now, if you want. I won’t be offended. Nadia
rocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Strangers
and those who are different from us can teach us a whole lot---can even change
our lives for the better---but only if we have ears to hear. And mostly,
they’re not going to approach us from the margins, so we have to reach out and
ask to hear their stories. In the line at the grocery, while serving dinner at
The Ruth Ellis Center, at a cocktail party, heck, how about during coffee hour,
instead of sitting with our friends? Who can we, as a congregation, identify as
people who are perhaps not being heard or included and make sure they are
listened to & included? And, for those who feel like they’re not being
heard or included, remember the power of the Syro-Phoenician woman standing up,
speaking out, and not only asking Jesus for help, but challenging him when he
said no. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">How
willing are we to be open and expectant and flexible? If we congregations are
willing to do that, Luther Seminary New Testament professor Matt Skinner
reminds us, it may pay off in the discovery of grace flowing in new directions
this Autumn here at FCC and in our own personal lives. I encourage us all to
flex, and stretch, and grow, even when it’s scary or stressful. Even when we
don’t wanna. Let’s take up our Lassos of Truth and use them wisely, with ears
to hear the truths of others, and hearts wide open to receive them with love. Amen.</span><span style="font-family: Avenir Book; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><!--EndFragment-->Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-43334801301509226422015-05-20T13:36:00.003-05:002015-05-20T13:36:48.131-05:00Mother Nature's Having Cold Flashes!When my wife and I booked our Dominican Republic beach vacation for May, I thought we had really missed the boat on timing. Of course, a beach vacation is wonderful any time of year. But, somehow, running off to the tropics when it seems like you should be hiring a tauntaun just to get to the grocery is so much more exciting than going the very week every lilac bush within a 50-mile radius is blooming lavishly. I mean, who wants to escape lilacs?<br />
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To make matters less dramatic still, the day before we left for the D.R., it was <i>hot</i>. Not quite "quick, turn on the AC" hot, yet, but still, hot. Nonetheless, we completely loved our time in the sun and water. We spent our mornings bobbing in the ocean (Jeannene with snorkel equipment) and our afternoons making the circuit of the pool, books in hand, between pauses for handstands and giggling. Sometimes, we dragged one another around the pool by the feet while the other laid back and read. We were profoundly grateful to have an air conditioned hotel room where we could de-sticky-fy when we'd been away from the water too long.<br />
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When we came back to Hoth---erm, Michigan---it actually felt like we had leapt nearly directly into summer, even though we'd had reports that it was 32 degrees (yes, fahrenheit) over the weekend. I thought, "Oh, man, just one week of spring and I missed it!"<br />
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Monday confirmed my conviction that summer had arrived. While I like to wait until June to turn on the air, I contemplated an early switch flip. I had the windows open all day and the cats were delighted at the breezes, when they came. They spent most of the time flopped on hard, smooth surfaces in an attempt to get cool, though. I positively swooned over the fully leafed-out maple tree all day.<br />
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Even better proof that summer had arrived was the emergence of the backyard neighbor kids from their home in swimsuits. Their babysitter, amid much ecstatic dancing and chattering on the part of the kids, hooked up a bright orange sprinkler hose and ran it down the hill toward our yard. The kids were all a-twitter with excitement. I watched with delight as the kids joyfully and exuberantly leapt, spun, and twisted through the sprinkler and landed among the field of tall wishes (in the form of dandelions gone to seed) between our yards. It was splendid!<br />
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We went to bed debating whether we should assist the house in cooling itself. We slept with windows flung wide and sheet and light quilt tossed aside. We wrestled off the odd cat who, crazily, thought it was a good idea to sleep fur to skin. I didn't quite pant, but I did wonder if I would ever sleep.<br />
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Yesterday morning, though, we awoke with our quilt clutched close and a bedful of chilly kitty cats. The air had turned brisk overnight and socks and a hoodie were required of me on my errands. I left the bedroom windows open while I worked downstairs, but the kitchen door and living room windows remained firmly shut.<br />
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When Jeannene returned from work and I popped upstairs before we went to dinner, I felt the frigid bedroom air and knew those windows had to be closed before she got anywhere near the bedroom! I'd re-opened them after my errands so the room wouldn't get hot, which appeared to be a tactical error. It got into the 30s last night. She was still chilly at bedtime, so we returned the down comforter to the bed, tucked a heating pad in with her, and encouraged cat cuddling.<br />
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It certainly doesn't seem right that the outdoor pool is opening this weekend, but hey, at least there's no snow!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-44600542959468336722015-05-07T14:37:00.000-05:002015-05-07T15:05:24.867-05:00Spring RevivalMay is one of my favorite months (October running right alongside). Everything is fresh and new in May---tiny little leaves beginning to unfurl on trees, green grass growing, baby animals in fields and baby birds in nests, and dandelions starting to pop up on lawns. This seems a good time of year to revive this blog, as well.<br />
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I've been busy this week with two main activities. We have a vacation to the Dominican Republic coming up, so I've been preparing for that. Along with information, I've been gathering bug spray, sunscreen, swim shoes, frivolous paperback novels, and other necessary items for beach relaxation.<br />
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My other big flurry of activity is working on figuring out how to finance our adoption. While we haven't yet been matched with a woman who wants to create a family plan for her baby, there is, nonetheless, much work to be done. I am looking at some job options, as well as thinking of fundraising ideas. Adoption certainly isn't cheap, but it's well worth the costs.<br />
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I also continue to plug away at my writing, this week spending time with the inhabitants of Fox Hollow, Tennessee, a small, fictional community outside Nashville. It's fun (and sometimes alarming) to see where life takes them. Much of my work is done at my kitchen table, with a cat or two basking nearby. They've really been loving the sunshine and open kitchen door.<br />
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I've been enjoying the view of the birds who come to graze on our feeders, goldfinches, mourning doves, cardinals, woodpeckers, and sparrows. Either the juncos look different in spring than in winter or they have taken off for parts unknown. Every once in awhile, I'll see a blue jay out there, harassing the other birds.<br />
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Also enjoyable beyond the screen door is a glorious green patch of grass. This morning, it was studded with hundreds of dandelions, a wonderful sea of brightness even on rainy days like we had at the start of the week. This morning, when I first ventured downstairs, I was greeted by the sight of our neighbors' tiny little girl playing frisbee with her big brother, who was burdened with a backpack and anticipation of the school bus.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPRJb3SaQFv71Wl7RDiOJcOIWEF21LokQrZ6dp3PQkjOGLLZ7DZ-043VkPMgfp9EoW4g4awMRV465aPhvKJ8KEbzX4QagTYxfhWPAmbCxyc7yAyvayLK4mFfq6Wj1hLfSrEKITg/s640/blogger-image-1050816839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPRJb3SaQFv71Wl7RDiOJcOIWEF21LokQrZ6dp3PQkjOGLLZ7DZ-043VkPMgfp9EoW4g4awMRV465aPhvKJ8KEbzX4QagTYxfhWPAmbCxyc7yAyvayLK4mFfq6Wj1hLfSrEKITg/s320/blogger-image-1050816839.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was disappointed when I saw the mowers arrive. Their first visit this season felled nearly all the dandelions. I know they're considered a weed, but their countenances are so cheery that they register as flowers. Besides this, the bees really need them! So, I hate to see them mowed down. Better that than poisoned, though, for I know they'll return, probably with renewed vigor.<br />
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I heard news this week that my 1st & 2nd grade teacher died. She was a wonderful, warm, intelligent woman who truly enjoyed us children. She shepherded us back and forth from our alternative school to the affiliated college for gym and swimming each week. In the warm months, one of my classmates would always insist on stomping the dandelions as we walked. Bev would say, gently and cheerfully (even though she had to repeat it over and over), "Don't step on the sunshine!" Today, I thought, when the mower's engine started, "Don't mow down all the sunshine!" Luckily, there's plenty of the real thing to sustain me until the floral version reappears.<br />
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D11014804%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D4460054295946833672&media=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2F-uzWiqdBF4m0%2FVUvFRxzGvqI%2FAAAAAAAAArg%2FOUpxumLqx-g%2Fs320%2Fblogger-image-1050816839.jpg&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 359px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 540px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fblogger.g%3FblogID%3D11014804%23editor%2Ftarget%3Dpost%3BpostID%3D4460054295946833672&media=https%3A%2F%2Flh3.googleusercontent.com%2F-uzWiqdBF4m0%2FVUvFRxzGvqI%2FAAAAAAAAArg%2FOUpxumLqx-g%2Fs320%2Fblogger-image-1050816839.jpg&xm=h&xv=sa1.35&description=" style="background-color: transparent; background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; left: 359px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 540px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-42813872685223794502014-09-04T13:26:00.001-05:002014-09-04T13:26:27.039-05:00Aggravation---and Learning To Drop ItMaybe it's just me, but I am finding myself irked frequently yesterday & today. I am thinking I need to resume my 3 Cs wristband challenge, in which I have to switch my wristband to the other wrist every time I criticize, condemn, or complain.<br />
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Last night, when I was making my first recipe in the La Luna Cooks Mrs. Yoder project, wheat oatmeal bread, and forgot to halve the water amount, resulting in unworkably sticky dough & the need to add the rest of the originally-called-for-amounts of everything, I was terribly annoyed with myself for forgetting. However, the bread turned out nicely and I had enough to eat at home, send to work with Jeannene, and give to the neighbors. So, it was silly to be irked. It also taught me a good trick, suggested by my clever wife---write in the half amounts next to the whole amounts before beginning the actual cooking! Aha!<br />
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Today, when I was driving to the gym, and again driving home, I was horribly impatient with the other drivers around me. "Go! Go! Go! What are you DOING??? The light's greeeeeeeeeeen!!!" This morning, it was completely my fault I didn't start as early as I liked, completely my fault I lay in bed too long talking myself into going, completely my fault I stayed up reading until 1:30 this morning and thus had to talk myself into getting up & going to the gym. Not their fault & they were only driving normally, not going super slowly just to hinder my progress. At least I seem to have learned, for the most part, not to call other drivers idiots or worse. Maybe if I slip my wristband back on, I can learn to be chill when I am moving slowly. Pity the gym's not in the opposite direction as the traffic, but it isn't, I know it, and I might as well just relax & listen to the world news. Wait, that's not relaxing! How about if I use the trick of the Greyhound driver my mom encountered on the Charleston, WV, to Nashville route all those years ago? When someone cut him off or otherwise performed a jerk traffic move (either out of inconsiderateness or, more likely, just not paying as much attention as they could), he would say something like, "Careful, sweetie" or "Ease back a little, honey." Perhaps another "My religion is lovingkindness" bumper sticker would be a good practice aid, as well. I miss that sticker.<br />
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In the pool, I felt terribly snarky about a woman who entered the pool after me, chose a spot right next to me (cramming me close to the wall), & proceeded to tell me that she had to be somewhere afterward & didn't want to get her hair wet. She asked that I refrain from splashing her, saying, "You know, like Sea World. This can be the no-splash zone." Well, I didn't deliberately splash her, but I sure was tempted & I definitely would have enjoyed seeing her soaked & resembling a drowned rat. Isn't that mean? I told her I could sure try, then proceeded to do my workout as I normally would. It's a water workout. You can't expect not to get wet. However, my irritation with her arrogant request took me into some pretty mean thoughts and I try really hard not to be mean, even in my thinking. I am probably too compliant, but when a friend said she'd pray for the woman, I thought, "What a better response." Although, it was pretty funny to write about the ridiculousness of it on Facebook & composing my post while I bristled in the pool allowed me to relax into my workout instead of allowing her demand to ruin my morning. I also think a lot of times, the best we flawed humans can demand of ourselves is outward kindness. Even then, it can take an extra measure of grace to act that way.<br />
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Then, dealing with our property management company set me back into growly mode, as it usually does. Their communication is terrible, both with us and within the company. I can speak to two different people and get two completely different answers on just about any matter. Further, they seldom seem to want to go to any effort to fix a problem. However, today, I was given permission for something I've been asking about since January, so that's a great thing.<br />
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And that's the trick. It's looking for the great things, instead of focusing on the annoying things. It's recognizing that I am capable of fixing a baking mistake & producing yummy bread. It's grinning as I remember the old man who let me into the flow of traffic as I waited and waited. It's appreciating the woman in my water workout class who helped me figure out one of the moves when I couldn't understand what the instructor was saying. It's delighting in the wee, tiny boy in the gym's café who was sharing with me his enthusiasm for the construction equipment outside. It's the thrill of sneaking across the street to leave a surprise loaf of bread on Beth's door. It's anticipating with great joy the tea date I have with my mom for this afternoon. This, friends, is why I strongly advocate the practice of gratitude journaling. At the end of the night, I remember the bright, shining spots of the day and give thanks, instead of allowing the (pretty dang insignificant) clouds to blot out the light. It's a much better way to live.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-50116881151388143152014-09-03T11:58:00.000-05:002014-09-03T11:58:15.657-05:00From Alpacas To Zanesville (Or, Rather, To Zanesville For Alpacas)When Pie and his girlfriend, Bubbles, decided to move closer to us, it necessarily involved helping them move. In order to make it more fun for the grown folks, my sweet wife booked us into a bed & breakfast in the country outside Zanesville, where the kids' old apartment was. They were to spend the weekend packing, cleaning, & loading the truck while we had a weekend of relaxation, her first days off in over a month. We figured we were handling the finances, they could handle the physicals (although, when it came down to Monday morning & there were still things to be loaded, Jeannene pitched in, as well).<br />
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The B&B, Spring Acres, is way out in the country and the idiosyncrasies of my GPS meant we had an interesting drive from the Detroit Metro Friday night. We made it about as far as Sandusky on main roads, but then Jack (my GPS) diverted us to wee backroads, including one twisty gravel road in the dark of night, with a large truck following us. My wife watches too much crime television and was busy planning what to do if the truck driver tried to run us off the road so he could kill us---she was going to tell me to drive right into a house. Me, I was hoping we didn't either run into a place where the road ended or break down. Well, scenes from "Criminal Minds" did occasionally play across my mind's screen, too, to be honest, especially with the truck so close behind on such funky little roads. I was also a little worried whether the innkeeper would have an issue with wives instead of a wife & husband, given the general conservative bent of much of that region. However, Jack delivered us, shortly after midnight, into the welcoming arms of Spring Acres, where Sherry greeted us with a smile and a (fairly petite) bed. I was instantly charmed by the alpacas, rendered in metal, on the main gate. You see, the B&B is part of a compound that also includes an alpaca farm. <br />
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We fell into a dead sleep and, in the morning, were treated to a delicious omelet made with fresh eggs from the Spring Acres hens, peppers from the garden, & cheddar. There were also beautiful sliced tomatoes picked that morning, home fries, fresh fruit (the blueberries, which I've only recently started to like, were heaven!), fresh-baked banana bread, and from-scratch biscuits. It's no wonder I gained weight over the weekend! After breakfast, we ran into town to fetch the U-Haul & check on the kids' progress. Both were fraught with anxiety, but especially the U-Haul. The guy warned Jeannene sternly not to get stuck under a particular overpass and gave her directions verbally to avoid such a horror. The key words in the story are, "gave her directions verbally" because she is utterly directionally impaired. She promptly turned the wrong direction and drove around hopelessly for a bit. I, following in the Bug, had no idea she didn't know where she was going until I got a frantic phone call from her saying she couldn't get to their apartment. Luckily, I was able to lead us back to the U-Haul, where I went in and wrote down the directions. Poor Jeannene. She's good at so much, but directions are not one of those things.<br />
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After the moving truck was safely delivered, we popped in at a wee Amish grocery on the way back to the B&B. It was a treasure trove of cool bulk items, flavorings I don't often find on my usual rounds (including butter flavor, which I've seen recommended in recipes but have never seen on shelves before), scrumptious deli items, and lovely produce. We also got to see 5 adorable, tow-headed Amish children with cornflower blue eyes, shopping with their red-headed papa. They stood barefoot in the aisles, reminding me of my childhood summers running around barefoot in Yellow Springs. I think they were as fascinated by us as we were by them.<br />
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In the afternoon, we meandered down to the lake, by way of the alpaca barns, where we stood and gawked at the cuteness. A couple of the babies looked quite curious about us and almost allowed themselves to come over and check us out. On the way back, we stopped in the little alpaca shop, where I found a lovely brown scarf with hot pink decorations and no price tag and a grey plaid blanket I'd have loved to pick up for my winter couch. We decided to return again before the end of our stay. Once back at the B&B, we hung out and looked at the Amish cookbook we'd picked up. I said, casually, that it would be fun to work our way through the cookbook recipe by recipe, á la <i>Julie & Julia. </i>Jeannene was quite taken with the idea (I think she was really taken with the idea that I would make all this homey food for her) & so we are going forth. You can follow that on my other blog, at lunacooks.blogspot.com. I knew the Amish were known for their fabulous pies. What I hadn't realized was that something like 80% of the recipes in the book would delight the sweet of tooth. Candy, cake, sweet rolls, cookies, pies. I also didn't realize how much processed food the recipes would include. Velveeta reigns supreme. There is very little butter called for, with oleo being in just about every recipe. Jell-o and instant pudding are fixtures and Nestle Quik is featured in many recipes in lieu of cocoa powder. I've never seen anything like it, even in church cookbooks from the 1960s. I expect to be sharing the bounty quite a bit, as we cannot possibly eat even a quarter of the foods on offer. <br />
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In the evening, we drove into town to check on the kids again and deliver dinner. Pie had tried to weasel Jeannene into taking them to lunch, with very little work actually finished. She had promised them an alpaca viewing and dinner on Sunday if they got lots of work done Saturday. But we're not utterly heartless, so we took them hot dogs & BBQ from Whitt's, along with a quart of raspberry frozen custard. It being our 12 year and 8 month monthiversary of our first (illegal) wedding, we went out for something a little fancier at Muddy Miser's on the river. Luckily, they had patio seating available and we enjoyed a splendid appetizer of warm summer tomato bruschetta with gorgonzola, followed by filet mignon. Dessert came when we returned to the B&B and were served some of the best carrot cake I've ever had the pleasure to eat. Zucchini was the secret star ingredient. We visited with the other guests, a couple celebrating their 41st anniversary, then excused ourselves to bed, relieved that we didn't have to stay up all night with the woman. He seemed quite lovely, but she was the sort of person who can top any story, and always does, whether the other person is finished talking or not. I do try not to be mean, but she was simply exhausting.<br />
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Sunday morning, we were given scrambled eggs with homemade sausage and more beautiful fruit. There were biscuits and banana bread aplenty, as well, although I chose one this time, instead of a little of each! We'd planned a picnic, but the rain came down in a steady drizzle, with occasional livelier outbursts, all day, so instead we stayed in with a deck of Uno cards. It had been a long time since we'd had such a lazy day and it was sheer delight. When lunchtime rolled around, Sherry brought our picnic to us in the living room while we played---how spoiled are we? She'd made fabulous Dagwood sandwiches, accompanied by baked Ruffles & honeydew melon. Once Jeannene had beaten me soundly at Uno (much to her satisfaction---and she could not<i> believe </i>I wasn't perturbed in the least), we took up a book of trivia and created our own hybrid trivia/truth or dare game. What fun that was! We also popped down to the shop to purchase our chosen alpaca items. However, the shopkeeper was so utterly consumed by the loquacious lady that we, after waiting around for 15 minutes or so, gave up and returned to our cards. We'd overheard the conversation, with the woman repeatedly interrupting the shopkeeper's explanation of how they make the products with her knowledge of weaving and her stories about watching someone finger-weaving & picking it up in 3 days without formal instruction. We are not nearly as nice as we should be & returned to the inn snickering about all the things she is surely better at than other people. "Oh, you had hernia surgery? Well, I took out my own hernia and hand-crocheted the binder I wore during recovery." Pure meanness, but funny, nonetheless.<br />
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As the afternoon began to wind down into evening, we picked up the kids and took them to see the alpacas. Because it was raining and it seemed unlikely that the alpacas would come any closer than they had the day before, I stayed in the car. Had I known what they got up to while I was immersed in my book (a very good one called <i style="font-weight: bold;">What She Left Behind </i>by Ellen Marie Wiseman), I would certainly have gotten out & joined them, as they got to pet a wee baby alpaca. Ah, well, my own fault for not wanting to get wet. After, we headed into town for dinner at Adornetto's, an Italian place none of us had been before. Jeannene and I, not yet fully hungry after our picnic, shared a plate of spaghetti with red sauce and meatballs. The pasta was tremendous, clearly made on the premises and cooked perfectly al dente. I hope we can find such a place near us. After dinner, we dropped them back to their work and figured out a route which would get us out of town without going anywhere near the Dread Underpass.<br />
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Monday, we got the kids' belongings completely loaded and hit the road for their new home, 6 hours away. I led the caravan, concerned that I would somehow lead us onto a road too narrow for the truck or a bridge too low or that I would lose someone along the way. Bubbles & Jeannene both kept up admirably, nobody got lost, and if Pie had a panic attack driving through the pouring rain, I never heard about it. Usually, he makes Bubbles pull over if the rain gets hard, but they stuck right with us. I was a smidge nervous, as the pelting rain struck right when we were at the spot which had been completely flooded last month, stranding motorists and destroying basements. We managed to get through without hydroplaning or getting bogged down in water and the sun came out in time for the unloading of the truck. With the truck unloaded, the kids happily ensconced in their new home, and the U-Haul dropped off, we went for pizza and beer, that most traditional of moving meals, a fitting end to Labor Day.<br />
<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: none; height: 20px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-52668105563804913712014-02-10T16:32:00.000-05:002014-02-10T16:32:59.185-05:00Some Thoughts on Housekeeping, Kindness, and VariationThis morning, I was looking at my kitchen in despair. I was thinking about all the boxes of Christmas decorations I've not yet carried down to the basement. I was measuring up all the boxes from our move that I haven't yet unpacked against those I have. I was stunned and overwhelmed by the sheer mass of plastic bags that engulf our laundry room, despite my frequently remembering to request paper. I was trying to figure out how everyone else's garage floor stays clean. Yes, everyone else on the planet surely has a cleaner garage floor than I do. I was wrinkling my nose at the horrid smell lingering in my car because I forgot my Indian leftovers in there too long & the smell, apparently, lives long after the actual food has been removed, even when everything is frozen. I was feeling horrified at all that needs to be done in the house before we leave for our wedding trip and our cat sitter comes into our home. In short, I was thinking of all my housecleaning and organizational failures and excoriating myself for not being a better housekeeper, for not being more organized, for not being the kind of woman who, like my friend Connie (who happens also to be our cat sitter), meets a challenge and tackles it right away, diving into closet-building & room-painting after moving in, rather than looking at all the boxes and imperfections and walking into another room to settle in to write or read or socialize online or cook or---well, do anything but something about it. I was knocking myself for not being the sort of person who goes out and clears the driveway, for being the sort of person who hires someone to mow the lawn and weed the beds. I was mad at myself because my house has never been and probably never will be the sort of home which is always company-ready. I was scolding myself, saying, "Well, if you're not going to be a proper housewife, then you should at least be 3/4 of the way finished with your novel and already have a book deal." Oh, I was really letting my mind monkeys chatter and chatter. And, let me tell you, even now, I am castigating myself for writing about this rather than cleaning house or going to Lowe's to get materials for bookshelves or something else useful and yet, here I sit at the keyboard.<br />
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We all have those tapes running in our heads. Those inner critics, telling us we will never be enough. For some of us, it's the dad who will never let us think we are good enough, even when we've become VP of Finance by the time we're 35. For others, it's the art school friends who think we've sold out when we take a commercial job that actually puts food on the table. Or it's the pastor telling us we are not godly because of who we love when all we wanted was some relationship guidance from someone we thought we could trust. Or it's a best friend who has always criticized our clothing choices and made us feel less-than. Or a co-worker who always talks about how crazy people are and how when he makes house calls, it's amazing what hoarders those people are, while we wonder what he would think if he could see our house and whether he tells other people we are mentally unstable. Or a brother who doesn't think we have the right to complain about our kids ever because we have three healthy kids while his wife miscarried. Or a music teacher who told us in no uncertain terms that we should just mouth the words at the winter concert, thus shutting down our very own singing voices ever after, no matter how much we love to sing. Or the guidance counselor who had such a narrow view of what success is that very few of us could fit within its confines. Or the Conference that won't ordain us if we don't affirm the doctrine they expect to hear, in the way they expect to hear it. Or the bully on the playground telling us we're weak and not worthy of companionship. Or the wife telling us we'll never measure up to her college boyfriend, who apparently hung the moon but never did it while holding a full-time job and helping raise children. Or the television shows that make it quite clear that people like us who have disabilities aren't really contributing members of society with our own value and worth. Or the commercials that prepared us for being grown women by talking about how a good wife never lets her husband suffer ring around the collar or her children play on a less-than-spotless floor. Or the magazines that tell us men must be well-muscled and rich while women should be slim and compliant. Or the fashion designers who would never risk their reputations by designing for fat people because it would ruin the look of their clothing to have people shaped like us wearing it. My tapes were running rampant and at full volume this morning and I was shoulding all over myself.<br />
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And then I thought. I thought, "Hey, I do some stuff. And I don't think badly of people who don't do that stuff. If someone doesn't cook, I don't assume it makes them inferior. If someone would rather go hiking than curl up with a book, I don't assume there's something wrong with them or they are intellectually lazy. If someone hates to write and would rather solve math problems or do science experiments, I don't think it reflects badly on their character. If someone would rather do just about anything than make an art piece, I don't scorn them. If someone has never worn a tiara in her life, I don't think she should just try harder to be a tiara-wearing kind of person."<br />
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So, let's knock it off. All of us. Let's start just being who we are. Let's be kinder to ourselves and quicker to notice our talents and special qualities than our shortcomings. And, above all, let's stop judging ourselves based on someone else's idea of what's right, what's normal, what's useful and good. Let's not apologize for bringing food from the market or a fast food joint to the potluck. Let's not spend all day cleaning before a party and then apologize for how messy our house is. Let's not avoid bible study because we are afraid we'll look ignorant. Let's not stay away from social contact when we're depressed or just pretend everything is okay when it's not. Let's not pretend we only like to read complex literary fiction or watch art house films when sometimes, we'd honestly really rather curl up with a James Patterson thriller or enjoy our popcorn to the latest superhero film. If we hate socializing, well, it's fine to stay in on Saturday night & enjoy our very own company. If church is not the place we find spiritually nourishing, it's okay to connect with Spirit in other ways. If coffee tastes like sludge from hell to us, why not just say we'd rather have a grape slushie? If a drag show is a whole lot more fun to us than the ballet, that doesn't mean we have no culture. If we are childless by choice or choose to co-sleep and nurse until the child decides he/she is ready or want to vaccinate our kids and put them on a feeding schedule or allow our boys to wear princess dresses or encourage our girls when they want to join the Army even though we brought them up to be pacifists or have a house without t.v. or let our kids watch all the Disney Channel they can stomach, let's let ourselves just be the kind of parent or not-parent we are. If our dogs are the only babies we need, well, by all means let's carry pics of them on our phones to show everyone. Let's stop with the guilt about not becoming the doctor or the activist or the musician or the teacher our parents wanted us to be. Let's stop worrying about whether we're doing it right and start enjoying the doing of it. Now. Today.<br />
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That said, let me excuse myself to continue getting the house more respectable-looking before we leave town.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-52258931230087111462014-02-10T14:56:00.000-05:002014-02-10T15:01:31.979-05:00J is for JournalingWe had a lovely, if chilly weekend, for our J date. Friday, I had lunch with a new friend, Connie, the wife of one of Jeannene's co-workers. The food, at a local Chinese & sushi place called Ming's that bills itself as having "the best Chinese food" in town, was not very good at all, but the proprietor kept our teapot filled and the conversation flowed for almost 4 hours. It's fun to have someone to hang out with right here in town. After she went off to pick up her husband, I came home to put on a pot of ham & bean soup and try to finish season 2 of <i>Downton Abbey</i>. I can't get over how lovely the interiors and the costumes are. The storyline is good, too, but the sumptuousness of the surroundings really nourishes my eyes. When the soup was nearly finished and Jeannene was home, I fixed some corn muffins to add to our supper. Friday's holiday was Muffin Day, so it was perfect. The soup turned out beautifully and Jeannene told me it was as good as her dad's, which is very high praise. Jeannene's dad was the cook in the family, a man who showed his love by feeding people. His Kentucky rearing showed in his food, too, and he was well-known for making Southern classics like biscuits and gravy superbly. His bean soup was renowned within the family, as well, so I was very proud for Jeannene to give me that compliment. My grandmom made terrific bean soup, too. When I was 21 or so, I set myself a goal of being at least as good a cook as her and my almost-grandma, Mary, by the time I was 40. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I believe I have hit my goal. I love to cook and I think I do it very well, for the most part. I credit much of that to having learned to read recipes for successful ones and not using ones that will turn out poorly.<br>
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That said, this past week, I managed to make dinners 2 nights in a row that Jeannene wouldn't eat, at least in part. The first night, she objected to the Asian flank steak. I wasn't terribly surprised, as she is not a big fan of Asian food in general and hoisin sauce in specific, but she had just used hoisin on our Super Bowl Cornish game hens, so I thought she'd begun to like it. She thought the marinade made the meat taste tainted. Me, I liked it. She also doesn't dig chorizo, especially the Spanish-style chorizo I simply adore. The next night's dinner was, admittedly, not my favorite. It wasn't horrendous, however. The recipe called for cheapo white bread and American cheese, both of which I like for grilled cheese sandwiches. However, I apparently don't love them for cheese-stuffed French toast and Jeannene objected, as well. I ate mine, but I would make it next time with some good, thick sourdough or challah and cheese like Cabot extra-sharp cheddar or a nice Gruyère. The recipe was from <i>Woman's Day</i> way back in 2000 and, not meaning to sound snobby, I often find that recipes from that magazine turn out not to be my favorites. When I was in my 20s and learning to cook, I found it very useful, but my tastes have evolved. Perhaps, too, their recipes have evolved since 2000. All this is to say that I was quite relieved to have made a dinner she found "fabulous!" I guess I show my love by feeding people, too.<br>
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Saturday morning, Jeannene returned the favor with a meal worthy of her dad, something, in fact, that I suspect he made often. I'd never had smoked pork chops before I met Jeannene, had never had them until this winter, in fact, when she picked some up at a smokehouse near the plant. To me, they're like ham elevated to a higher level. Not that ham itself isn't good and, if it's country ham, there is little better, especially if it's served with delicate little biscuits and you are at the Loveless Café in Nashville. But, I digress. Jeannene made smoked pork chops, eggs over-medium, and biscuits for our breakfast. It was delicious! In trying to eat healthier, I am going the route of smaller portions, less processed food, less salt, less sugar. Moderation. I am also learning only to eat what I really want, what is really worth it. That breakfast was worth it! After breakfast, we meandered over to the local coffee shop to sip a couple of lattes over books before our J date. This shop, Crates Coffee House, has only been open a few weeks. The owner is interested in making it a real community center and has created a wonderfully warm and lovely atmosphere. Having finished our drinks, we headed to the library for our J date. I like to keep the dates a surprise until we are actually there. When I turned onto the road for the library, Jeannene guessed that I wasn't just dropping off the audiobook of <i>Neverwhere</i>, but that our date was there. It was especially funny, then, that there was a big sign out front for a kids' movement class. The sign wasn't super-clear on it being a kids' event, though, and so Jeannene thought I was making her go to a dance class, jazz dance to be specific. I giggled like mad and was utterly delighted. She has been dragged by me to belly-dancing classes twice. Once was with our women's spirituality circle years ago and we both found it completely puzzling, although fun. The last time was on a women's retreat last winter. They'd planned to bring in a ballroom dance instructor who ended up not being available, so they did belly-dancing instead. We laughed so hard our faces hurt as we tried to do the complex motions. It was actually a grand time.<br>
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Once we entered the library, though, Jeannene realized it was a kids' dance thing and was vastly relieved I was only making her do art. Our library has all kinds of cool workshops. I was really mad at myself last month when we missed out on a found object necklace workshop because I neglected to register in time and the class filled. So, I had registered for the art journal workshop almost immediately so we would be able to do that. It just happened to work out well for our J date, too. We had a wonderful time creating pages for a journal and learning about some techniques, as well. One of my favorite ideas was to use a picture of a door as an actual, moveable door on the page. Jeannene made a door in hers of Citrucel-treated paper that looks really cool. I did not make moveable doors for this piece, but have noted the idea for the future. I also got to see, in person, the results of a packing tape image transfer and will be playing with that technique. The best idea I got, however, was that of creating books from empty toilet paper and paper towel rolls! I always hate the waste of them, but find the toilet paper rolls without cardboard unwieldy and hard to use, so I just chuck the tubes in the recycling bin. But the little books were so cool and would be so much fun to make! I bet people would like getting them as little gifties, too. Perhaps even little recipe collections? Illustrated. Wouldn't that be cool? I felt sorry, after the class, to hear Jeannene say that she would probably just throw hers away. I think hers is really cool, but she doesn't think she can do art, always says it looks like a kindergartener made it. Hell, what does she think a Pollock looks like? The main point is that we have fun making art. But also, we need to realize that we create differently. It doesn't mean we are better or worse, just that our style is different. In her family, though, her brother was always the artist and she was the writer. So, thus it must remain. She knows she's a kick-ass writer, at least.<br>
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After the workshop, we lingered in the library, choosing movies. Both <i>Captain America </i>and <i>Thor</i> were in, so we decided to make it Superhero Night! First, though, we headed into Oxford to pick up a gift for Pie's girlfriend. She'll be 21 next week. On our way to the shop, we spotted a local goods store, things produced in Michigan. Inside, lo and behold, there were postcards for sale! I have been looking high and low for postcards for the last couple of weeks and have not been able to find any. I'd been afraid that postcards might be going the way of the dodo, but there they were. Jeannene teased me for buying 20 on the spot. We were also able to order, from a wine shop, the Elektra moscato we've been looking for ever since we moved. We were both hungry, so we popped into a Mexican place she'd heard was good. It was, indeed. We split a chicken chimichanga, with a couple of gorditas on the side. I'd been tempted to order the carnitas, but they are so often lacking in flavor. I was glad Jeannene got a carnitas gordita because I was able to discover that this is the case here, as well. However, the shredded beef was stellar, juicy and flavorful. We also got tropical drinks, a Blue Hawaiian for her and a Sexo en la Playa for me, in hopes that they would chase all thoughts of winter away. Not so much luck with that. It's been such a miserable winter that I've begun to tag all of my Instagram snow pictures #livingonhoth. I am ready for the thrill of crocuses, for waking up to birdsong instead of snowblowers in the mornings, for heading outside on the spur of the moment without lacing up boots and shrugging into coats and wrapping a scarf around my neck and pulling on hat and gloves. It makes me tired just to write about it. Once home, we got a cozy fire going, snuggled under blankets on the couch, and watched our superhero movies.<br>
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Sunday morning, after staying up until nearly 3, we skipped church in favor of sleeping in. What luxury to be able to do that, after 3.5 years of being at the church, ready to help lead service, every Sunday by 8. We had a little breakfast and packed up our things for a long day at the coffee shop. Jeannene's got a big week coming and had a lot of work to do. I filled my bag with my computer, colored pencils, a coloring book, magazines, the Anne Rice novel I'm reading (<i>The Wolves of Midwinter</i>), postcards, gel pens...that is to say, all sorts of tools for fun! I happily sipped Earl Grey Lavender tea and wrote out postcards to Anke in Germany, Alexandra in Russia, Catherine in Belarus, Joona in Finland, and Coby in the Netherlands. I am delighted that Tyler hepped me to the fun of Postcrossing! I can't wait to start getting postcards from all over the world. It's fun to learn about the people, too. This one loves to cook, that one is a Harry Potter fan, the other one is only 9 years old and loves animals. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLo_5Cgp5l5nvEbIa4T37pz4cDyiC2bkcghYyYnP1L-tR4tsfakt3i43CPoXjQcS3VMJkObQnIOWGH6qHBbv8uB-6of4tPLEMC5B0tNbxRyNVKOsXaKz3Qh9teN0RYWC8SXTlEg/s640/blogger-image-1615471131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLo_5Cgp5l5nvEbIa4T37pz4cDyiC2bkcghYyYnP1L-tR4tsfakt3i43CPoXjQcS3VMJkObQnIOWGH6qHBbv8uB-6of4tPLEMC5B0tNbxRyNVKOsXaKz3Qh9teN0RYWC8SXTlEg/s640/blogger-image-1615471131.jpg"></a></div>We'd gotten to the coffee shop right after the birthday party for the owner's grandma and it was very quiet after the mirth. I was honored that the owner's daughter, who is a tiny, blond 2-year-old whom I had not yet met, saw me and immediately broke into a large smile and raised her arms to be picked up. It's a shame my hands were full. Her father was apologetic, which just seemed all kinds of strange to me! Whyever would you apologize for having a lovely, friendly little girl?<br>
<br>
Although I did not think it a good idea, given Jeannene's busy week upcoming, we took the time to drive out to the bookstore and Whole Foods before heading home. I'm glad we did because I was able to get the books for both my book groups. One is for the Uppity Book Women, Sarah Addison Allen's latest, <i>Lost Lake</i>. I started it when we went to bed and could not stop reading it, only finally putting it down and removing my glasses when I dozed off repeatedly and almost dropped the book. The other is <i>Tell The Wolves I'm Home </i>by Carol Rifka Brunt. I love belonging to a book group that's not mine because I end up being challenged to read books I'd not otherwise choose. This one looks great, too! I also picked up a large, attractive book about vegetables to turn into a journal. It cost the same as the discounted journals, but is hardbound rather than spiral bound and gives me more surface on which to work. We were disappointed at Whole Foods not to discover the Greek Gods salted caramel yogurt Jeannene was seeking nor reasonably priced cornmeal for my enchilada soup. I may, if I dig deep in the pantry, discover that I have a partial bag of masa which should suffice nicely. We simply do not like this location nearly as much as the one we frequented in Dublin. It's close by, but it's just not doing it for us. Maybe we need to try the one in Ann Arbor or Detroit.<br>
<br>
Once home, I dove into fixing supper while Jeannene relaxed on the couch with her Persians. I made a cheater chicken tagine, using skinless, boneless chicken breasts in a skillet atop the stove instead of whole chickens, cut into pieces and placed in my tagine in the oven. The chicken violation alone is enough to cause revocation of my serious foodie card, I know. I just get the heebies when eating chicken on the bone, unless it's cut from a whole roasted chicken or southern-fried. So, revoke away, food snobs of the world, and I will continue to eat what I like. I will used condensed cream of mushroom soup in recipes and American cheese on my grilled cheese sandwiches. I will nibble on Ho-Hos and eschew caviar (unless I get to poink it merrily across my plate in a fancy restaurant----then, by all means, bring on the caviar!). I will avoid rabbit and elk steadfastly and chance the neon orange of Cheetos on occasion. But I will also make apple cider vinaigrette from scratch and put chile powder in my chocolate cookies and relish plump organic raspberries and make my own marshmallows and play around with maple syrup in my cheese crisps and devour half a head of kale at a sitting in Tuscan kale salad. And I will not apologize for any of it.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-28560809066945138682014-01-18T18:24:00.001-05:002014-01-18T18:24:09.139-05:00Jeannene's Childhood Summers FreewriteMy last post was my 20-minute timed freewrite on what I used to love about summer. Jeannene and I were playing around with this in our hotel room this afternoon. She has graciously allowed me to post hers here, too, edited only for typos. I would love to see free writes on the same topic from any of you who want to play, too!<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
"As a child, when spring morphed so slowly into summer and
summer was real and now, with dandelion covered hills, mosquitoes buzzing, bare
feet, beans to be picked and POOL OPEN signs, I had no concept of it ever
ending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That first step into summer
never felt like a path to anywhere ending at a time or place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just a hot, frozen reality, a now with
never a thought of later or an end, summer as a child was a real experience,
from which you never ponder transitions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I miss the peace of childhood summers when I was like a dog playing
fetch, never thinking my master might tire of throwing the stick or the winds
might chill and leaves might brown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Summer was as much a state of never-ending experience as it was warmth,
ice cream, flowers blooming, fireflies, campfires and the smell of chlorine in
the bathroom from suits dripping dry night after night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a child in summer, I was never plagued
with the worry of the bottom of the bowl of strawberry shortcake or the vaguest
consideration of having anything more to do the next day than meet my best
friend in the nursery to walk to our next adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Summer, as a child, was the taste of fresh berries and long
grass stems between the molars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer
was the color of white foam water against the brown & green creekbed and
the thousands of shades of red, yellow, green, blue and pink in the beds, in
the fields, in the woods and along the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Summer was the cool water around my skin, the rough &, at times,
cutting dried grass, and the welts & scabs itching & healing and the
callouses thickening on the bottoms of my feet and my hands from walking and
hoeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer was the sound of crickets
and frogs all night long and the hum of bees and gurgling creeks all day long. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer was the smell of earth, the
honeysuckle, the odd bitterness of drying swamps & skunk cabbage, the sweat
of people and animals, and pies baking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Summer was a never- ending sensory explosion
without any thought further than the taste, smell, touch or delight of the
moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I miss my summers as a child.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Summer was light, a lightness of heart and bounty of joy
that only happens when you think no further than the feel of the slimy toad in
your hand, the shared joy of jumping hand-in-hand into the pond with your best
friend, the taste of ox roast sandwiches and Methodist Ladies’ cream pies at
the fair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year that passes pulls
us further from those simple delights of summer to the fear of losing or never
experiencing them again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Childhood
summers, with no thought of end, to my adult summers of worry and my incessant
temporal awareness leaves a hole in my heart… and a pining for assurance of
infinity."<o:p></o:p></div>
Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-6144210584365639412014-01-18T18:05:00.001-05:002014-01-18T18:05:56.473-05:00What I Used To Love About SummerJeannene and I are hanging out in a lovely hotel room in Edinboro, PA, after having dropped Boot back off at college. We decided to take the weekend just to chill and relax. Last weekend was spent in my hometown so I could preach at a dear friend's ordination. We saw lots and lots of people, which was wonderful but definitely busy and a lot more extroverting than this weekend. This weekend, we have brought with us coloring books, colored pencils, word searches, a book of brain games, swimsuits, Elizabeth Berg's marvelous book on writing, <i style="font-weight: bold;">Escaping Into the Open: the Art of Writing True</i>, and a pile of novels.<br />
<br />
We came in a blowing snowstorm, making the 5 hour trip from Michigan into an 8 hour odyssey, fraught with nerves over the slick roads and ominous drifts between us and vast expanses of frozen lake. We finally arrived at Boot's girlfriend's house at 2 a.m. Jeannene stopped the car and Boot busily transferred the sum of his belongings from our car to his and into the house. I, having been told just to tuck myself out of the way, maybe stay in the car and keep warm, obstinately stood in the driveway, out of the way. The just-past-full moon was magical as it lent a glittery twinkle to the blue-white snow skreeking underfoot and the air was full of the mouthwatering scent of fresh doughnuts wafting from the plant across town. We, being terribly suggestible, ended up with Krispy Kremes from the gas station before we began the half-hour final leg of our the journey to bed.<br />
<br />
We luxuriated in sleeping in after turning out the lights at 4 a.m., arising just in time to make the free breakfast. The rest of the day was spent poking around both town and campus. We loaded ourselves up with swag from the college bookstore, had an excellent lunch at the Crossroads Dinor (I will probably never get the NW Pennsylvania spelling), looked in a few shops, and had drinks at the Empty Keg (where we got to admire the bartender's multi-lingual tattoos). Then, I suggested some timed writing in the room. We settled in to our computers, set an alarm to alert us after 20 minutes, and ran with the theme, "What I Used to Love About Summer." We each had a wonderful picture of our childhood summers at the end of the 20 minutes. Here is mine, unadulterated aside from typo correction. I hope you enjoy a peek at my childhood summers in Yellow Springs, Ohio.<br />
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When I was a kid, summer was wide open, magical! We kids
would spend all day running around, a gaggle of lawless amerugins, in no need
of parents, if only for those free hours. We would pop out of bed early, down
our Cap’n Crunch and Super Sugar Smacks and Froot Loops---and, for a few
unfortunates with hardcore hippie parents, muesli. Now, of course, I will
happily take it, but back then, anything that could have come from 9<sup>th</sup>
House Life Foods was infinitely inferior to things we could find at Weaver’s.
Once fueled up, we would meet at Willow’s or on my porch or in the green space
behind the AME church. We would come bearing towels, clad in swimsuits, with
perhaps a bottle of Coppertone with an SPF of, oh, 2. I often had a book, for
the terrible rest periods that tortured us throughout our days at Gaunt Park
pool. We would walk, or ride bikes if we were so inclined (but never me), down
High Street and cut over by the Bill Brown apartments, where the road curved
around to dump us out almost directly in front of the pool.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once we had paid our dollar and received our locker key,
marvelously attached to a numbered metal pin I always thought was really cool
(what I wouldn’t give to have one of those pins now to play with in my altered
art), we would find a spot in the grass where we could spread out our towels.
Then, yelping with glee, we would slip, slither, or cannonball into the water
joyously! We would send hour upon hour in that clear, cool blue. We would race
from end to end, swimming like speedy little minnows under the water, leaping
like dolphins with a giant sploosh out of the water. We would toss in quarters
and dive like maniacs, seeking to be the first to reach the glistening discs.
We would sit underwater and hold hands, in a circle, and pretend to be
mermaids. We would giggle at the ridiculous boys’ antics (and I would silently
give thanks that my swimsuit was not the blue and white gingham bikini with the
ties Todd always liked to undo). We would have tea parties under the
surface, seeing if we could talk to one another, holding our pinkies in the air
like fine ladies, giggling again as we bobbed up to the surface, unable to
defeat our naturally buoyant child bodies. We would challenge one another to
break the surface with eyes wide open. We would toss one another high above the
surface. We would see how very many times we could somersault forwards, now
backwards. We would perform gymnastic feats like cartwheels and handstands and
even walk on our hands for as long as we could.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, the whistle would blow. We would, reluctantly,
dragging our feet and groaning about the unfairness, shimmy out of the pool,
climbing up ladders and pullig ourselves up on the edge. We would sit on
towels, griping about the heat, watching the adults luxuriate in the kid-free
pool, the vast expanse of luscious water, while we sweltered on our little
patches of terrycloth real estate. When we hadn’t already spent our allowances
at Grote’s or the Ott Shop or Erbaugh and Johnson, we would rush down the
painfully knobbly blacktop path leading to the parking lot at the bottom of the
hill and patronize the little concession stand. This place was a treasury of
frozen Snickers bars, grape Tangy Taffy, Pixie Sticks (oh, those giant ones!),
barbeque potato chips, and, if memory serves, even hot dogs. We would take our
selections back up the hill and eat as we stared down the adults like vultures
circling some delectable dying creature. When there was no money, we sullenly
occupied our towels, or went out and rolled down the fireworks hill (ah,
another glory to love in the summer of my Yellow Springs childhood, those
magical fireworks!), or pumped and pumped to try to reach the sky on the
swingset. Then, that siren call of the lifeguards’ whistles! By then, most of
us had begun to hover around the edges of the pool, sometimes earning stern
looks for dipping too much leg in before permission was granted. We returned to
our games.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When evening came and the pool closed, we would drift home,
a chlorine-scented gang of red-eyed rapscallions. Soggy towels draped over our
shoulders, we would skip and dance our way home, delighting in the beginnings
of cooler evening air. We would stop and smell the flowers, perhaps bringing
some home to the lucky mom who got to host our roving bunch for dinner that
night. We would have Ha Ha Pizza at my place or spaghetti with dread tofu chunks
in the sauce at Willow’s, then climb out her kitchen windows to sit on the roof
and watch the moon rise or pile out the back door and across the porch to my
yard, anchored by a giant sugar maple and ablaze with fireflies.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-69076022472474168952009-08-18T11:18:00.002-05:002009-08-18T12:07:42.497-05:00Water Park Whirlwind WeekendSince the Wild Mango Queens were slated to meet at Geauga Lake's Wildwater Kingdom and my Aunt Jeanie adores water parks beyond reason, she planned to come up for the weekend so she could attend that and my Aunt Anne's 50th birthday bash, too. She arrived Friday evening and we whisked her off, at her request, to the Winking Lizard for dinner on the patio. The two of us had strawberry daiquiris (which were supposed to be margaritas but oh, well) while J had her usual beer. We shared an order of Phred's Preferred Phries (cheesy & bacony) and Jeanie had a tomato/mozzarella/basil salad, as well. Then, J chose the buffalo chicken salad (all crisp and delicious & jealousy-inducing), I had the Bo-Man's Buffalo chicken sandwich (which was really much hotter than I'd expected) and Jeanie had one of the specials, a pulled chicken BBQ sandwich. Jeanie and I both got mac & cheese with our meals and regretted it. I don't understand how mac & cheese can be so bland, but it was. It was like a mouthful of starch, like the cheese, rather than extra-sharp cheddar, was extra-flavor-removing. Just blah! We enjoyed the evening & didn't even get too eaten up by mosquitoes.<br /><br />Saturday morning, J arose early and went in to work, hoping to join us at the water park later. Jeanie and I were the only Mango Queens willing to publicly humiliate ourselves by donning swimsuits, so I was glad she came up! It would have been lonesome at the park all by myself. We started out by finding suitable chairs, then went for a few rounds in the lazy river. We spent a little time riding the waves in the wave pool, then found lunch. It was rather unappetizing. Jeanie's first burger was raw and cold, the second not much better, albeit safer. My club sandwich was a much wiser choice, although the bread was absurdly dry. I few the crusts to a collection of sparrows who'd gathered around. When we'd eaten, we took our chairs into the water and enjoyed the splash of the waves as we read. She was bold enough to take the library's Sue Grafton novel into the pool! I have developed my own collection of "pool books" expressly set aside for the purpose. This one was chick lit, the best genre for pool reading, in my opinion. When we'd soaked the pages sufficiently, we indulged in some poolside treats, a strawberry daiquiri for her and the world's largest, I am certain, blue snow cone. I dripped blue everywhere and could only manage to eat about a quarter of it. I am normally quite decent at finishing snow cones, but I'd've been quite ill had I finished this one. I somewhat doubt that anyone of sound mind has ever finished one of theirs. Not only is there a ton of shaved ice, but it's surprisingly syrup-heavy. Delicious, but way too big! After we'd finished those, we noticed the time and realized that we'd be late for Anne's party if we didn't skedaddle. Since Jeanie had been almost 2 hours late for the last party we went to with Anne (and had been rather castigated for that), we were determined to be on time!<br /><br />We stopped at the house to get changed and pick up J, who was napping after spending the afternoon averting an oil catastrophe at the plant. One of the guys had managed to knock several way-high-up barrels of oil askew, putting them in serious danger of spilling all over the floor and creating a colossal mess. With no small amount of derring-do, the problem was solved and she was able to head home. I felt bad dragging her out of bed, but we had such a good time at Anne's party that it was well worth it. The party was at a bar called Petey's Filling Station, decorated with all kinds of old gas pumps and advertising signs. I had the very worst margarita of my life, very much like flat Mountain Dew with tequila added, and resolved to stick to the Coke in pitchers that was flowing abundantly (although not as frequently as the beer!). It was fun to see Anne's family and Jazzbo & Anne's collection of friends, who we have seen over all these years at various celebrations. The food was delicious, really good pizza, hot wings and BBQ wings. It sat winking at us throughout the night and I was glad when they'd boxed it up so I no longer had to resist the siren call. Anne's cake was perfectly delicious, too. She won't actually be 50 until this coming weekend & kept remarking on how weird it was to celebrate a week early, but her oldest brother is in the Merchant Marines and was in town, so the timing was worked around his visit. I hadn't seen him in over 10 years and had to giggle when he introduced his 20-year-old daughter, Mavis, to us. She had actually been one of the folks who helped us move into this place! Mindful of church in the morning and J's long day, we left at a reasonable hour and hit the sack at home.<br /><br />In the morning, Jeanie headed off for a visit with my second-grandma & her family while J and I went to worship at my new church. I've accepted a Director of Christian Ed position at a great little church on the East Side. The pastor had told them about me at the congregational meeting that morning, so everyone was very welcoming and excited. I was happy to have several familiar faces from my previous visits. The service was really nice and Gerald's sermon was spectacular and brave, stepping right up and naming homosexuals as "other sheep" that are part of Jesus' flock. We worshipped with the African-American Baptist congregation that shares the building & coffee hour, so I got to meet their pastor, too. He seems great. The picnic was a great deal of fun, under the big old trees out front. We had plenty of congenial company and got to laugh a lot. I was especially pleased when one of the teenage girls asked how long J and I have been together. It will be nice to be at a church that is truly open and affirming, rather than just thinking they are.<br /><br />After much hilarity and good food, we left so that we could have our U date. I'd meant for us to go to a U-Pick farm and gather peaches or berries or something and then bake a pie together, but everyone seems to be between crops right now. I had located a farm that had beans to pick, just in case. In light of the lack of fruit crops, though, and the extreme heat, I gave J the option that we could make our U date be "underwater" instead and hit the water park. However, we decided that it would take us too long to get there. So, I came up with Unusual Food for our theme instead and we stopped at Whole Foods on the way home, with the goal of each picking at least one unusual food to try. I won hands-down with the Vosges Mo's Milk Chocolate Bacon Bar. I'd been reading about it in all my usual foodie magazines and knew it was their best-selling chocolate bar. I couldn't even fathom how that could not be revolting, but when I saw it, I knew it was my choice. We tried it last night and, while not totally sickening, it's not anything I'd really eat on purpose. I can only imagine that it's their bestseller because of curious folks like me. Here's a link, in case you're curious, too: <a href="http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/product/bacon_exotic_candy_bar/candy_bars_chocolate_chips">http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/product/bacon_exotic_candy_bar/candy_bars_chocolate_chips</a><br />If, however, you'd like to eat Vosges chocolate that's actually good, I can vouch for both their Barcelona and Fire bars. My other unusual food was gooseberries, which I'd never had, aside from canned (which were abysmal). J had fond memories of gooseberries from when she was a kid, so I chose those over currants, which I've also never had fresh. I like the gooseberry flavor quite a bit, but the texture is a little squoogy for me so I might see about making a little batch of jam with them. J's unusual food was a kind of cheese we'd never tried, from Holland. We will probably snack on it tonight.<br /><br />Once we arrived home, we discovered that our Roadrunner was again down. It's been working intermittantly all summer and I had someone out last week who purportedly fixed it, but it's still spotty. Stupid Time-Warner. J had wanted to see if there was any live music or anything fun to do at night. Lacking internet, though, I decided we'd do cocktails & snacks on the porch. I cut up an heirloom tomato, put out a bowl of tiny fresh mozzarella balls, a handful of basil, some olive oil and balsamic glaze and a baguette for our noshing pleasure. Then, I mixed up a batch of Latin Lovers for myself while J tried a Mike's Hard Pink Lemonade. We sat on the porch and enjoyed the summer, moving from eating and drinking to bubble-blowing and chalk drawing. It was a delightful evening. I'd marinated some top round steak for bistec de palomilla while we relaxed and put on the full Cuban dog for dinner. We watched Aslan be sacrified and resurrected while we ate, a lovely cap to a fun-filled weekend!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-60870433441085423162009-08-08T21:08:00.002-05:002009-08-08T21:40:27.878-05:00Rainy Saturday with the BoyI was just poking around Elizabeth Berg's website (<a href="http://www.elizabeth-berg.net/">www.elizabeth-berg.net</a>) and really enjoying the whole feel of it, the writing, the thoughts of how good her latest book, <em>Home Safe</em>, is and memories of meeting her several years ago. She is by far one of my very favorite writers and reading her blog made me want to write on my own, right now!<br /><br />I have a little free time from the family while J and Boot watch the latest "The Fast and the Furious," which one of J's employees loaned her for the weekend. Boot says the movie is "for people with penises" so I am happily excused from joining them in the living room for it. Whew! If they were watching <em>Transformers</em>, which Pie picked for us and which my friend Michael worships, I would gladly go. Ditto the Eddie Izzard DVD that I put on our queue. As it is, I am happy as a clam away from all that.<br /><br />I woke up today with no idea what we'd be doing. Generally, weekend planning, particularly visitation weekends, belongs to J. Of course, I drag her to church with me...and will do so tomorrow, too, but I mostly leave the decisions about what to do the rest of the weekend up to the one who works 12-14 hours most days lately. So, we hung out in bed with coffee, hers in a bright green Jiminy Cricket mug I brought her from Disney this spring and mine in the purple Tink mug that was under the tree for me last Christmas until the decadent hour of 10:30. Quite a switch from popping up at 5 most mornings! It was starting to rain and we decided fairly quickly against going to Cedar Point, which is just as well, since Pie wanted to play video games all day and Boot wouldn't have enjoyed riding everything alone. I do wish it'd been a good water park day, but we had fun nonetheless. J made egg sandwiches for all of us and then we hit the road for a video game buyback store. I planned to wait in the car with a book on Christianity and pop culture, but Boot came out to retrieve me shortly, saying "It's really cool in there. I think you might actually like it." It was a huge store and I quickly found a small stack of things to buy. I'd been hoping for the Dead Milkmen's <em>Big Lizard in My Backyard </em>or <em>Beelzebubba</em>, but they didn't have a copy of either, so I chose Michelle Shocked's <em>Arkansas Traveler, </em>a Dead Kennedys CD containing both <em>Plastic Surgery Disasters </em>and <em>In God We Trust Inc.</em>, and a Celia Cruz CD. J picked up Ani DiFranco's <em>Not So Soft</em>.<br /><br />After we'd indulged in CDs and Boot had gotten $123 for his old video games and PSP, we went to Crocker Park so he could buy some clothes. It was just raining a bit when we left the parking garage, but by the time we returned to the car, it had made up its mind to be a real rainy day. Boot and I split a huge sandwich from Karl's Corned Beef and ate it in Barnes & Noble while J had more coffee. While she was in line, I asked Boot what his top 3 comfort foods are. Without hesitation, he answered, "Pizza, wings and some kind of dessert. Like cake. But not birthday cake. Homemade cake." And he even asked me my top 3. Mashed potatoes, mac & cheese & popcorn with butter & nutritional yeast, if you're wondering. I refrained from splurging on any more magazines or books, but was sorely tempted by a magazine featuring the studios of women artists. Of course the magazines I love are all upwards of $7. I'd like to get a copy of either <em>Altered Couture </em>or <em>Belle Armoire </em>for Marie. She's never seen them and I know she'd love them! She has a fun idea for a Wild Mango Queens get-together sometime---decorate pajamas! Wouldn't that be fun? I would sew some kind of cool bead fringe like the one on my "Pink" art journal to the bottoms of the legs. Boot got a white leather belt at American Eagle, a couple of t-shirts & a new pair of jeans at Hollister (where I sat in a velvet chair and watched people pass by in the rain outside the front door) and finally returned to AE for a pair of, of all things, clogs! What on earth? Who is this and where did he put my Nike-wearing, manly man son? We then went to pick out Rit dye so he and J can do some tie-dying tomorrow. I think there is some kind of weird rip in the seam of the universe. This tie-dyeing thing was <em>his</em> idea! I stuck to lipstick and computer cleaner, but did get some cute little stickers for my toenails next time I paint them. I saw a woman in the post office last week with princess fingernails, all sparkly and wondrous. She'd gotten them done for her daughter's wedding and I said to myself then, "I need some toenail bling!" Since the Mangoes (or possible just me and my aunt Jeanie) are going to the water park next Saturday, what better time?<br /><br />We dropped Boot off at home before going to the grocery. We had a successful shopping trip and when we arrived home, J started making chicken parmesan for our supper. Boot and I ate Chips Ahoy dunked in milk at the kitchen table. Pie was finally awake again (he is nearly entirely nocturnal these days) and he joined us for dinner, then rinsed his dishes and returned to his cave. With as cool as Boot's been today, I'd be perfectly happy for him to get kicked out of his dad's house (which he is certain will happen any day now) and have him back with us. If he would be like this all the time. Which he wouldn't, but it sure was a fun day!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-70238176552400206222009-08-04T09:38:00.002-05:002009-08-04T10:44:49.200-05:00T is For Touch & TasteFriday night, when J got home from work (at 8:30, meaning a 15-hour day-she has GOT to hire a new supervisor!), she suggested that instead of having dinner at home, we hit the bar she discovered while I was in Wisconsin. She'd been wanting to take me ever since I got home the previous Saturday night, but kids & work barred that. So, we popped over to Lady Z's. I was extremely skeptical when I saw the neighborhood (largely industrial) and was pretty damn sure I wasn't going to like this place. I am a boring lesbian, as it is, preferring lovely restaurants to the bar scene at almost all times, no matter how cool the bar. I am simply not a bar girl, much to J's chagrin, even though I gave every indication of it the first night we went out dancing. I am infinitely more comfortable in church and feel fidgety and awkward most of the time when I do the bar scene. J, on the other hand, loves the people-watching & the loud jukebox, especially when she can inflict Ani DiFranco or Tom Waits on unsuspecting patrons. At least, she assumes it's affliction. I don't know why she assumes they don't like it. Could be the rapid feeding of money into the machine by baby dykes while her songs are playing, a quick remedy of the situation with some Lady Ga-Ga or Kanye West.<br /><br />Anyway, I was expecting to feel awkward & uncomfortable & want to go home immediately. J was expecting me to, as well, saying on the way over, "Let's just go home. You don't have to pretend you want to go. You hate bars." I continued to pretend because I don't think it's fair for my lack of interest in the bar scene to keep her from getting to enjoy it with me sometimes. And I'm glad I did. It was surprisingly large and pleasant inside, with friendly bartenders and a decent bar menu. We sat at the bar and chatted, looked at Billie's (one of the bartenders) family pictures (her baby niece), played J's usuals plus my eclectic song selections going from George Strait to the Sex Pistols in the blink of an eye, had a couple drinks and some dinner. The pierogies were great, made by a couple of ancient Polish women, according to the owner's wife. Before we knew it, the time was after 11 and J had to get up early for work the next day. So, we made our way home to bed. It's funny to think that just 8 years ago, on that first night together, we probably didn't even get to the bar until midnight. Now, it's "Cinderella, your pumpkin awaits" if it gets much past 10:30.<br /><br />I did get up and make coffee, although 5:30 was awfully early and I crashed back into bed after J left. I slept quite late and J was ready to come home right when I was about to head for the farmer's market. I knew I'd miss the eggs, being that late, but there's still plenty of good things to be had there later. J met me at the market and we happily prowled the stalls looking for the yummiest deals. We got a huge green pepper strictly for munching, a yellow squash for last night's confetti burgers, a fat tomato for same, a basket of peaches (mmm), fingerling potatoes (the Amish guy who always helps us gave us extras on the sly), a scrumptious-smelling melon and, at the last minute after a heavenly sample that took J right back to her dad's garden, some gorgeous green beans. She told the guy that she used to eat about as many as she'd pick when she was helping. He laughed and murmured, "Strawberries." I can just picture him, a tiny boy in a big hat, walking along behind his elder brother with a berry-stained mouth and not-full-enough basket! J also indulged in a little vial of lavender oil from our favorite purveyors of soap and shampoo. I love their products and they have very good energy. The oil was shockingly cheap, too. Yippee! She intends to wear it on work days, taking a big sniff every time she starts feeling waxed out. Good plan.<br /><br />After the market, we did our usual Trader Joe's and regular grocery time. I love grocery shopping! Bar? Nah. Grocery store? Oh, yeah! Boy. I should feel old or stodgy because of this, but I just don't. When we got home, we had some chicken salad sandwiches and J laid down for a nap. That nap extended several hours. She'd planned to arise at 6 so we could have dinner and then hit the bar again, this time for some live music on the patio. That, frankly, sounded okay to me. But, she was so tired. I took a bitty nap, but spent the bulk of the time reading and writing. I didn't wake her until 7:45, when supper was ready. Then, I suggested that I bring her dinner in bed. So, we ate our Italian sausage & spinach pie, Caesar salad & chocolate cake (Ruth Reichl's fabulous "last-minute" cake with both coffee and orange liqueur) on Lenore-trays in bed (recipes at <a href="http://www.lunacooks.blogspot.com/">www.lunacooks.blogspot.com</a>). We spent the remainder of the evening watching house porn on HGTV and Style Channel. I am positively drooling for a "spa-like" bathroom. Maybe we'll get a parsonage with just that. Ha!<br /><br />In the morning, J was rested enough to go to church with me. Alas, the problem she had with her back when I was in Disney last year has recurred, so she was not very comfortable. She started the service slightly disgruntled at being there. She ended the service in a towering rage when they announced that they've chosen a new youth leader and he is not me. Of course, we basically knew I wouldn't get the job (and, truly, I'd rather work with the pastor who's going to be my boss, even if the job is much further and pays much less---he is a perfect mentor, someone I respect immensely, and the folks there are splendid), but it still hurt. J is positive that I wasn't chosen because I'm gay and because I don't have a penis. That may be a factor, but I think the main reason is that they are afraid (and probably rightly so) that if I am offered a pastor position, I will bail. Still, it hurts. To add insult to injury, this guy has a BS! No theological background at all, education-wise, and not even a BA. I obsessed on it all day, ridiculously. I checked out the website of the church where he's been serving as interim youth director (should I apply there?) and pondered why he would leave that position. I also am rather puzzled as to why they would choose a Presbyterian rather than a UCC youth leader. Not that there's anything wrong with Presbyterians, but he's not even UCC! Rant, rant! I found myself hoping the kids didn't like him, his A/V presentations sucked, the youth group dwindled even further and so on. Very immature of me, and certainly unChristian. Of course, what I really want is for these kids I love so much to have a fabulous youth group experience and for the spiritually-ossifying church to be revitalized by his presence. But I am jealous. And spiteful. Sigh. Fallen nature rearing its ugly head for sure. I think I just might believe in original sin, if not in the sense Augustine meant it. I surely evidence it far too often. The good news about going to church was the hug from Lori, the excited greeting of Angie, the CDs of my sermons Marjorie gave me so I can send them out to churches who are interested.<br /><br />Brooding all through it, I served J some leftover spinach pie for brunch and we formulated our T date plan. J suggested we trade in the books a Freecycler had no-showed on to Half-Price Books and get ourselves new books. She said that since we weren't going to the Science Center, we were saving $9 each and therefore had $9 for books. I predicted that we'd get 50 cents for the books we took in. J came up to me after getting her offer & said, "You were way off. We got $1." Hee hee! She got a couple of fantasy novels, I chose Nigella's "How To Eat," a book on Christianity and pop culture and a Violent Femmes CD, which we listened to all the way to the beach. We'd never been to this particular beach before and it was just perfect, aside from the water warning. The perils of Lake Erie. We hadn't planned to swim, anyway, in fact weren't even so sure the weather would hold for our picnic. Since the theme was Touch & Taste, we did plenty of both, starting in the amazingly grogeous rose garden. Did some sniffing, too. We spread out our blanket and enjoyed some snacky things while listening to the waves come in, looking at the lighthouse and reading our books. J's back hurt too much if she laid down, so we didn't laze about as long as we might have, but it was wonderfully relaxing nonetheless.<br /><br />After we'd put up our things, we went to the concession stand for ice cream. A tough-looking black guy in Harley gear cracked up at J's "No One Knows I'm A Lesbian" t-shirt and said, "Right on! I like your shirt!" I love people. You never know who they will turn out to be. We got vanilla cones (I should've got a Popsicle-the cones were entirely too buttery for me) and sat on a wall enjoying them while baby-watching and dreaming about a possible Lucie-girl someday. A seagull perched on a nearby lamp post and watched us avariciously until J gave him some of her cone. She's as bad with the gulls on the beach as she is with the dog at home! Then, we strolled by the water's edge holding hands until we came to the steps back to our car. I took the long route home, wanting to take in the summer landscape and feel the breeze in my hair. J was remarkably calm about the extra time in the car. Having her nose in a book for part of it probably helped. The long ride in the car just about knocked me out! I was simply wiped by the time we got home and collapsed on the couch in front of an Eddie Izzard DVD. It was hilarious, but I found it hard to keep my eyes open toward the end. Finally, it ended and I got on dinner, a rather bland rendition of bacon & basil pasta that I won't be making again. Ah, well, you never know unless you try it.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-52637379653406214702009-05-19T08:19:00.001-05:002009-05-19T08:21:39.733-05:00Q is for Quiche, Queens and QuestionsFriday afternoon, I baked some chocolate orange shortbread and we took it to our church's discussion group. The topic was prayer in schools. I thought that was pretty much a no-brainer, but apparently not. It was a good time, though. Saturday, we went to the farmer's market and ran a few other errands in the morning. Then, I attended a memorial service for a sweet man from our church. It was a lovely memorial service, with a lot of nature references befitting his 30+ years of horticultural experience. Afterward, I slipped out before the lunch to prepare for our first Wild Mango Queens gathering, a getting-to-know-you potluck. We had a little housecleaning and a lot of cooking to do!<br /><br />It turned out to be an absolutely smashing time! I made a couple of quiches, one asparagus and one ham & scallion. We set out some olives and roasted garlic, hummus, sun-dried tomato feta spread, pita triangles, Boursin cheese, sun-dried tomato focaccia, almonds (cocoa ones & regular roasted ones), a darling little angel food cake, sugared raspberries, mango chunks and a bunch of things to go with the chocolate fondue I made-shortbread cookies, pretzel rods, bananas, apple slices. I made my favorite punch and also had some orange-mango juice, mango nectar and a bottle of Riesling available. The wife of a seminary friend came (they recently moved to the area so he can work for the national body of my denomination), bringing a friend who also works for National and with whom I share friends, and our former Associate Pastor came. I'd issued invites with rather short notice, so we were a small but mighty group. Our AP brought guacamole salsa, spinach & artichoke dip, blue corn chips and chocolate-dipped strawberries. The others brought a nice wedge of brie, which they baked & then topped with berries, raisins & mangoes. Yum! We talked & talked, then had our show & tell, with a nice collection of items-J read some of her poetry, I showed my recipe binders & my monthly dinner plan, two women had their grandmothers' rings and one brought a little ornament that says "Hope." Once it got to be 10, we started winding down and sent everyone home with a goodie bag containing dried mangoes dipped in dark chocolate and dusted with chile powder, a pineapple-mango candle, champagne streamer poppers & colorful beads. It was so much fun and I'm so glad I started it!<br /><br />Sunday morning, we shared a quiche & coffee breakfast before heading our separate ways. J had some work to finish up at the plant and I was invited to a teacher appreciation breakfast at church, where I had dessert of fruit & monkey bread, as well as some good catching up time with friends there. Then, I attended worship and coffee hour before heading home. When J got home, we went on our Q date, which was Questions. I took her to Buffalo Wild Wings to play trivia and have a bite to eat and a couple of drinks. Then, we came home & spent the evening just relaxing. It was a great weekend!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-3485376408682706192009-05-11T09:47:00.002-05:002009-05-11T09:57:36.467-05:00I Got A Harley!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54VZNODcv22iSy8hCW_h0rstJabwCKpFfU6nxEE8mL14UbK8bObmehtM9mfpWY-5pmtugv08WZGsCnGU1mSRFPKemgtTzVVPF6oevXpDRWS_MYKus6hOFu4Rk4zi1Ynr3s6qk8A/s1600-h/Harley+Arrives+026.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334580638649148866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54VZNODcv22iSy8hCW_h0rstJabwCKpFfU6nxEE8mL14UbK8bObmehtM9mfpWY-5pmtugv08WZGsCnGU1mSRFPKemgtTzVVPF6oevXpDRWS_MYKus6hOFu4Rk4zi1Ynr3s6qk8A/s320/Harley+Arrives+026.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>While J picked up the boys Friday, I was busy making dry rub ribs & dulce de leche cheesecake. Pie arrived with big hugs, which was lovely. Boot was just his usual helpful self. We just hung out around home Friday night. Saturday morning, Boot joined us for our trip to the farmer's market (where I indulged in some morels and a whoopie pie while J got beautiful asparagus and Boot chose a mini loaf of pumpkin bread and some salsa) and grocery. We swung by the library to pick up the copy of "New Moon" J had requested. Then, we headed to the Animal Protective League, where we just planned to look. However, we left with a dog. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When we met Harley, I knew that if we were going to have to have a dog (I am decidedly a cat person. I like other peoples' dogs, you know, the ones I can leave responsibility for to their owners. J has been angling for a dog since we met and I decided to bend my "NO DOGS!" rule when I considered how I would feel if she instituted a similar ruling on cats), Harley would be a good choice. She's 6 years old, half Rottweiler and half Doberman. She is about the sweetest, most mellow dog ever, with a hilarious bark more akin to a duck sound than a dog sound. She is incredibly well-mannered. She lived with one family until a week ago, when they were forced to give her up because they lost their home. The only times we've heard her bark since we got her have been when she needs to go out & once, when Boot went out to the car for something, she stood at the door waiting for him & barked a couple times. She has playfully chased after the cats twice when they've gotten close (and instantly stopped when we told her "No") but mostly just ignores them. Fred has gotten within a foot of her & been ignored. When I took her for her walk yesterday, she thoroughly ignored another dog on the path. We expect that she'll get a little more active once she fully recovers from spaying (which was done Thursday), but we think she'll be mostly just relaxed. She does have a little arthritis, so that will probably cut back on her desire to be wild, as well. Pie said when he first saw her, he was scared she was going to rip his throat out since she looks fierce, but that he loves her now.<br /><br />So, of course, we spent the bulk of Saturday afternoon & evening just sitting around gazing at Harley and petting her. J & I ventured out to get her some supplies & toys, but we mostly just hung out with Harley. Pie even brought his t.v. and game system up from his video cave to be with her. J made lasagna for dinner and Harley was very polite about staying in the living room (albeit just over the line) while we ate. She has clearly been well-trained. The boys opted to stay downstairs with Harley overnight. We are trying to have her sleep downstairs for a couple of reasons. One is that we are simply not strong enough to carry her upstairs every night should her arthritis get to the point where they become difficult for her to manage on her own. The second is that we want the cats to have a Harley-free zone. They're getting less freaked out and more venturesome, but have mostly sequestered themselves upstairs. Storm was sitting on a chair in the living room when Harley first arrived and arched her back mightily while puffing up to twice her normal size. Harley swung by the chair for a sniff and Storm gave her a swift paw to the snout. Harley's response was to amble on over to the middle of the room & lie down.<br /><br />I visited a church where I have applied for a part-time Christian Ed director position Sunday morning. The adult ed class was populated with impressively knowledgeable and friendly people. The worship service was great, with inclusive language used for both humans and God and a sermon about the conversion of the eunuch being a reminder that the church is not supposed to be normal and fit in with society. The pastor was on my ordination committee and is the one who suggested I apply for the job. I don't know if he's gay, but he has an HRC bumper sticker on his car and is unmarried & childless. He talked a lot about how oddball it is in our society for someone to choose to be childless. It was a very interesting sermon, especially for Mother's Day. The church just voted in December to be Open & Affirming, the UCC designation for a church that has chosen to actively include a statement of welcome for LGBT people, and they had P-FLAG flyers in the narthex. They also share the building with an African-American congregation in an interesting way. Instead of being totally separate & just happening to share the building, as many building-sharing congregations do, they share a coffee hour between the two services. It's very cool! I had a few great conversations, some with folks I am pretty sure are on the personnel committee and were checking me out. One man has a gay son and the son and his partner are both members of the New York City Ballet. The man told me he & his wife don't want to be members of any church where their son and his partner aren't fully welcomed. I also got into an interesting conversation about the (too seldom mentioned) feminine divine with a couple of women, one of whom handles women's issues for the national body of the church. It was a great, rejuvenating morning. The personnel committee will be meeting this week and looking over my info together, then will call me for a formal interview. Fingers are crossed.<br /><br />Once we were all home (J and Pie had gone to the Star Trek movie, then J & Boot went out to fetch lunch), we sat down & ate cheeseburgers & fries from Five Guys, which was what J wanted for her Mother's Day lunch. They are great! Harley was again very mannerly. Definitely interested, but maintaining a polite distance. J said her gift from the kids was Harley, but Boot had made us a card, too. I gave J a couple new figures from the Schleich toy collection of elves, wizards, dragons & such that she collects. If you haven't seen them, they are very cool and fully playable-with. They can go in the tub, to the beach, whatever...anywhere Barbies can go. J gave me a really funny card and Pie had chosen a darling sweet one with a mama cat bathing a kitten on it. J had asked him if he wanted to find a step-mom card, but he was happy with just a mom one for me. Boot inserted "2nd" in front of "mom" when he signed, but Pie saw no need even for that. Sweet. He also chose my gift. He was in the Sci Fi section of Borders and J kept trying to steer him to another section. He was insistent & chose a book I've never read by one of my very favorite authors, Terry Pratchett. Yippee! Sparkly jewelry is all well & good, but Terry Pratchett is marvelous! Jeff really likes him, too. My closet reader. J got him a philosophy of Star Trek book and he loves it! I looked and it's full of references to Kant, Derrida, Lyotard. It's not just a joke book at all, but serious, hard-hitting philosophy with Star Trek woven in. And he actually gets a lot of it! Wow! On the way home, Boot fell asleep within 10 minutes, only awakening every now & then to ask them to keep the station on a country song he likes. I guess Pie & J talked philosophy & Sci Fi the whole way back to their dad's (where their father, very uncharacteristically, came out in the driveway & waved at J-weird!). He said he's a "closet geek" and said how uncool it is to like reading, Sci Fi and, for that matter, thinking where they live but that's who he is.<br /><br />While J returned them, I dropped off a bunch of minestrone for tonight's church dinner, took Harley to the nature park and watched chick flicks. Well, a chick flick and a half. I finished "Rumor Has It" and was watching "Music & Lyrics" when J got home. After a good phone chat with my mom (who seems to have a new cat...he wandered in & their cat really likes him), I made some chicken breasts with Moroccan spices with rice on the side and fried up my morels. I had actually found another, hand-sized morel right in our yard, too! They were scrumptious! I think the only way to eat morels is to soak them in salt water for 24 hours, drain them well, dip them in egg, dredge them in Saltine crumbs and fry them in butter. Heaven on a plate!<br /><br /><br /></div>Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-49591464639111889512009-05-04T10:17:00.002-05:002009-05-04T10:20:05.339-05:00P is for Prime Rib (and Plenty of Prayer)Friday night, we were both pretty wiped out from being out the door by 5 to get to Erie for a 7 a.m. school conference! J had had a busy day at work and I'd been to a very long interview for a management position I'm pretty sure I don't want. When I got to the interview, I was told that the position might be eliminated, after all. Fine by me. No one there seemed particularly happy to be there and there was maybe one item in the whole store that I'd want. It was funny because you could probably pick up the whole store and drop it into Rave in 1985 and it would fit right in. Funny how trends come back around. So, I was happy to have a simple dinner planned. I made spaghetti, which was perfect for the cool, rainy evening. We watched a little t.v. and went to bed fairly early.<br /><br />Saturday morning, we both had to get out the door early, J headed for an Adoption 101 workshop and me to the UCC Association spring meeting. The host church made a hot breakfast for us and I got to visit with one of their members, the Association treasurer and the publisher for the United Church Press and Pilgrim Press. It was great conversation about holding on to faith in rough times and about working with other denominations and faiths for common goals. At the end of breakfast, I was approached by the head of the Search Committee for a church where I have a resume in for a Christian Ed Director position. She would like me to visit a worship service to get a feel for their program, then schedule an interview after that. Sounds exciting to me! So, I'll be going there next weekend.<br /><br />After breakfast, we had a fabulously energizing and spirit-filled worship service. The host church is an Afro-centric congregation and we had some wonderful, get-on-your-feet gospel music and an energetic and fantastic sermon by their pastor, who is a black woman who is about my age. It was all about how our lives should be evidence of God and God's goodness and how our love and care for our neighbors provides that evidence. After worship, we had the business meeting and somee time to check out the displays. I did want to see them, but I got into a great conversation with a gay man who works for National and attends a church that will be looking for a pastor soon. Then, a pastor for another church approached me to introduce herself and see if I'd been interested in preaching at her church on Pentecost. She'd heard good things about me from my pastor. She was also a lot of fun to talk to. Interestingly enough, she's Japanese-American but speaks little Japanese, just like me with Spanish! Instead, she speaks fluent Spanish...maybe she can help me bone up on mine.<br /><br />We all went to various workshops after that. I chose the one on the Emerging Church. I'd hoped for some practical ideas on how to create a postmodern church service when the congregation is still pretty modern, but it was strictly the basics, all of which were covered in my seminary. So, I was a little disappointed in that. Oh, well. I also got to meet, in that workshop, the pastor of the church where I caused such a stir in December by mentioning gay marriage. She was very warm and friendly and gave me an update. She decided, after reading the sermon I preached, to make copies and post them on the bulletin board so the people who'd missed the ruckus could actually see what was said. Apparently, things calmed down. Yay.<br /><br />I spent lunch talking about my church search and about interfaith issues and universal salvation with a pastor who was on the ordination committee. He and I share a deep respect for other faiths and want to figure out the best way to go about interacting in a respectful and affirming manner with folks from other faiths, and to help our congregations do the same. J and I got home at about the same time and shared stories of our mornings. She was the oldest person at the adoption workshop and was the only one who was gay. She said the social workers were just great. She was able to get a much clearer picture of how this whole adoption thing works. It sounds as though fostering to adopt will be the very best approach. So, we're going to continue looking at that. She'd been to the West Side Market on the way home and picked up some gorgeous fruits & veggies, as well as a prime rib for our P date. Since we were so busy over the weekend, she thought it would be best to have a very simple P date, so she made a prime rib with baked potatoes and asparagus for our dinner. It was fabulous! But, before dinner, we got to have a nap, which was also great!<br /><br />Sunday morning, we went to the church that's going to be looking for a pastor soon. It's an urban church that does a lot of work with recovery and even turned their parsonage into a 3/4-way house for women. It's very racially diverse, which is wonderfully refreshing, and uses inclusive language for God and for people. Moreover, we were greeted with enormous hugs. We had visited last summer and felt very welcome then, too. The service itself was amazing. It was a jazz service, featuring the band of the guy who's in charge of events for National. He's a really dynamic preacher, with a knack for storytelling and a really laid-back vibe. His "Free Play on the Word" (AKA sermon) featured a reenactment of the story of the itsy bitsy spider, with the message that even when we're getting knocked down the spout by the rain, God is with us. God is also with us when we decide to climb back up again to check out that amazing light at the top. The music was top-notch, too, just so spirit-filled and nourishing. We spent some time at coffee hour, then headed out to the grocery.<br /><br />After picking up the week's groceries, we headed home. J watched "Alien" while I puttered around online and looked at magazines. I'm not much into those movies, but I am very happy to just sit with my baby while she watches! Dinner was a selection of cheeses (Belletoile, a sharp Canadian cheddar and locally-produced Lake Erie Chevre) with leftover prime rib (cold), baguette, crackers and grapes. Wonderful! We were in bed by 9:30, although I stayed awake reading well past then!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-71570543461921247592009-04-27T12:11:00.002-05:002009-04-27T12:18:50.661-05:00Sketching and Talent-AppreciatingFriday, J went to pick up the boys while I was at work. I savored the quiet time in the house to catch up on "American Idol." Poor Pie was simply horrified to arrive and discover me watching it. He said, "Daria, why are you watching this? Don't tell me you actually watch this!" I told him it was my aunt's fault while J told him, "It's not true! She has free will!" Boot doesn't dig the show, but he sat down for a few minutes, then said, "This is awful." I said, "Yeah, disco week. Woohoo!" He & J went to the grocery while I finished watching and Pie went to his video cave. When they returned, we made spaghetti. Pie was so cute, asking about what the kind of pasta we used was called. He's not interested in culinary school anymore, but he still has some curiosity about different foods. Whew! Both boys want to be cops, this week. I think either one of them would be really good at it, the good guy cops, but I'm not sure Pie would enjoy it. I think either that or being an attorney would be a great choice for Boot. It'll be interesting to see which careers they do choose.<br /><br />Anyway, while we were making dinner, I managed to burn the crap out of 3 fingers on my left hand. I didn't know one of the burners had been turned on and I grabbed it to get something that had fallen into the burner pan. Yow! Boot and J immediately went into action prepping a bag of ice for me. Boot was amazed that I wasn't all tough about it. He had thought I was impervious to pain or something. He was so sweet, offering to make the key lime pie I'd been planning to make. He hung out with me while I made it, ready to jump in on anything I couldn't manage one-handed. I did manage it, though, even separating eggs one-handed! Not an easy task! But it was fun to have him to chat with while I cooked. When I finished & went to join J in bed, Boot also turned in for the night. I think Pie stayed up all night playing video games.<br /><br />Saturday, I arose bright & early to go to my Art Gang get-together while J and Pie headed out video game shopping and Boot slept in. I hadn't been to a meeting since our December tea, so I was excited about seeing everyone and doing some art. The drive there, an hour out in the country, was refreshing in itself. I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to do with one hand, but it turned out we were sketching. We visited around a table on the porch for awhile, then moved our chairs over by the potting shed to sketch some pots, a butterfly house, some big jugs, the shed itself. I have never really sketched anything before, aside from a few feeble attempts when I was dating an artist, who told me not to try and draw the object, but just the lines I saw. I really have no patience for serious sketching and so much less experience with any kind of art than the rest of the women there, who are mostly older than me and have breathed art for years. Some of them even do art for a living and are featured in magazines like Somerset Studio. So, I often feel like my efforts look like a kindergartener's. But, it's so much fun and they are nice about my attempts. We sat & chatted & drew while Jan's husband made a fire for our luncheon weenie roast. I'd finished my sketch by the time we moved back to the fire to roast our dogs. We had some great dishes: an orzo and sundried tomato pesto dish, potato salad, a bright, lemony couscous dish, a gorgeous trifle, fat-free "Polynesian" pudding with fruit, my key lime pie and a luscious strawberry pie. After lunch, we returned to our sketching posts. It was fun to see everyone's different takes on the same scene! Some had used watercolors or watercolor pencils, some charcoal, some regular drawing pencils. I used Crayola colored pencils! I ended up loving the bright, cheery spring colors of mine, even if the rendition wasn't so hot.<br /><br />After the day in the sun, I found myself pretty dozy by the time I got home. J and Boot were watching "American Gangster" while Pie explored his new games. I didn't want to jump into the movie halfway through, so after visiting with J and Boot (and having Boot nearly burn the house down when he randomly lit a paper on the fridge, which turned out to be a poem my mom wrote, on fire---WTF??? You don't just randomly light stuff on fire, especially when it's hanging on the fridge with a bunch of other papers! I was furious! And there was NO consequence at all-ugh!), I headed upstairs for a little nap under the swiftly-turning fan. It was a nice nap, after I got over the nasty appearance of dip in the toilet on my way to bed. Boot is not supposed to even bring dip with him to our house. Of course, he swears it wasn't his, but who else's would it be? Neither of us dip and I'm almost positive Pie doesn't. Plus, Pie only uses the downstairs bathroom. Personally, I think we should do a bag check to make sure they're not bringing anything we don't allow while we're still in the driveway at their house, but that will never happen.<br /><br />Kitties joined me and I dozed until J woke me when it was time to start grilling dinner. She & Boot (now in responsible mode again-what a roller coaster) made burgers, hot dogs, baked beans & mac & cheese for dinner. It was some interesting dinner conversation. Pie talked to us about his new game and whether he should be a blacksmith or a craftsman in it. He also told us about how the Nazis' victims weren't just Jewish people, but also gypsies, artists, gay people and others the government didn't like. Meanwhile, Boot was doing a running monologue about peeing on a bonfire and getting paid $22 to roll down a hill and all kinds of stuff like that. Oy. It's like he has deliberately decided to be as anti-intellectual as possible. Probably because allowing his smarts to show also makes him vulnerable. He was giving us advice about being invulnerable, telling us just to stuff our emotions until we found someone to take them out on. Just keep them inside all the time, he recommended. Pie told him that if he keeps doing that, his internal injury is going to cause him to bleed out. Interesting insight from Pie. All we can do is try to steer him in the right direction by word and example. I hate feeling so helpless. We tell him that decisions he makes now will affect him far into the future, but I don't think he believes it. Or he simply doesn't care. Sigh. After those conversations, the talk moved on to Pie's new girlfriend, with Boot trying really hard to annoy or embarrass his brother, while Pie simply put on his selective deafness. She sounds like a nice girl and I think Pie will talk more to us about her when his brother isn't around to ask inane questions. She's his first girlfriend.<br /><br />Sunday, I went to church while J immersed herself in "Elvenbane" and the boys slept in. Yes, Pie finally slept! After church, I went to the sloppy joe luncheon and stayed for the talent show. That was great fun! It was MCed by one of the youth and he told great bad jokes between the acts. My favorite was "Why shouldn't you take a shower with Pokemon in the room? Because they'll Pikachu!" There were several acts: a small brother & sister doing "Yankee Doodle" on piano & recorder, a fiesty senior doing a series of jokes, a trio of sibs---one twin boy somersaulting, the other singing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and the older sister singing a song about Peter Rabbit, the boyfriend of one of the college girls singing a Boyz 2 Men song and beat-boxing, a middle schooler playing Metallica quite well on his electric guitar, a dad doing magic tricks and a group of gals who call themselves "The Sisters" (who dressed up as nuns last year) getting all garbed out in 70s attire and singing "We Are Family." It was lots of fun and very funny and cute.<br /><br />After church, I cleaned the kitchen and hung out with J watching Sci Fi while the boys slept (Boot had arisen to go to KFC with J, but Pie slept right through lunch). We roused the boys shortly before it was time to go. Since J was kind enough to do the driving, I read to her from "Elvenbane" and the boys didn't even complain once. Boot wanted me to listen to his newest favorite Enrique Iglesias song (he is always wanting me to taste his new soda flavors, listen to his music, etc...a lot of our tastes are the same) and Pie wanted to tell us about some of the stuff in his video game. It was fun. It was not so fun when Boot got bored and started trying to aggravate Pie. Lots of "Mom, Brother's touching me"s from the backseat. Poor Pie. He finally pulled his shirt over his face, put his feet on my armrest for petting & went to sleep. It must be exhausting for him to be around Boot's high energy prodding all the time. On the way home, J started to feel bad, so I made a quick breakfast for dinner and we went to bed. She'd hoped to sleep off the beginnings of a migraine, but ended up having to call in sick today. Poor baby. I am lucky I don't get them!Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-54444511487461604672009-04-21T08:44:00.004-05:002009-04-21T08:53:45.906-05:00O is for Olfactory<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpY7ejjmp0IxFoWABnLxLL-PRpQIQqfNrS-W1UI6S3geP8rBdNjNKTms6aaUSIc30ujvGboJsuJ4B3KVoOJ5Z8POJse2cEwEGoftv3qgaYmRQHqEGhKRIRF6x6L7tlNONNKzXyFw/s1600-h/Lutley's+haircut+014.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLeRsoIlS4uWl2GpZVCj2Q7hbQgBkvHzIjHol3xhjdLxMx4PesvrKFUZPbUhMoZoXnDH8Yr5QIuxeRzO2AVZB31O-3P5-mUpW3XALMGhyphenhyphenKEV3b2XlEKO37RuRn1SIkAHBERiYGQQ/s1600-h/Lutley's+haircut+012.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbZ8pEIcqmJbyHVattZCvqv0NZWPAj6UqY2uXQyTWo-n6I7RPtT_14U_RF_2Qgpe54-ZcjuziMa-5g9VYZBizDy0Ori7Bniek2drRG0rYgHyfUcmhLxxZBe9IGBVn-0kMTLHmhw/s1600-h/Lutley's+haircut+010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327141246044705906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbZ8pEIcqmJbyHVattZCvqv0NZWPAj6UqY2uXQyTWo-n6I7RPtT_14U_RF_2Qgpe54-ZcjuziMa-5g9VYZBizDy0Ori7Bniek2drRG0rYgHyfUcmhLxxZBe9IGBVn-0kMTLHmhw/s320/Lutley's+haircut+010.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Friday night, we just relaxed at home with a fruit & cheese dinner. Nothing too fiddly, but very nice. I laid out Comte, Belle Etoile and smoked Gouda cheeses with some Pinot Noir salami on one board, a loaf of Tuscan bread on another and some Pink Lady apples on a third. I added a tarte d'Alsace from Trader Joe's and some deviled eggs with capers & ham. Dessert came from our Easter baskets. We were in bed fairly early and I arose early Saturday to get started with our O date.<br /><br />I'd seriously considered O foods under the open sky and orangutans, but ended up using my aunt's suggestion for an olfactory date. I chose highly scented breakfast foods-vanilla coffee, fresh-squeezed tangerine juice and gorilla bread (which is monkey bread with cream cheese in the middle). We had breakfast in bed and J told me the gorilla bread was the best thing she'd ever eaten in her life. She said, "This is a food group all its own and it is elevated above all other food groups!" This made me giggle! Friday night, we just relaxed at home with a fruit & cheese dinner. Nothing too fiddly, but very nice. I laid out Comte, Belle Etoile and smoked Gouda cheeses with some Pinot Noir salami on one board, a loaf of Tuscan bread on another and some Pink Lady apples on a third. I added a tarte d'Alsace from Trader Joe's and some deviled eggs with capers & ham. Dessert came from our Easter baskets. We were in bed fairly early and I arose early Saturday to get started with our O date. I'd seriously considered O foods under the open sky and orangutans, but ended up using my aunt's suggestion for an olfactory date. I chose highly scented breakfast foods-vanilla coffee, fresh-squeezed tangerine juice and gorilla bread (which is monkey bread with cream cheese in the middle). We had breakfast in bed and Jeannene told me the gorilla bread was the best thing she'd ever eaten in her life. She said, "This is a food group all its own and it is elevated above all other food groups!" This made me giggle!<br /></div><div>After Phase 1 was complete, we moved on to the first day of the Farmer's Market! Yippee! We saw sheep being shorn (and got to pet them), got close to sweet-looking alpacas, ran into our former Associate Pastor and heard some great live music. Then, we strolled around the local outdoor mall. My first official stop was L'Occitane, to smell their goodies. Our hands-down favorite is verbena. Mmm! Then, we stopped in at 87W, a new wine bar, for a snack and a drink. We had a small plate called chorizo and chevre hanky pankies. They're like little tea sandwiches and are quite tasty. I enjoyed a glass of Riesling while Jeannene had a beer. We sat and people-watched as we ate. The wall-sized windows were wide open and the weather was just perfect for being outside! Our next stop was Rocky Mountain Chocolate for a whiff of their sweetly-scented air and a couple of chocolate-dipped strawberries. Our final stop for Phase 2 was the greenhouse, where we took in the smells of potting soil and hyacinths and feasted our eyes on all the spring flowers! Finally, we headed home for Phase 3 of our O date. I ran Jeannene an aromatherapy bath and let her read and soak for awhile while I planned our first Wild Mango Queens event for next month. Then, I returned to wash her back. When she was done, she had a little nap while I took my aromatherapy bath. It was a wonderful O date and a perfect day, all for under $25. We did some grocery shopping and some t.v. watching Saturday evening. Sunday morning, we went to church and then headed to the library so I could show Jeannene some children's picture books I'd just discovered & loved. Then, we had some potato cheese soup with ham before doing another grocery run. Most of the afternoon was spent simply lazing about. I put on a roast about 4 while Jeannene napped and read her "Elvenbane" book. After dinner, we got to bed early to accomodate Jeannene's 5 a.m. Monday wake-up.<br /><br />After Phase 1 was complete, we moved on to the first day of the Farmer's Market! Yippee! We saw sheep being shorn (and got to pet them), got close to sweet-looking alpacas, ran into our former Associate Pastor and heard some great live music. Then, we strolled around the local outdoor mall. My first official stop was L'Occitane, to smell their goodies. Our hands-down favorite is verbena. Mmm! Then, we stopped in at 87W, a new wine bar, for a snack and a drink. We had a small plate called chorizo and chevre hanky pankies. They're like little tea sandwiches and are quite tasty. I enjoyed a glass of Riesling while J had a beer. We sat and people-watched as we ate. The wall-sized windows were wide open and the weather was just perfect for being outside! Our next stop was Rocky Mountain Chocolate for a whiff of their sweetly-scented air and a couple of chocolate-dipped strawberries. Our final stop for Phase 2 was the greenhouse, where we took in the smells of potting soil and hyacinths and feasted our eyes on all the spring flowers!<br /><br />Finally, we headed home for Phase 3 of our O date. I ran J an aromatherapy bath rich with lavender and chamomile and let her read and soak for awhile while I planned our first Wild Mango Queens event for next month. Then, I returned to wash her back. When she was done, she had a little nap while I took my aromatherapy bath. It was a wonderful O date and a perfect day, all for under $25. We did some grocery shopping and some t.v. watching Saturday evening.<br /><br />Sunday morning, we went to church and then headed to the library so I could show J some children's picture books I'd just discovered & loved. Then, we had some potato cheese soup with ham before doing another grocery run. Most of the afternoon was spent simply lazing about. I put on a roast about 4 while J napped and read her "Elvenbane" book. After dinner, we got to bed early to accomodate J's 5 a.m. Monday wake-up.</div></div></div>Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-22231477896883502082009-04-15T10:51:00.002-05:002009-04-15T10:55:25.114-05:00Easter FunThe weekend started early, with J's plant actually being shut down for Good Friday. What a delight! We started the morning with a cup of Starbucks courtesy of a gift card as we waited for a table at First Watch. Then, a great brunch (J had a superb waffle while I chose a breakfast burrito) followed by grocery shopping and a trip to Michael's to look at their spring flags. Then, we headed home to do some housecleaning before picking up the boys. When we did so, we discovered that Boot still has an enormous knot on his head from more than two weeks ago, thanks to his brilliant "fight club" idea. I swear if this child makes it to 30, it will only be because of hard work on the part of his guardian angel! Apparently, the other boy has a matching knot. That's some bonding activity! Once home, J made an andouille and Monterey Jack pizza for supper. Then, she and I colored eggs while the boys did their thing-Boot went to bed early while Pie entered his video game cave, not to emerge again until he was hungry for a brownie.<br /><br />Saturday, J made biscuits and gravy for breakfast. We all spent some time doing our own thing-Boot and J were immersed in t.v., Pie in video games, me online and on the phone with my mama. Then, J and I hit the library and grocery before coming home to hang out. She found an Anne Geddes book for a dollar in the book nook, where discarded books are sold. She also picked up a Cleveland jigsaw puzzle and a mystery novel, while I found a Martha Beck book and a book on creating a women's spirituality circle and a couple other books. All that for $5! I love cheap indulgences. Even cooler was finding books I wanted on the free shelf. I've been curious about Jennifer Crusie romances because she worked at the same bookstore I did, just a year or two before I started there. However, I haven't been able to commit to buying one or even checking one out from the library because they're romances. Silly, I know. I also found Gustavo Gutierrez's classic volume on liberation theology on the free shelf! We spent the rest of the day just relaxing. J made a delicious chicken pot pie for dinner and we even had an extra to share with our neighbor. When I took it down to her, I invited her to Easter dinner but she was planning to cook a dinner herownself and hang out with her Vizslas. She was very surprised and pleased with both the pie and the invite, though.<br /><br />Sunday morning, I got up and put together J's Easter basket and then put on my Easter bonnet and headed to the church brunch, leaving her to handle the other baskets and the cooking. After the brunch, I visited with one of the youth group members for awhile before the service started. It was nice to catch up with him. Senior year has left him with very little time to attend church, so it's been nice to see him there the past couple of worships. He sings beautifully and has helped to bulk up the choir. The service was a lovely cantata. It was so good to hear the music, see all the people dressed in their Easter best (especially the little girls in their pretty dresses), smell the hyacinths and lilies and reflect on God's nature as pure love and cause for hope. After church, we roused the boys and did Easter baskets. J found a bunch of fun little stuff for me (coloring books, crayons, colored pencils, a couple of rubber stamps, a Hello Kitty puppet, a Tinkerbell egg filled with stickers and candy butterflies, stuff like that). What fun! Then, we had our Easter dinner. J made a ham (which she found on sale for $7!), potatoes au gratin, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes and rolls. She also went pie-mad, baking an apple pie Friday night and making a peanut butter pie in an Oreo crust and a lemon icebox pie Saturday. I'd been planning to do either cut-out cookies or a lamb cake, but that seemed thoroughly unnecessary! After eating, Boot retired to his room for a nap while I joined J and Boot in the living room where they were watching t.v. I spent the afternoon coloring in my new Disney Princesses book. Pie was kind enough to pull up a picture of Aurora online for me so that I could make sure I got the hair color right. LOL. Before we knew it, it was time to take the boys home. I drove there (and greatly enjoyed Boot's acting as a tour guide through current music for me-"Boot, who's singing?" probably came out of my mouth 15 times in the course of the trip) and J drove back. I spent the 2 hours back reading Jill Conner Browne's hilarious new Sweet Potato Queens book aloud to her. Then, we settled in for a dinner of crustless quiche (bacon & feta, from Trader Joe's-delicious!), bacon, English muffins (mine with lemon curd, hers with strawberry preserves) and oranges. Yum! We watched "Here Comes Peter Cottontail" before retiring for the night.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11014804.post-49567038016601794592009-03-09T13:30:00.002-05:002009-03-09T13:33:17.749-05:00M is for Middle EarthFriday night, we just had a very quiet night in. We'd planned to go to a new women's discussion group at the LGBT center, but when we got there, none of the doors were unlocked. We went to 4 doors and every single one was utterly impregnable, despite the "come in" signs on them! I grumbled and griped about that all the way through the trip to the gay store we made on the way home, but then we had a really nice night in. J made Cajun andouille pizza for dinner using one of her plant's new sauces, we watched t.v. and went to bed fairly early, since J had to work Saturday. Luckily, she didn't have to go in super-early, so we had some snuggle time & I read to her from a Sark book before she went to work.<br /><br />While she was gone, I worked on a presentation I had to give last night. A friend of mine was supposed to guest teach a confirmation class at a UCC in a neighboring town but realized at the last minute that her flight wouldn't be back in time. So, when she asked me to step in, I was happy to. She was supposed to present on the history of the denomination. So, I brushed up on my history and started work on a power point. This is the second time I've filled in for her for a youth-related event. The first time was a presentation on Facebook & youth ministry at our national headquarters. It's fun to sub for her. I also got to have a nice long phone conversation with my mom. What fun!<br /><br />When J got home around 4 on Saturday, we went to the library to get the Lord of the Rings trilogy on DVD for our M date. I'd originally planned to take us to Miss Molly's Tea Room for our M date, then I considered Michigan for a good M, a little day trip over to Ann Arbor to check out my aunt's restaurant. But, with her working Saturday & my presenting on Sunday, those just weren't good options. So I planned a Middle Earth Marathon instead. After the library, we did our weekly grocery shopping, then returned home and did some house-cleaning. By the time our Middle Earth dinner (shepherd's pie) was ready and we started the first movie, it was almost 9, so we ended up watching only one of the movies Saturday night.<br /><br />J must have really needed to catch up on sleep because she slept until about 1:30 Sunday. I got up earlier, but didn't make it to church (we'd forgotten to spring forward) and started work on finishing my presentation prep. I spent the afternoon engaged in that while J watched t.v. (and probably wished I'd not agreed to sub!). I had lunch with the kids from the confirmation class and watched them play a game, then did my presentation. It went fairly well, but the discussion part was like pulling teeth. I somehow drew the thoroughly untalkative bunch, the girls. The boys got into some pretty deep theological discussion and the table of three kids who didn't seem to fit in with the others seemed to be fairly intent, as well, but the silences and awkwardness at my table were excruciating. I did get them to talk a little bit, but not much. I was thinking, "Oh, man, why am I here? I'm not doing any good." <br /><br />But then, when we had wrapped up and I was gathering my things, the girl at the table of three approached me to ask about what seminary was like. She had really stood out among the other kids as being much more mature than the others and very intelligent. She reminded me of myself at 14, actually. She seemed quite self-assured and was really interested in issues of social justice. I'd heard her say she didn't want to get stuck with the girls' table for the game they played and she advocated really hard for their table of three to be a team unto themselves. Anyway, this 14 y.o. girl told me that she's feeling called to ministry. I explained how the process works. She seemed disappointed that she couldn't start seminary right away. My advice was to read as much as she can now, study religion in undergrad and then head to seminary, if she is still feeling called by then. In the meantime, she can always be really active in the opportunities for youth involvement in denominational things. I suggested she approach her pastor, too, about this feeling of calling.<br /><br />We got into talking about world religions and how much we have to learn from them. I mentioned having to leave the Presbyterian Church because they wouldn't ordain me because I'm gay. She said she is, too, which really surprised me. I am so impressed with teenagers these days who are so brave and out so young. I cannot imagine what 8th grade for an out lesbian must be like. I didn't realize I was gay until I was in my 20s and 8th grade was rough anyway. Anyhow, we kept talking and I finally offered her my phone number in case she has any more questions about ministry or whatever. I felt like she was looking for a resource or mentor or something like that. She asked if she could also have my e-mail address & we exchanged those. I hope I can be a source of hope for her.<br /><br />After she walked away, the youth leader came over and asked me how open she'd been with me. I told him and he said he was so glad I took the time to talk to her. Apparently, she came out at school this year & it's been a hard time for her. He seemed kind of at a loss for how to really be helpful to her, so he was glad I gave her my number. I've been an adult sponsor for two queer teen groups, so I do have some experience. And if she is already feeling a call to ministry, I certainly want to support that. The whole thing kind of gave me goosebumps. I'd been feeling kind of cranky and as though there was no reason for me to be there and then all of a sudden, it was like God said, "This is why I wanted you here." When I got home, I made a pineapple angel food cake and some chicken, bacon & blue cheese panini for dinner. We watched the final "L-Word" episode (which was most dissatisfying) and then went to bed right afterward.Daria Schaffnithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13381237390370161570noreply@blogger.com0