This quotation has appeared at the bottom of my outgoing emails for about a month now:
"Materialists and madmen never have doubts."
G.K. Chesterton
Orthodoxy
To unravel the quotation it helps to know that Chesterton is talking about materialists in the theoretical sense. As I understand it, a materialist is someone who believes that matter is all there is, therefore the answer to any question can only be found based on evaluating material evidence. Chesterton says that madmen never have doubts because their madness creates an all-encompassing story that explains any given event. They truly believe "in themselves" because anything that happens within their experience happens to them. The materialist also never has doubts, because if any given phenomenon cannot be explained scientifically that phenomenon either cannot exist or else science simply hasn't found the explanation for it yet.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Two Reasons for Difficulty in a Social Setting
I'm reading a book right now that I was given for Christmas, Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen. The book is really a conventional romance novel with a familiar plot, but it does have some descriptive touches, along with a few quirks, that are more unusual. The point of this post, however, is to quote a passage that, while not particularly original, is one with which I strongly identify:
"Claire felt a familiar anxiousness, or maybe it was a learned anxiousness... Claire didn't socialize when she worked--she communicated. She said what needed to be said or she didn't say anything at all. Unfortunately, this didn't translate well into a social setting. It made her seem rude and standoffish, when it was only a sincere and desperate effort not to do or say anything foolish (203)."
This goes along well (as well as contrasting nicely) with a statement Elizabeth Bennett makes to Mr. Darcy, as they dance and the Netherfield Ball in Pride and Prejudice, that I have often attempted quoting:
"We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity...(221 in my copy of the complete novels)."
"Claire felt a familiar anxiousness, or maybe it was a learned anxiousness... Claire didn't socialize when she worked--she communicated. She said what needed to be said or she didn't say anything at all. Unfortunately, this didn't translate well into a social setting. It made her seem rude and standoffish, when it was only a sincere and desperate effort not to do or say anything foolish (203)."
This goes along well (as well as contrasting nicely) with a statement Elizabeth Bennett makes to Mr. Darcy, as they dance and the Netherfield Ball in Pride and Prejudice, that I have often attempted quoting:
"We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity...(221 in my copy of the complete novels)."
Movie Notes
We've seen several movies in the last several days, and I'd like to comment on some of the ones I didn't sleep through. Some of my comments will be impartial, but more of them will be very self-centered, or alternatively self-revealing.
1. Ratatouille
I very much enjoyed this movie, partially because of the cooking, because while I often do not enjoy cooking myself, I do enjoy reading about and seeing people (and in this case, rats) who do. But the main reason I enjoyed the film was because of the food critic, Ego, played by Peter O'Toole. Late in the film Ego describes the work of the critic:
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so."
Why do I like Ego (the character, not the Freudian term) so much? Confession: my husband will not be surprised to learn that inside myself I covet the role of the critic. I've always wanted to be one of those people with authority who declaim quality, those aspect of movies, music, and books that are good and those that are bad. I pride myself on resisting popular opinion and having my own criteria for what is and is not art. I wish that others would read what I write and be convinced that I am brilliant. I simultaneously am and am not proud of this aspect of my nature.
2. The Astronaut Farmer
I found the first two thirds of this film very stressful, while the last third of it was quite enjoyable. I may have actually dozed off during some important parts of the film, which I think led me to certain misinterpretations that hindered my enjoyment of it.
Michael and I are doing a marriage class right now that is based on a couple of William Harley's books. This movie convinced me that I should have ranked the need for financial support higher on my list of important marital needs. The film begins with a family that is $600 thousand dollars in debt while the husband builds a rocket in his barn that he intends to fly once around the earth. They were about to lose everything, while seeming rather complacent about it, which made me incredibly uncomfortable. There is a Deus Ex Machina midway through the film which, by definition, brings a great deal of relief, but this increased my objection to the film because I felt that it brought with it a false sense of hope to those who might be influenced by the film to make increasingly bad choices in real life.
Like I said, I believe I have misinterpreted this film. They handle the stress of the situation, and the consequences of bad choices in positive ways that I totally missed because I was so sleepy. The movie is actually about dreams. The poorly written description of the movie on the back of the DVD case had set me off on the wrong foot.
Michael said something to me at one point about pursuing those activities that you really enjoy in life, and I responded that all I really want to do is read and write--a lot, but that doesn't put dinner on the table. He thought I meant figuratively, not literally, and so said that I could feed my family this way eventually, but I can't figure out how.
3. Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End
I have really enjoyed this trilogy, and all I will say here is that I think Disney has handled the whole concept of fantasy with this series quite well, although each of the films is probably a bit too long. The series winds up with a true storybook ending, instead of the Hollywood storybook ending most of us have come to expect from film.
4. Lady in the Water
We watched this last night. I wasn't particularly interested in seeing this movie, even though I have enjoyed most of M. Night Shyamalan's other films. The movie wasn't perfect, but by the time we made it to the end I was in love. I commented to Michael that I don't think this movie could possibly have done very well in the box office, but that I don't think Shyamalan particularly cares. I think he is much more interested in making an interesting film. This movie won my heart because of its emphasis on the elements of storytelling. It's one that we will have to add to our DVD collection in time.
That's it, and now Parker is awake and ready to get out of bed.
1. Ratatouille
I very much enjoyed this movie, partially because of the cooking, because while I often do not enjoy cooking myself, I do enjoy reading about and seeing people (and in this case, rats) who do. But the main reason I enjoyed the film was because of the food critic, Ego, played by Peter O'Toole. Late in the film Ego describes the work of the critic:
"In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so."
Why do I like Ego (the character, not the Freudian term) so much? Confession: my husband will not be surprised to learn that inside myself I covet the role of the critic. I've always wanted to be one of those people with authority who declaim quality, those aspect of movies, music, and books that are good and those that are bad. I pride myself on resisting popular opinion and having my own criteria for what is and is not art. I wish that others would read what I write and be convinced that I am brilliant. I simultaneously am and am not proud of this aspect of my nature.
2. The Astronaut Farmer
I found the first two thirds of this film very stressful, while the last third of it was quite enjoyable. I may have actually dozed off during some important parts of the film, which I think led me to certain misinterpretations that hindered my enjoyment of it.
Michael and I are doing a marriage class right now that is based on a couple of William Harley's books. This movie convinced me that I should have ranked the need for financial support higher on my list of important marital needs. The film begins with a family that is $600 thousand dollars in debt while the husband builds a rocket in his barn that he intends to fly once around the earth. They were about to lose everything, while seeming rather complacent about it, which made me incredibly uncomfortable. There is a Deus Ex Machina midway through the film which, by definition, brings a great deal of relief, but this increased my objection to the film because I felt that it brought with it a false sense of hope to those who might be influenced by the film to make increasingly bad choices in real life.
Like I said, I believe I have misinterpreted this film. They handle the stress of the situation, and the consequences of bad choices in positive ways that I totally missed because I was so sleepy. The movie is actually about dreams. The poorly written description of the movie on the back of the DVD case had set me off on the wrong foot.
Michael said something to me at one point about pursuing those activities that you really enjoy in life, and I responded that all I really want to do is read and write--a lot, but that doesn't put dinner on the table. He thought I meant figuratively, not literally, and so said that I could feed my family this way eventually, but I can't figure out how.
3. Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End
I have really enjoyed this trilogy, and all I will say here is that I think Disney has handled the whole concept of fantasy with this series quite well, although each of the films is probably a bit too long. The series winds up with a true storybook ending, instead of the Hollywood storybook ending most of us have come to expect from film.
4. Lady in the Water
We watched this last night. I wasn't particularly interested in seeing this movie, even though I have enjoyed most of M. Night Shyamalan's other films. The movie wasn't perfect, but by the time we made it to the end I was in love. I commented to Michael that I don't think this movie could possibly have done very well in the box office, but that I don't think Shyamalan particularly cares. I think he is much more interested in making an interesting film. This movie won my heart because of its emphasis on the elements of storytelling. It's one that we will have to add to our DVD collection in time.
That's it, and now Parker is awake and ready to get out of bed.
Catching up on Promised Posts
A couple of weeks ago I promised I would soon post on certain items that were in my mind, but now that the Christmas portion of the holidays have passed it no longer seems appropriate (or interesting) to write about any of those things. I confess that I was in magazine mode at the time I wrote that "Coming Soon" headline.
Instead I'll share a funny little tidbit concerning how we (Michael and I) celebrate Christmas with our respective families. It all has to do with the two boxes of Dark Chocolate, Chocolate Covered Cherries waiting to be consumed on top of my microwave oven.
Michael's parents give him a box of chocolate covered cherries every year for Christmas because Michael loves them. My parents give me a box of chocolate covered cherries every year for Christmas because I hate them. It's one of our family jokes, like calling my brother David "What'sisname" all the time, or always singing Happy Birthday as out of tune and screechily as possible. These family traditions evolved independently, before Michael and I were even married.
There is, of course, a story to go with my chocolate covered cherries, which I may choose to share later.
Instead I'll share a funny little tidbit concerning how we (Michael and I) celebrate Christmas with our respective families. It all has to do with the two boxes of Dark Chocolate, Chocolate Covered Cherries waiting to be consumed on top of my microwave oven.
Michael's parents give him a box of chocolate covered cherries every year for Christmas because Michael loves them. My parents give me a box of chocolate covered cherries every year for Christmas because I hate them. It's one of our family jokes, like calling my brother David "What'sisname" all the time, or always singing Happy Birthday as out of tune and screechily as possible. These family traditions evolved independently, before Michael and I were even married.
There is, of course, a story to go with my chocolate covered cherries, which I may choose to share later.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Gas Logs Sure(ly) Are Pretty, But Are They Practical?
I have a lot to catch up on as we leave the winter holidays behind and begin the new year. Since Parker just woke up from his nap, let me start with this question.
We recently discovered, this being our first winter in this house, that we once again rely on Alagasco to meet our heating needs. The question arises because, for the first time ever, we have a fireplace in our living room complete with a gas line and what I've assumed are vented gas logs. Vented logs burn hotter than do the ventless alternative installed in a faux fireplace. My question, then, is this: What impact will burning the gas logs have on our energy bill? Is burning the gas logs while turning down the thermostat on the central heat unit a viable option?
My main concerns are obvious. I'd prefer to waste my money on something a bit more frivolous than gas heat if money is to be wasted. Also I'd like to keep my son from freezing in his own room, especially considering the chest cold of which he is currently suffering.
What do you think?
We recently discovered, this being our first winter in this house, that we once again rely on Alagasco to meet our heating needs. The question arises because, for the first time ever, we have a fireplace in our living room complete with a gas line and what I've assumed are vented gas logs. Vented logs burn hotter than do the ventless alternative installed in a faux fireplace. My question, then, is this: What impact will burning the gas logs have on our energy bill? Is burning the gas logs while turning down the thermostat on the central heat unit a viable option?
My main concerns are obvious. I'd prefer to waste my money on something a bit more frivolous than gas heat if money is to be wasted. Also I'd like to keep my son from freezing in his own room, especially considering the chest cold of which he is currently suffering.
What do you think?
Friday, December 21, 2007
Christmas Presents
We made ornaments as Christmas gifts for family members this year. Unfortunately now that they are complete I find them rather dinky in their mode as gifts. Therefore Anna Grace will be joining me tomorrow to make both Christmas Cookies and some other certain goodies to supplement these gifts. I find the it is necessary to plan ahead for the coming year, and determine that next time I WILL be creative. I cannot afford to wait until the last minute to come up with good ideas. Do any of you have tips for making plans for the year ahead? Christmas, Easter, birthdays and anniversarys, all are fair game in the coming year.
Rise and Fall by Evelyn Waugh
I finished the book this morning. Paul Featherstone languished in prison for a while along with several of his pals. Prendergast, who Waugh describes as a modern churchman who believes in nothing in particular, meets a gruesome end as his head is removed by an inmate in the prison where Paul first serves time as a white slaver, and by the end of the story Paul has made his way back to the beginning.
There are some moments in the text that must mean something. Paul enjoys his confinement, and his consideration of that information is certainly interesting. A narrator breaks in somewhere halfway through the book and explains that Paul isn't a hero, that in fact he is no more than a ghost of himself while the events of the novel are taking place.
Any Evelyn Waugh fanatics out there want to share with me their insight?
This afternoon I considered moving on to some more lighthearted reading in the genre of the mystery novel. I've seen several episodes of Bones on the Fox Network that have been interesting, which leaves me tempted to try one of Kathy Reich's novels. Carol O'Connol has a new Kathy Mallory out that I haven't read yet that I saw in the bookstore this afternoon. At the same time two independent parties have recommended Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, which I also saw at the bookstore this afternoon.
Any one of those, gruesome as two of them may be, has to be lighter hearted than anything by Evelyn Waugh, but I find that I enjoy Catholic authors so much. I read The Heart of the Matter long ago when I was first getting started with Graham Green, and said to Michael that it certainly was a Catholic novel. Why do you guess would I find such work so compelling? According to several of the essays in Yancy's collection More Than Words many Christian authors find themselves first attracted to the Episcopal Church, then find themselves inexorably drawn into Roman Catholicism. Any ideas on why this may be?
There are some moments in the text that must mean something. Paul enjoys his confinement, and his consideration of that information is certainly interesting. A narrator breaks in somewhere halfway through the book and explains that Paul isn't a hero, that in fact he is no more than a ghost of himself while the events of the novel are taking place.
Any Evelyn Waugh fanatics out there want to share with me their insight?
This afternoon I considered moving on to some more lighthearted reading in the genre of the mystery novel. I've seen several episodes of Bones on the Fox Network that have been interesting, which leaves me tempted to try one of Kathy Reich's novels. Carol O'Connol has a new Kathy Mallory out that I haven't read yet that I saw in the bookstore this afternoon. At the same time two independent parties have recommended Alexander McCall Smith's No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, which I also saw at the bookstore this afternoon.
Any one of those, gruesome as two of them may be, has to be lighter hearted than anything by Evelyn Waugh, but I find that I enjoy Catholic authors so much. I read The Heart of the Matter long ago when I was first getting started with Graham Green, and said to Michael that it certainly was a Catholic novel. Why do you guess would I find such work so compelling? According to several of the essays in Yancy's collection More Than Words many Christian authors find themselves first attracted to the Episcopal Church, then find themselves inexorably drawn into Roman Catholicism. Any ideas on why this may be?
Thursday, December 20, 2007
One More Thing To Say Before I Leave To Live With Waugh for a While?
How can I be both a cynic and a romantic?
Maybe Chesterton, along with some of the other authors I've been reading, would say that you cannot be one without the other. You must have high ideals before you can recognize how sadly this world shortfalls them.
Belief and Doubt are both extremes that coexist within the Christian faith according to Chesterton's Orthodoxy. I believe so much, but doubt so much in the same expansive breath. Maybe the difference isn't so contradictory as Prendergast of Waugh's Rise and Fall believes (see post below, quotation near the end of "All About Parker."
Maybe Chesterton, along with some of the other authors I've been reading, would say that you cannot be one without the other. You must have high ideals before you can recognize how sadly this world shortfalls them.
Belief and Doubt are both extremes that coexist within the Christian faith according to Chesterton's Orthodoxy. I believe so much, but doubt so much in the same expansive breath. Maybe the difference isn't so contradictory as Prendergast of Waugh's Rise and Fall believes (see post below, quotation near the end of "All About Parker."
Little House on the Prairie
We've made it to the beginning of Season 5 with Little House on the Prairie. Can you believe this show was on for a total of ten seasons? The event I had been dreading and waiting for occurred at the end of Season 4 (I won't mention what it was for those of you who don't already know) and because of the trouble between the Grangers and the Railroad we were compelled to start in on Season 5 with a vengeance. One thing that makes me very happy is that Mary is finally with a man who is worthy of her. Makes the boys she was previously involved with seem much too childish.
In some ways this seems an important lesson for girls who are now in college. It certainly would have been a good lesson for me had I been able to receive it. In youth we suffer painful losses in relationships that sometimes make us feel as though we've missed our chance at happiness. I realize it's only a television show, but when you compare the man Mary eventually does marry with the one she was once engaged to, it's obvious to me which one is better, which one God actually chose for her.
I want to take this idea further, say so much more, but instead I'm going to have to let it go. It's time for sleep.
In some ways this seems an important lesson for girls who are now in college. It certainly would have been a good lesson for me had I been able to receive it. In youth we suffer painful losses in relationships that sometimes make us feel as though we've missed our chance at happiness. I realize it's only a television show, but when you compare the man Mary eventually does marry with the one she was once engaged to, it's obvious to me which one is better, which one God actually chose for her.
I want to take this idea further, say so much more, but instead I'm going to have to let it go. It's time for sleep.
Briefly: Book Notes and One Note On Music
I got these books at the library yesterday, but I told Michael I felt I needed to finish at least one book before starting another. Robert G. loaned me The Papa Prayer by Larry Crabb that I haven't started yet, and of course the three from the library already mentioned.
So I finished More Than Words last night. Hurray! Not that I was happy to see the book end, but that I had actually completed some one thing that I was reading. That made room for the Evelyn Waugh, borrowed on the recommendation of Gregory Wolfe in my favorite More Than Words essay, Evelyn Waugh: Savage Indignation. In this essay Wolfe mentions other Catholic authors (O'Connor and Greene included) who wrestle with matters of faith within the framework of their books, a subject I am more than interested in.
The problem I have with Waugh is that I'm not always good with satire. On occasion irony is beyond me, and this makes Waugh, for me, rather difficult to understand. As I told Michael, I'm almost finished with the book, but I'm not sure I really know what is going on. Nontheless, there are bits and snatches of the book (Decline and Fall) I recognize as pretty cool, and I imagine that if I continue to think about it for very long after the book has been read I might be able to figure out a thing or two, for example this advice give to Paul Pennyfeather as he takes his place as a schoolmaster at Llanabba Castle, "We schoolmasters must temper discretion with deceit (24)."
In other news, I found out today that one of my favorite musicians, Don Chaffer, has just put out a new solo album disguised as a different sort of project. The record is called The Khrusty Brothers, and is purported to be a record by an Appalachian Family, but is actually just good old Don and Waterdeep. I must have this record. Maybe for my birthday. I enjoyed listening to clips from this record, and Waterdeep's latest, Heart Attack Time Machine, on www.waterdeep.com. Actually, I didn't have to listen to Heart Attack Time Machine because I participated in the pre-release of the mp3 files months ago. If only I could learn music production from Don Chaffer, that would be something.
So I finished More Than Words last night. Hurray! Not that I was happy to see the book end, but that I had actually completed some one thing that I was reading. That made room for the Evelyn Waugh, borrowed on the recommendation of Gregory Wolfe in my favorite More Than Words essay, Evelyn Waugh: Savage Indignation. In this essay Wolfe mentions other Catholic authors (O'Connor and Greene included) who wrestle with matters of faith within the framework of their books, a subject I am more than interested in.
The problem I have with Waugh is that I'm not always good with satire. On occasion irony is beyond me, and this makes Waugh, for me, rather difficult to understand. As I told Michael, I'm almost finished with the book, but I'm not sure I really know what is going on. Nontheless, there are bits and snatches of the book (Decline and Fall) I recognize as pretty cool, and I imagine that if I continue to think about it for very long after the book has been read I might be able to figure out a thing or two, for example this advice give to Paul Pennyfeather as he takes his place as a schoolmaster at Llanabba Castle, "We schoolmasters must temper discretion with deceit (24)."
In other news, I found out today that one of my favorite musicians, Don Chaffer, has just put out a new solo album disguised as a different sort of project. The record is called The Khrusty Brothers, and is purported to be a record by an Appalachian Family, but is actually just good old Don and Waterdeep. I must have this record. Maybe for my birthday. I enjoyed listening to clips from this record, and Waterdeep's latest, Heart Attack Time Machine, on www.waterdeep.com. Actually, I didn't have to listen to Heart Attack Time Machine because I participated in the pre-release of the mp3 files months ago. If only I could learn music production from Don Chaffer, that would be something.
Not Quite Ready for the Library Just Yet
I'm so happy to say that I have my husband home with me for an entire week.
I took Parker to the library on Wednesday while Michael and Damon went to a movie. I thought that because Parker has begun bringing books to us regularly in the past month or so perhaps he is ready to enjoy the public library. It was the perfect opportunity to try out my theory since I had easy access to our one and only vehicle.
I did manage to find three of the books I was looking for at least. Even though I didn't like the Tim Stafford essay I mentioned in a post last week, I did decide to take his recommendation and give Dickens another chance with David Copperfield. I had to go to Young Adult Fiction to find a paperback copy. I had hoped for a Penguin or an Everyman's Library but had to make due with a dinky Airmont Classic. I admit that I prefer a certain level of elegance even in my borrowed fiction. I'm sorry to say I chose the Evelyn Waugh based on the beauty of its paper binding.
The thing I hate about a lot of the Young Adult Classic Literature in our particular public library is that most of them are not bar coded and you have to sign them out on a yellow pad at the circulation desk. The library gets your name and the fact that you have one of their books, but no record of which book you have actually taken. So how can they know when or if you have brought it back? I somehow feel threatened by the informality of the situation.
I also (joy of joys) found Annie Dillard's The Living, a novel I have been look for a while, ever since reading a short story version published in The Annie Dillard Reader. I've tried it before, but stand a better chance of getting into it this time. Yay!! Now if I could only get a hold of that Gabaldon, Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade.
Parker, he didn't do so well. I mean to say, he behaved very well. He obviously enjoyed being out. The thing is, he would choose a book, but then he wasn't interested in looking at more than a page or two before choosing another one. He certainly wasn't interested in having me read all of anything. I therefore concluded that Parker isn't quite ready to check out books from the public library at this time. Maybe by the time I have to return the three that I checked out he'll be ready to give it another go. Until then I guess we'll stick with My Little Animal Book and My First Mother Goose. If Parker ever eventually gives up his early morning nap maybe we'll be able to attend the story hour at the library, but until then Parker continues to need his sleep around 10:00 each morning.
I was tempted to get The Tigger Movie for him, but I hated to check out a children's DVD but no books. Maybe I'll try some of the music next time.
I took Parker to the library on Wednesday while Michael and Damon went to a movie. I thought that because Parker has begun bringing books to us regularly in the past month or so perhaps he is ready to enjoy the public library. It was the perfect opportunity to try out my theory since I had easy access to our one and only vehicle.
I did manage to find three of the books I was looking for at least. Even though I didn't like the Tim Stafford essay I mentioned in a post last week, I did decide to take his recommendation and give Dickens another chance with David Copperfield. I had to go to Young Adult Fiction to find a paperback copy. I had hoped for a Penguin or an Everyman's Library but had to make due with a dinky Airmont Classic. I admit that I prefer a certain level of elegance even in my borrowed fiction. I'm sorry to say I chose the Evelyn Waugh based on the beauty of its paper binding.
The thing I hate about a lot of the Young Adult Classic Literature in our particular public library is that most of them are not bar coded and you have to sign them out on a yellow pad at the circulation desk. The library gets your name and the fact that you have one of their books, but no record of which book you have actually taken. So how can they know when or if you have brought it back? I somehow feel threatened by the informality of the situation.
I also (joy of joys) found Annie Dillard's The Living, a novel I have been look for a while, ever since reading a short story version published in The Annie Dillard Reader. I've tried it before, but stand a better chance of getting into it this time. Yay!! Now if I could only get a hold of that Gabaldon, Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade.
Parker, he didn't do so well. I mean to say, he behaved very well. He obviously enjoyed being out. The thing is, he would choose a book, but then he wasn't interested in looking at more than a page or two before choosing another one. He certainly wasn't interested in having me read all of anything. I therefore concluded that Parker isn't quite ready to check out books from the public library at this time. Maybe by the time I have to return the three that I checked out he'll be ready to give it another go. Until then I guess we'll stick with My Little Animal Book and My First Mother Goose. If Parker ever eventually gives up his early morning nap maybe we'll be able to attend the story hour at the library, but until then Parker continues to need his sleep around 10:00 each morning.
I was tempted to get The Tigger Movie for him, but I hated to check out a children's DVD but no books. Maybe I'll try some of the music next time.
All About Parker
Monday morning I looked into the kitchen to see Parker climbing all the way in to his favorite kitchen cabinet. I didn't get a picture of him inside the cabinet, but I did get some shots shortly thereafter. Other pictures posted here show him playing with toys our neighbors, Danny and Mary, brought over to the house last Friday. I'm withholding their last names simply because this is potentially such a public forum.
Not long ago I noticed that Parker had gotten two new teeth on bottom which gave him an even four on top and four on bottom, each set lined up in a tidy little row. I may have mentioned it here. I don't remember. I meant at the time to give Michael credit for seeing them before I did. He told me Parker had new teeth and I didn't believe him. Well today I got my finger inside his mouth and discovered two even newer teeth for a grand total of ten! These new ones are on the top, way back in the back and they are well exposed. There may be one or two teeth due to come in between each of the new ones and those that were already in place. This is a very exciting finding for us and I must be certain I mark it in my calendar where, as you know, I keep track of all sorts of details of this nature.
Incidentally, I came across Parker's name in an Evelyn Waugh novel I began last night, Decline and Fall. Mr. Prendergast shares how he abandoned a vocation in the church to become a shoolmaster with the protagonist, Paul Pennyfeather:
"...It wasn't any ordinary sort of Doubt about Cain's wife or the Old Testament miracles or the consecration of Archbishop Parker. I'd been taught how to explain all those while I was at college. No, it was something deeper than all that. I couldn't understand why God had made the world at all (38, italics theirs)."
I wonder what our friend Ben would say about this, seminarian that he is. What kind of doubts are those that drive us to community and what are those kinds of doubts that drive us away? So maybe this post isn't all about Parker.
(Please note: I'm still having difficulty managing pictures through blogger. I've tried to fix things so the look nicer and flow better, but I just can't. I find I'm just not interested enough to do the research needed to solve the problem, though I am certainly interested enough to complain within the confines of the forum. You guys may be more interested in the pictures than in the commentary anyway.)
Rules for Walking and Bicycling
I haven't researched this yet, though I've been meaning to for years. My opinion has long been that walkers should follow the same rules of the road as cyclists. Obviously I don't mean they should walk on the street instead of using the sidewalk whenever available. What I do mean is that walkers and cyclists both should walk/ride in the same direction as traffic. My reasoning is thus: drivers on the road are conditioned to pay attention to their surroundings in very specific ways. When turning right onto a two way street, the driver typically only looks to those travelers moving in the same direction as he is; he pays more attention to what is happening on his left than he does to what is happening on his right. Turning left of course the driver has to look both ways, but turning right he is much less likely to. I have also argued that walking in the same direction on the same side of the road as traffic gives drivers much more opportunity to see the walker/rider than he otherwise might.
Susanne Pleshette, Fran Drescher, Helen Hunt and the USDA Food Safety Guidelines
I've mentioned each of the actresses above because I have seen each of them handle raw meat, wipe their hands on a dishcloth, and go on about other business on their respective television shows. My question is this: how long have the USDA food safety guidelines been in place.
I am really paranoid about handling raw meat in my kitchen. I run hot sudsy water in my kitchen sink before handling the meat; I wash the dishes and wipe down the counters that the meat has touched as soon as possible; I run fresh sudsy water to wash any remaining dishes. Because I never feel as though I have taken quite enough precautions I find myself often praying over my kitchen, "Oh God, please protect my husband and my son from my poor attempts at housekeeping."
So do these actresses wipe their hands on dishclothes due to television convention, or are hand-washing recommendations a recent development? The number of ads both on television and the radio indicate to me that they may be. Obviously I haven't researched this.
I am really paranoid about handling raw meat in my kitchen. I run hot sudsy water in my kitchen sink before handling the meat; I wash the dishes and wipe down the counters that the meat has touched as soon as possible; I run fresh sudsy water to wash any remaining dishes. Because I never feel as though I have taken quite enough precautions I find myself often praying over my kitchen, "Oh God, please protect my husband and my son from my poor attempts at housekeeping."
So do these actresses wipe their hands on dishclothes due to television convention, or are hand-washing recommendations a recent development? The number of ads both on television and the radio indicate to me that they may be. Obviously I haven't researched this.
Parker Cleans the Bathroom Floor
Parker got himself into some trouble a little bit ago that he couldn't get out of on his own. He had independantly walked into another part of the house from where we were seated, and it was quiet, so we knew that he wasn't pulling out our CDs or DVDs or playing with the water in the bathroom. A few moments later we heard a small crash followed by what seemed to be a call for help.
Parker had opened and upended a bottle of baby shampoo in the bathroom, and had subsequently slipped in it. His little body was anchored against the wall by head and arm, and he knew that he needed help to right himself. No harm done, except that I'm now out two-thirds of a bottle of shampoo, Parker has had a total of two baths today, and I'm getting to do that extra load of laundry I had hoped to work in. My bathroom floor is really shiney, too.
I don't know why the bathroom door wasn't closed, or whether he got the door open on his own. I'm just glad that there wasn't any serious damage.
Parker had opened and upended a bottle of baby shampoo in the bathroom, and had subsequently slipped in it. His little body was anchored against the wall by head and arm, and he knew that he needed help to right himself. No harm done, except that I'm now out two-thirds of a bottle of shampoo, Parker has had a total of two baths today, and I'm getting to do that extra load of laundry I had hoped to work in. My bathroom floor is really shiney, too.
I don't know why the bathroom door wasn't closed, or whether he got the door open on his own. I'm just glad that there wasn't any serious damage.
Re-orientation
I have so much to say, I don't know where to start, nor how to make a cohesive narrative out of my musings. For the last several days I have had no desire to write anything, not even in my calendar. As we realized this morning, Michael has been writing voluminous responses in the evolution debate on http://www.oneambition.com/, if only to keep the authorial equilibrium within the Fox household. (In point of fact, his writing has little to do with my own. At this point I think that he should author a book, although the efforts of his editor (myself) would avail him little. I can't even read the stuff.)
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Coming Soon:...
...an excerpt from a Robertson Davies short story that is an updated version of A Christmas Carol; remembrances from when my brother and I appeared in A Christmas Carol fifteen years ago; notes on how my Dad and Parker made me laugh and laugh this evening; observations on trusting God with certain needs that are in my life right now; and why I have a serious problem with an essay I read by Tim Stafford this past week.
Do any of you know who Tim Stafford is (besides a senior writer at Christianity Today) and if so, can you tell me anything about him that will make me like him better than I do right now? Right now I only have one essay by which to judge the man and it may not be entirely his fault that this particular essay said exactly the wrong things to favorably impress me.
Do any of you know who Tim Stafford is (besides a senior writer at Christianity Today) and if so, can you tell me anything about him that will make me like him better than I do right now? Right now I only have one essay by which to judge the man and it may not be entirely his fault that this particular essay said exactly the wrong things to favorably impress me.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Early Christmas Presents
We got our Christmas present from my parents today. It is a 50s television cabinet that we found at Circlewood Thriftstore. We got it to elevate our television just out of Parker's reach and to hide the other ancillary machines (DVD player, stereo) with buttons that Parker loves to press. Unfortunately our CD player was damaged just a few days ago.
I almost got the picture I wanted from yesterday, the one in which Parker ran to us with such glee. The one I really wanted turned out to be blurry. This photo (above) almost communicates that feeling, but isn't the one I had hoped for.
Update on the Status of My Reading
At some point I am going to publish a harangue against Charles Dickens, in hopes that someone will convince me that I shouldn't give up on him entirely just yet. I've just read an essay about him that I didn't care for for a number of reasons. Again, that's another post.
In the meantime I'll make a couple of notes concerning the status of my reading. I'm still working on Orthodoxy and have a couple of chapters in it to go. The last couple of nights I haven't had the presence of mind to tackle it. It requires too much concentration.
In the meantime I'll make a couple of notes concerning the status of my reading. I'm still working on Orthodoxy and have a couple of chapters in it to go. The last couple of nights I haven't had the presence of mind to tackle it. It requires too much concentration.
I've lain aside The Last Eyewitness once again. That book just doesn't engage me the way my other reading has, which makes me think about the occasional inaccessibility of scripture--by which I mean to say that scripture reads differently at different times. Sometimes it is alive and engaging to the extent that you can feel it working within you. Other times it seems almost indecipherable. The words and phrases seem to be strung together in a way that makes no sense at all. I felt this way during a study of II Corinthians I was recently involved in (at no fault of the study's leader), and again when Jesus's words to his diciples were recounted in The Last Eyewitness. In both cases I couldn't figure out how once sentence was related to another. Yet other times the scripture transports you to your childhood when the stories became so familiar that they seemed to lose all meaning, and you find your mind disengaging from large parts of the text all together. This is certainly a troubling phenomenon.
I'm still enjoying More Than Words, although I was a little disappointed in the Madeliene L'Engle essay on MacDonald, and strongly disliked the one I just read on Dicken's by Tim Stafford. Again, more on that later.
Yesterday I picked up Don Quixote which I have planned to read ever since enjoying Monseinor Quixote by Graham Greene.
Baby Loves Music
Parker loves music. He really, really does. Lately, as you know, I've been watching The Bob Newhart Show through Netflix and everytime the credits roll, Parker stops and takes notice. He turns around from whatever he is doing, faces the television screen, and often he dances, as only a 14 month old child can, with arms up in the air. Occasionally he bends his knees and bounces a little bit. He really likes it.
We used to always skip past the credits when watching a television program on DVD, but not anymore. As a matter of fact at times we would go through Star Trek credits twice just because Parker enjoyed them so much.
Last night Michael and I watched the movie Shine. The movie wasn't a life changing one, an in general it was fairly depressing, but the music was wonderful. Parker was with us for about half of it. Anyway, the point of the post: There's this scene about midway through the film in which David Helfgott plays the Rachmaninoff Number 3 with a full orchestra. Parker became very much involved in this portion of the movie, to the extent that at the end of the performance he threw his little arms up over his head and ran toward us with the biggest smile on his face that I have ever seen. I wish that I could have taken a picture of him at that moment, but the image is clear in my mind as I know it will not be given another week.
Another adorable thing he did was to start voluntarily clapping whenever there were applause on screen.
We used to always skip past the credits when watching a television program on DVD, but not anymore. As a matter of fact at times we would go through Star Trek credits twice just because Parker enjoyed them so much.
Last night Michael and I watched the movie Shine. The movie wasn't a life changing one, an in general it was fairly depressing, but the music was wonderful. Parker was with us for about half of it. Anyway, the point of the post: There's this scene about midway through the film in which David Helfgott plays the Rachmaninoff Number 3 with a full orchestra. Parker became very much involved in this portion of the movie, to the extent that at the end of the performance he threw his little arms up over his head and ran toward us with the biggest smile on his face that I have ever seen. I wish that I could have taken a picture of him at that moment, but the image is clear in my mind as I know it will not be given another week.
Another adorable thing he did was to start voluntarily clapping whenever there were applause on screen.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
To Be an Example
Going back to something Jim and I were discussing earlier: I have long thought that it was my responsibility, in a small way perhaps, to show people that it is important that they mean what they say. The way I most typically highlight this is as follows: Someone asks me how I am in greeting, and I answer with a true, if brief, response. I'll often say something like, "This has been a particularly difficult day today. How are you?" I will do this in a very cheery voice so as to signal that the other person is under no obligation to pursue the matter. This way I can be truthful without burdening someone who isn't really interested.
Michael doesn't necessarily approve of my doing this.
I don't really care for the peremptory "How are you?" so if I really want to know how a person is I'll say "How are you doing?" in a tone of voice meant to signal that I truly am interested in how they are doing. Whether or not these signals are received really is the other persons problem, not mine.
More on this later.
Michael doesn't necessarily approve of my doing this.
I don't really care for the peremptory "How are you?" so if I really want to know how a person is I'll say "How are you doing?" in a tone of voice meant to signal that I truly am interested in how they are doing. Whether or not these signals are received really is the other persons problem, not mine.
Concerning My Transubstantiation Post
I've been thinking about it this morning, and I think I should mention that I don't think there actually has to be a difference between actual and symbolic transformation in some cases. In other words, I'm not saying that the wine actually takes on the biological characteristics of blood, or that the bread actually takes on the biological characteristics of flesh. I'm saying that the bread and wine don't merely represent the body and blood of Christ, but as far as God is concerned it is the body and blood of Christ. That's why it is so very important to take Holy Communion seriously.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Transubstantiation and Kashrut
The evolutionary debate on http://www.oneambition.com/ got me thinking about Communion. Quite a leap, I know. I'll try and explain if I can.
At one point in college I became very much aware of the mystery of the scriptures. I must have been reading either Madeleine L'Engle (Walking on Water) or Flannery O'Connor (Mystery and Manners) at the time. As a matter of fact, I don't think I was reading either of those authors back then, so actually I don't know where this came from, probably something Wes said once. Anyway, I decided back then that belief in the Catholic doctrine of Transubstatiation had no real bearing on the observation of Holy Communion. God could change the wine into blood if He so chose, and it could still taste just like wine to me. I concluded that it therefore didn't matter whether the description of the elements was either literal or symbolic. I was told by the RUF minister at the time that it really did matter, but I only agreed with about two-thirds of what he ever said anyway, so it didn't bother me much.
I realize now that he may have had a couple of different issues in mind. A) He may have been saying that whether the text was literal or symbolic had some sort of direct bearing on the authority of scripture. Now that I think about it some more, surely not. But the precise nature of the authority of scriptures appears to me to be a major issue in Reformed Theology. (I once laughed at a coffee mug that had something about the complete revealed Word of God printed on it by saying, "Can you fit all of that on a coffee mug?," not realizing at the time that it was a quotation from the Confession.) All sorts of precision appear to be major issues in Reformed Theology. B) I don't remember what the other possibility was. Maybe it will come back to me later.
Back to my point about communion. If at the Last Supper the Disciples all partook of the body and blood of Christ, wasn't kosher law effectively destroyed, in their own bodies at least? Why then did Peter and Paul have an issue about kosher law later? And why didn't Cornelius's vision convince Peter that kashrut no longer had to be observed?
By the way, my dad might be able to answer this one for me: Do Messianic Jews still observe the Levitical Law concerning food?
At one point in college I became very much aware of the mystery of the scriptures. I must have been reading either Madeleine L'Engle (Walking on Water) or Flannery O'Connor (Mystery and Manners) at the time. As a matter of fact, I don't think I was reading either of those authors back then, so actually I don't know where this came from, probably something Wes said once. Anyway, I decided back then that belief in the Catholic doctrine of Transubstatiation had no real bearing on the observation of Holy Communion. God could change the wine into blood if He so chose, and it could still taste just like wine to me. I concluded that it therefore didn't matter whether the description of the elements was either literal or symbolic. I was told by the RUF minister at the time that it really did matter, but I only agreed with about two-thirds of what he ever said anyway, so it didn't bother me much.
I realize now that he may have had a couple of different issues in mind. A) He may have been saying that whether the text was literal or symbolic had some sort of direct bearing on the authority of scripture. Now that I think about it some more, surely not. But the precise nature of the authority of scriptures appears to me to be a major issue in Reformed Theology. (I once laughed at a coffee mug that had something about the complete revealed Word of God printed on it by saying, "Can you fit all of that on a coffee mug?," not realizing at the time that it was a quotation from the Confession.) All sorts of precision appear to be major issues in Reformed Theology. B) I don't remember what the other possibility was. Maybe it will come back to me later.
Back to my point about communion. If at the Last Supper the Disciples all partook of the body and blood of Christ, wasn't kosher law effectively destroyed, in their own bodies at least? Why then did Peter and Paul have an issue about kosher law later? And why didn't Cornelius's vision convince Peter that kashrut no longer had to be observed?
By the way, my dad might be able to answer this one for me: Do Messianic Jews still observe the Levitical Law concerning food?
Photo taken in Sunset Mode
Parker and Anna Grace and I had a good time out on the quad yesterday afternoon. Parker enjoyed getting to run around in the grass and mud, and he was very interested in the squirrels. I took a bunch of pictures (and a video of him eating a banana), but a lot of them are blurry because I didn't have a tripod to use with the camara's sunset mode.
The Bob Newhart Show
Last weekend I started watching The Bob Newhart Show through Netflix. You know the one, where Bob Newhart is a psychologist, newly married to a woman who looks just like Susanne Pleshette, and Marcia Wallace is his receptionist. I'm doing a bit of character/actor blending here. I had never actually seen the show before, and was thrilled to realize that Marcia Wallace does at least one of the voices on my dad's only favorite television show, The Simpsons. I wondered if Ms. Crabapple's figure may have been modeled on Marcia Wallace's.
With Marcia Wallace in mind, I took the DVD over to my parent's house on Sunday so that they could watch it too. Anna Grace was understandably shocked at some of the risque humor.
With Marcia Wallace in mind, I took the DVD over to my parent's house on Sunday so that they could watch it too. Anna Grace was understandably shocked at some of the risque humor.
Long ago I noticed that Doris Day films tended to involve her character's engaging in a lot of questionable activity. And it seems that in some ways television of the 70's was much more sexually evocative than, for example, the more blatant sexual humor used on a show like Friends, even though it was suggestive rather than explicit. This is no new observation, I realize, but it does hit me anew from time to time. And if you consider the era in which these shows were written, it should come as no surprise.
I admit I am curious about the history of sexuality as portrayed on television.
The Bob Newhart Show brought up other questions for me. Do I really like British television so much, or is it just that I like shows that are old? Considering the wonderful literary adaptations the BBC has produced, and the degree to which I like British authors, I suppose it is safe to say that I like British television. But apparently I like old television as well. Perhaps the explanation is that the two were more similar in the past than they are today. One of the things I like about Bob Newhart, as opposed to simply Newhart, is some of the women's clothes, and the furnishings of the Hartley apartment.
The episodes of the show I saw over the weekend were very funny, and many of the characters were charming. I was distinctly uncomfortable, however, with the one where the receptionist considers moving in with her nearly divorced boyfriend, even though by the end of the show Bob had helped him realize that he needed to return to his wife.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Institute for Writing & Thinking at Bard College, Annandale-on-Hudson, New York
It's been a long day; I am really tired, but I've got to get at least two items out of my head and onto the blog before I can go to bed.
Item #1: This is a question to which I seriously desire an answer. Research is what it is. This may not be the last time I ask this question, and it is as follows: Have any of you ever used writing to work out the meaning of something you read? If so, what technique did you use, and anecdotally, what was the result? I ask because I would like to learn how to do this.
Item #2: In the caption to this blog I say that I will "pull a thought at random from those swirlling 'round my mind." I've been a little uneasy about this caption only because I wasn't completely happy with the way those words together sound. I was very gratified the other day therefore to find that Chesterton uses a similar phrase in Orthodoxy. On page 85 of my edition he says that he will give instances of his argument "at random," which is exactly the part of the phrase that was bothering me.
The Caption is from a brochure I received in the mail a while back.
Item #1: This is a question to which I seriously desire an answer. Research is what it is. This may not be the last time I ask this question, and it is as follows: Have any of you ever used writing to work out the meaning of something you read? If so, what technique did you use, and anecdotally, what was the result? I ask because I would like to learn how to do this.
Item #2: In the caption to this blog I say that I will "pull a thought at random from those swirlling 'round my mind." I've been a little uneasy about this caption only because I wasn't completely happy with the way those words together sound. I was very gratified the other day therefore to find that Chesterton uses a similar phrase in Orthodoxy. On page 85 of my edition he says that he will give instances of his argument "at random," which is exactly the part of the phrase that was bothering me.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Another Word Game
I once found a lampshade back when I was working the sales floor at Lighting Plus. The shade had a tag attached to it that read "One of a Kind." At the time I joked that in this instance "one of a kind" was code for "That's one ugly lampshade. Please take it off our hands." Fortunately this particular lampshade was perfect for a lamp I had sitting in my apartment, and together lamp and shade weren't at all ugly, so I bought it.
Then I thought about those words, "one of a kind," a bit more.
Interpreted literally, "one of a kind" should really mean that this is one lampshade of a particular kind. In other words, there are lots of lampshades just like this one, and this is only one example of the kind. I think of an episode of Rugrats wherein Chukkie, pretending to be an ice-cream 'man, asks Lil what kind of ice-cream she would like. Lil responds, in that cute little toddler voice, "I want all the kinds."
Of course in actual usage "one of a kind" means that an object is unique, that there are no other objects that are like it. Usually the words "one of a kind" are paired with "original." Or maybe I'm mistaken. In reality "one of a kind" may actually be short for "one of a kind original" in which case current usage begins to make more sense.
Then I thought about those words, "one of a kind," a bit more.
Interpreted literally, "one of a kind" should really mean that this is one lampshade of a particular kind. In other words, there are lots of lampshades just like this one, and this is only one example of the kind. I think of an episode of Rugrats wherein Chukkie, pretending to be an ice-cream 'man, asks Lil what kind of ice-cream she would like. Lil responds, in that cute little toddler voice, "I want all the kinds."
Of course in actual usage "one of a kind" means that an object is unique, that there are no other objects that are like it. Usually the words "one of a kind" are paired with "original." Or maybe I'm mistaken. In reality "one of a kind" may actually be short for "one of a kind original" in which case current usage begins to make more sense.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Sara Jessica Parker, she used to be everywhere
I threatened my husband last night. I said, "Next time someone asks, I'll tell them we named our son after Sara Jessica Parker, just to see what kind of reaction I get. Would that embarass you?"
He paused, with Ms. Parker of The Pretender in mind, as played by the actress Andrea Parker. "We named him after the character, not the actress." He then stopped himself as he realized to whom I was referring. I don't know what expression came over his face at this point, nor do I know what he actually said (because I was driving at the time), but it ended with, "NOOOOOooooo! That would more than embarass me."
I had gotten my reaction.
The truth is that Parker is named after Charlie Parker, also known as "Bird," or "Yard Bird," the great bebop saxophonist who Michael enjoys so much. I think that Parker likes him too, although those are not the CDs he pulls from the shelves when let loose inside our bedroom. Poor little one can't read, you know, and all those musicians probably look alike to him besides.
We did NOT name our son after a fictional character. However, Ms. Parker is possibly my favorite female character in all of fiction. She is very tough, very mean, and absolutely gorgeous. Michael is obviously glad that I am not more like her.
He paused, with Ms. Parker of The Pretender in mind, as played by the actress Andrea Parker. "We named him after the character, not the actress." He then stopped himself as he realized to whom I was referring. I don't know what expression came over his face at this point, nor do I know what he actually said (because I was driving at the time), but it ended with, "NOOOOOooooo! That would more than embarass me."
I had gotten my reaction.
The truth is that Parker is named after Charlie Parker, also known as "Bird," or "Yard Bird," the great bebop saxophonist who Michael enjoys so much. I think that Parker likes him too, although those are not the CDs he pulls from the shelves when let loose inside our bedroom. Poor little one can't read, you know, and all those musicians probably look alike to him besides.
We did NOT name our son after a fictional character. However, Ms. Parker is possibly my favorite female character in all of fiction. She is very tough, very mean, and absolutely gorgeous. Michael is obviously glad that I am not more like her.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Minutiae
Briefly: I started a new book last night, one that's been on my shelf for a while: More Than Words: Contemporary Writers and the Works that Shaped Them. From the title you may be able to tell that it is a collection of essays about significant works in these writer's lives. The book was compiled by Philip Yancy, and I'm really enjoying it so far. I can't wait to see what Madeleine L'Engle has to say about George McDonald, since I've given up on reading anything by him for the moment.
Don't think the starting of a new book means I've finished any of the ones I previously started. I don't know what it is that gets inside my head and compells me to read up to six different things at once.
When I talked to my brother on the phone this morning he said that he was alright. I interrupted him at this point and asked him, what does that mean exactly? We generally use it to mean that we are doing not too poorly, but not exactly brilliantly either. "Alright" sounds like it means that everything in your life is right. But there's only one "l" in alright he reminded me. So maybe "alright" is actually a contraction of "almost right." We don't really know much about prefixes, he contributed.
It's just a thought.
Don't think the starting of a new book means I've finished any of the ones I previously started. I don't know what it is that gets inside my head and compells me to read up to six different things at once.
When I talked to my brother on the phone this morning he said that he was alright. I interrupted him at this point and asked him, what does that mean exactly? We generally use it to mean that we are doing not too poorly, but not exactly brilliantly either. "Alright" sounds like it means that everything in your life is right. But there's only one "l" in alright he reminded me. So maybe "alright" is actually a contraction of "almost right." We don't really know much about prefixes, he contributed.
It's just a thought.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
More Thoughts on Process Writing
I'm struggling with Parker and every electronic device in my life today, so even though I've been thinking A LOT this morning, I'm not going to even try to get any of it down here today.
I will say this: When I called my post on the uses of wealth and vocation "An Undisciplined Question" a couple of weeks ago, I was referring to the fact that I hadn't given the matter much forethought before putting it down on the page. I wasn't prepared to write an essay, only to note what I had been thinking that morning. You'll notice that I do that a lot, and the only reason this bothers me is because I am very serious about writing. I want to do it properly. I want to write things that are organized, properly annotated, and researched. At the same time, a professor of mine from graduate school told me that in order to become a good writer I had to do it everyday, for at least a small, set amount of time just to get my ideas out there and to develop the habit of writing. In real writing you go back and fix things, making them more accurate and detailed, later, at least that is how it works the way that I do it. This may be comensurate with the Peter Elbow pedagogy of writing. Elizabeth could probably tell me that for certain.
Let's just say that I am not in that frame of mind that will allow me to express in writing what I want to express in writing. There is too much going on.
I will say this: When I called my post on the uses of wealth and vocation "An Undisciplined Question" a couple of weeks ago, I was referring to the fact that I hadn't given the matter much forethought before putting it down on the page. I wasn't prepared to write an essay, only to note what I had been thinking that morning. You'll notice that I do that a lot, and the only reason this bothers me is because I am very serious about writing. I want to do it properly. I want to write things that are organized, properly annotated, and researched. At the same time, a professor of mine from graduate school told me that in order to become a good writer I had to do it everyday, for at least a small, set amount of time just to get my ideas out there and to develop the habit of writing. In real writing you go back and fix things, making them more accurate and detailed, later, at least that is how it works the way that I do it. This may be comensurate with the Peter Elbow pedagogy of writing. Elizabeth could probably tell me that for certain.
Let's just say that I am not in that frame of mind that will allow me to express in writing what I want to express in writing. There is too much going on.
Monday, December 3, 2007
It's funny how sometimes you can try so hard at something without effect, and other times you can barely try and success will come. This is a pattern, and it is an interesting one, but it certainly no guarantee--that's sort of what I've been reading about in Chesterton tonight. Chapter 4: The Ethics of Elfland. David F. told me yesterday that this is his favorite chapter.
The something I refer to above is my personal review of Orthodoxy. I picked up my book journal this morning intending to make notes on "What I am Reading Now" and all of the books I want to be reading as well. Inspired by the movie Luther, which Michael and I saw with my sister over the weekend, I picked up The Cost of Descipleship by Deitreich Bonhoffer to review what he says about the activities of Luther's followers after his death. The first chapter is probably the only part the book I have ever read, and I got no further than the index this time before being called away to something else. What I wound up writing in my journal was all Chesterton, my history with the book, why I decided to finally read the book now at this specific time, and what I understood from Chapter 3: The Suicide of Thought.
If I approach the George MacDonald text, The Truth in Jesus, in such a less intentional way as I approached my book journal this morning would I get so satisfactory a result? Probably not. Reading that particular text aloud may be more helpful, but it contains an aweful lot of language to be read out loud to a baby. And no pictures. At 14 mos., I don't think Parker would tolerate it.
The something I refer to above is my personal review of Orthodoxy. I picked up my book journal this morning intending to make notes on "What I am Reading Now" and all of the books I want to be reading as well. Inspired by the movie Luther, which Michael and I saw with my sister over the weekend, I picked up The Cost of Descipleship by Deitreich Bonhoffer to review what he says about the activities of Luther's followers after his death. The first chapter is probably the only part the book I have ever read, and I got no further than the index this time before being called away to something else. What I wound up writing in my journal was all Chesterton, my history with the book, why I decided to finally read the book now at this specific time, and what I understood from Chapter 3: The Suicide of Thought.
If I approach the George MacDonald text, The Truth in Jesus, in such a less intentional way as I approached my book journal this morning would I get so satisfactory a result? Probably not. Reading that particular text aloud may be more helpful, but it contains an aweful lot of language to be read out loud to a baby. And no pictures. At 14 mos., I don't think Parker would tolerate it.
FRUSTRATION
Let it hereafter be known that I am permenantly frustrated with the formatting on this thing.
Parker the Pony Wrangler
My mom took us to Toys-R-Us this afternoon on our way to Sam's Club. Parker loved the large automated pony that was posted near the front door. He petted it and fed it a carrot and laughed and smiled, and when he and I walked away from it together, Parker leading the way, we soon returned to the pony's side, where he petted it and laughed some more.
Thinking back on it now, Parker may have remembered that pony for most of the time that we were in the store. I couldn't figure out why Parker kept heading for the cash-registers, and thereby the exit, each time I let him take the lead. Maybe he knew that the pony was near the door, and maybe he thought that by making his way toward the door he was making his way toward the pony as well. It doesn't really matter. It does occur to me, however, that Parker reacted very similarly to that pony as he has when allowed to play with his Aunt Pam's dog. The boy likes animals.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Christmas Activities
Some of you may not be aware that Dickens Downtown is happening in Northport this coming Tuesday. Parker and I hope to go. I haven't decided yet whether I should convince Michael to come with us. I guess that depends on where the event falls on Harley's recreational activities scale (His Needs, Her Needs). You can read more about the event here: http://www.kentuck.org/events.html
Baby Noises
Parker has woken from his morning nap and he is in his room talking either to himself, or to his bear. He makes the sweetest sounds, and at times he laughs at we know not what.
Pitfalls of Reading and Writing
It pleases me to say that I am writing again. I'm writing here, on this blog, which is sort of an on-line journal where I can make statements, get feedback, and keep track of interesting things I will enjoy remembering about my baby's childhood. Remember that word: journal.
Last weekend I picked up my book journal for the first time in two years perhaps. It is a really adorable little book that a friend brought me from San Franscisco, and it is a joy to write in. Writing in this book will help me to remember things that I have read, to make notes on those things I really want to remember, and even analyse things I do not fully understand. It is a slightly more personal set of notes, but it is also a resource for ideas I may want to address publicly in the future. But there's that word again: journal.
Also last weekend, I picked up a very nice cloth bound journal that my sister-in-law got for me a few years ago. I've written in it off and on over the years, and I specifically picked it up last weekend to note something Michael said that was encouraging concerning our marriage. This is the most personal of the journals that I keep. Journal.
I also have a cloth bound calandar that I use to make notes about Parker, the type of stuff I get asked by other mother's from time to time, for instance, when he started sleeping through the night, etc. It also keeps up with appointments, the occasional to-do list, and things I might want to add to the baby book later. It's actually sort of like another journal.
So this morning I picked up Surprised by Joy to try and find the quotation I mentioned earlier this week. Thanks to Jim I've connected what Lewis says about the dangers of introspection to one of the points Lewis makes in A Grief Observed (more on that later, I hope), so imagine my surprise when I came across the following quote:
Last weekend I picked up my book journal for the first time in two years perhaps. It is a really adorable little book that a friend brought me from San Franscisco, and it is a joy to write in. Writing in this book will help me to remember things that I have read, to make notes on those things I really want to remember, and even analyse things I do not fully understand. It is a slightly more personal set of notes, but it is also a resource for ideas I may want to address publicly in the future. But there's that word again: journal.
Also last weekend, I picked up a very nice cloth bound journal that my sister-in-law got for me a few years ago. I've written in it off and on over the years, and I specifically picked it up last weekend to note something Michael said that was encouraging concerning our marriage. This is the most personal of the journals that I keep. Journal.
I also have a cloth bound calandar that I use to make notes about Parker, the type of stuff I get asked by other mother's from time to time, for instance, when he started sleeping through the night, etc. It also keeps up with appointments, the occasional to-do list, and things I might want to add to the baby book later. It's actually sort of like another journal.
So this morning I picked up Surprised by Joy to try and find the quotation I mentioned earlier this week. Thanks to Jim I've connected what Lewis says about the dangers of introspection to one of the points Lewis makes in A Grief Observed (more on that later, I hope), so imagine my surprise when I came across the following quote:
"If Theism had done nothing else for me, I should still be thankful that it cured me of the time-wasting and foolish practice of keeping a diary."Finding this amongst my most thoroughly admired author's writings both startled and amused me because journal-keeping is one of my most prized activities. Of course, when Lewis said this I think that he was referring to a different use than mine, because he goes on to say,
"Even for autobiographical purposes a diary is nothing like so useful as I had hoped. You put down each day what you think is important; but of course you cannot each day see what will prove to have been important in the long run (233)."In my better moments journaling for me has been more like praying, which for Lewis became a mode of extraversion. But he makes a good point (or criticism), and I don't know yet what I'm going to do with it.
Friday, November 30, 2007
The Difficulties of Writing
One of the things I have been taught about writing is that it is necessary to orient your readers to the meaning of any quotations you may choose to include in your text. The meaning of and the reason for the quotation may seem obvious to you, but is not necessarily as obvious to your reader.
Okay, I accept that. But I am not very good at doing it.
Just now, I spent a good bit of time attempting to explain what Chesterton says about "the balance of apparent contradictions." I would type a fragment of a sentence, contemplate it's meaning, and then erase it because it is difficult to speak for someone like Chesterton.
My Dad has occasionally said that when it comes to quotations, most statments are not so well made that they cannot be stated in another way, so quotations should be chosen wisely. I keep that in mind as I write, but too often in the sort of work I prefer, it is the cadence and the rhythym of the sentence I am trying to convey, not just the meaning, because the cadence and the rhythym inform the meaning in some way. In those cases paraphrase or explanation is inadequate, yet my understanding of the meaning is probably unclear.
This is just another one of the problems of writing I am not sure how to solve.
By the way, I just about give up on formatting anything properly in blogger (see below).
Okay, I accept that. But I am not very good at doing it.
Just now, I spent a good bit of time attempting to explain what Chesterton says about "the balance of apparent contradictions." I would type a fragment of a sentence, contemplate it's meaning, and then erase it because it is difficult to speak for someone like Chesterton.
My Dad has occasionally said that when it comes to quotations, most statments are not so well made that they cannot be stated in another way, so quotations should be chosen wisely. I keep that in mind as I write, but too often in the sort of work I prefer, it is the cadence and the rhythym of the sentence I am trying to convey, not just the meaning, because the cadence and the rhythym inform the meaning in some way. In those cases paraphrase or explanation is inadequate, yet my understanding of the meaning is probably unclear.
This is just another one of the problems of writing I am not sure how to solve.
By the way, I just about give up on formatting anything properly in blogger (see below).
Health is even better than Truth
In Chapter 2 of Orthodoxy Chesterton convinces me that I am not insane:
This chapter (The Maniac) would have been very helpful to me while I was still in graduate school. Chesterton explains that modern intellectual theories are deficient in that they seek to explain everything, while still leaving so much out."A sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman(19)."
"The ordinary man had always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic...He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction to go along with them (23)."
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Note to Self
You shall see below that I am full of questions this morning. This post is more in the way of a note of intention to myself.
The other night as I was cleaning up my kitchen I listened to the second volume in the Songs from the Voice collection called, Son of the Most High. It occured to me as I listened that this CD actually qualifies as Christmas Music as it contains songs that are a fitting way to be reminded of and inticipate the celebration of Christ's birth.
Several months ago I ordered one of the books that is part of the voice project. It is titled the last eyewitnesses: the final week with the following explanation on the cover that John relives Christ's last week before the crucifixion. This book was written in collaboration, and at the time I considered reading it and then writing a review for our church newsletter. The long and short of it is that I haven't read the book, but it recurrs to my attention now because of the Son CD. This is all very interesting too because Michael recently stated that he thinks we skip too quickly over the crucifixion to get to the ressurection, which we consider the good part of the story. Michael says that Christ probably spent a great deal of time preparing himself for and anticipating the sacrifice, and that we should do so as well. The reason why he links this to advent approaching Christmas I do not entirely understand, but remembering this book brings it back into my mind. Perhaps reading it, or reading in it, could be a beginning to materializing what my husband suggests. It's definitely worth an investigation.
If only I could organize my reading a little better. How many books can one person start in a week and really understand what is communicated by any of them?
The other night as I was cleaning up my kitchen I listened to the second volume in the Songs from the Voice collection called, Son of the Most High. It occured to me as I listened that this CD actually qualifies as Christmas Music as it contains songs that are a fitting way to be reminded of and inticipate the celebration of Christ's birth.
Several months ago I ordered one of the books that is part of the voice project. It is titled the last eyewitnesses: the final week with the following explanation on the cover that John relives Christ's last week before the crucifixion. This book was written in collaboration, and at the time I considered reading it and then writing a review for our church newsletter. The long and short of it is that I haven't read the book, but it recurrs to my attention now because of the Son CD. This is all very interesting too because Michael recently stated that he thinks we skip too quickly over the crucifixion to get to the ressurection, which we consider the good part of the story. Michael says that Christ probably spent a great deal of time preparing himself for and anticipating the sacrifice, and that we should do so as well. The reason why he links this to advent approaching Christmas I do not entirely understand, but remembering this book brings it back into my mind. Perhaps reading it, or reading in it, could be a beginning to materializing what my husband suggests. It's definitely worth an investigation.
If only I could organize my reading a little better. How many books can one person start in a week and really understand what is communicated by any of them?
What Did Lewis Mean?
It's been a while since I read this. C.S. Lewis has not been high on my list of reading material recently, although Stanley Fish references him as a scholar occasionally, Robertson Davies may or may not intentionally allude to him, and I read the first couple of chapters of An Experiment in Criticism not long ago. Somewhere in his writing Lewis states that there is a danger in too much introspection. What was the context of that statement, and what actually did he mean?
An Undisciplined Question
These are the types of questions you ask your friends when you are in college and involved in a campus ministry:
How can I justify encouraging materialism in clients as an interior designer? Am I really doing them a service if I do things that encourage them to cling to the comforts of this world? Am I not betraying my own principles if I assist others in indulging idolatry?
There were good answers to these questions, I know there were, but I thought of them (the questions) again as I wrote about my new kitchen the other day.
Prudence and good stewardship dictate that we plan ahead for any and all future financial endeavors. The idea that you make car payments to yourself in advance of purchasing a car rather than making those same payments to someone else after the fact only makes good sense. But I was wondering, as Christians, what right do we have to purchase more than the minimum to meet necessity? What right do I have to put together a dream kitchen, or make more than the minimum investment in the property value of my home when those very same funds could be used instead to support five children in an orphanage in Calcutta, to cite a recent example.
I don't mean to say this in judgement of anyone. So many of our financial decisions are made between ourselves and God. I only mean to question what my own philosophy in this regard should be--and I am being hypocritical in the making because I crave stability and forethought, and I have very expensive taste as well. I would love, love, love to have one of those beautiful homes I see on tv. I would love to buy only the best groceries without concerning myself with the cost. I would love to have the best fabrics and coffees and wines. If I had the money for those things, what would I do with it? I much prefer to keep my money in my wallet instead of giving without qualm.
My faith is defective because I do not really and truly trust God to provide my basic needs, and because I fear I would not be satisfied with having provision for only those most basic needs. And I know without a doubt that I am not alone in this.
I hope my readers understand, and that I am expressing only what I mean to express. This post is part confession, and part message to the church that such questions are out there whether or not we ask--and the answers are not simple because of our position in, though not of, the world.
How can I justify encouraging materialism in clients as an interior designer? Am I really doing them a service if I do things that encourage them to cling to the comforts of this world? Am I not betraying my own principles if I assist others in indulging idolatry?
There were good answers to these questions, I know there were, but I thought of them (the questions) again as I wrote about my new kitchen the other day.
Prudence and good stewardship dictate that we plan ahead for any and all future financial endeavors. The idea that you make car payments to yourself in advance of purchasing a car rather than making those same payments to someone else after the fact only makes good sense. But I was wondering, as Christians, what right do we have to purchase more than the minimum to meet necessity? What right do I have to put together a dream kitchen, or make more than the minimum investment in the property value of my home when those very same funds could be used instead to support five children in an orphanage in Calcutta, to cite a recent example.
I don't mean to say this in judgement of anyone. So many of our financial decisions are made between ourselves and God. I only mean to question what my own philosophy in this regard should be--and I am being hypocritical in the making because I crave stability and forethought, and I have very expensive taste as well. I would love, love, love to have one of those beautiful homes I see on tv. I would love to buy only the best groceries without concerning myself with the cost. I would love to have the best fabrics and coffees and wines. If I had the money for those things, what would I do with it? I much prefer to keep my money in my wallet instead of giving without qualm.
My faith is defective because I do not really and truly trust God to provide my basic needs, and because I fear I would not be satisfied with having provision for only those most basic needs. And I know without a doubt that I am not alone in this.
I hope my readers understand, and that I am expressing only what I mean to express. This post is part confession, and part message to the church that such questions are out there whether or not we ask--and the answers are not simple because of our position in, though not of, the world.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Walking 'Round the Block
Parker and I took a walk yesterday after my boy stepped in some animal refuse. He was playing in some of the leaves that are currently carpeting our front yard, while I put a little time in on the raking. As I raked I wondered, what is my responsibility as a yard-owner in a neighborhood without covenants? I've never had control of my own yard before, and while I am not currently in a position to do very much about it, what are the generally accepted rules for being a good neighbor?
I took the opportunity of our walk to take pictures of Parker.
I took the opportunity of our walk to take pictures of Parker.
This is the favorite bear that I mentioned. Parker is barefoot because of the stinky shoe occupying a favored position in the bathroom even as I type. I felt the weather was warm enough for barefeet since it was after noon, and Parker didn't seem to complain.
I took this picture later that evening, as you may be able to tell from the tomato sauce lingering around my baby's mouth. It's a little blurry, but just look at that maniacal grin that makes Parker's daddy laugh so much. It is definitely time for a haircut.
Reading my Own Writing
If you've written much yourself, you realize that at times reading your own writing is almost unbearable to contemplate. It's the same way I used to feel back in my law office days. By the time I had finished preparing and copying and witnessing a closing, I had spent so much time handling the file that I could hardly stand to touch it again, much less put the file in an easily referenceable order.
Today I do not feel like reading my own writing. So if there are mistakes in what is posted below they'll simply have to wait until tomorrow. Or never. However, since I am uninterested in my own writing this morning I'll leave you with the following quote from one who, according to Philip Yancy, may have rarely read his own writing.
and
Today I do not feel like reading my own writing. So if there are mistakes in what is posted below they'll simply have to wait until tomorrow. Or never. However, since I am uninterested in my own writing this morning I'll leave you with the following quote from one who, according to Philip Yancy, may have rarely read his own writing.
[That I explain myself further] was perhaps an incautious suggestion to make to a person only too ready to write books upon the feeblest provocation (2).
and
I have written the book, and nothing on earth would induce me to read it
(5).
from Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton
Putting Baby to Bed
I rocked Parker to sleep a little while ago. We sat in the chair with one of his arms wrapped around me, and his favorite bear clutched in his hand, and I sang songs to him, mostly songs with words like this: "My baby, he loves a little black bear with a brown ribbon, little black bear with a brown ribbon, my baby, my baby, my baby." I sang "Eidelweiss" and "Dance to Your Daddy" to him as well, but it was the one I made up and repeated over and over again that I enjoyed the most. I've always enjoyed making up tunes that sound either jazzy or Celtic, and that seems to work well for Parker.
I mentioned above that Parker likes to walk around with a toy hanging by its tag from his mouth. This soccer ball is one of his favorites with which to do this.
When I put him in his bed, he immediately rolls to his stomach and either tries to sit up or else pulls his bottom up into the air and goes to sleep. This is the cutest thing, and my mother tells me that her children often stuck their bottoms up the air when going to sleep. It's one of those little details of which you have to take a mental snapshot, because an actual camera would only ruin the affect.
I don't have a picture of Parker and his favorite bear. It's a picture I haven't taken yet. The bear is little and soft and filled with beans, and I am forever surprised that Parker hasn't ruined the little satin bow yet. He likes to carry the bear in his teethe by tag or bow. This is the bear he grabs when we go in to get him in the morning, and it is the one we make sure he has when it is time for him to go to sleep.
It's funny how he's had this bear for almost a year now (it was a gift from Michael's parents last Christmas), he's only been aware of it for the last couple of months, and now it is his best friend in all the world. Not long ago it was a little rubber lizard we thought that Parker had to have at all times. This little black bear with the brown satin bow will be the one that really is irreplaceable.
I mentioned above that Parker likes to walk around with a toy hanging by its tag from his mouth. This soccer ball is one of his favorites with which to do this.
Still not a picture of his favorite toy, this is another example of how you might encounter Parker walking around our house in the middle of the afternoon. These were both old photos from earlier this month.
Kitchen Improvements
I promised in an earlier post ("Cooking Basics") that I would add photos of my current kitchen once it was clean enough to photograph. For some reason, keeping up with the kitchen has been particularly hard this week, while those who visit my house regularly can tell you that I don't like for it to stay messy for long. My sink is currently full of clean dishes, but that's as close to clean as I'm going to get this morning. Time to photograph:
This is 100 times better than what I had before (see POSSUM!, posted earlier this month). There were aspects of my old kitchen that I really liked, especially after we decorated some while I was pregnant with Parker, but really and truly, that old kitchen was a nightmare. I liked the view of trees outside the window that reminded me of campus ministry campouts in college. I loved the wonderful light that came in through the window, and the fact that there were birds almost always flying about. I liked my ragged cobalt blue composition tile floor, and the fact that I could open the door and let fresh air in whenever I liked. I didn't, however, like to spend very much time in there, which really is a problem when you're trying to be sensible in your spending. Writing about it this way, though, should help me to remember. The new kitchen doesn't have the best layout I've ever seen. However it does have a built-in dishwasher, a double sink (!), and countertop work space.
You can't tell from the picture, but there's a bookshelf in the space between refrigerator and oven. The door to the outside is nice, but I need to get a screen door for it so that I can open it in warm weather and not worry about Parker crawling out. I like it pretty well the way it is now, but one of my goals for the future is to tap into some of my interior design training and redesign the whole thing, probably with assistance with IKEA's online kitchen design program. I'll do that on paper and then Michael and I can decide what the priorities are, and how much we'll have to save to implement the design. I said I have interior design training, but I never really worked in the field, so I don't have good experience to draw on. I hope that what I have is good taste and good sense to come up with something truly functional. The more I cook in this kitchen, the more I'll know what actually needs to be done. For now, I'm just happy to have a kitchen of my own, and I think it's pretty besides.
This is 100 times better than what I had before (see POSSUM!, posted earlier this month). There were aspects of my old kitchen that I really liked, especially after we decorated some while I was pregnant with Parker, but really and truly, that old kitchen was a nightmare. I liked the view of trees outside the window that reminded me of campus ministry campouts in college. I loved the wonderful light that came in through the window, and the fact that there were birds almost always flying about. I liked my ragged cobalt blue composition tile floor, and the fact that I could open the door and let fresh air in whenever I liked. I didn't, however, like to spend very much time in there, which really is a problem when you're trying to be sensible in your spending. Writing about it this way, though, should help me to remember. The new kitchen doesn't have the best layout I've ever seen. However it does have a built-in dishwasher, a double sink (!), and countertop work space.You can't tell from the picture, but there's a bookshelf in the space between refrigerator and oven. The door to the outside is nice, but I need to get a screen door for it so that I can open it in warm weather and not worry about Parker crawling out. I like it pretty well the way it is now, but one of my goals for the future is to tap into some of my interior design training and redesign the whole thing, probably with assistance with IKEA's online kitchen design program. I'll do that on paper and then Michael and I can decide what the priorities are, and how much we'll have to save to implement the design. I said I have interior design training, but I never really worked in the field, so I don't have good experience to draw on. I hope that what I have is good taste and good sense to come up with something truly functional. The more I cook in this kitchen, the more I'll know what actually needs to be done. For now, I'm just happy to have a kitchen of my own, and I think it's pretty besides.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Now I Know Why That Song Means So Much to Me
When I was a little girl, and even as a teenager, sometimes in the early morning I would sit in front of the glass of my parents front door, looking out on the sidewalk and the trees and think, "This is a perfect moment. What I am looking out on at this moment is perfect beauty, and it is a moment I will never experience again." As I looked out my dining room window a moment ago, I had the same thought, and I was reminded of those perfect moments from the past.
I wish I had a photo of that view. The moment is so brief, and I cannot stand there, looking out that window for more than a moment.
There are many perfect views and perfect moments. Sometimes I notice them and sometimes I do not. I'm reminded now of the song Michael linked to last week:
http://www.waterdeep.com/songs/whether
My favorite line from "Whether or Not" is this one:
In my mind and memory that last line is "Not just fill up, but overfill." At different times in my life I have realized that those perfect moments, that really are such ordinary moments, are part of the filling up and overflowing. They are a perfect gift from God.
I wish I had a photo of that view. The moment is so brief, and I cannot stand there, looking out that window for more than a moment.
There are many perfect views and perfect moments. Sometimes I notice them and sometimes I do not. I'm reminded now of the song Michael linked to last week:
http://www.waterdeep.com/songs/whether
My favorite line from "Whether or Not" is this one:
I think about myself so much
It kinda makes me ill
I prob'ly oughta let my cup
Just fill up
But overfill
In my mind and memory that last line is "Not just fill up, but overfill." At different times in my life I have realized that those perfect moments, that really are such ordinary moments, are part of the filling up and overflowing. They are a perfect gift from God.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Cooking Basics
Sometime after Parker was born I picked up Julie Powell's book, Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen, at the library. The book was inspired by this woman's blog where she shared her experience cooking her way through volume one of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. It was entertaining reading, and her one-by-one in-order approach made sense to one who has always been slightly overwhelmed while slogging through books like Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book.
Anyway, Jamey shared that she rarely uses recipes and over the weekend she kindly loaned me How to Cook Without a Book by Pam Anderson. It's funny that I had picked the book up before, at the same time as Julie & Julia, and while the book seems to be everything I have ever wanted in a cookbook, my own tiny apartment kitchen was hardly up to challenge.
Times they have changed. My current kitchen, while not ideal, is much more suitable to the tasks involved in actual daily cooking. I realize that I'll have to take it slowly and really try and digest what Anderson is suggesting. I cannot simply absorb the information through my fingertips as I would certainly prefer. A wonderful woman named Alice once suggested that I use my academic strengths to tackle some of my non-academic problems (cooking, housekeeping, etc.), and that is how I mean to proceed.
Pleasant coincidences: 1. A lot of the content of the book, I think, will help me remember and build on things Melanie taught me earlier in the year. 2. Anderson notes that she prepared a recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking as one of her early cooking experiments. 3. She also notes that her mother, grandmother and aunts would sometimes turn to The Auburn Cook Book when they needed refreshing on a formula, a book I was given as a wedding gift just over seven years ago. I never figured out how to reduce that book to formulas on my own, but now, thanks to Anderson and de Simone, the idea has been implanted. I think it is interesting how book reference and relate to each other even across genres.
Note: I plan to add a photo of my new kitchen later, that is assuming I ever get it clean enough to photograph again. My old kitchen was posted earlier this month when I wrote about the Possum in my kitchen.
Anyway, Jamey shared that she rarely uses recipes and over the weekend she kindly loaned me How to Cook Without a Book by Pam Anderson. It's funny that I had picked the book up before, at the same time as Julie & Julia, and while the book seems to be everything I have ever wanted in a cookbook, my own tiny apartment kitchen was hardly up to challenge.
Times they have changed. My current kitchen, while not ideal, is much more suitable to the tasks involved in actual daily cooking. I realize that I'll have to take it slowly and really try and digest what Anderson is suggesting. I cannot simply absorb the information through my fingertips as I would certainly prefer. A wonderful woman named Alice once suggested that I use my academic strengths to tackle some of my non-academic problems (cooking, housekeeping, etc.), and that is how I mean to proceed.
Pleasant coincidences: 1. A lot of the content of the book, I think, will help me remember and build on things Melanie taught me earlier in the year. 2. Anderson notes that she prepared a recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking as one of her early cooking experiments. 3. She also notes that her mother, grandmother and aunts would sometimes turn to The Auburn Cook Book when they needed refreshing on a formula, a book I was given as a wedding gift just over seven years ago. I never figured out how to reduce that book to formulas on my own, but now, thanks to Anderson and de Simone, the idea has been implanted. I think it is interesting how book reference and relate to each other even across genres.
Note: I plan to add a photo of my new kitchen later, that is assuming I ever get it clean enough to photograph again. My old kitchen was posted earlier this month when I wrote about the Possum in my kitchen.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Excerpt from *Certain Women*
I remembered my Book Journal this morning and so I've been reading and writing in it. A few years ago I read Certain Women by Madeleine L'Engle. I remember this passage from time to time. It is a pivotal moment in the book:
"When Norma was young, she had a terrible time--she nearly died. I
spent several days with her after--after a very bad time in my own
life. Norma told me that when she was well and able to think again, the
wise woman of her tribe told her that she was at a crossroads."
Sophie looked across the table enquiringly.
Emma smiled at Sophie. "The wise old woman said that one road led to
a funeral and the other to a wedding. Norma said, 'I chose the wedding
(35).'"
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Afraid of Knives
I bought a Spaghetti Squash from Walmart on Friday as I noted in my exciting Walmart post. The idea was to cook it up for Parker so he could get more yellow vegetables into his diet. Why Spaghetti Squash? Because I thought I recalled reading about Spaghetti Squash amidst my recent recipe forage, or maybe it was in one of those wonderful email lists to which I have subscribed. Anyway, now that I possess the beast, I can't find where I read about it.
I am therfore preparing the squash according to the baking directions found on this website: http://www.fabulousfoods.com/features/featuring/spagsquash.html. I've pierced the sucker with fork and knife. The fork didn't seem to work all that well. The skin is thick and the fork's tines don't seem to reach very deep. The knife led me to the title of this post. I haven't cut myself this morning, but I found myself becoming more and more fearful of the blade, so I gave up on the knife in short order. I haven't put the squash in the oven yet, and I haven't figured out which of the recipes I am going to try, but I'll keep you posted. What an adventure!
Update (1:12 pm):
The squash is out of the oven. It smelled wonderful while cooking--more like a dessert than I would have expected, slightly sweet and buttery, even with nothing added to it. It's been sitting in its dish for about 20-30 minutes now, but it's still too hot to the touch for me start working with it. It has shriveled slightly while cooling, and the skin feels thick to the touch. Parker and I may choose to take a walk instead of sitting around here waiting for the squash to cool.
Update (3:00 pm):
I really am a novice with this stuff. Around 2:30, once Parker was down for his nap, I cut open my squash and found out why it's called spaghetti.
The seeds were a challenge. I started by pulling the seeds out with my fingers because it didn't look like the type of network I could simply cut out with a knife; squishy, slimy and not very affective. The fork seemed like a more likely option. Still, there has to be an easier way to do this. These are not the kinds of things they ever think to tell you. The flesh came away easily once the seeds were removed, and I now have two quart sized bags of spaghetti squash to my credit.
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with them.
I am therfore preparing the squash according to the baking directions found on this website: http://www.fabulousfoods.com/features/featuring/spagsquash.html. I've pierced the sucker with fork and knife. The fork didn't seem to work all that well. The skin is thick and the fork's tines don't seem to reach very deep. The knife led me to the title of this post. I haven't cut myself this morning, but I found myself becoming more and more fearful of the blade, so I gave up on the knife in short order. I haven't put the squash in the oven yet, and I haven't figured out which of the recipes I am going to try, but I'll keep you posted. What an adventure!
Update (1:12 pm):
The squash is out of the oven. It smelled wonderful while cooking--more like a dessert than I would have expected, slightly sweet and buttery, even with nothing added to it. It's been sitting in its dish for about 20-30 minutes now, but it's still too hot to the touch for me start working with it. It has shriveled slightly while cooling, and the skin feels thick to the touch. Parker and I may choose to take a walk instead of sitting around here waiting for the squash to cool.
Update (3:00 pm):
I really am a novice with this stuff. Around 2:30, once Parker was down for his nap, I cut open my squash and found out why it's called spaghetti.
The seeds were a challenge. I started by pulling the seeds out with my fingers because it didn't look like the type of network I could simply cut out with a knife; squishy, slimy and not very affective. The fork seemed like a more likely option. Still, there has to be an easier way to do this. These are not the kinds of things they ever think to tell you. The flesh came away easily once the seeds were removed, and I now have two quart sized bags of spaghetti squash to my credit.
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with them.
Question of the Day, Pizza Edition
We tried Julie's Calzone recipe last night (http://treasuresandjuls.blogspot.com/2007/11/post-2-recipes.html) and it was delicious, probably a new family favorite as Michael is a huge cheese fan. I don't typically like ricotta, and used the Cottage Cheese substitution. It mixed in beautifully with the other, drier cheeses, and probably provided some needed moisture to help the melting (I'm speculating)--I'm trying to figure out how cooking works now, not simply what to do.
This recipe was the first time I have ever added herbs and actually recognized their effect on the flavor, a really big deal for me. I really could smell the Oregano this time (as separate from the dried garlic), and tasted the difference between before and after, even though I was still using the same aged spices that have been in my spice-cabinet for years.
The one problem I had was, having never used pizza dough before, refrigerated or homemade, I didn't handle it properly. I unrolled the dough from the container just as I would do with refrigerated crescent rolls, but the shape looked funny and I couldn't see how to make it into a large circle. Instead, and without consideration, I mushed the dough together, and that did not work very well. I wound up using my roller to try to flatten the dough out, but never really succeeded. The result was a crust that was much too thick, and not nearly large enough to contain the entire filling. My Calzone came out, not as a fritter like half-circle, but more like a lump of shapeless bread.
The taste is what really matters, I realize, but I'd like to improve my presentation for next time. How is refrigerator pizza dough supposed to be handled?
This recipe was the first time I have ever added herbs and actually recognized their effect on the flavor, a really big deal for me. I really could smell the Oregano this time (as separate from the dried garlic), and tasted the difference between before and after, even though I was still using the same aged spices that have been in my spice-cabinet for years.
The one problem I had was, having never used pizza dough before, refrigerated or homemade, I didn't handle it properly. I unrolled the dough from the container just as I would do with refrigerated crescent rolls, but the shape looked funny and I couldn't see how to make it into a large circle. Instead, and without consideration, I mushed the dough together, and that did not work very well. I wound up using my roller to try to flatten the dough out, but never really succeeded. The result was a crust that was much too thick, and not nearly large enough to contain the entire filling. My Calzone came out, not as a fritter like half-circle, but more like a lump of shapeless bread.
The taste is what really matters, I realize, but I'd like to improve my presentation for next time. How is refrigerator pizza dough supposed to be handled?
Monday, November 19, 2007
Music I Am Listening To Now
I have always had sort of a love-hate relationship with Christian Music. I loved it in college. I used to pray to God that I might please, please have a life in ministry oriented music. Pages in my college journal are devoted to this desire, but as yet a life in music has not materialized. I have given up on singing for the past several years, and while my husband IS a musician, he does not often find opportunities to play outside Grace Church. Also in college, I ran a program on the University Radio Station for a time. That is where I first fell in love with a band called Waterdeep.
Don and Lori Chaffer head up Waterdeep. They have recorded solo albums and worship albums and Waterdeep albums. One year when I was in college we brought them here, to Tuscaloosa, to perform with 100 Portraits at what was then The Ivory Tusk.
So the record Parker and I have been listening to lately is called Please Don't Make Us Sing This Song (Various Artists). It is part of a project Don and Lori are currently involved with called The Voice (http://www.hearthevoice.com/), and every song on the recording is based in scripture. The title song is taken from Psalm 137 and says, "If I can't remember [my true home] may I never sing a song again." Lori Chaffer performs it and it is beutiful, but then, I am always and forever more biased in Lori Chaffer's favor.
Don and Lori Chaffer head up Waterdeep. They have recorded solo albums and worship albums and Waterdeep albums. One year when I was in college we brought them here, to Tuscaloosa, to perform with 100 Portraits at what was then The Ivory Tusk.
So the record Parker and I have been listening to lately is called Please Don't Make Us Sing This Song (Various Artists). It is part of a project Don and Lori are currently involved with called The Voice (http://www.hearthevoice.com/), and every song on the recording is based in scripture. The title song is taken from Psalm 137 and says, "If I can't remember [my true home] may I never sing a song again." Lori Chaffer performs it and it is beutiful, but then, I am always and forever more biased in Lori Chaffer's favor.
Two-Buck Chuck, and How I Know I'm Not An Alcoholic
I was given these two bottles of wine sometime approximately a month-and-a-half ago, and tonight I finally opened one of them. It was an inexpensive Cabernet Sauvignon affectionately referred as "Two-buck Chuck," bottled for Trader Joe's. It is very--grapey--and I don't know whether that's supposed to be good or bad, but at least I can tell what it is I am supposedly drinking for a change.
So tell me, what is good wine supposed to taste like? The experts are of no use in this area, because they already know what they are looking for in a good wine. They know good taste from bad, a familiarity with which I am not currently endowed.
What does dryness mean? What does "sweet" mean when it comes to wines? It apparently doesn't mean the same thing it does when referring to un-fermented grapes, or orange juice, my typical drinks of choice. It isn't as though I were actually trying to impress anyone with my taste in alcoholic beverages, is it? Because if that were not the case it would only matter what I liked, and not what was considered "good" by anybody else.
I gladly admit a weakness for sparkling beverages in most cases.
I mock myself and try to make a joke at the same time. I try this often, and it is difficult to tell, when writing, whether or not the joke succeeds.
(My policy is to never drink any alcohol until after Parker has gone to bed for the night. I don't want to take a chance on his needing to nurse too soon after alcohol has been consumed. This has knocked me out of enjoying the free wine at Northport's Art Night on more than one occasion.)
So tell me, what is good wine supposed to taste like? The experts are of no use in this area, because they already know what they are looking for in a good wine. They know good taste from bad, a familiarity with which I am not currently endowed.
What does dryness mean? What does "sweet" mean when it comes to wines? It apparently doesn't mean the same thing it does when referring to un-fermented grapes, or orange juice, my typical drinks of choice. It isn't as though I were actually trying to impress anyone with my taste in alcoholic beverages, is it? Because if that were not the case it would only matter what I liked, and not what was considered "good" by anybody else.
I gladly admit a weakness for sparkling beverages in most cases.
I mock myself and try to make a joke at the same time. I try this often, and it is difficult to tell, when writing, whether or not the joke succeeds.
(My policy is to never drink any alcohol until after Parker has gone to bed for the night. I don't want to take a chance on his needing to nurse too soon after alcohol has been consumed. This has knocked me out of enjoying the free wine at Northport's Art Night on more than one occasion.)
Brainy Authors and Their Appeal
A few months ago I began reading C. S. Lewis's Experiment in Criticism. I was trying to do an analytical reading, which is probably why I got no further than Chapter 2. Then my friend Elizabeth brought me a book by Robertson Davies that I had requested. More accurately, the book was a compilation of some work published posthumously. Lewis and Davies had some strikingly similar things to say about tastes in reading material. I also see a similarity between Davies organic-seeming theory of reading (in which you discover new authors by reading other authors) and echoes of a Robert Scholes essay I love entitled A Fortunate Fall? Thus it seems that the authors who appeal to me are operating from similar philosophies. Does that seem to suggest anything concerning their appeal?
It was because of my infatuation with Robertson Davies and my recent reading of Wilkie Collins (a contemporary and friend of Dickens) that I was recently inspired to try Dickens again. Unfortunately that particular experiment resulted in a wash since I chose what was probably the perfectly wrong book to begin. Pickwick Papers. The stars of Little Women loved, so why not I?
More on the referenced authors later, or so I hope.
It was because of my infatuation with Robertson Davies and my recent reading of Wilkie Collins (a contemporary and friend of Dickens) that I was recently inspired to try Dickens again. Unfortunately that particular experiment resulted in a wash since I chose what was probably the perfectly wrong book to begin. Pickwick Papers. The stars of Little Women loved, so why not I?
More on the referenced authors later, or so I hope.
Question of the Day
How often should I change the sheets on my baby's bed?
Because of the way the crib is constructed, changing the sheets on the bed can be quite the challenge. In most instances I have to pull the crib away from the wall entirely to get the job done, which is complicated by the fact that I store my supply of diapers and wipes under Parker's bed. (The job has become easier with practice, of course.)
When Parker was younger the sheets didn't seem to me to be a big deal because Parker slept on his back, and rarely did his diaper leak onto the bed. I didn't worry much about the hair he was losing, and it was hard to reach over and into the bed to deal with bedclothes. Now Parker prefers to sleep on his stomach, which leads to drool marks on otherwise clean smelling sheets. If you think I am slovenly in this respect (and sometimes I suspect it myself), see the quotation near the end of "Favorite Books, Part II" posted earlier today.
What kind of sheet experience have you had with your own babies, and then--what do you recommend?
Because of the way the crib is constructed, changing the sheets on the bed can be quite the challenge. In most instances I have to pull the crib away from the wall entirely to get the job done, which is complicated by the fact that I store my supply of diapers and wipes under Parker's bed. (The job has become easier with practice, of course.)
When Parker was younger the sheets didn't seem to me to be a big deal because Parker slept on his back, and rarely did his diaper leak onto the bed. I didn't worry much about the hair he was losing, and it was hard to reach over and into the bed to deal with bedclothes. Now Parker prefers to sleep on his stomach, which leads to drool marks on otherwise clean smelling sheets. If you think I am slovenly in this respect (and sometimes I suspect it myself), see the quotation near the end of "Favorite Books, Part II" posted earlier today.
What kind of sheet experience have you had with your own babies, and then--what do you recommend?
Favorite Books, Part II
For several years now I've been trying to get through Diana Gabaldon's novel, The Fiery Cross. Now, when I say "trying to get through" in this instance, I simply mean that it has taken me a long time to read the whole thing, with several false starts along the way. I adore this woman's writing. She has a way of bringing scenes, usually set in the 18th century, to life that I have never experienced elsewhere in fiction. When I read her novels I feel as though I am reading about real people and real experiences. They are very well researched in that when she has to write a scene where a man gets kicked in the balls (please, please excuse the expression) she finds out, from first-hand sources, what it actually feels like first.
When I read her books I always wind up reading passages from them aloud to Michael; I describe the plot to him because I can't help talking about it. She's that good.
I tried to read The Fiery Cross when it first came out and only got about 350 pages into it, partially because I had read the first four novels in the series almost straight through, and the level of detail Gabaldon includes can be exhausting. Not to mention the fact that each of her books is hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pages long. I also think now I may have been unready to read this book because Parker hadn't come into our lives yet. There are scenes in the book involving infants that are much more meaningful now that I actually have a child of my own.
Last night I read a sentence that I wanted to share. Claire, so often the narrator in these books, is thinking about her contribution to the household:
"As for sweeping the floor, polishing the windows, dusting, and general drudgery of that sort . . . well, if women's work was never done, why trouble about how much of it wasn't being accomplished at any given moment?"
This is an attitude which I have adopted as my own.
I always have to issue disclaimers when I recommend these books. The story is about a woman who travels through time to the 18th century and marries a Scottish Laird. Sounds like sappy romance novel material already, doesn't it? But the series is so much more than that. The first book in the series really does read like a romance novel, including lots of sex and violece, so if you have reservations about reading that sort of material (and some of my friends I know do) you may want to avoid the series anyway. On the other hand, Gabaldon is an excellent practitioner, and if you enjoy historical fiction, the series is a must read. Within the 18th century the characters travel from Scotland to France, to the Caribbean, to the New World. They participate in wars and battles and hunts, as well as the "drudgery" of boiling laundry, extracting abcessed tonsils, and coffe and whiskey-making in the wilderness. I can't do the books justice here, and would love to see what Kathi (showing here as David L.) has to say about the series. The last book of the series is currently on my shelf, waiting to be read, and once that is done I will probably have to start all over again.
When I read her books I always wind up reading passages from them aloud to Michael; I describe the plot to him because I can't help talking about it. She's that good.
I tried to read The Fiery Cross when it first came out and only got about 350 pages into it, partially because I had read the first four novels in the series almost straight through, and the level of detail Gabaldon includes can be exhausting. Not to mention the fact that each of her books is hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pages long. I also think now I may have been unready to read this book because Parker hadn't come into our lives yet. There are scenes in the book involving infants that are much more meaningful now that I actually have a child of my own.
Last night I read a sentence that I wanted to share. Claire, so often the narrator in these books, is thinking about her contribution to the household:
"As for sweeping the floor, polishing the windows, dusting, and general drudgery of that sort . . . well, if women's work was never done, why trouble about how much of it wasn't being accomplished at any given moment?"
This is an attitude which I have adopted as my own.
I always have to issue disclaimers when I recommend these books. The story is about a woman who travels through time to the 18th century and marries a Scottish Laird. Sounds like sappy romance novel material already, doesn't it? But the series is so much more than that. The first book in the series really does read like a romance novel, including lots of sex and violece, so if you have reservations about reading that sort of material (and some of my friends I know do) you may want to avoid the series anyway. On the other hand, Gabaldon is an excellent practitioner, and if you enjoy historical fiction, the series is a must read. Within the 18th century the characters travel from Scotland to France, to the Caribbean, to the New World. They participate in wars and battles and hunts, as well as the "drudgery" of boiling laundry, extracting abcessed tonsils, and coffe and whiskey-making in the wilderness. I can't do the books justice here, and would love to see what Kathi (showing here as David L.) has to say about the series. The last book of the series is currently on my shelf, waiting to be read, and once that is done I will probably have to start all over again.
Grocery List, Grocery Shopping Challenges
Last week I posted something regarding the problems I have making shopping lists and getting the shopping done. It's a problem that has hounded me since the beginning of my marriage, just over seven years ago.
Julie, of Treasures&Jules, provided a detailed response that can be found at http://treasuresandjuls.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-i-cope.html. She also provides links to a couple of websites I hadn't seen before. Thanks, Julie!
Julie, of Treasures&Jules, provided a detailed response that can be found at http://treasuresandjuls.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-i-cope.html. She also provides links to a couple of websites I hadn't seen before. Thanks, Julie!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Another Question of the Day
(Note: Since I'm writing to a mixed audience, I don't intend to make breastfeeding a common topic of discussion, even though it remains an important issue in my life. However, occasionally questions need to be asked.)
Parker is almost 14 months old now, and as such, he is able to drink cow's milk in place of breast milk or formula. It has only been in the last couple of days that he has shown much interest in drinking milk through a straw.
So here's my question:
How much milk would he be drinking if he were getting all of his daily milk from a cup?
This becomes a crucial question as the price of milk increases, and Parker and I get closer and closer to a semi-total wean.
Parker is almost 14 months old now, and as such, he is able to drink cow's milk in place of breast milk or formula. It has only been in the last couple of days that he has shown much interest in drinking milk through a straw.
So here's my question:
How much milk would he be drinking if he were getting all of his daily milk from a cup?
This becomes a crucial question as the price of milk increases, and Parker and I get closer and closer to a semi-total wean.
Walmart and my One-Year-Old Do NOT Mix Well
Parker loves to get out. I've taken him to Sam's Club several times in the company of my mom, and there he has a wonderful time. Walmart seems to be a different story.
Yesterday I had the dubious pleasure of visiting Walmart not once, but twice. I had the opportunity to go a third time in twelve hours, but chose not to take advantage of the opportunity. Some part of my mind thinks this is a funny story.
We all piled in the car yesterday morning in time to drive Michael to work, drop him off, and head directly to Wal-mart. Parker probably spent a total of 35 to 40 minutes in the car, which of course means that he was yawning by the time we reached the store. At 8:20 a.m. I knew that we had some time before he would absolutely have to go down for a nap, but the boy was already tired: difficulty #1.
I've been trying really hard to be careful what I spend on groceries, because all the country's living expenses are going up and up and up. This means that I check the per unit pricing as I make decisions concerning which brands to purchase. This also means the grocery shopping takes a bit longer these days than it otherwise might. Unfortunately Parker and careful choosing do not mix well. I wasn't trying to exasperate the boy, but it was unavoidable. Approximately two-thirds of the way through my list I realized my poor, sweet, darling, adorable baby could stand it no longer. Even though I hadn't purchased applesauce yet, a current staple around our house, I had to get out of that store as quickly as possible, for his sake: difficulty #2.
Now, I realize that for some it is common practice to a) visit Wal-mart more than once in a single day, and/or b) visit Wal-mart during afternoon hours, but it is not my practice because I tend to be a little socially claustrophobic when there are too many people packed into the same isle. Under those circumstances I get confused, and have more difficulty in making even simple decisions. Also, I had been watching the gasoline guage on my car, and while I had a whole tank, I was painfully aware of the movement of the dial.
By the time Parker and I made it home, I got him fed and down for his morning nap, I was already wiped out. I barely had enough energy to put the groceries I had already purchased away. Therefore I sat on the couch and watched Boy Meets World virtually the entire time he napped, only pausing to empty the dishwasher from the night before.
I now had a decision to make. I could a) make a second trip to Wal-mart that afternoon to get the rest of my groceries, which trip was absolutely necessary because there were still some staple items that needed to be replenished for meals the next day. I could otherwise b) wait and go back the next morning. I was opting for a, but by the time Parker woke up and I got lunch into the both of us it was already after 2:00.
I decided to get it over with. Parker and I piled into the car, and at the first opportunity I turned the wrong way onto Loop Road. I must have been thinking too hard about my friend Heather's house, and so didn't realize where I was driving: difficulty #3. There was probably a way to get to Wal-mart from that end of Loop Road, but I couldn't figure it out, so I wound up having to turn the car around and retrace my steps, all the while obsessively watching the gas guage. By the time I had made it half-way to my destination I realized that Parker was yawning again. I toyed with the idea of making another loop and heading home or to a playground for Parker, but since I'd already used so much gasoline (and braved so much school traffic) to get where I was, I determined that I simply couldn't afford it. So we visited Wal-mart for the second time.
Parker did much better this time. It helped that we ran into three different sets of people we knew, which was encouraging. I managed to get the rest of the items on my list (save two).
Our difficulties, however, were not over. About the time I made it home and unloaded my groceries from the car I realized two things. There had been a little old lady in line ahead of us who had had some problems in purchasing her groceries. First, she made her check out to the wrong store. Next, she walked off without a bag containing toothpaste. The chashier who checked me out found the toothpaste. She did not discover the bag that traveled home with me. I didn't find it until I had driven all the way home. Also, I didn't realize at the time, although I almsot noticed in line, that the cashier had mistaken my spaghetti squash, which cost $.98, for a melon, which cost $3.50: difficulty #4. By this time, I had had enough, Parker was really late for his nap, and I was about to have to leave the house again, this time for the rest of the evening.
I worried about that little old lady occasionally for the rest of the evening and even for a small time this morning. I feel so badly for her as I imagine what she must feel because she left a bag of groceries behind. What if she was operating on a tight budget? What if it took her a long time to get her groceries in the first place? You know, of course, that if I just took the time that I've worried, and used that time to pray for her, we both of us would be a lot better off. And of course, writing the whole story down is the first time the idea has even crossed my mind.
In the end, Parker had a fun evening with his grandparents, Michael and I enjoyed a night out, and my pantry and refrigerator are pleasingly full. Additionally, the house looked great by the time I got home (they watched Parker at our house), and I had a very relaxing ending to a frustrating day. The grocery part, however, is not an experience I am anxious to repeat.
Yesterday I had the dubious pleasure of visiting Walmart not once, but twice. I had the opportunity to go a third time in twelve hours, but chose not to take advantage of the opportunity. Some part of my mind thinks this is a funny story.
We all piled in the car yesterday morning in time to drive Michael to work, drop him off, and head directly to Wal-mart. Parker probably spent a total of 35 to 40 minutes in the car, which of course means that he was yawning by the time we reached the store. At 8:20 a.m. I knew that we had some time before he would absolutely have to go down for a nap, but the boy was already tired: difficulty #1.
I've been trying really hard to be careful what I spend on groceries, because all the country's living expenses are going up and up and up. This means that I check the per unit pricing as I make decisions concerning which brands to purchase. This also means the grocery shopping takes a bit longer these days than it otherwise might. Unfortunately Parker and careful choosing do not mix well. I wasn't trying to exasperate the boy, but it was unavoidable. Approximately two-thirds of the way through my list I realized my poor, sweet, darling, adorable baby could stand it no longer. Even though I hadn't purchased applesauce yet, a current staple around our house, I had to get out of that store as quickly as possible, for his sake: difficulty #2.
Now, I realize that for some it is common practice to a) visit Wal-mart more than once in a single day, and/or b) visit Wal-mart during afternoon hours, but it is not my practice because I tend to be a little socially claustrophobic when there are too many people packed into the same isle. Under those circumstances I get confused, and have more difficulty in making even simple decisions. Also, I had been watching the gasoline guage on my car, and while I had a whole tank, I was painfully aware of the movement of the dial.
By the time Parker and I made it home, I got him fed and down for his morning nap, I was already wiped out. I barely had enough energy to put the groceries I had already purchased away. Therefore I sat on the couch and watched Boy Meets World virtually the entire time he napped, only pausing to empty the dishwasher from the night before.
I now had a decision to make. I could a) make a second trip to Wal-mart that afternoon to get the rest of my groceries, which trip was absolutely necessary because there were still some staple items that needed to be replenished for meals the next day. I could otherwise b) wait and go back the next morning. I was opting for a, but by the time Parker woke up and I got lunch into the both of us it was already after 2:00.
I decided to get it over with. Parker and I piled into the car, and at the first opportunity I turned the wrong way onto Loop Road. I must have been thinking too hard about my friend Heather's house, and so didn't realize where I was driving: difficulty #3. There was probably a way to get to Wal-mart from that end of Loop Road, but I couldn't figure it out, so I wound up having to turn the car around and retrace my steps, all the while obsessively watching the gas guage. By the time I had made it half-way to my destination I realized that Parker was yawning again. I toyed with the idea of making another loop and heading home or to a playground for Parker, but since I'd already used so much gasoline (and braved so much school traffic) to get where I was, I determined that I simply couldn't afford it. So we visited Wal-mart for the second time.
Parker did much better this time. It helped that we ran into three different sets of people we knew, which was encouraging. I managed to get the rest of the items on my list (save two).
Our difficulties, however, were not over. About the time I made it home and unloaded my groceries from the car I realized two things. There had been a little old lady in line ahead of us who had had some problems in purchasing her groceries. First, she made her check out to the wrong store. Next, she walked off without a bag containing toothpaste. The chashier who checked me out found the toothpaste. She did not discover the bag that traveled home with me. I didn't find it until I had driven all the way home. Also, I didn't realize at the time, although I almsot noticed in line, that the cashier had mistaken my spaghetti squash, which cost $.98, for a melon, which cost $3.50: difficulty #4. By this time, I had had enough, Parker was really late for his nap, and I was about to have to leave the house again, this time for the rest of the evening.
I worried about that little old lady occasionally for the rest of the evening and even for a small time this morning. I feel so badly for her as I imagine what she must feel because she left a bag of groceries behind. What if she was operating on a tight budget? What if it took her a long time to get her groceries in the first place? You know, of course, that if I just took the time that I've worried, and used that time to pray for her, we both of us would be a lot better off. And of course, writing the whole story down is the first time the idea has even crossed my mind.
In the end, Parker had a fun evening with his grandparents, Michael and I enjoyed a night out, and my pantry and refrigerator are pleasingly full. Additionally, the house looked great by the time I got home (they watched Parker at our house), and I had a very relaxing ending to a frustrating day. The grocery part, however, is not an experience I am anxious to repeat.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Favorite Books, Part I
One of my favorite books is Monsignor Quixote by Graham Greene. I read it just a few years ago and haven't had a chance to go back and read it again, but it is wonderful. The last time I was at the bookstore I found a compilation that had a nice smattering of selections from his writing. I can neither recall the name of the book, nor find it on-line at the moment, even though I know I've seen the book listed on Amazon.com before. How frustrating!
Anyway, the book contained a lovely excerpt from Monsignor Quixote in which the Monsignor and Sancho, the Communist Mayor of Toboso, discuss how they came to travel together. I wish that I could simply let you read it for yourselves, because summary sometimes does not have the impact of fiction. The Monsignor explains that it is the sharing of doubt that really brings the two of them together.
Like I said, I can't do it justice. Paraphrase can sometime involve a flattening rather than an expanding of subject matter. Doubt. Doubt is a huge component of faith. Faith would not be faith without the presence of doubt, and doubt seems to be most seccessful at driving us to God.
Instead of frustrating myself further, I'll simply include an excerpt from another part of the book. I sent this out to friends during my initial reading because I found it haunting, like so much of Greene's subtly spiritual work. In this scene the Monsignor and Sancho have just left a theatre in which they've seen a pornographic movie called "The Maiden's Prayer" (Don't worry; it's tastefully written (and edited). I only hope I'm not horribly violating any copyright laws by reproducing this much of the text without permission):
Anyway, the book contained a lovely excerpt from Monsignor Quixote in which the Monsignor and Sancho, the Communist Mayor of Toboso, discuss how they came to travel together. I wish that I could simply let you read it for yourselves, because summary sometimes does not have the impact of fiction. The Monsignor explains that it is the sharing of doubt that really brings the two of them together.
Like I said, I can't do it justice. Paraphrase can sometime involve a flattening rather than an expanding of subject matter. Doubt. Doubt is a huge component of faith. Faith would not be faith without the presence of doubt, and doubt seems to be most seccessful at driving us to God.
Instead of frustrating myself further, I'll simply include an excerpt from another part of the book. I sent this out to friends during my initial reading because I found it haunting, like so much of Greene's subtly spiritual work. In this scene the Monsignor and Sancho have just left a theatre in which they've seen a pornographic movie called "The Maiden's Prayer" (Don't worry; it's tastefully written (and edited). I only hope I'm not horribly violating any copyright laws by reproducing this much of the text without permission):
"I was afraid you might be shocked, father, but it was you who chose the film."
"Yes. By the title. But I don't understand what the title had to do with what we saw."
"Well, I suppose that a maiden's prayer is to find a handsome young man to love.""That word 'love' again. I don't believe that Senorita Martin [St.Theresa] prayed for anything like that. But all the same I was impressed by the silence of the audience. they took it so seriously that I was really afraid to laugh."
"You wanted to laugh?"
"Yes. It was difficult not to. But I don't like to offend anyone who takes a thing
seriously. Laughter is not an argument. It can be a stupid abuse. Perhaps they saw things differently from me. Perhaps it was beauty that they saw. All the same, sometimes I longed for one of them to laugh - even you, Sancho - so that I could laugh too. But I was afraid to break that total silence. It would hurt me if in church when I raised the Host someone laughed.""Suppose everyone in the church laughed?"
"Ah, that would be quite different. Then I would think - I might be wrong of
course - that I was hearing the laughter of joy. A solitary laugh is so often a laugh of superiority."That night in bed Father Quixote opened his volume of Saint Francis de Sales. He still found himself worried by those scenes ... in the cinema - worried by his failure to be moved by any emotion except amusement. He had always believed that human love was the same in kind as the love of God, even though only the faintest and feeblest reflection of that love, but those exercises which had made him want to laugh aloud... Am I, he wondered, incapable of feeling human love? For, if I am, then I must also be incapable of feeling love for God. He began to fear that his spirit may be stamped indelibly by that terrible question mark. He desperately wanted comfort and so he turned to what Sancho had called his books of chivalry, but he couldn't help remembering that Don Quixote at the last had renounced them on his death bed. Perhaps he too when the end arrived...
The dreaded question mark was still stamped on his spirit when they set out next day. Rocinante [Monsignor's automobile] was positively skittish after her stay in the garage and complained not at all when their speed mounted to forty - even forty-five - kilometers an hour, a speed which they only obtained because Father Quixote was deep in his unhappy thoughts."What is wrong?" Sancho asked him. "Again today you are the Monsignor of the Sorrowful Countenance."
"I have sometimes thought, may God forgive me," Father Quixote said,"that I was specially favored because I have never been troubled by sexual desires."
"Not even in dreams?"
"No, not even in dreams."
"You are a very lucky man."
Am I? he questioned himself. Or am I the most unfortunate? He couldn't say to the friend who sat beside him what he was thinking - the question he was asking himself. How can I pray to resist evil when I am not even tempted? There is no virtue in such a prayer. He felt competely alone in his silence. It was as though the area of the confessional box and the secrets which it held had extended beyond the box itself and beyond the penitent to include the car he sat in, even the wheel under his hand as they drove towards Leon. He prayed in hissience[?]: O God, make me human, let me feel temptation. Save me from my indifference.
[?] is because I don't know what this word was supposed to be. Like I
said, it's been a while since I read the book.
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