Ashli's Anecdotes

Happy St. Brigid's Day!

2011-02-01T09:43:00.000-08:00

February 1st is the comemmoration of St. Brigid of Ireland, whom I took as my patron saint when I was baptized last April. That makes today my very first name-day! Therefore I've been reflecting on why I chose Brigid, and how this has affected me since I began reading about her life.
St. Brigid is attributed with three short 'maxims' which sum up her attitude towards people and her life of servanthood. I see them every day, written on my icon of St. Brigid which hangs in my room: "To care for the poor, to lighten everyone's burden, to comfort the suffering." In her simplicity and humility, she constantly gave to the poor (even things which didn't belong to her!), knowing that stuff has no intrinsic value and that it's only people that matter.
I've left of blogging for the past couple of months, for various reasons. However, it has now been a full month of the new year as of this St. Brigid's Day, and in honor of my patroness I would like to share an excerpt from St. Basil the Great's sermon To the Rich. It is based off of Christ's words to the wealthy young man who wished to follow Christ but could not due to his attachment to his wealth.

"Although the meaning of our Lord's answer is clear, he does not lie when he speaks, there are few who are persuaded by it. 'How shall we live,' someone will say, 'when we have renounced everything? What quality of life will there be if everybody sells all and forsakes all?' Do not ask me the rationale behind our Lord's commands. The Lawgiver knows well how to bring what is possible into agreement with the Law. Your heart is tested, as it were, upon the fulcrum of the scale, inclining now towards the true life, now towards present enjoyment. It befits those who possess sound judgment to recognize that they have received wealth as a stewardship, and not for their own enjoyment; thus, when they are parted from it, the rejoice as those who relinquish what is not really theirs, instead of becoming downcast like those who are stripped of their own."

I have been learning much about kindness this past month, especially that which one finds in Sts. Basil and Brigid. I think we are very much mistaken when we consider that the poor are to blame for their own poverty, or that sick people are not worth our tax dollars. I'm not convinced that it's my job to make judgments as to who is 'deserving' of my time or money, as if I have the right to judge someone's circumstances. It would seem that Christ has decided for me already that all people are worth it. All I am given to do is to love, and to give, and to be kind.

Conversations with Erin: Scientists with beards

2010-10-22T07:08:00.000-07:00

A conversation which occured during a lull in our Tuesday night Bible study, while the 'adults' were talking about something else.

Erin: "I bet Newton had beard. A great big beardy-beard."

Me: "Newon didn't have a beard."

Erin: "He didn't have a beardy-beard? I thought he did."

Me: "Nope, I'm pretty sure he was clean-shaven. None of his portraits have beards."

Erin: "I must be thinking of Copernicus."

Me: "Yes! Copernicus DEFINITELY had a considerable beard."

Erin: "That's because he was a mystic."

Me: "Of course. Being a mystic makes your beard grow beardy. Most of the older scientists probably had beardy-beards."

Erin: "That's probably why Jack doesn't grow a beard." (For non-Gutenberg students: Jack is one of our beloved tutors with no beard and not a single mystical sensibility to speak of).

Ashli: "I would imagine not."

Erin: "I wonder how Ron feels about this?" (Ron, like Jack, is not a mystic, but unlike Jack sports an impressive beard).

Ashli: *shrug*

Erin: "...Now Kepler, he had the biggest beardy-beard of all!"

Yours, etc.

An excerpt

2010-08-22T14:16:00.000-07:00

"What am I going to do? What are the Church and each Christian to do in this world? What is our mission?
"To these questions there exist no answers in the form of practical 'recipes'. 'It all depends' on thousands of factors--and, too be sure all faculties of our human intelligence and wisdom, organization and planning, are to be constantly used. Yet--and this is the one 'point' we wanted to make in these pages-- 'it all depends' primarily on our being real witnesses to the joy and peace of the Holy Spirit, to that new life of which we are made partakers in the Church. The Church is the sacrament of the Kingdom--not because she possesses divinely instituted acts called 'sacraments', but because first of all she is the possibility given to man to see in and through this world the 'world to come', to see and to 'live' it in Christ. It is only when in the darkness of this world we discern that Christ has already 'filled all things with Himself' that these things, whatever they may be, are revealed and given to us full of meaning and beauty. A Christian is the one who, wherever he looks, finds Christ and rejoices in Him. And this joy transforms all his human plans and programs, decisions and actions, making all his mission the sacrament of the world's return to Him who is the life of the world."

Taken from For the Life of the World by Fr. Alexander Schmemann

Yours, in Christ, etc.

I Am Not A Hippie

2010-08-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

Just so everyone is clear on that.

And the world spins madly on

2010-07-27T17:23:00.000-07:00

I'm munching toast and thinking about the bridal shower I'm attending this evening, the third one this summer. Already I've witnessed three weddings. This shower is for a girl who was my partner in crime (almost literally) when we were toddlers, and through most of our early adolescence. Mainly, I'm noticing what a long time ago that was (even the adolescence already!), and also how the exponential increase in marriages these past two years has even touched childhood friendships. The world is turning very fast indeed!

I'm reading a biography of Albert Camus, in which he is quoted with the following: "I want to get married, kill myself, or subscribe to L'Illustration magazine, do something desperate, you know what I mean?"

The occasion for this statement? His wedding to his first wife. He was twenty years old, precocious to boot, and struck with despair over the purposelessness of his life. Ready to do something desperate. In the end Camus chose marriage over suicide, even though he disdained marriage as an imprisonment and was known to counsel his female students to "Never marry, ladies, never marry." Although suffice it to say, young Albert did not choose his wife auspiciously. Simone was a morphine addict and given to all kinds of flamboyant behavior. Additionally, they agreed NOT to be faithful to each other (Ashli scratches her head). Really, their marriage was the act of two defiant young people looking for something outrageous to do.

I've seen a lot of weddings, and I've recently discovered that I tend to be rather cynical. But I grieve over Camus' perspective. Marriage isn't a perfect state, but I've watched many people enter into it knowing this, and knowing that their marriages are for God. A marriage is intended to help individuals know God, among other things. Without this, of course we might consider marriage as Camus did.

But for now, another bridal shower. And they're off...again!

Yours, optimistically, etc.

Summer projects, part 2: The sequel to "The Cake Topper" and other related incidents

2010-06-27T19:39:00.001-07:00

Speaking of projects, I really should be packing up my room right now, getting ready for the annual Summer Transition. BUT, I thought a follow-up about The Cake Topper project might be in order. In short, it turned out beautifully, and it was such a pleasure to be able to add to the wedding in that way. There is, however, a back story to The Cake Topper which I just cannot leave untold, and it is directly related to a second project, which is The Floral Arrangements. The reason why I ended up topping the cake was because I and two of my other housemates were recruited to design all the flower arrangements for the tables, as well as corsages and the cake. Now, if there's any part of a wedding that I would like to be involved in, it's with the flowers, so I didn't need much coaxing. Mainly the bride wanted wild flowers, and the original idea was just to go to a U-pick joint, glean some blooms, put the unruly bundles into mason jars, and ta-da! Our beatific vision was, ah, altered, however, as I will relate.

The Scheme: U-pick was ruled out for various reasons. Sooooo, we figured, if we want wild flowers, we'll search for them in the wild! Honestly, it's Eugene, with plenty of parks and nooks in which to find a little flower-power...can't be too hard...right?

First Proceedings: Molly and I ventured out of the house Friday morning, each with a pair of shears and one big bucket, hoping to pinch a little here and a little there from our neighbors' yards. Yes, we pretty much resorted to theft on the first go. Make of it what you will. It was just such a bleak beginning, a seemingly downward spiral: DIY ain't what it's cracked up to be...so much for 'simple'...we have no purveyor of florals...what else is left, but to scrounge it up out of the bare earth? Wait a minute, neighbor M.'s flowers look mighty nice...he wouldn't mind just a few clippings...and thieves are born.
Nah. We decided instead to find some obliging fields. We weren't that sneaky anyways. Let me say about my fellow adventurer: she is thoughtful and organized in ways that I am not, and she took up the endeavor graciously when I probably would have been too boggled to know where to begin. That doesn't mean that our first attempt with field flowers was that promising. A bland setting to boot, but we were determined. Molly began snipping some tangly purple things, and I turned my attention rather wearily to foliage. You should have seen the look of despair she gave me when I showed her some (I thought) rather lovely pink grasses. (Misunderstanding No. 1. Apparently she thought I was referring to the brown grasses, which were dismal indeed). That was cleared up, and we felt more encouraged. And then...

Daisies! And then we saw the daisy field, on the other side of the tangly-purple-thing-pink-grass field. "Gasp!!! DAISIES!!!!" We were ecstatic over them. Needless to say, we gathered a lot of daisies. This was a much happier prospect, brightened further by the little purple flowers (they looked sort of like giant raspberries) tucked throughout. Things were looking up!

Some Manoeuvres: After we settled the daisy-crazy buckets in our house, Molly suggested that we run by Trader Joe's for some corsage flowers (and treats), and to do some further scouting on the way. We were still feeling desperate, but rather plucky after our first successes. So we figured, why not go out on a median on a very busy street and clip some of the flowers there? And there we were, like nobody's business. I could just imagine my mom catching a glimpse in some newspaper "week in snapshots" thing, on the off chance we were caught on camera (that or some wanted delinquent section. The city of Eugene can take their pick). We didn't stick around (it was a slim median), but found further triumph pruning hydrangeas (and hydrangeas and hydrangeas...lots of hydrangeas) for the benefit of some office buildings. That's how we explained it to ourselves. On top of it, we found the lovliest purple lisianthus at TJ's. We knew we were in business.

A Good Day's Work: We brought our spoils home, and got to work. Our other counterpart provided some fragrant chamomile and lemon balm, and together we constructed arrangements charming enough to grace any shabby chic or DIY magazine. We were all just floored by how everything, the whole endeavor, just fell into place. And glory to God. Really, we had a splendid time, and had the great gift of being able to laugh even at the very worst (for instance, while we were gazing resolutely upon the pink grasses and purple tanglies, there was a summer parks and recreation deal going on in the form of a Quidditch match. For real. Our serious picking was cheered by the image of kids playing soccer with brooms between their legs, and I honestly don't know how it could have been otherwise). Even more, it was one of those instances in which the labor really is its own reward. We had such fun, were delighted with the fruit of our work, and had the added pleasure of giving it as a gift to our friends' marriage.

The only possible dowside to this whole business is that I can't even see a weed or a tuft of grass without considering its potential for floral decor.

Yours, considering a career in floristry, etc.

Summer projects, part 1: The Cake Topper

2010-06-24T10:45:00.000-07:00

I am not a project-oriented person. I would like to be, but when I try it usually goes awry due to my lack of focus. For instance: the half-skirt I started sewing last summer; the piano books that are collecting dust; and the watercolor paints that I bought with Christmas money...well, I HAVE used them. Maybe, since I'm not project-driven by nature, it's unrealistic to imagine that I could do all these things on top of school. Some people are projecty, and I can't force myself to fit that.

So, this is something that I struggle with, but enough for confession. It's SUMMER now, and the task at hand is to start work on my senior thesis (weird, right? I should still be a freshman writing an obscure blog about my little experiences during college. Oh wait). So I thought, while I'm reading all kinds of fun stuff by Dostoevsky and Camus, I should balance that out with some of the things I have to put on hold while in school. And, I'll work on investing in those things, on actually valuing the time necessary to do them well. Optimism, they cried, Optimism!

This morning, with the sun streaming into my east-facing windows, my first project is to make-over a dress which needs a little help. Then I remember The Cake Topper. I have a dear friend getting married on Saturday, and she asked if I would construct a cake topper for her topsy-turvey cake using peacock feathers. Hurrah! An Alice-in-Wonderland-esque cake with peacock feathers! I'm thrilled, because Alice and peacocks (and cake) are some of my beloved things, but I must say I panicked a little this morning. A cake topper...should it be flat, or stick up a little...ack, everyone's going to see it...I haven't even met this cake yet...egad, am I really going to be haunted by a cake topper? Google!

Where would this world go, if it wasn't for Google? I've been browsing through fun websites looking for inspiration, and I've found some, along with little amusements that set me at ease. There are all kinds of bride&groom figurines, among them penguins, sock monkeys, and my personal favorite, bride and groom moose. That's right, moose. If people are allowed to make moose cake toppers, I'm sure I'll be fine.

Yours: senior, aspiring cake-decorator (and a lot of other things), etc.

In which I get to be James Herriot

2010-06-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

It's fortunate that I've watched so many episodes of "All Creatures Great and Small", because on Tuesday the kids I babysit suggested, for the first time, that we play veterinarian. Here I make two clarifying notes:
~For those who were wondering, I still have the great amusement of playing nanny to Indigo, Raina, and now little brother Aiden, who are five, three, and one-and-a-half, respectively. The saga continues, ta-TUM! with plenty of verve and imagination. And they equate me with Mary Poppins.
~"All Creatures Great and Small" is a 1970s BBC television series based on James Herriot's books. Sound quaint? Nothing could be quainter. I find it delightful.

To resume.
We set up out veterinary practice on the kitchen counter, where I administered shots and checkups and surgeries and prescriptions to all kinds of stuffed bunnies, kittens, turtles, little pink hippos. I dealt mainly with cases of vomiting (kids seem to have the most empirical experience with this one), but it never ceases to amaze me how a simple scenario like giving a kitten its yearly kitty checkup can become an epic involving a snarly gang of purple cats terrorizing our patients. (The whole time I was imagining purple cats wandering around the Yorkshire Dales). We had patients coming in who had been scratched by the purple cats and therefore had contracted an infection that created purple spots on the victim. We ended up serving as sanctuary to a whole swampful of ducks which were ambushed. Eventually, we were able to subdue this rough crowd, and saved many lives with purple cat shots.

As I've learned from Dr. Herriot, it's all in a day's work for the local vet.

Yours: nanny, vet, fan of quaint British tv, etc.

Holy Fools

2010-05-22T16:15:00.001-07:00

Two days ago I was walking down 13th, armed against the spastic weather and mulling over some heavy things on my mind, when I came upon a homeless couple. Naturally they asked for any spare money, which I honestly didn't have at the time. They were a little on the crazy side (who wouldn't have been, sitting out in that fickle weather?), and spent some time joking around with me (or, you know, at me). Then the man noticed the cross on my neck and asked, "Can I have that cross, then?"
I answered no, it had been a special gift.
"That is special, very special," jabbered the woman. "A cross is a special thing."
"Wear it well," the man added.

Which kind of took my breath away. I took in these words and turned away from them as they started making ironic remarks about being the warriors of Jesus and how they liked my sailor's jacket (read: peacoat). Such unexpected wisdom from an unexpected (and rather flippant) corner. I think Christ told us that the poor would always be with us, not so that we would always have to take care of them, but really, because they know things, too. I certainly had nothing to give them; and in the midst of the pain I had been dealing with, I was admonished to step up to the challenge of the cross around my neck. The moment that I received it came flooding back to me, when Father Jerry clasped it on at my baptism and quoted, "Whosoever shall follow after Me must deny herself, take up her cross, and follow after Me." My cross is those painful things, and I must take them up. Easy to forget (why is that?!), and so, so good to remember. Those things aren't really better, but more hopeful, I think. I hope.

Yours, etc.

2010-05-16T16:41:00.001-07:00

After that perfect sunny day came a rather cold, rather stressful month. But each day is a gift. I am left hoping that, if at all possible, all my senioritis has defected to this year. Fingers crossed.

It has been a beautiful Sunday, though, made much more so by Lemon Tart and Tom Waits. I've decided that my baking endeavors should have an appropriate music pairing. Following the success of "Blondies & Ben Folds", I decided to try matching my gluten-free lemon tart (in anticipation of tonight's company) with Tom Waits, who, if you haven't listened to him, has a voice that I've heard described as raggedy and bourbon-soaked. I find him rather charming, and a great accompaniment. Sweet, lemony-tart, bourbon-y...I like it.

I had to run to the store for a lemon before I began the tart, and was amused to find that the receipt for the little lemon had a quote from Sarte listed at the bottom (it's natural-foods store. They like to hand out tidbits of philosophy with their merchandise). This is what my Sartrian lemon advised: "A lost battle is a battle one thinks one has lost." I really hope it holds true for the tart.

Yours, etc.

Fresh Starts (with a side of sunshine, free coffee, and quesadillas)

2010-04-15T17:05:00.000-07:00

I feel like each entry on this my blog is some kind of fresh start, as in every three months I get a new wave of fresh-startness and write a new post. But, Christ is risen, and everything is forgiven in the Resurrection, right? We'll see if I can stick with it this time.

In any case, it is mid-April, and we have our first sunny AND warm day! Spring is the ultimate time for fresh starts. It definitely helps that the sun comes out, to revive us Northwesterners from winter lethargy; and even though it's nearly the end of the school year, I certainly feel inspired to re-commit to my work as if the year was just beginning.

So, after leaving work early today, I slipped on a sundress, grabbed a mug and my homework, and head over to Starbucks. Apparently, in observance of Earth Day (and as an aside, may I say that God picked a gorgeous day for Earth Day?), I could bring my own cup and get a free coffee. Free coffee, outdoor seating in blaring sunshine, perusing Anna Karenina, studying German with enthusiasm...and being so happy that I could hardly care if I was indeed getting a sunburn. Because believe me, having joy brought back into studying German is a long-lost gift! Many things have been restored, and there's only God to thank for that.

If my study endeavors were not encouraging enough, on my way home I made fast friends with the young man who runs the quesadilla stand near campus and got a rather nice little quesadilla to go. Made with local products and cooked over an open flame in a terra-cotta-thingy, I think I would just call it delightful. I mean, cheerful service, renewable energy, cheese...that's all-around happiness. As I walked home with my quesadilla, thinking about the combination of the bits of today, I just grinned over how lavished we are with goodness. There are good things everywhere, and fresh starts to be had not just on sunny days, but every single day.

Now for an evening walk!

Yours, etc.

Soundtracks

2010-01-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

I am now in the middle of my junior year, and as I've reflected on this, it has come to my attention that so many memories are tied to music. So much so that each year, even each term, has a different feel depending on the 'soundtrack' during that time. If you can't tell, I've been waxing a bit nostalgic lately.

~Freshman year
Fall: I think the background music for this one is Over the Rhine (especially 'Born'). This dredges up memories of being the cook's assistant in the residence program, during which I listened to a lot of this. I never thought I could be so stirred in my soul by that kind of music
(when I came to Gutenberg, my musical repertoire was pretty much the homeschool mix of contemporary Christian, classical, show tunes, and Celtic. I don't consider this a negative list, but growing up I wasn't exposed to much secular music, and struggled with whether or not I was allowed to listen to it). Those memories and feelings are still so vivid.
Winter: Regina Spektor, the score to Amelie, and the music of Thomas Newman (Meet Joe Black, Little Women, and Finding Nemo). I call this 'White House music', because I have very special memories of this from the girls' house at Gutenberg.

~Sophomore year
Winter: I half-despondently, half-mockingly referred to this term as "The Winter of My Discontent": halfway through sophomore year, just months from two-year exams, and the pressure was on. It was a truly maniacal time, in which I was struggling spiritually between wanting light and only seeing darkness (I was given light, wonderful light, but that's another story). To get through despair, I had to laugh at myself, and I really did learn to treasure my life at the time. Not surprising, but this term's playlist was heavy on The Decemberists and Kate Nash. Dark, light, and thoroughly crazy and fun. And not totally hopeless. I really think 'Merry Happy' saved my skin.
Spring: Ah, Iron&Wine and Springtime. And traditional Greek church music, a cappella. So there you go.

~Junior year
Fall: After the gauntlet of sophomore exams, we are finally fancy-free! This is the term of Old Crow Medicine Show and Sufijan Stevens (and lots of songs that remind me of my sister). It's almost embarassing how many times one can listen to 'Wagon Wheel' in a row. Or, er, so I've heard.

So now we've come again to winter, partway through Junior year, and I have over two years' worth of beloved music, music which has been integral in me coming to know myself. It is yet early, but I believe this term is showing trends involving The Weepies, Imogen Heap, and The Postal Service. I'm optimistic about this forecast!

Yours, etc.

The Christmas Mango: a Christmas tale

2010-01-02T13:51:00.000-08:00

This tale began a year ago, and quite by accident. I would imagine that many good stories begin quite by accident. Really, all that happened was a slight mix-up about fruits. You see, budgets being tight during Christmas, my parents decided to take the traditional (read: cheap) approach to gifts and filled our stockings with fruit and unshelled nuts. As we unloaded our stockings on Christmas, we were exclaiming over the novelty of our stocking-stuffers (which amounted to an orange and a pear each, along with the nuts) when one of my sisters broke out, "All right! I got a Mango!"
The other three of us looked down at our pears, wondering why they weren't mangoes as well and feeling a bit miffed. My mother's reaction was entirely different; that is to say, she was as confused as we were, but even more so, because she was convinced that she had bought four pears instead of three and a mango. To save face, she calmly replied to my sister, "No, that's a pear."
Knowing exactly what she was holding in her hand, my sister contended that it was indeed a mango. Despite her explanation that it had no stem and was shaped like a mango, my mother still held, "It is a pear, not a mango. I did not buy a mango". We were all extremely amused, especially since the two were almost in hysteria over the fruit. Finally my sister cried out in exasperation, "It's a MANGO! Look! There's a sticker on this fruit that says 'Mamba Mangoes'! We were rolling with laughter, while my mother fell silent for a minute, contemplating the situation. Finally she acknowledged,

"I thought that was an oddly-shaped pear."

So my mother had found a random mango resting with the pears at the grocery store. We enjoyed it so much that it became a new tradition. Each year, it is a surprise: Who will get the Christmas mango? And rather than remaining embarassed, my mother is extremely proud of this tradition, because she started it. Quite by accident, too, which makes it even better.

Mice!

2009-12-06T15:50:00.000-08:00

It is yet another finals week, and we have just discovered some intrepid wee mice scampering in and out of our bedrooms. They're obviously babies, because they haven't learned stealth, but go hopping around in broad daylight (they're also little and fuzzy, and quite adorable). This makes for some amusing scenes (Victoria and I were highly entertained by one that was trying to hide from us behind a clear glass bottle), but it also means that we have a nest, an infiltration. We've set traps, but the bait has been mysteriously disappearing, likely indicating that Mom and Dad Mouse are sending the tiny ones to scoop up the bait and bring it back to the nest, because they're dumb enough to comply and too light to activate the traps. So, I think we're resorting to mousing. What fun.

How's that for an anecdote? More thoughts from the term will surface over break, I'm sure, but what is immediate in my mind is that today is St. Nicholas' Day. This is an important day in the Advent cycle (which began three weeks ago), where we celebrate one of the great saints who conveyed the love of Christ to those around him. The story is that he knew a poor family who had daughters, and took it upon himself to provide the girls with money for dowries (thus saving them from their father's intention of prostituting them for extra funds). It became a tradition to give gifts on December 5th or 6th in remembrance of St. Nicholas, a tradition that is still very common in Northern Europe, where children leave a shoe out over night, to find it filled with goodies in the morning. Gift-giving at Christmas has a long heritage. So...St. Nicholas, Santa Claus, Father Christmas...remember where this tradition derives from, who he really is and what he did, and that he did it for Christ. I know I'm inspired even more to give gifts out of love and in celebration of Christ's Nativity.

With that, cheers to you for Christmastime!

In which Ashli has the house to herself, Part 4: Final thoughts for the final hours

2009-09-13T16:25:00.000-07:00

Just yesterday I remembered an item on my wish list from earlier in the spring, a wish that developed out of a rather topsy-turvey school year (during which I went somewhat crazy). I almost desperately wanted to get away on a sort of retreat, to somewhere like a monestary, for a time of prayer and a break from the complete bedlam that had been my life for several months. With the end of school I felt some stress-relief, however, and funds not permitting, I quite contentedly decided that this summer wouldn't be the time for that kind of thing. The summer has been peaceful enough, and I don't feel nearly as hectic (although their are some crazy quirks left over from the school year snappage). What I realized yesterday, after being largely solitary for nearly two weeks, was that I have had my retreat after all. Not in the way I expected--I didn't leave home or withdraw from other people--but the aspect of solitude has been present. And how timely, too, as I get ready to move back to Eugene for another year of school. Timely...and not my time or planning, but God's. Glory to Him, for an entire three months of peace and rest and for satisfying my needs and desires but not always in the way I expect--reminding me how good He is and that it is good to cling to Him. Now, may I be grateful.

And now is probably the time to put my sister's clothes back in her room.

In which Ashli has the house to herself, Part 3: Jamming

2009-09-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was able to fulfill a good bit of my canning endeavors. If I do not live to can another item (which may be likely, since today's main project is cleaning out our home's own private Pit of Despair--the garage--from whence I may not rise the victor), I shall be pleased with yesterday's accomplishments. But that's enough drama. On to the real business.
I'm wary of canning as a method of food preservation generally, because I'm not convinced that cooking a fruit or vegetable to death, dousing it in sugar-syrup, then sealing it in limbo so it can hang out in your cupboard for months is the best way to reap the nutritional benefits of summer during the winter (okay, not done with the drama). I've found other methods for making things like pickles that so far have been successful...and quite tasty. Apparently, the traditional pickle, whether cucumber or other veggie, was made by letting the chosen vegetable sit in a saltwater solution at room temperature for a number of days. It sounds scary, but what occurs is a fermentation process. It allows the development of enzymes and friendly bacteria which enhance the nutrients of raw vegetables. And the taste? Well, they taste like...pickles. So I can have my pickles and eat them, with the benefits of their being a raw food. Sweet!

But I love jam. I continue to opt for the cooked-n-canned version (tried the fermented version, didn't like fizzy jam), but there are still alternatives that aren't so sugary. So, armed with honey and Pomona's Universal Pectin, I think I've found a happy medium with happy results...

The Asian Pears: Last weekend my dad and I picked several pounds of this fruit from my grandpa's trees. Unfortunately, I was adversely impacted by finding so many wormy ones, and just felt too grossed out to eat them plain. So...nobody else is here to eat them...aha! Convert the good bits into a nice batch of Pear Sauce (like applesauce, just not apple). This worked okay, but it was too runny and wouldn't cook down, so I just decided to see if the remainders of the pearsauce would make jam. I actually managed to cook it down further (it's probably cooked beyond having any nutritional value left), and with a little extra honey and some pumpkin pie spice, it turned out delicious! At least, the remnant that ended up just in the fridge and not in a jar is. It appears that, like canned tomatoes, when canning asian pears one has to take precautions against botulism. So maybe we're not okay. But then, I feel like these darn pears were a gamble from the beginning.
The Plums: I think this variety is what they call an 'Italian Prune'. I picked them off a random tree in my neighborhood that doesn't appear to belong to anyone. Tasty and beautiful, they turned into beautiful preserves, all peachy-colored with purple spots from the peel. Never made plum jam before, but the name sounds so wonderful I had to try it out! And with free fruit, why not?
The Blackberries: Good ol' blackberry jam. Tangles of brambles near my house yielded lots of nice berries this season, although I started jamming a bit late and had to scrounge a little to make the jam. This canning experience was remarkable because I was able to pick each fruit, and not necessarily with the aim of making jam. It was available, so I took some (why waste it?), and now each jar of jam that resulted has little memories and experiences preserved in it. I bet they're nice on toast.

In which Ashli has the house to herself, Part 2: Not so alone

2009-09-10T15:17:00.001-07:00

The tea kettle is again on it's way to whistling, as we open the second installment of Ashli Alone in the House. Which, really, has not been so 'lonely' as I expected. Today and Monday have been my only two alone-days, reminding me of just how gracious God is to give me the friends and family that I have. I've had the opportunity to spend a weekend with my dad, which doesn't happen much these days (in my dusty attic-room, no less, which made me feel rather like Polly in The Magician's Nephew, a feeling I indulged as much a possible). I've also celebrated a long-awaited wedding, had tea with my housemates (who were in Portland for the wedding), spent nice time with my step-dad, and enjoyed the company of three good friends. I don't mind that this takes away from the me-plans that I have, because aside from being reminded that my friends rock, I am given another opportunity to remember that tend to go a bit bats when too often alone with myself. I get myself stuck inside my head. Time alone is a necessity for me, but not too much, and God knows this. Which brings yet another reminder: I guess I'm technically never alone. I'm glad sometimes (okay, frequently) to be without people, but I'm never without God. I think that's why I'm so comfortable with solitude, because it's not just me that I'm hanging out with. And with or without people, I'm learning what it means for God to satisfy us with good things.

A quote from C. S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy comes to mind. Of his childhood travels to and from school with his brother, Lewis says, "The homeward journey was even more festal. It had an invariable routine: first the supper at a restaurant--it was merely poached eggs and tea but to us the tables of the gods..." Yesterday Rebekah and I discovered the same thing about cinnamon-raisin bread with raspberry jam. A feast. Perfectly satisfying. It is amazing how good, and satisfying, good things are.

In which Ashli has the house to herself: Part 1

2009-09-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

With Megan in Utah since last week and mum newly landed in Moscow, the tea is brewing and I am ready to begin the saga of...me, in the house by myself (well, largely by myself. Stepfather will be home most evenings). Megan, if you read this, I have a confession...I've been wearing your black leggings and have used the Jenny-cup twice without asking. Such is my unruliness when you are not around to keep tabs on me.
And what shall one do with one's stolen time? Hmmm...

Around this time of year I get the inclination to make jam. I think I've contracted a sort of harvest-bug, because this inclination has expanded to include other types of preservation, like pickles and such what-nots. Kind of a 'let's-prepare-for-winter' spirit. Recently I finished reading a book called Plenty (by Alisa Smith and J. B. MacKinnon), which describes the authors' year-long experiment in eating only foods produced locally, within one hundred miles of their British Columbia home. To do so, they actually had to pay attention to the seasonality of certain vegetables (sorry, no salad in winter!) and the fact that many produce items don't actually grow in the Pacific Northwest (tragically, bananas, and things like olive oil and cane sugar). So naturally, when one is living off the local land, one must take advantage of what's available. In part, I suppose this is where food preservation comes into business. As the experiment in the book showed me, there is plenty of food right at our fingertips, and much of it can be frozen or canned. I find it fascinating! Really, it's the coolest thing ever.

Although, in recent years more traditional ways of life have become increasingly appealing to me. I think a lot of it has to do with understanding the natural ryhthms and cycles of life, things which God intended to be natural to us. Things which we have lost contact with, and therefore make our lives feel disconnected and unbalanced. It's something to think about, at least.

And every September, I get the urge to turn sweet Oregon summer fruits into jams. Not that I'm saying it should be everybody's business to do the same, that you should reestablish your ties with the earth and be all natural. No. And whether or not someone has the same inclinations, he or she is always welcome to something from my kitchen!

Vegan times

2009-08-12T12:19:00.000-07:00

Being part of a church that fasts frequently (and by fasting I mean giving up animal products for stipulated periods during the year) has its adventures. From a very upbeat and positive viewpoint, it can be rather exciting for someone who enjoys culinary challenges. As a devotee to dairy products, I appreciate the opportunity to take a break from my usual cheese-with-everything diet and explore the (plain) vegetable world. My family has gotten somewhat used to my food quirks in recent years, with my bowls of sourdough starters and fermented things, so now they smile at my half-gallon jars of what looks like guts (but are, in actuality, cooked beans) in the fridge and assortment of eggplants and cabbage. Yes, being a part-time vegan, I never realized what weird looks you get from non-vegans. Although I have spent the last two years of my life in Eugene, where vegans are indigenous and nothing is really that weird.
But fasting isn't always so upbeat and positive. It's not just a dietary decision (and let me tell you, it's not one I would make if there wasn't a higher spiritual value to it. I've come to respect those who do it just for health convictions, because I certainly couldn't). It's a time of sacrifice, when through your physical struggles you realize how much you need God's mercy if you're going to live for Him. I'm definitely not very good at it, but it is a blessed thing, and not something to despair over. Although pizza is rather tragic without cheese...but then, hummus covers a multitude of sins. God lets me laugh at myself!

By the way, ripe garden tomatoes taste great with rain water droplets on them!

Two piles of books

2009-08-11T11:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was checking out an armload of books and CDs from the library, and as I was doing so realized that I was being surveyed by a bust on display above me. It happened to be Beatrice (presumably Dante's lady), and on making eye contact with her she seemed to be reminding me that I already have a stack of summer reading for the upcoming school year. Which, alas, I have barely touched. And will probably distract myself further from it with my new stack. (So I'm more interested in green living and food-related literature right now than in Dante and Beatrice. It's summertime). Beatrice's little attempts at nudging me toward duty and integrity were not entirely fruitful (well, there are guilt pangs, yes, but have I acted upon them? No).

So here I enter yet another contest with myself. For really, a reading list that includes the Divine Comedy, Great Expectations, and Anna Karenina should be literary heaven to my bookish self. It rather offends my inner would-be English Lit. scholar that such a list fails to tempt. I would like to think this means I'm not that pretentious. Maybe I don't just read things for pretention's sake! Feeling better now? No, because what I'm actually dealing with is, quite plainly, good old-fashioned laziness. I encounter this frequently, but it's always discouraging to realize that things don't get done sheerly because I never put forth great effort to accomplish them. I feel this keenly after two years of it in college. But I suppose that's why I'm in college. Not to be able to say that I'm a whiz at homework assignments (even after fifteen years of school, sheesh), but to learn things about myself along with the academics. Whether or not I'll be able to parse Greek or pontificate on some obscure philosopher in a decade or two, I know that I will most likely struggle with laziness all my life. (For the record, I do highly value and enjoy my wacko liberal arts education. No, it probably won't ever pay as far as jobs and money are concerned, but then, I'd rather be a good person than a wealthy one. With humility, of course. For obviously, I struggle with the goodness part). Maybe if I tuck into the Divine Comedy right now, some of Beatrice's perfections will rub off on me.

Doubt it. But glory be to God anyway, for any mean attempts at goodness on my part.

The cook and the boy get married

2009-07-26T21:14:00.000-07:00

The title of this post sounds very like something that would originate from some of my times with those precious children, as you read in my previous post; actually, it comes from a very different source. Far from sitting at a toddler's tea table, I was recently promoted to Maid-of-Honor in my friend's bridal party. Now, I am a fiend for tradition and history, and as I have been settling into my role and performing my duties, it seemed interesting and appropriate to read up on the origin of my position. My first online read, after googling something like 'maid-of-honor-history', was mainly a fruity description of stuff I already knew: "The maid-of-honor is the pillar of emotional support for the bride to make her happy leading up to her happy day blah blah blah lots of girly parties blah details blah...". Wikipedia was somewhat more enlightening. I discovered that the attendants to the bride on the big day traditionally were just that, 'bride's maids'. They typically were young, unmarried women who witnessed the wedding, the chief of them (maid-of-honor) being the bride's personal attendant for the days before the wedding. Of course this has evolved with the advent of the bridal shower and bachelorette party, where the Honorable Maid organizes some last hurrahs for the bride and bridesmaids before the marriage. I could have guessed the info wikipedia gave on it, and will be interested to see if there is anything else to read. What was more intrigueing was the origin of the words 'bride' and 'groom'. Apparently bride possibly comes from the Teutonic word for 'cook', while 'groom' comes from 'goom, guma', meaning 'boy'. Whether wikipedia is to be trusted or not, I think they make a very interesting pair.
For some last words, I hope (as maybe you have been hoping for over a year?) that this is a true revival of 'Ashli's Anecdotes'. May I have mercy from elsewhere to have some integrity in this project!
Because God gives, not just second chances, but chance after chance, may we, I and my readers, come at this little article with fresh minds. I am etc.

Strawberry Shortcake Tea

2008-05-03T22:11:00.000-07:00

For those of you who aren't aware, I am by trade a babysitter. As anyone who has even encountered a child knows, the mind of a child is quite lively, and sometimes difficult to keep up with. I experience this regularly every other Thursday afternoon, when I have the great fortune to hang out with Indigo (3) and Raina (1). Now, my girls do not watch television, so they are especially expert at entertaining themselves, and while they're at it, me. Since child anecdotes are always a kick, here are some recent favorites.
One of Indigo's favorite activities is a large, barn-shaped puzzle with various animals pictured on it. Now Indigo is incredibly eloquent, and as we were constructing the puzzle, we were discussing each piece in order to help her figure out its proper position. When we got to the cow (or 'tow', since Indigo can't say her hard c's), she took one piece that had the rear end (including hooves and udders) and attempted to fit it in. "What part of the cow is that?" I prompted. "That goes in the back," she replied. "Those are his feetsies (pointing to the hooves), and those are his milk-thingies (being the udders)." Oh, really? I'm not sure which was more amusing: her particular choice of words, or that she said HIS milk-thingies.
The girls' mother spent a lot of time in Ireland, and absorbed (to my excitement) the custom of taking tea frequently. Needless to say, she's brought up her babies to be teatotalers, and so we often 'have tea' in they're little play kitchen/dining area. Indigo is already a superb hostess; she is constantly presenting me with a fresh cup. Raina and I drink tea together while our hostess bustles about. On my last visit, as I was thanking Indigo for her gracious service in giving me tea, she said, "Yes. It's Strawberry Cake Tea. It's Strawberry Shortcake Tea." Fancy-schmanzy!
Part of our more recent fun and games includes dancing. It's not uncommon for music, mainly of the nursery rhyme nonsense genre, to be playing, and since everyone except myself is under four years of age, ballet is the dance of choice. So we dance ballet around the house to the Wiggles and Mickey Mouse music. I never would have thought, but when in Rome...a three year old's Rome, at least...
Their father came home one time while I was there in order to fix his car up for a trip. Since dad is the most interesting business around, our activities upon his arrival consisted of watching him through the glass door (and poking our heads out to ask questions, mainly 'what are you doing?'). We took brief breaks to decorate the doorknobs with pony-tail holders, prettifying the house for Indigo's birthday the next day, but other than that, dad was the main attraction. When he disappeared shortly into the garage for supplies (after telling us he was going to do so), Indigo turned to me and asked, "Where did papa go?" Me:"To the garage, remember?" I:"Oh, yes, because that's where the grown-ups go." I guess they do.

Potpourri

2008-04-22T19:51:00.000-07:00

Eugene lies decimated down here today. The weather continues dismal, although we had the sun peek out a bit. As a native of this state, I have a definite affinity with rain. But even I, who loves the storm, could not wish for sunshine to come sooner. It has a dampening effect on the mood, if you will.
All is truly well, though. I have little homework this evening, so I thought I'd update. There's not much in the way of news, so I thought, as kind of a review of the year, I would publicize some of my favorite works from this prolific year of reading. Here they are, folks!
~Measure for Measure (Shakespeare): admittedly one of the Bard's naughtier plays, I loved it for it's humanity. It was remarkably deep, and dealt with heavy issues while still being trademark zany.
~Locke, Federalist Papers, de Toqueville, Rousseau, Marx, Lenin: How does one do government? Let me count the ways! All these dudes had their own take on government, and it was fascinating to trace the differences and how they affected history (is it 'affect' or 'effect'?).
~A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens): I read this when I was sixteen, and disliked it considerably. A second reading helped me discover it's brilliance. I had also the advantage of maturity, and was able to decipher Dickens' verbosity.
~Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky): hands down, the most intense read I've ever experienced. I was pulled right into the thing! Human nature is indeed wicked, and this book unabashedly displays this. Also: I never knew that an author could have so much talent, to write a book one way and make his reader think a certain thing for six hundred pages, then take the last page and a half to twist the thing in the other direction. Whew!
~Nietzsche: please, nobody have a heart attack. I don't prescribe to him; he is freaky. But he has a certain appeal that is undeniable, and his place in history and his writings are so profound, that reading him is definitely worth it. If you wonder, I only refer to him as 'him', for I don't want to have to type 'Nietzsche' left and right. You should try it.
~other recent favorites that don't really need explanation: Man and Superman (George Bernard Shaw), A Doll House (Ibsen), and All Quiet on the Western Front (Remarque).
Ta-ta for now! May your reading endeavors be worthwhile.
~I am etc.

Spring Cleaning

2008-04-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

No, the whole blog endeavor is not all washed up, in case you were wondering. It is generally typical for a person to finish what they've started, and be faithful along the way, but such is not my relationship with the internet. Just ask anyone who is on emailing terms with me.
Today's title is 'Spring Cleaning', for various reasons: 1) It is spring, or it is trying to be at least 2) It is supposedly what people do in spring 3) We've got a lot of catching up to do!!!
Thinking about cleaning, we just had our smoke detectors cleaned Thursday. The reason for this being that we have very erractic smoke detectors. They have cried wolf three times in the last two weeks, and as with all 'good' smoke detectors, they aren't something that you want to go off without justification. They're lmost as loud as the singer who's singing from the UO stadium right now. I'm sure the sound could wake the dead. Actually, we discovered this at seven-thirty this morning, when we were nearly electrocuted out of slumber by our faithful detectors. Here we were, a little gaggle of sleepy students in front of the house, in our pajamas, IN THE SNOW (I among others being without shoes), while get this, the fire department was running a test on our smoke detectors! Yes! They thought it would be brilliant at seven-thirty in the morning to test our newly-cleaned smoke detectors in order to figure out which single one was causing the problems. So we're outside for twenty minutes while our house manager is running around the house in her pajamas looking for the rogue little detector. I applaud the Eugene Fire Dept. for their cute idea.
That's the only anecdote for today. I thought it was a nice, light transition back into blogging, instead of some 'o, my life!' commentary. So fair-thee-well, and may your smoke detectors fain to treat you justly.

January update

2008-01-14T19:08:00.000-08:00

I know it's really not a witty title. Considering the variety of matter I'm going to cover, I think it matters little.
To start with the immediate, I'm sick! These things are always timely. Illnesses spread like wildfire around here, and everyone's usually on tinterhooks as to whether they'll catch it. Sickly days! I think I'll be able to push through, as long as I get enough sleep tonight. I don't think I have a choice, as my major homework assignment for tomorrow is an 8.5" by 11" headshot of William Shakespeare. All of which needs to be accomplished tonight. Upside down. That is, I will draw it by turning the sample picture upside down and copying it thus.
My drawing practicum is one of the reasons why I'm so excited about this quarter. After putting my brain on the rack for eleven weeks, trying to give an answer as to WHAT art is (btw, my art teacher really liked my paper! He said he thought I was right. O, Achievement!), now I actually get to DO it. Lovely.
We're also studying the French Revolution, which is a fascinating event. I'm simply agog. Not to mention that we get to read A Tale of Two Cities, Crime and Punishment, and Frankenstein! I'm so happy about novels. These aren't all about France, of course, and neither is the whole quarter; but it's mainly nineteenth century stuff, which is my cup of tea.
As rosy as this may sound, I must confess that this term is going to be much more difficult when it comes to homesickness. I'm definitely missing my family much more this time. Christmas was a really good opportunity to reflect on my priorities, and I realized how much I need to continue investing in my family, even if from afar. It's so easy to get caught up in 'young people world', where everyone is your age, and have lots of young people issues. Especially when the issues come flying in your face left and right. I am certainly being challenged to honor people for who they are, and not hate them for their problems. What a challenge, though.
I would continue, but I'm really running out of thoughts. It happens frequently. And the Bard's head has been sitting next to me and gazing affixedly at me.
Thanks for reading faithfully! I will be back soon. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your prayers. God is working, but sometimes it's so hard to accept His method. Don't stop!

Dead Week

2007-12-02T22:23:00.000-08:00

It is currently Dead Week here at school. For those of you who aren't familiar with the term: This is a blessed space of a week, inserted betwixt regular classes and final exams, during which we have NO SCHOOL. The purpose being, of course, to study for said exams. This is meant to be a highly productive time. It is. It is also the time that creates acute anxiety (toward exams), stress (about studying), and excitement (about being on holiday afterward!!!!). I also feel the weight of the quarter, with how much studying I've done, and how much still needs to be done! I am convinced that the name for this time is facetiously chosen, as the nature of Dead Week is such that you feel dead, or want to be. It helps though, that we're all stressed together (and, as tonight, procrastinate together. Now out of my system). Conducive to bonding, I assure you. At any rate, I thought I would drop an update before I pass out of existence for the next few days, and into the world of, among other things, the whole Reformation through the whole Enlightenment and American Revolution.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!
Anyways.
Yes, it is a heavy load, and I'm pretty nervous about it all. I don't know if my brain can take any more. To all who read, thank you so much for your prayers...I really need them! I hope to meet with you all during Christmas...just a few more days! Just a few more days.
Tiredly and perseveringly, as ever, yours.

Midnight Pie

2007-11-21T23:28:00.000-08:00

I am currently in the cozy confines of my home kitchen, waiting for my punkin (deliberate misspelling) pie to cook. Just a few minutes more! It is a relief to be back home, especially for a holiday (I have barely any homework!!!). Tonight my family and I spent about an hour and a half talking at the dinner table, after which my sister and I continued for another long space of time. Then we baked together, I of course in charge of pumpkin pie, and Meg making her ritual Thanksgiving Breakfast Sour Cream Coffee Cake. Yum!
It'll be interesting to reflect over the next four days, about my experience thus far in college. Last time I was home, I had the opportunity to do so, and found it very helpful. I'll be sure to chronicle any interesting thoughts that scurry across my mind. Presently, even though the pie has yet to cool, it is 11:30 at night, and I really have little to write that will be of further import. So, goodnight, and Happy Thanksgiving! May we all remember what God has done.
~Yours

The best of all possible worlds

2007-11-16T17:14:00.000-08:00

Hello again. Wonderfully, these last couple weeks have slowed down immensely. I know that it's only a lull before accelerating from zero to sixty (well, maybe from 60 to 600) after Thanksgiving, when finals come up. It's great right now, though!
If you're wondering about the title of this post, I obtained it from 'Candide', which we read last week. Being a ridiculous satire, one of the big jokes within is that this all circumstances are preordained and necessary for the greater good (viz., my suffering is trivial because it lends to the benefit of the rest of the world, and it was intended to do so, even if it's dreadfully obscure); this being the case, we live in 'the best of all possible worlds'. If you want to know more about that, I wrote a paper on it. Ask me for it sometime. Anyways, I adopted the title because I am experiencing a similar concept, although, if I may say, it's not perverted as it is in 'Candide'. Alors:
This has been an incredible quarter. It has been a very hard quarter. I don't know if I've suffered, per se, but I have struggled, not just with the amount of work, but the nature of it; as well as coming to grips with my weaknesses, and the dynamics of this community. All being very messy ordeals. Pleasant, but still messy. I am absolutely certain of God's presence with me, however, and I know that as awful as I feel sometimes, that it is good. I don't just brush off suffering; no, suffering is a good friend and useful growing agent. That's where I differ from Candide. So, it's hard, but it's 'the best' place for me. It's right where I'm supposed to be, and I could not conceive of anything better. On Wednesday night, during our Bible study, one of my tutors was talking about difficulty in relationships. He brought up Romans 5: 2-5, which I had memorized last year duing our Romans study, and which I had furthermore clung through the insanity of Senior Year. Surprise, surprise, but what else would happen, that I would forget about that verse during this strenuous time in my life?! I did. Silly, silly. However, Jack brought it back to my mind, and to hear him say the verses and affirm their message was worth every struggle of this past term. I had to take a 'bathroom break' and praise God. Once again, God has whispered to me, "See? You still need me. And I know what I'm doing." I feel that I can say amen to that.
Before closing, I believe this is a particularly appropriate opportunity to correct something from a previous post. Back then, I wrote a Latin inscription, Soli Deo Gloria (something about glory to God alone). Well, it's actually Sola. So: Sola Deo Gloria!
And, as another brief postscript, I understand why Thelma recommends that her students don't read 'Candide' until they're about twenty-five. Naughty, naughty!
I am, etc.

The Return of the Student

2007-10-28T15:38:00.000-07:00

I'm back! From whence, I know not. All I know is that I feel as though I have not had my head on straight for a few weeks. Possibly longer.
We've been reading so much philosophy lately! I find it interesting, but 'tis so new to me that I have trouble interacting with it. Now we're on Hume, after reading Descartes, Hobbes and Locke. Ahhhh! If I had a week for each reading, I would have a better time of it. As it is, we have two or three days for each. So, Ahhhh! I'm learning, though, to be a better student. That's why I haven't really surfaced online for two weeks.
We had our Halloween party on Friday night--great fun!!! We had lots of people from Hogwarts join us (apparently people do things in themes around here), as well as the Mad Hatter, a Muslim Angel (it actually worked okay!), and numerous other fun things. I procured a pure wool, made-in-Scotland kilt for seven bucks at Value Village, and made my appearance as a Highland dancer. We danced a lot: there was general move-however-you-want-to-throbbing-techno-music kind of dancing; some of our really cool people did swing; and all of us joined in to do the Virginia Reel, as well as another group dance. The latter was the highlight of the night, and I think quite a few of us were wishing for more assemblies such as that.
Some changes have taken place, as of yesterday: I have gone from my little room, to a larger room plus a roommate! Without divulging any private information, of which none belongs to myself, here's the scoop: my friend had a roommate in the women's house, they needed a different situation, la-di-da, I get asked to move in with my friend, la-di-da, we finally rectify the situation by turning the gorgeous Room One of the main house into a dwelling for my friend and I, and her former roomie gets my room. We have now spent one night thus, and are praising God for how wonderfully He has orchestrated this! I am so assured of His hand. And get this: my new room even has a fireplace! We're prohibited from lighting it, but ambience is really the key. One closet, however, does not unlock (they are, for some reason, deadbolted). We had to resort to crime, and have two of the senior guys attempt to pick the lock. Even they in their expertise could do nothing. Still, our house manager was teasing us, saying that we had the watchtower room (it's located between the men's hall, and the women's), and could spy on everybody. I sincerely hope so.

"The world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide; then hand in hand, with wandr'ing steps and slow, through Eden made their solitary way." ~Milton, Paradise Lost

Pleasant moments

2007-10-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

The bells are chiming the hour again! They raise any situation beyond the ho-hum. Here in the airy Loft, the topmost level of the building, I am surrounded by shelves of books, plants, all manner of end-tables, and a bright window. Add the bells, and I think I have successfully escaped school life! Except, of course, that I'm doing homework.
Last night I baked cookies for the first time since I got here. I never realized how much I would miss doing it all the time, as I did in summer. It was a great way unwind, and they disappeared swiftly, leaving only mere crumbs to testify that they ever existed. So it is with all food around here, but especially sweets. On Monday night I witnessed a whole chocolate cake, complete and gorgeous at 10 pm, transform into a single sliver by 5:30 the next morning! Lots of growing boys around here. And girls, for that matter! Honestly, there's nothing like it.
Anyways, I just had to share the moments of peace that God has brought me recently! He knows exactly what we need.
Adieu.

2007-10-06T15:46:00.000-07:00

Back to the ol' blog! Do expect, dear readers, a weekly report for now. But I think I've said that already. Now to the real stuff.
To me, October is the most gorgeous month of all. Furthermore, I don't think I've experienced a more glorious fall, looking out at the changing foliage through these old windows here at the house. This is a most beautiful city in falltime! Yesterday I was compelled to buy milk at the store, and it was so lovely to walk in the crisp, late afternoon, with a glass bottle of milk on my arm, as the city bells chimed the hour. I think the world was near perfection, if for a brief matter of minutes! Later at night, my friend and I ventured out to attend an Irish dance at a local church. Apparently the information was outdated, for we stumbled upon a "feed the homeless"/bum meeting instead; it was a nice night walk, anyways!
We got to experience October in another way today, during our House Work Day. The Lord gave us excellent weather (overcast, crisp, and dry) for our tasks, and I was delighted to have the job of working outside in the garden! Part of this included cutting back the mint plants, the trimmings of which I was allowed to keep. As a result, I have about six very large bunches of mint hanging delectably from my walls, ceiling, and closet doors, in preparation for cold season (I swear by mint tea for a sore throat!). Today I also did a lot of digging, so we'll see how my body fares in the morning.
Study-wise, I am getting settled, but there's always so much to do! I have a ton to cram into the next two days. So far, I think my favorite classes are Greek and Micro (yes, I'm loving all the excavating through Aristotle!). I find this strange, since it's Western Civ. that's the most literature/history intensive, and the class that I assumed would be my favorite. Well then! I guess I'm captured by the future opportunity that I will have to translate the New Testament for myself. I find that extremely compelling. Already the sophomores are using their Greek in their Micro class on John! Exciting! And we not so lowly freshman are now constructing simple sentences, which is thrilling.
Well, study beckons. Most of my fellow learners have either gone out to study, or are holed up in their rooms doing the same. We do that a lot around here; c'est la vie!
"Let us not say 'farewell', but as the French have it, 'au revoir'!"
Yours, etc.

P.S.

2007-09-28T16:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, so the previous post is not a masterpiece. Hopefully, I'll hone my writing skills and thus be able to deliver chef d'oeuvres that any alleged writer should yearn for. All this is to say, please excuse my scattered mind, for it is not booted up yet. If one craves more details than I give here, let him be assured that they shall unfold.
Humbly, etc.

Just some thoughts

2007-09-28T16:13:00.000-07:00

Originally I had intended to preface my blogging with a background of how I came to be where I am, but since it's now two weeks that I've been here, and I have limited time, I think I'll just jump in! The truth is, I began this thing two weeks ago, only for it to lay dormant. Still, as I've been learning here, It's never too late! Thus I begin.
Today is actually a landmark day, for I have finished my first official week of classes!!! What an education this is, too. I'm used to the amount of work, but we deal with such intense subject matter that, admittedly, I sometimes feel despair (hilariously, all during orientation week we were told that this is normal for a G-(abbreviated for safety purposes. Love you, mum!) student. For certain, I've never tackled Aristotle's "Categories", Luther's "Freedom of a Christian", Calvin's "Institutes" regarding predestination, the classical Greek alphabet, Euclidean geometry, and the question, What is art? all in the same week. Jealous? Actually, I find it supremely cool. And helpful.
The academics of G- are inseperably intertwined with the community of the place. Living in the House is probably one of the greatest experiences I've had these eighteen years. I think that it was 'home' the day I arrived. For clarity, the House is the actual college, which is a former sorority building. The second floor houses men and women's dorms, so it's almost like being homeschooled! Indeed, the object here is to build a family among the other members of the school, so it's not unlike homeschooling at all. What a far cry from the nearby mammoth university! Today I walked to the campus post office, and it was strange to me, after living here, to have about a hundred people walk past me without making eye contact. It was so amusing to watch people affix their gaze on any point within the surrounding five mile radius except my face. And of app. two pairs of eyeballs that I met with, one belonged to a fellow housemate!
Anyways, that was just a little note to apprise you all of what's going on, and hopefull I'll maintain a steady-ish chronicle. Until the next, readers!