Friday, April 13, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
The Tax Code
I was listening to Coast to Coast AM last night. They had a guest talking about the FairTax. It's very intriguing. Check it out when you have some time: www.fairtax.org.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
More Family Fun
On Saturday my brother-in-law's parents hosted a "Welcome Home" open house for Brice, who recently came home from Iraq with the Air Force. They have a cabin outside Tillamook, so we all spent a fun day along the river; mostly eating and talking.
My mom and Brice's mom decided this would be a great opportunity for family pictures. After his family did their round, it was our turn. The first one was everybody - mom and dad, Jackie and Brice, Rene, Bryan and 3 kids and me. Then mom wanted all individual families. Plus one of just the grandkids.
Sebastien (4), Olivia (2) and Sean (1) were arranged standing/sitting on a rock. Olivia had no facial expression. Rene said it was because a lot of new people were around and she often will become emotionless when overwhelmed with so many strangers. I'm sure having about 10 adults standing behind the camera telling her to smile didn't help.
Then Rene, in a somewhat embarrassed tone, said she always smiles at farting noises.
So the 10 adults standing behind the camera started making farting noises.
Olivia smiled.
My mom and Brice's mom decided this would be a great opportunity for family pictures. After his family did their round, it was our turn. The first one was everybody - mom and dad, Jackie and Brice, Rene, Bryan and 3 kids and me. Then mom wanted all individual families. Plus one of just the grandkids.
Sebastien (4), Olivia (2) and Sean (1) were arranged standing/sitting on a rock. Olivia had no facial expression. Rene said it was because a lot of new people were around and she often will become emotionless when overwhelmed with so many strangers. I'm sure having about 10 adults standing behind the camera telling her to smile didn't help.
Then Rene, in a somewhat embarrassed tone, said she always smiles at farting noises.
So the 10 adults standing behind the camera started making farting noises.
Olivia smiled.
Tulips!
I went to the Tulip Festival in Woodburn on April 1. Jeremy took this picture of me:
I'm leaning down to smell the flowers. Some of the tulips had great aromas - these ones were better looking than smelling. However, they were one of my favorites. I love the color combination.
The day was sunny (although the picture doesn't look it) and there were all kinds of people wandering around. It was pretty neat. It looked like God took his paintbrush and started having fun.
I'm leaning down to smell the flowers. Some of the tulips had great aromas - these ones were better looking than smelling. However, they were one of my favorites. I love the color combination.
The day was sunny (although the picture doesn't look it) and there were all kinds of people wandering around. It was pretty neat. It looked like God took his paintbrush and started having fun.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
What Makes Music "Christian"?
I started this post on 3/14 and now it's 4/10. I've given up on any more additions or editing. Here it is!
I received this message from a friend. Apparently I'm open to blog requests:
I took the time today to look up the lyrics to a Natalie Merchant song that they play often on one of my Live365 stations... the song is "Kind & Generous". Trying to track down a bit more information, I came across this website: http://www.ccvonline.com/Arena/default.aspx?page=2082. I was curious about what your response might be to this question: why is Natalie Merchant in the left column instead of the right column in the table, and should she be? Perhaps you could write a blog post about that.
Here's my response:
I took a music appreciation course in college taught by a great professor, Dr. Shantz (I think that was his name). Dr. Shantz is an older man whose favorite band is Metallica. He also taught a course called The Theology of Rock n' Roll, which I didn't take, but which he talked about a lot.
One aspect of class that stood out to me is that one way to evaluate the quality of music is a piece's "fittingness-intensity." I think I previously mentioned this in the post about O Holy Night. The idea of fittingness-intensity is that the lyrics or subject matter of the song is reflected in the music. For example, the song O Happy Day sung to the melody of a funeral dirge would have poor fittingness-intensity.
What does this have to do with my friend's question? The music class started me thinking about music differently, and here's how:
I think music must be a large part of God's character. It is so universal, and since humans are created in God's image, it seems a logical conclusion. Like other forms of art, music is a gift from God to humanity, just because he's good. I also think that people, regardless of their religious affiliation or lack of, can sing and write about truth. Isn't it Ironic by Alanis Morisette is about the despair we feel when something that feels so right is out of reach.
So what makes music "Christian"?
It's not that an artist is signed by a Christian label. Quite frankly, I'm pretty skeptical about the whole so-called Christian entertainment industry. They are in it for the money, and sign artists that will be profitable.
It's not that the lyrics talk about God, religious or spiritual things. A lot of songs have these themes and aren't at what I would call Christian. And what about all the religious Bach pieces that don't have lyrics at all?
To give any piece of music a Christian label does it a misservice. The Bible says "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." So what if a song, like Kind and Generous is not sung by a Christian artist or produced by a Christian label? What if a great instrumental piece like Classical Gas makes me feel good? Are these secular songs unChristian? I suppose they are, but I think they are good things to listen to.
I received this message from a friend. Apparently I'm open to blog requests:
I took the time today to look up the lyrics to a Natalie Merchant song that they play often on one of my Live365 stations... the song is "Kind & Generous". Trying to track down a bit more information, I came across this website: http://www.ccvonline.com/Arena/default.aspx?page=2082. I was curious about what your response might be to this question: why is Natalie Merchant in the left column instead of the right column in the table, and should she be? Perhaps you could write a blog post about that.
Here's my response:
I took a music appreciation course in college taught by a great professor, Dr. Shantz (I think that was his name). Dr. Shantz is an older man whose favorite band is Metallica. He also taught a course called The Theology of Rock n' Roll, which I didn't take, but which he talked about a lot.
One aspect of class that stood out to me is that one way to evaluate the quality of music is a piece's "fittingness-intensity." I think I previously mentioned this in the post about O Holy Night. The idea of fittingness-intensity is that the lyrics or subject matter of the song is reflected in the music. For example, the song O Happy Day sung to the melody of a funeral dirge would have poor fittingness-intensity.
What does this have to do with my friend's question? The music class started me thinking about music differently, and here's how:
I think music must be a large part of God's character. It is so universal, and since humans are created in God's image, it seems a logical conclusion. Like other forms of art, music is a gift from God to humanity, just because he's good. I also think that people, regardless of their religious affiliation or lack of, can sing and write about truth. Isn't it Ironic by Alanis Morisette is about the despair we feel when something that feels so right is out of reach.
So what makes music "Christian"?
It's not that an artist is signed by a Christian label. Quite frankly, I'm pretty skeptical about the whole so-called Christian entertainment industry. They are in it for the money, and sign artists that will be profitable.
It's not that the lyrics talk about God, religious or spiritual things. A lot of songs have these themes and aren't at what I would call Christian. And what about all the religious Bach pieces that don't have lyrics at all?
To give any piece of music a Christian label does it a misservice. The Bible says "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." So what if a song, like Kind and Generous is not sung by a Christian artist or produced by a Christian label? What if a great instrumental piece like Classical Gas makes me feel good? Are these secular songs unChristian? I suppose they are, but I think they are good things to listen to.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
My New Routine - Revisited
I did well on the 5:30 a.m. workout with Sonja for about a week. Then I got sick and missed two weeks. During that time, Sonja moved to Hillsboro (it was a somewhat unplanned move). So I lost my workout buddy. But on the plus side, I don't have to meet her at 5:30.
I've been going consistently for almost two weeks now, from 6:30-7:30 a.m. It's going pretty good - I come home and get ready for work. And as an extra perk, I'm getting to work on time; something I always struggle with (I really like being in bed!).
I should make some friends at the gym, maybe it will help me stay consistent. I am at the nodding in recognition stage with a few people that are always there. And this morning I happened to be on the treadmill next to a woman I go to church with. That was fun. Of course, I speed walk while she trains for the Boston Marathon... Maybe I'll pick another machine next time.
I've been going consistently for almost two weeks now, from 6:30-7:30 a.m. It's going pretty good - I come home and get ready for work. And as an extra perk, I'm getting to work on time; something I always struggle with (I really like being in bed!).
I should make some friends at the gym, maybe it will help me stay consistent. I am at the nodding in recognition stage with a few people that are always there. And this morning I happened to be on the treadmill next to a woman I go to church with. That was fun. Of course, I speed walk while she trains for the Boston Marathon... Maybe I'll pick another machine next time.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Book Club Excitement
Sometimes my friends are amused at how entertaining I find my book club. Reading World War Z has so impacted my life, that I hope I'm at work rather than home when the Zombies arrive because it's a much easier position to defend.
Friday night was the most recent book club meeting. After discussing the book, we watched Dawn of the Dead. That's right; a zombie movie. I thought that it was common knowledge that if you're bitten by a zombie you become a zombie. My friend Anna said, "No Sarah, everyone does not know that." Which is silly, because what will they do when the zombies get here?
Anyway, when I arrived at the house that evening, I saw that the entire left side of their long driveway was empty. Score, I thought. I turned in, felt something crunch under my tires, and stopped. Tried to back up. Tried to pull forward. I didn't move.
I got out of the car; the driver's side wasn't on anything. I walked in front of the car, and onto a pile of gravel. The right side was firmly wedged into the pile. I went inside, and told Anna. She said, "I should have told you guys not to park in the driveway." Lee arrived, and before he got in the door, I solicited his help. He said, "Cool, I have a tow chain in the Jeep I haven't had a chance to use yet!" I told him that if I put the car in neutral, he should be able to just push me out.
We went outside, and Lee pushed. Then I put it in reverse and tried to help him push. Then he got the tow chain.
As Lee was attaching the chain, a man walked up. "Are you here for book club?" I asked. He said yes, and I told him he's at the right house; go on in.
After a couple tries, the tow chain worked. Lee said I owe him now, but I'm not sure that my little Hyundai can return that kind of favor. Nonetheless, I am indebted to Lee.
Book club never lets me down!
Friday night was the most recent book club meeting. After discussing the book, we watched Dawn of the Dead. That's right; a zombie movie. I thought that it was common knowledge that if you're bitten by a zombie you become a zombie. My friend Anna said, "No Sarah, everyone does not know that." Which is silly, because what will they do when the zombies get here?
Anyway, when I arrived at the house that evening, I saw that the entire left side of their long driveway was empty. Score, I thought. I turned in, felt something crunch under my tires, and stopped. Tried to back up. Tried to pull forward. I didn't move.
I got out of the car; the driver's side wasn't on anything. I walked in front of the car, and onto a pile of gravel. The right side was firmly wedged into the pile. I went inside, and told Anna. She said, "I should have told you guys not to park in the driveway." Lee arrived, and before he got in the door, I solicited his help. He said, "Cool, I have a tow chain in the Jeep I haven't had a chance to use yet!" I told him that if I put the car in neutral, he should be able to just push me out.
We went outside, and Lee pushed. Then I put it in reverse and tried to help him push. Then he got the tow chain.
As Lee was attaching the chain, a man walked up. "Are you here for book club?" I asked. He said yes, and I told him he's at the right house; go on in.
After a couple tries, the tow chain worked. Lee said I owe him now, but I'm not sure that my little Hyundai can return that kind of favor. Nonetheless, I am indebted to Lee.
Book club never lets me down!
Being a Kid
On Sunday I went to Salem to visit my sister and her family - the one with three kids. The weather was fantastic; clear, cool, and sunny. Rene was at the Oregon School for the Deaf, where there's a great playground and a lot of fields. Her friend, Kate, and her husband and two daughters were there as well. Kate's husband was flying his remote-controlled airplane. It only turned right, so it kept making big circles and then crashing.
After a few minutes, Rene, Kate and I took the five kids to the playground, a short distance away and on the other side of a building. Being the indulgent aunt that I am, I played whole-heartedly with the kids. Kate said I reverted.
At the swings, Sebastien (4 years old) kept saying, "Do a underdog!" and "Look how high I am!" Olivia (2 years old) has started imitating everything Sebastien does, so she sat on the swing next to him and said "me! me!" Sebastien was no help at all - telling me to do an underdog for Olivia. It's tons of fun to play rough with Sebastien, but he doesn't understand that a two year-old isn't quite big enough for a full, run-under-the-swing push like he is. Of course, if I spent two minutes pushing Olivia, Sebastien started begging me to do another underdog. Sean (1 year-old) hasn't decided to walk yet, so he was confined to the stroller. From which he kept trying escape.
When we left the park, I joined Rene and crew for dinner at their house. I watched VeggieTales with the kids while Rene and Bryan fixed dinner. In the middle of everything, people came over to look at some furniture that Rene is selling. They came in the door, and Sebastien was all over the introductions. He told them his name and age, his siblings' names and ages, and "this is my mom." The family included a 4 year-old girl, and Sebastien quickly instigated a game of hide-and-seek. I think their 10 year-old daughter was amused.
At the dinner table, Sebastien asked me, "Sarah, are you a kid?"
"Why?" I asked, "Do I act like one?"
He smiled shyly (or slyly), "Yes."
I told him that I like him so much that I act like a kid sometimes. It was very sweet.
After a few minutes, Rene, Kate and I took the five kids to the playground, a short distance away and on the other side of a building. Being the indulgent aunt that I am, I played whole-heartedly with the kids. Kate said I reverted.
At the swings, Sebastien (4 years old) kept saying, "Do a underdog!" and "Look how high I am!" Olivia (2 years old) has started imitating everything Sebastien does, so she sat on the swing next to him and said "me! me!" Sebastien was no help at all - telling me to do an underdog for Olivia. It's tons of fun to play rough with Sebastien, but he doesn't understand that a two year-old isn't quite big enough for a full, run-under-the-swing push like he is. Of course, if I spent two minutes pushing Olivia, Sebastien started begging me to do another underdog. Sean (1 year-old) hasn't decided to walk yet, so he was confined to the stroller. From which he kept trying escape.
When we left the park, I joined Rene and crew for dinner at their house. I watched VeggieTales with the kids while Rene and Bryan fixed dinner. In the middle of everything, people came over to look at some furniture that Rene is selling. They came in the door, and Sebastien was all over the introductions. He told them his name and age, his siblings' names and ages, and "this is my mom." The family included a 4 year-old girl, and Sebastien quickly instigated a game of hide-and-seek. I think their 10 year-old daughter was amused.
At the dinner table, Sebastien asked me, "Sarah, are you a kid?"
"Why?" I asked, "Do I act like one?"
He smiled shyly (or slyly), "Yes."
I told him that I like him so much that I act like a kid sometimes. It was very sweet.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
What I Deserve
I've been thinking lately about what I deserve, especially when it comes to dating. People who know me will say things like, "You deserve so much more than [blank]." The blank is filled in with a variety of problems that are common in our society (many of the single men I know are divorced, have kids, or used to live with a girlfriend). They say this to me because I've led a pretty clean life, by the world's standards: I'm not divorced, I don't smoke, I've not done anything that I'm ashamed of with past boyfriends, and so on.
But why should I deserve anything? Why have I let myself be deceived into thinking I have to be worthy of someone, or vice versa?
Perhaps the fundamental tenet of my beliefs is that God is holy, and humans are sinful. That means no matter the sin, we're separated from God. Sin cannot be in his presence. However, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has made a way for us to be pure; to be in his presence. He promises that if we confess and repent, he will cleanse us from all our sin.
I've been pondering this. I believe it regarding people's individual relationships with God. The murderer receives just as much grace as the liar. But how does that change my relationship with them? If someone has become a child of God, their sins wiped away, how should I view him or her? Should I allow the murderer in my home and take the liar at his word?
The short answer is: yes. If that person is pure before God, who am I to judge?
But the Bible gives some guidance. If someone claims to be a child of God, there is evidence for which to look. This person's life should show love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and self-control. Confession and repentance before God are essential, and if a person is serious, God will start developing this evidence in his or her life. That person and I are the same in God's eyes, siblings in the Lord's family with a parent who shows no favoritism.
So back to the original question: What do I deserve?
It's the wrong question. I deserve nothing, just as the greatest criminal deserves nothing. I am a child of God. He loves me, he has all the resources in the universe at his disposal, and he only wants what is best for me. What has an infant done to deserve a parent's love? God loves me even more than a mother loves her new child. If God chooses to bless me with someone the world might term "undeserving", should I doubt him? Who knows best - God or our culture? I guess this could all be an excercise in trust. Yes, I believe that however God works in my life, it is best.
But why should I deserve anything? Why have I let myself be deceived into thinking I have to be worthy of someone, or vice versa?
Perhaps the fundamental tenet of my beliefs is that God is holy, and humans are sinful. That means no matter the sin, we're separated from God. Sin cannot be in his presence. However, through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has made a way for us to be pure; to be in his presence. He promises that if we confess and repent, he will cleanse us from all our sin.
I've been pondering this. I believe it regarding people's individual relationships with God. The murderer receives just as much grace as the liar. But how does that change my relationship with them? If someone has become a child of God, their sins wiped away, how should I view him or her? Should I allow the murderer in my home and take the liar at his word?
The short answer is: yes. If that person is pure before God, who am I to judge?
But the Bible gives some guidance. If someone claims to be a child of God, there is evidence for which to look. This person's life should show love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and self-control. Confession and repentance before God are essential, and if a person is serious, God will start developing this evidence in his or her life. That person and I are the same in God's eyes, siblings in the Lord's family with a parent who shows no favoritism.
So back to the original question: What do I deserve?
It's the wrong question. I deserve nothing, just as the greatest criminal deserves nothing. I am a child of God. He loves me, he has all the resources in the universe at his disposal, and he only wants what is best for me. What has an infant done to deserve a parent's love? God loves me even more than a mother loves her new child. If God chooses to bless me with someone the world might term "undeserving", should I doubt him? Who knows best - God or our culture? I guess this could all be an excercise in trust. Yes, I believe that however God works in my life, it is best.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Thanksgiving - The Wrap-Up (2)
Some friends and I were recounting road trip stories, and I remembered that I have one more story to share.
The place we stayed a couple nights was a restort in Angel's Rest - about an hour and a half drive from my Grandma's house. My sister had a really great deal where 11 of us could sleep in one condo, which made up for the long drive.
The first couple nights we all had different sleeping arrangments: Rene, her husband Bryan, his mother, my nephew Sebastien, and my other sister Jackie, all stayed at Angel's Rest. My mom, me, Olivia and Sean stayed at Grandma's. Dad hadn't yet arrived.
On Wednesday, all of us went to Angel's Rest for two nights. We had two vehicles: a Jeep Grand Cherokee and a mini-van. Dad was driving the mini-van and was following the Jeep because he didn't know how to get to the condo. In the van was my mom in the passenger seat, Jackie and Sean in the middle seat, and me in the back. It was pretty late, so we gave Sean a bottle and expected him to fall asleep.
Sean finished the bottle, but was still awake. He began crying, so I put water in his bottle, hoping to pacify him long enough for sleep to kick in. It didn't work.
Sean cried.
And cried.
And screamed.
By this time, we were in the middle of nowhere; it was all rolling fields and pastureland. Traffic was heavy (being a holiday weekend and all). Dad finally pulls over and says, "You have to do something about that kid. I can't drive with him screaming."
"Well, since we're stopped, I have to go pee," Jackie says, and proceeds to get out of the minivan with the intention of using the van to cover her bathroom break. She caught me by surprise; that girl has very little reservations about certain things!
As soon as she slid the door closed, Dad yells over Sean's screams, "Tell me when she's down!"
"She's down!" I yelled back.
That was Dad's cue, and he let the van roll forward, leaving Jackie exposed in more ways than one.
The three of us inside laughed.
And laughed.
And then I needed a bathroom.
A few second's later, Jackie banged on the window (which scared Sean into screaming more). Then she went and took cover behind the highway barrier.
By this time, mom is holding Sean and trying to calm him down. We got back on the road, and after about 40 minutes of mom cooing and cuddling, Sean fell asleep. Of course, we got lost once we arrived in Angel's Rest, but it was completely worth it.
Jackie was a good sport. She laughed right along with us. Of course she could do so comfortably; she didn't need a toilet!
The place we stayed a couple nights was a restort in Angel's Rest - about an hour and a half drive from my Grandma's house. My sister had a really great deal where 11 of us could sleep in one condo, which made up for the long drive.
The first couple nights we all had different sleeping arrangments: Rene, her husband Bryan, his mother, my nephew Sebastien, and my other sister Jackie, all stayed at Angel's Rest. My mom, me, Olivia and Sean stayed at Grandma's. Dad hadn't yet arrived.
On Wednesday, all of us went to Angel's Rest for two nights. We had two vehicles: a Jeep Grand Cherokee and a mini-van. Dad was driving the mini-van and was following the Jeep because he didn't know how to get to the condo. In the van was my mom in the passenger seat, Jackie and Sean in the middle seat, and me in the back. It was pretty late, so we gave Sean a bottle and expected him to fall asleep.
Sean finished the bottle, but was still awake. He began crying, so I put water in his bottle, hoping to pacify him long enough for sleep to kick in. It didn't work.
Sean cried.
And cried.
And screamed.
By this time, we were in the middle of nowhere; it was all rolling fields and pastureland. Traffic was heavy (being a holiday weekend and all). Dad finally pulls over and says, "You have to do something about that kid. I can't drive with him screaming."
"Well, since we're stopped, I have to go pee," Jackie says, and proceeds to get out of the minivan with the intention of using the van to cover her bathroom break. She caught me by surprise; that girl has very little reservations about certain things!
As soon as she slid the door closed, Dad yells over Sean's screams, "Tell me when she's down!"
"She's down!" I yelled back.
That was Dad's cue, and he let the van roll forward, leaving Jackie exposed in more ways than one.
The three of us inside laughed.
And laughed.
And then I needed a bathroom.
A few second's later, Jackie banged on the window (which scared Sean into screaming more). Then she went and took cover behind the highway barrier.
By this time, mom is holding Sean and trying to calm him down. We got back on the road, and after about 40 minutes of mom cooing and cuddling, Sean fell asleep. Of course, we got lost once we arrived in Angel's Rest, but it was completely worth it.
Jackie was a good sport. She laughed right along with us. Of course she could do so comfortably; she didn't need a toilet!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Thanksgiving - The Wrap-Up
This will be my last post recounting my fun Thanksgiving vacation. I know, it's February, but I can't help wanting to share these stories with my vast readership.
My parents and I all had separate flight arrangements for flying in and out of Oakland. On the way there, my mom's flight time coincided with mine, and we each took one kid (my nephew Sean and neice Olivia). I got a lot of looks because Olivia is so cute, and she had a teddy backpack/stuffed animal with a leash, so I wouldn't lose her. She insisted on putting the teddy on her tummy instead of her back because she wanted to hold him. People were very nice to us.
On the way home, my dad and I were on the same flight and took the same two kids.
It was quite the production; a luggage cart, two car seats, a stroller, diaper bag and luggage. Once we checked in it was a bit easier, but we kept the luggage cart for all our carry-on stuff. It's impossible to push one kid in stroller, keep an eye on the 2-year old and carry all the stuff that two kids require.
We were in line for the security check. After the hassle of taking off the kids' shoes and dumping out the sippy cup (hazardous material, you know), I had a bottle of nail polish thrown away. Normally I would have protested, and probably kept the nail polish, but I was so tired of taking care of all the little things (plus I was pretty sick) and Olivia was ready to run down the hallway, that I let it go. I don't know how single mothers do it.
The entire time I was alone with my dad, we got some strange looks from people. My dad commented, "I don't know who they think worse of, you or me." I replied, "Both of us. You're the dirty old man and I'm the greedy twenty-something". We corrected many people who referred to my dad as the kids' father. It wasn't worth the effort to tell them they aren't my kids, either.
We flew Southwest. My dad, the savvy traveller, gave me some tips for getting a seat to myself on the plane. We loaded first, and I took an aisle seat toward the front of the cabin with two seats next to me. It was amazing how people saw the kid with me and walked by. One guy was about to sit down with his wife, saw Olivia, and said, "Never mind". It was somewhat comical. Some poor high school basketball player ended up in the window seat, and a nice older woman sat next to me.
Fortunately, the kids were incredibly well behaved. Sean slept most of the time, and Olivia charmed everyone she met.
Now I understand that the appearance of a 26 year difference between parents of young kids looks bad. But why do people assume the worst? Why is being a single mother so much better than being married to an older man? Our society is strange.
My parents and I all had separate flight arrangements for flying in and out of Oakland. On the way there, my mom's flight time coincided with mine, and we each took one kid (my nephew Sean and neice Olivia). I got a lot of looks because Olivia is so cute, and she had a teddy backpack/stuffed animal with a leash, so I wouldn't lose her. She insisted on putting the teddy on her tummy instead of her back because she wanted to hold him. People were very nice to us.
On the way home, my dad and I were on the same flight and took the same two kids.
It was quite the production; a luggage cart, two car seats, a stroller, diaper bag and luggage. Once we checked in it was a bit easier, but we kept the luggage cart for all our carry-on stuff. It's impossible to push one kid in stroller, keep an eye on the 2-year old and carry all the stuff that two kids require.
We were in line for the security check. After the hassle of taking off the kids' shoes and dumping out the sippy cup (hazardous material, you know), I had a bottle of nail polish thrown away. Normally I would have protested, and probably kept the nail polish, but I was so tired of taking care of all the little things (plus I was pretty sick) and Olivia was ready to run down the hallway, that I let it go. I don't know how single mothers do it.
The entire time I was alone with my dad, we got some strange looks from people. My dad commented, "I don't know who they think worse of, you or me." I replied, "Both of us. You're the dirty old man and I'm the greedy twenty-something". We corrected many people who referred to my dad as the kids' father. It wasn't worth the effort to tell them they aren't my kids, either.
We flew Southwest. My dad, the savvy traveller, gave me some tips for getting a seat to myself on the plane. We loaded first, and I took an aisle seat toward the front of the cabin with two seats next to me. It was amazing how people saw the kid with me and walked by. One guy was about to sit down with his wife, saw Olivia, and said, "Never mind". It was somewhat comical. Some poor high school basketball player ended up in the window seat, and a nice older woman sat next to me.
Fortunately, the kids were incredibly well behaved. Sean slept most of the time, and Olivia charmed everyone she met.
Now I understand that the appearance of a 26 year difference between parents of young kids looks bad. But why do people assume the worst? Why is being a single mother so much better than being married to an older man? Our society is strange.
My New Routine
Yesterday at lunch a coworker, Sonja, was telling me about her new morning routine of going to the gym from 5:30 to 6:30. Her gym is near my house, so I stopped by on my way home from work.
Forty-five minutes later, I was the latest member of Bally's. This morning I was up at 5:15, brushed my teeth, and met Sonja at 5:30. It was fun, and by the grace of God, I was alert. I suspect I'll be less alert around 1:30 this afternoon. Tomorrow we'll do 1/2 an hour of weights before the cardio.
I'm pretty excited. I've been wanting to get up early to workout for a long time, but I haven't had anyone to do it with. I could get out of bed and walk around the neighborhood, but of course I don't. Knowing that Sonja expects me to be there is the last kick I needed to get out of bed this morning.
And God was pretty good to me by waking me up at 4:10. I was alert, but tired enough to not want to get up. I realized I had another hour and went back to sleep.
I have 30 days to get out of the gym contract without penalty. We'll see how it goes.
Forty-five minutes later, I was the latest member of Bally's. This morning I was up at 5:15, brushed my teeth, and met Sonja at 5:30. It was fun, and by the grace of God, I was alert. I suspect I'll be less alert around 1:30 this afternoon. Tomorrow we'll do 1/2 an hour of weights before the cardio.
I'm pretty excited. I've been wanting to get up early to workout for a long time, but I haven't had anyone to do it with. I could get out of bed and walk around the neighborhood, but of course I don't. Knowing that Sonja expects me to be there is the last kick I needed to get out of bed this morning.
And God was pretty good to me by waking me up at 4:10. I was alert, but tired enough to not want to get up. I realized I had another hour and went back to sleep.
I have 30 days to get out of the gym contract without penalty. We'll see how it goes.
The American University In Cairo
Last week I submitted my application to AUC. The deadline was February 1, and I've known since September that I want to apply. Why do I put things like this off? I hate how I procrastinate, and yet I'm not motivated to do anything about it.
Anyway, the check I sent for the application fee cleared the bank, so they obviously received the application.
It's in God's hands now. The program I'm applying for is the Masters in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL). This is different from some other programs (e.g., TESL, TESOL) mainly in that I will be learning to teach English in places where English is not the national language. With a degree like this, I can teach in almost any university or educational institution in the world.
I don't like big decisions like this. How do I know which path is the best? I could stay here in a job I like and enjoy my family and friends. I could go to AUC. I could go to the UAE and work with college students there (another potential opportunity). I applied for a teaching fellowship AUC awards. It pays for everything, including a monthly stipend. If I get that, I'll consider it a big neon arrow from God saying, "Go this way". If not, what do I do? Finance my own education? Take option 1?
My sister once said to me, "Don't worry about it. You know God's voice and he won't lead you wrong." That was comforting to me then and it still is. I guess with every decision I make, I'll trust that God is in control and knows better than I do what is best.
I just hate it when all the options are good.
Anyway, the check I sent for the application fee cleared the bank, so they obviously received the application.
It's in God's hands now. The program I'm applying for is the Masters in Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL). This is different from some other programs (e.g., TESL, TESOL) mainly in that I will be learning to teach English in places where English is not the national language. With a degree like this, I can teach in almost any university or educational institution in the world.
I don't like big decisions like this. How do I know which path is the best? I could stay here in a job I like and enjoy my family and friends. I could go to AUC. I could go to the UAE and work with college students there (another potential opportunity). I applied for a teaching fellowship AUC awards. It pays for everything, including a monthly stipend. If I get that, I'll consider it a big neon arrow from God saying, "Go this way". If not, what do I do? Finance my own education? Take option 1?
My sister once said to me, "Don't worry about it. You know God's voice and he won't lead you wrong." That was comforting to me then and it still is. I guess with every decision I make, I'll trust that God is in control and knows better than I do what is best.
I just hate it when all the options are good.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
World War Z
For my bookclub this month we read World War Z by Max Brooks. It was really good - I read it on New Year's Day. The book is about the world's war against the zombies. A virus has taken over earth and turns people into zombies. Infection spreads through exposing blood to any part of Zombie matter, and you know you're infected if you're bitten.
Saturday night I dreamed that I was infected. I had yet to go into a coma, flatline and resuscitate, but I knew I only had a day or two. Some of my friends were with me, including one who isn't a Christian. He and I were running around trying to avoid being shot, the only option for the infected. Some other friends were trying to help us off the island where we were, and onto the mainland, where we had a greater chance of survival.
I could feel the virus taking hold. My eyes were red and my skin itchy. As my friends were helping us off the island, I was desperately trying to share with my unbelieving friend how much Jesus loves him. My friends were trying to help me, but I couldn't seem to get the message out clearly.
When I woke up Sunday morning, I had zombies on my mind. I went to church, and just as the service was starting, I stepped out to take a phone call. I was talking to my sister, looked up, and there is a couple from my bookclub! It was a happy coincidence, as I had the book in my car with the intention of bringing it to them that afternoon. This couple does not normally attend my church.
Later in the week at bookclub, we talked about our zombie survival strategies, and what our role would be in the reconstruction of society. It was quite fun.
But the thing that sticks with me is how, in my dream, I was so anxious for my friend to understand the love of Jesus. I couldn't die (or become a zombie) without making every effort to tell him. I only hope that I'll have the opportunity in my waking life to do so soon.
Saturday night I dreamed that I was infected. I had yet to go into a coma, flatline and resuscitate, but I knew I only had a day or two. Some of my friends were with me, including one who isn't a Christian. He and I were running around trying to avoid being shot, the only option for the infected. Some other friends were trying to help us off the island where we were, and onto the mainland, where we had a greater chance of survival.
I could feel the virus taking hold. My eyes were red and my skin itchy. As my friends were helping us off the island, I was desperately trying to share with my unbelieving friend how much Jesus loves him. My friends were trying to help me, but I couldn't seem to get the message out clearly.
When I woke up Sunday morning, I had zombies on my mind. I went to church, and just as the service was starting, I stepped out to take a phone call. I was talking to my sister, looked up, and there is a couple from my bookclub! It was a happy coincidence, as I had the book in my car with the intention of bringing it to them that afternoon. This couple does not normally attend my church.
Later in the week at bookclub, we talked about our zombie survival strategies, and what our role would be in the reconstruction of society. It was quite fun.
But the thing that sticks with me is how, in my dream, I was so anxious for my friend to understand the love of Jesus. I couldn't die (or become a zombie) without making every effort to tell him. I only hope that I'll have the opportunity in my waking life to do so soon.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Monday, December 25, 2006
Freedommas
In spite of all my Thanksgiving posts, I have actually moved on to the next holiday. I've been enjoying the Christmas songs, secular and sacred alike. All through high school and college, I played Sleigh Bells in the band. The traditional instrumental version that we hear on the radio is the same one we played, and I can still remember the slide positions on my trombone.
I think my favorite song is O Holy Night. My music appreciation professor would say that it has appropriate "fittingness-intensity", i.e., the meaning of the lyrics is reflected in the emotions of the music. Additionally, the words of the song contain the entire gospel. The verses put forth the facts. In verse one, we learn that the world is full of darkness, yearning to be in the light; feeling worthless until Jesus comes. Verse two (which I'd never heard before writing this post) has people gathering to stand by Jesus' cradle. I especially like the last couplet, "King of kings... born to be our friend." Verse three is my favorite. It talks about how the world is transformed now that Jesus has come. The three choruses are what we are to do in response to Jesus coming to earth: Fall on your knees! Behold your King! Christ is the Lord! It's magnificent.
Oh holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine, Oh night when Christ was born;
Oh night, Oh night divine, Oh night Divine.
He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
I think my favorite song is O Holy Night. My music appreciation professor would say that it has appropriate "fittingness-intensity", i.e., the meaning of the lyrics is reflected in the emotions of the music. Additionally, the words of the song contain the entire gospel. The verses put forth the facts. In verse one, we learn that the world is full of darkness, yearning to be in the light; feeling worthless until Jesus comes. Verse two (which I'd never heard before writing this post) has people gathering to stand by Jesus' cradle. I especially like the last couplet, "King of kings... born to be our friend." Verse three is my favorite. It talks about how the world is transformed now that Jesus has come. The three choruses are what we are to do in response to Jesus coming to earth: Fall on your knees! Behold your King! Christ is the Lord! It's magnificent.
Oh holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine, Oh night when Christ was born;
Oh night, Oh night divine, Oh night Divine.
Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from Orient land.
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.
He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Behold your King.
Behold your King, Behold your King.
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
His power and glory evermore proclaim.
Verse three is by far my favorite, and the most meaningful. I love the image of Christ coming to break us free. The Bible teaches that we are slaves to whom we obey, and everyone is either a slave to sin or a slave to Christ. The problem is, slaves can't free themselves. O Holy Night declares that Jesus came to earth to break us out of prison. But even better, is how this song proclaims that when we are free from slavery, we follow Christ's law, the law of love. The slave is our brother. That means that under the law of love, we are required to care about people. It doesn't say "the freed slave is our brother", but instructs us to love those who are still in bondage. For Christians, there shouldn't be an "us versus them" mentality. Like Christ, we are to love people so much that if it takes our death for them to be freed, it is a glad sacrifice.
Christ was born so his death could bring us freedom. And that's what Christmas is about.
Christ was born so his death could bring us freedom. And that's what Christmas is about.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Thanksgiving Fun - Part 4
The Drunken Turkey
All week long, I heard about the "Drunken Turkey" that J.C. made last year. He uses a lot of alcohol; rum, brandy, and I don't know what else. It was talked about a lot, right along with Aunt Macie's beans.
When Thanksgiving morning came around, I walked in the kitchen and J.C. was preparing the turkey. When he put it in the oven, he used a foil roasting pan and put some sheets of foil on the lower rack to catch any drippings. I remember thinking, he should probably use a cookie sheet or something more firm. But, it was his turkey and I figured he knew what he was doing. J.C. left to serve at the Salvation Army for the afternoon, to return around 4 p.m.
I spent that afternoon playing games with my grandma in the breakfast nook, watching everyone prepare food in the kitchen. Around 3 p.m., people started arriving with their food to contribute. We kept playing, incorporating people as they came and went. I peeked in the oven once or twice, and noticed some smoke, but figured it was just some turkey juice leaking, and J.C. would be home soon.
Four o'clock came and went. Other people were peeking in the oven. More smoke was coming out. Around 4:20 p.m., my dad, along with Uncle Ronnie, decided the turkey had to come out. They opened the oven all the way, and tried to lift out the 23 pound turkey, but the foil pan foiled thier plan; they couldn't get a good grip. Then the fun started.
Trying to lift the turkey let more of the liquid out. Now, keep in mind this is a new gas oven that hadn't been used before. The next thing we know, the liquid has caught on fire! The door is quickly closed and someone yells for a fire extinguisher. Some of us (okay, me) protest that a fire extinguisher will make the turkey inedible. In the midst of all this, the kids (all under 5) run by and dad yells, "Get the kids out of here!" I might have also called for a camera.
The door is opened again and the fire shoots up. Chris says, "Get some baking soda!" I think I kept my mouth shut that time, but I wanted to protest - the Drunken Turkey sounded really good! Since no one knew where the baking soda was, someone ran to the house next door, and still couldn't find any. We finally decided that the best thing to do was keep the door closed and hope the fire suffocated. It worked.
Uncle Nacho came over, saying "People keep running around; what's going on over here?" I think there were 15+ people in the kitchen, standing a safe distance from the oven. All the windows in the house were open, the fans on. The turkey was safely rescued without a bit of burning. It was the oils spilling out of the pan that caused the fire.
J.C. came home not very long after everything settled down. He didn't seem too worried about the turkey, and it ended up being underdone. I guess 5 hours isn't long enough for such a large bird.
Our card game and dinner preparations continued.
All week long, I heard about the "Drunken Turkey" that J.C. made last year. He uses a lot of alcohol; rum, brandy, and I don't know what else. It was talked about a lot, right along with Aunt Macie's beans.
When Thanksgiving morning came around, I walked in the kitchen and J.C. was preparing the turkey. When he put it in the oven, he used a foil roasting pan and put some sheets of foil on the lower rack to catch any drippings. I remember thinking, he should probably use a cookie sheet or something more firm. But, it was his turkey and I figured he knew what he was doing. J.C. left to serve at the Salvation Army for the afternoon, to return around 4 p.m.
I spent that afternoon playing games with my grandma in the breakfast nook, watching everyone prepare food in the kitchen. Around 3 p.m., people started arriving with their food to contribute. We kept playing, incorporating people as they came and went. I peeked in the oven once or twice, and noticed some smoke, but figured it was just some turkey juice leaking, and J.C. would be home soon.
Four o'clock came and went. Other people were peeking in the oven. More smoke was coming out. Around 4:20 p.m., my dad, along with Uncle Ronnie, decided the turkey had to come out. They opened the oven all the way, and tried to lift out the 23 pound turkey, but the foil pan foiled thier plan; they couldn't get a good grip. Then the fun started.
Trying to lift the turkey let more of the liquid out. Now, keep in mind this is a new gas oven that hadn't been used before. The next thing we know, the liquid has caught on fire! The door is quickly closed and someone yells for a fire extinguisher. Some of us (okay, me) protest that a fire extinguisher will make the turkey inedible. In the midst of all this, the kids (all under 5) run by and dad yells, "Get the kids out of here!" I might have also called for a camera.
The door is opened again and the fire shoots up. Chris says, "Get some baking soda!" I think I kept my mouth shut that time, but I wanted to protest - the Drunken Turkey sounded really good! Since no one knew where the baking soda was, someone ran to the house next door, and still couldn't find any. We finally decided that the best thing to do was keep the door closed and hope the fire suffocated. It worked.
Uncle Nacho came over, saying "People keep running around; what's going on over here?" I think there were 15+ people in the kitchen, standing a safe distance from the oven. All the windows in the house were open, the fans on. The turkey was safely rescued without a bit of burning. It was the oils spilling out of the pan that caused the fire.
J.C. came home not very long after everything settled down. He didn't seem too worried about the turkey, and it ended up being underdone. I guess 5 hours isn't long enough for such a large bird.
Our card game and dinner preparations continued.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Thanksgiving Fun - Part 3
Several times over the week, I watched people respond to my Aunt Laura's loving attitude. People do things for her because she's so nice and sweet. I don't think she realizes that not everyone is like her. This is one of those instances:
The Cable Guy.
When Aunt Laura chose her new TV, she went for a big one. She wanted a 50-some-inch screen, but the TV niche only fit the 47-inch screen. Actually, I think the niche was 48 inches wide and the TV was one of the new high-def plasma screens, 47 3/8 inches wide. It was a tight fit.
On Tuesday, the guy from Dish Network was scheduled to come to the new house and hook up the satellite. I was outside when he was heading in, and I overheard Aunt Laura welcome him. Before he got inside, he learned that his name, Mark, is Aunt Laura's favorite name. That was her son's name, but he died several years ago.
Then Mark came inside and I followed to watch the action.
Mark took one look at the TV and said, "I can't do this job. That's an HDTV and the work order from the satellite company doesn't include that." Apparently, he's a subcontractor and is only authorized/able to do the work the company tells him to do. Mark is a nice man, and calls Dish Network for Aunt Laura. He was on the phone for awhile, and rescheduled the job for her for December 1. Then Laura commented that the three bedrooms need cable.
So Mark told Laura that she needs to make sure the rooms are wired. If her grandson can do it, he can buy the wire at Home Depot and it will save them the $59/hour that Dish Network will charge. Aunt Laura says, "My grandson is a CPA; he hires people to do that sort of thing for me." Then I pipe up.
"If you're a subcontractor," I ask Mark, "can't you do it for less than $59 an hour?" He gave me a sly look, and said that he doesn't take side jobs, but he knows someone he can call.
While he and I are talking, Aunt Laura calls her daughter, Chris/Lil. She's talking to Chris about why Mark can't do the job today and Mark steps outside to call his friend about the wiring. Aunt Laura says, "Oh, he's walking out the door. I don't know where he's going!" Then she hands the phone to me.
Chris tells me to make sure the three rooms get wired for regular TV and the family room for HDTV, and remember to include local and Spanish channels. I repeat everything back to her and think I've got it down.
Mark returns to the room, and says he has a friend who can do the wiring job for $100 cash on Friday night. Aunt Laura says okay.
Mark calls Dish Network back, because the job has changed again; now instead of one HDTV hook-up, we need an additional 3 rooms. Then I tell him about the local and Spanish channels. Aunt Laura talks for a moment about how important her novelas are and she's so grateful I said something. And then she's asked about TIVO.
Sometime during all this, my grandmother came in the room. At the mention of TIVO, she says, "What is that? We don't need that. I have my VCR to record." The rest of us know that they'll use it all the time, so after a few confusing moments of defining TIVO, we get the message to Mark that we want it for the main TV only.
Mark is still on the phone with Dish Network, so Aunt Laura asks about when the old house will be hooked up and transferred to her brother's name. Unfortunately, that information can't be looked up without his phone number. After trying a few different numbers, Aunt Laura says to wait just a minute and walks across the yard to her brother's house. I was washing dishes, listening to Mark tell the satellite people, "I'm just holding the line."
When all was said and done, we got the job rescheduled for December 4, and the wiring for the day after Thanksgiving. Poor Mark. He didn't get paid for this job, and he missed his next job because of the amount of time he spent with us.
All in all, I enjoyed every minute.
Conclusion
On Friday when we returned from an all-day outing, the guys were there wiring the house. Aunt Laura was confused about why they wanted $100 when the TV still didn't work. After figuring it out, she said, "Let me get my checkbook." Of course, they were expecting cash, per the agreement with Mark, and their faces showed dismay at receiving a check. Chris says, "Don't worry. My mother's check is good." And they left, the wiring complete.
The Cable Guy.
When Aunt Laura chose her new TV, she went for a big one. She wanted a 50-some-inch screen, but the TV niche only fit the 47-inch screen. Actually, I think the niche was 48 inches wide and the TV was one of the new high-def plasma screens, 47 3/8 inches wide. It was a tight fit.
On Tuesday, the guy from Dish Network was scheduled to come to the new house and hook up the satellite. I was outside when he was heading in, and I overheard Aunt Laura welcome him. Before he got inside, he learned that his name, Mark, is Aunt Laura's favorite name. That was her son's name, but he died several years ago.
Then Mark came inside and I followed to watch the action.
Mark took one look at the TV and said, "I can't do this job. That's an HDTV and the work order from the satellite company doesn't include that." Apparently, he's a subcontractor and is only authorized/able to do the work the company tells him to do. Mark is a nice man, and calls Dish Network for Aunt Laura. He was on the phone for awhile, and rescheduled the job for her for December 1. Then Laura commented that the three bedrooms need cable.
So Mark told Laura that she needs to make sure the rooms are wired. If her grandson can do it, he can buy the wire at Home Depot and it will save them the $59/hour that Dish Network will charge. Aunt Laura says, "My grandson is a CPA; he hires people to do that sort of thing for me." Then I pipe up.
"If you're a subcontractor," I ask Mark, "can't you do it for less than $59 an hour?" He gave me a sly look, and said that he doesn't take side jobs, but he knows someone he can call.
While he and I are talking, Aunt Laura calls her daughter, Chris/Lil. She's talking to Chris about why Mark can't do the job today and Mark steps outside to call his friend about the wiring. Aunt Laura says, "Oh, he's walking out the door. I don't know where he's going!" Then she hands the phone to me.
Chris tells me to make sure the three rooms get wired for regular TV and the family room for HDTV, and remember to include local and Spanish channels. I repeat everything back to her and think I've got it down.
Mark returns to the room, and says he has a friend who can do the wiring job for $100 cash on Friday night. Aunt Laura says okay.
Mark calls Dish Network back, because the job has changed again; now instead of one HDTV hook-up, we need an additional 3 rooms. Then I tell him about the local and Spanish channels. Aunt Laura talks for a moment about how important her novelas are and she's so grateful I said something. And then she's asked about TIVO.
Sometime during all this, my grandmother came in the room. At the mention of TIVO, she says, "What is that? We don't need that. I have my VCR to record." The rest of us know that they'll use it all the time, so after a few confusing moments of defining TIVO, we get the message to Mark that we want it for the main TV only.
Mark is still on the phone with Dish Network, so Aunt Laura asks about when the old house will be hooked up and transferred to her brother's name. Unfortunately, that information can't be looked up without his phone number. After trying a few different numbers, Aunt Laura says to wait just a minute and walks across the yard to her brother's house. I was washing dishes, listening to Mark tell the satellite people, "I'm just holding the line."
When all was said and done, we got the job rescheduled for December 4, and the wiring for the day after Thanksgiving. Poor Mark. He didn't get paid for this job, and he missed his next job because of the amount of time he spent with us.
All in all, I enjoyed every minute.
Conclusion
On Friday when we returned from an all-day outing, the guys were there wiring the house. Aunt Laura was confused about why they wanted $100 when the TV still didn't work. After figuring it out, she said, "Let me get my checkbook." Of course, they were expecting cash, per the agreement with Mark, and their faces showed dismay at receiving a check. Chris says, "Don't worry. My mother's check is good." And they left, the wiring complete.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Thanksgiving Fun - Part 2
After figuring out everyone's names, we settled into the house(s). The first couple days, we mostly helped Grandma and Aunt Laura with thier new house. We helped Chris put up light fixtures, fans, went to the hardware store for picture hangers for Grandma's room, and so on.
I hadn't known my grandma and Aunt Laura to be so Catholic. As we started helping them put knicknacks on shelves and pictures on walls, I realized we were handling a lot of Jesus figurines. Both of them have Jesus statues that are about 2 feet tall. There are pictures, crucifixes, and wall hangings. There are also Marys, but not as many as there were Jesuses.
Aunt Laura said she realizes that some people thinks she worships the figurines, but she doesn't; she just likes looking at Jesus. He brings her comfort and she likes the constant reminders of her Savior.
It was fun to hang Grandma's family pictures. There were some of us, her other daughters, and her son, Raymond, who died of leukemia in 1980/81. There was also one of my grandfather, who died around 1985. It was a picture of him when he was in the service for WW2. My sister looked at it, and said, "Put curly hair on him and that's Jackie!" So we went to find my sister Jackie, and sure enough, she's the spitting image of Grandpa.
The only things I remember about my grandfather are that he gave us sips of his beer (which was gross, but we kept sipping anyway) and he drove us around in his baby blue Volkswagon beetle. But my grandma still talks about him.
I hadn't known my grandma and Aunt Laura to be so Catholic. As we started helping them put knicknacks on shelves and pictures on walls, I realized we were handling a lot of Jesus figurines. Both of them have Jesus statues that are about 2 feet tall. There are pictures, crucifixes, and wall hangings. There are also Marys, but not as many as there were Jesuses.
Aunt Laura said she realizes that some people thinks she worships the figurines, but she doesn't; she just likes looking at Jesus. He brings her comfort and she likes the constant reminders of her Savior.
It was fun to hang Grandma's family pictures. There were some of us, her other daughters, and her son, Raymond, who died of leukemia in 1980/81. There was also one of my grandfather, who died around 1985. It was a picture of him when he was in the service for WW2. My sister looked at it, and said, "Put curly hair on him and that's Jackie!" So we went to find my sister Jackie, and sure enough, she's the spitting image of Grandpa.
The only things I remember about my grandfather are that he gave us sips of his beer (which was gross, but we kept sipping anyway) and he drove us around in his baby blue Volkswagon beetle. But my grandma still talks about him.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Thanksgiving Fun - Part 1
Over the next few posts, I want to share some of the fun I had over Thanksgiving. I know it's already past, but the stories are fun. Here's the introduction:
On Sunday before Thanksgiving, I traveled with my two-year-old neice, Olivia, to Modesto, CA. I bought her a little teddy bear backpack with a leash on it so I wouldn't lose her. She liked to wear it backwards, so she could hug the teddy, and I've never had so many people looking at us. She's really cute, and was very well behaved.We arrived in Oakland and met my mom and my one-year-old nephew who flew in on another flight, and my grandmother and her neice (my mom's cousin). I've never met the cousin, and when grandma introduced me, she said, "this is Lil". But Lil, upon giving me a hug, said, "The family calls me Lil but I prefer to go by Chris. You can call me Chris." And she called my grandma "Aunt Amelia", which is strange because my entire life, Grandma's name has been Frances. I know her name is Amelia Frances, but she has always preferred using her middle name.
After about an hour and a half drive, we arrived in Ceres, outside Modesto. My great-aunt Laura and great-uncle Nacho and his wife, Macie, all live on the same property, along with J.C., Aunt Laura's grandson. Aunt Laura's husband, also called Nacho, died about a year ago and J.C. moved in. Apparently Aunt Laura has wanted a new house for years, so she built one, right next door to the mobile home she's lived in for 35 years. Then she convinced Grandma and Uncle Nacho to move in - Grandma in the new house and Nacho and Macie in the old one.
Now if you're not yet confused about everyone's names, here's the fun part: Uncle Nacho's real name is Ignacio, but he goes by Manuel (I only heard Macie call him that) and the family has always called him Nacho. My grandmother is known by her names, Frances and Amelia, but also as Cotana (a nickname her grandmother gave her), and Nacho calls her ADD. Aunt Laura is just called Laura, but Nacho's daughter is also Laura, and one of Aunt Laura's granddaughters as well.
There were more of us in addition to everyone listed: my sister and her husband, mother-in-law, oldest son, and our younger sister, drove down and arrived at grandma's on Monday morning. Dad drove in on Wednesday with a rental car (he had been working). My poor nephews and neice - there was "grandma" (my mom), "grandmama" (paternal grandmother) and "nana" (my grandma). They never quite got it.
Uncle Nacho's daughter, Laura, came with her husband and two kids. My aunt Alice and uncle Ronnie came with their grandson. Aunt Laura's daughter, Mary Helen and her son Paul (J.C. was already there) and his wife came; as well as her daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren. There were a few others for dinner who's names/relations I don't remember.
I didn't realize that I'm part of a big family. It was really fun! My mom's cousin Laura when she met us, said, "I always called you my white cousins!" We laughed...my grandmother is the only one of her siblings who married a Caucasian, and all of her children did as well. The family members in my mom's generation are much more latino than my mom and her siblings, but the cousins my age are pretty well mixed. I love coming from an ethnic background. My aunt Laura made all kinds of great Mexican food, and Aunt Macie makes the best beans I've ever had.
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