So Tired

I hope that when we are on vacation next week my excellent mother-in-law's feelings aren't hurt when I sleep until ten every morning.

Here is is. Time once again for the year end book review. Truthfully my list is a bit pathetic this year. Repeats. Kids' books and lots of audio books. Going back to school fully and completely slammed me. Even now, on break, I'm not entirely certain I'm going to be able to rest enough to properly gear up for next semester. Of course, getting slammed with my second massive head cold in like three weeks isn't exactly helping either.

I also did not get around to reading your recommendations from last year. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I've actually always hated that idiom. I have loads of good intentions. Good actions, too, I hope, but my ambition seems to nearly always outstrip either my capabilities or the logistics of a normal life.  In order to give myself one less thing to feel guilty about this year I am NOT going to ask for your recommendations for next year. I have no doubt whatsoever that they will be wonderful, but I hope they will keep.

These books are presented most recently read backwards to January. 

• The Best Christmas Pageant Ever: Reviewed best at Nemesis this weekend. I love this book. I laugh and cry every time. This was the first year I read it to my kids. We all loved it. 
• Granta 116: Granta is quarterly journal published in England. I might have mentioned it before? Anyway, every three months this volume comes to my house. And yes, it is technically a periodical, but at each issue being a whopping 200 pages, I'm totally counting it as a book. Hey, it is my list. Granta 116 was called "Ten Years Later" and was filled with stories of post-9/11 living. The shocking thing was that most of this stories were written by non-Americans, mostly living in places besides America. One of my gripes with Granta is that there is no explanation of which pieces are fiction and which are personal essay. I think there is a reason for that--after all, there probably is a fine line between truth and fiction when it comes to learning and teaching bold statements about the human condition. If I didn't already have pacifist leanings before, this collection of stories and essays sealed the deal for me. I still want to write that post about America's lost decade. These essays also demonstrate that when we think of American loss, it is such a drop in the bucket compared to the whole pantheon of human suffering. This year's fourth issue of Granta is still sitting in my bathroom, the topic is "Horror." It might sit for a while longer!
• Little Men: I rediscovered Louisa May Alcott this year because I found a series of Librovox recordings in iTunes carrying all of her works. This was my fourth of the year and it was probably one (or two) too many. I loved Alcott as a kid, and now I think she is maybe just a little too precious. In her books, only the good die; all the lost boys are redeemed; and Jo can witticism her way out of any scrape. Still, the characters are rather endearing and she just writes about such good, Puritan values; I do wish that more young people would tackle Alcott. It would be good for them. This novel, like her others, seems more like a series of anecdotes only tenuously strung together by a very simple plot. 
• The Distant Hours: This book was a great Gothic piece to read in October. My book group did it and the discussion was fantastic. If you are looking for something for your next book group that is a little more page turning, a little more tantalizing, and a little less literary than your usual fare, then this might be just the thing. Oh, don't get me wrong, it is still pretty clean and quite well-written, but it is rather a juicy page-turner. World War II. England. Secrets. Big old castle. A really, really good-looking mystery man. Oh yeah.
• Hunger Games: This book hit the list a long time ago because I was reading it chapter by chapter with a tutoring student. Laborious, yes, but it gave me time to really think about it. This was my second reading and I think I enjoyed it even more this time. I caught the subtleties I had missed the first time in the jarring non-stop action of the plot. This was a really great book group discussion and I think I'll probably re-read the series now. 
• The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society: Also a re-read for book group. I reviewed this last year. Lovely and wonderful.
• Sylvester (The Wicked Uncle): I love this book. The author is Georgette Heyer and everything she writes is delicious. Her period pieces focus on Regency England and are hilarious. This book is about a hapless young maiden (of course) who, after a disastrous first season out in London, writes a wickedly clever novel parodying everybody in "The Ton." Through a random series of events she comes into contact with her novel's villain just before publication. Naturally she falls in love with him. Naturally. A delight.
• Rose in Bloom: Another Alcott title. It is hard to seperate this one from the next, as it is basically a sequel and very little time passes in between. Alcott had very clear ideas about what womanhood should look like and some very definite opinions about the type of education it took to churn out such women. This is a recurring theme in her books.
• Eight Cousins: This book reminded me of The Secret Garden in some ways. Both books are really based on the premise that lots of fresh air and exercise and positive thinking can change everything. Not a bad thought really, but I found the eternal optimism in both books a little bit on the annoying side. As for Eight Cousins, again, it is more anecdotal than plot-driven. In that way, it reminded me more of the Anne books.
• The Confession: John Grisham hit another slam dunk in my mind with this one. His early novels are page turners because of their intense and often unexpected plots. His characters, even the barest sketches, are always spot on and just fascinating. The last few books I've read still demonstrate that gift for pacing and characterization, but thematically they are just so rich. Grisham forces the reader to ask piercing questions about the judiciary and political systems that determine so much of what happens in our country. In this particular novel he is intensely critical of the death penalty system. What makes the case so compelling is that our death row inmate is actually innocent.
• Their Eyes Were Watching God: This is a beautifully written and heart-rending novel by Zora Neale Hurston. Reading her own historical background in the edition I had helped immensely in trying to ferret out what this book is really about. This book is about freedom--for women, for African Americans, from repression. It is about hanging on to the things that are the most beautiful and taking the loveliness of nature deep inside you and making it a part of who you are. Thematically the book was ahead of its time. Spurnned by critics when published in 1937 and then left out of print for nearly 30 years, it is clear that folks had to do a lot of growing up before they were ready for this book. 
• Little Women: Alcott's best work, in my mind. Her character focus is narrower than in the earlier reviewed books and the story holds together a little bit better. I still can't believe Jo doesn't marry Laurie, however. I'm not quite sure the author even got over it; in Little Men (which takes place five or six years after the end of this book) Laurie, as benefactor to the Plumfield School often comes to visit. He and Jo are as affectionate as best friends and probably rather moreso than married and unrelated grown-ups should be. If I was the German professor I think I'd want to pop Laurie one. I will say, however, that the European section of the book is much more deliberate than the movie and the Laurie-Amy romance is not quite so sudden or unbelievable.
• Among the Hidden: Jedi Knight read this for Oregon Battle of the Books. (Or OBOB. The next few also.) It is an interesting plot, though maybe a bit old for my nine year old, even if his reading tastes are a bit precocious. It wasn't too hard for him to read; it was short and quite easy, but thematically there are a some difficult issues. It is about illegal third-born children who have to hide so they and their parents aren't killed. It ended rather abruptly with only the barest resolution.
• Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher: Another OBOB title. Stupid. JK Rowling really put a lot of other kids' fantasy books to shame. Jedi Knight liked it okay, but that isn't a huge recommendation!
• Earthquake Terror: Also OBOB. This is kind of a sweet, though highly improbable, survival story about a brother and sister. I feel like in some ways the author spent a very long time mapping out exactly how to get these kids stranded, alone, in the woods, after an earthquake. Not as much time was spent in figuring out what to do next. Another abrupt ending.
• Number the Stars: OBOB. A wonderful way for younger children to first learn about the Holocaust. Much easier to read than Anne Frank, based on true events, and with plot elements just scary enough to instruct and hold interest without terrifying. A brilliant little novel. Winner of the Newbery around 1990.
• The Last Newspaper Boy in America: Another OBOB title. This is a great book for boys. The main character is clever and funny and creative. The plot is rather improbable, but is a good way to explore current events. I really enjoyed reading this aloud with my son.
• Granta 115: The summer Granta was about feminism. My own feminism post this summer was probably an outgrowth of thinking about what I'd read. I also wrote a personal essay I'm quite happy with in relation to this issue. If anybody is interested in having a copy, please let me know.
• Foxmask: This book is by one of my favorite authors, but was a new read for me. It is a sequel to the next title down. I don't think I connected to this particular set of characters quite as well as to another series I've read by the author. Although her fantasy-romance telling is always good value, I have found her novels have generally gone downhill. I found myself not caring nearly as much about the fates of these characters as others. A little bit too much love at first sight in this one. She also left a couple of her characters kind of hung out to dry. I think it probably guarantees a third installment. *sigh* One last note about the author--I am impressed with the way that just as many of her female characters are domestic and motherly as they are tough and adventuresome. She really demonstrates that there is no one way to be a woman who is both good and strong.
• Wolfskin: I read this book first a few years ago. I remember devouring it in one sitting. I was even working full-time as a teacher (with two little kids!) at the time and still stayed up until 3 am in the middle of the week to finish it. Very stupid. After all, I had more days ahead of me and then I had nothing to read. So is it a page-turner, yes, of course. Marrillier excels at putting her characters in impossible situations and then getting them out. She loves rescues. And though her women are very strong, she can't quite get over the romance of the damsel in distress. 
• Getting Things Done: I had to read this for a class over the summer. Pretty much hated it from the beginning, but what really sealed the deal for me was when the author's sample "to-do" list had the following bullet point, "decide what to do with million dollar inheritance." What the? At first I thought he was being facetious, but other items in the book made me think otherwise. The only good pointer I took from this book was never to have more e-mail in the "inbox" than can be viewed on one-screen. I haven't let my g-mail account go over 50 since reading that and I've actually been a much better e-mailer (word?) because of it.
• First Things First: I didn't dislike this quite as much as Getting Things Done, but almost. Also read for a class. I just am not a big fan of self-help books.
• The Last Olympian: A Percy Jackson book. I will review all five of these under the first "The Lightning Thief," although about this one I would like to say that the choice of the last Olympian was a pleasant and touching surprise.
• Saving Cee Cee Honeycutt: My mom loaned me this one, which is not always a good thing. I had mixed feelings about this title. She told me that it reminded her of "The Secret Life of Bees." I think the comparison is apt, though this book isn't nearly as good. I really liked some things about it. Others were just really tacky . . . and one of the tacky things was, admittedly, laugh out loud funny. I find I like books about the South better after having lived there. In these books, the heat becomes a character. That was something I never understood until I spent nearly 6 summers in Houston.
• The Battle of the Labyrinth: A Percy Jackson book. I will review all five of these under the first "The Lightning Thief."
• The Star Garden: Oh, dear. What to do with this book? This and the next reviewed are sequels to the rather excellent "These is My Words." The diary format isn't consistently carried through these two books though it is supposed to be; the voice is much stronger in the first. I think a major problem with the series as a whole is that she got rid of Jack at the end of the first book. The love story of these two is such a major part of the first book that some of the heart is sucked out of the other two, leaving Sarah harder than ever. Some of the border dispute issues are interesting, but they end in such dreadful violence that I felt quite depressed. Most of the reviews I've read, however, have nothing but praise for all three volumes. My take? Meh.
• Sarah's Quilt: I felt like there were major plot holes and inconsistencies in character. There were issues from the first book that were just left dangling and could have been better resolved in the second and third books and they just weren't. I would have certainly liked a better resolution of Sarah's relationships with her daughter, for one. The whole Lazarus character was confusing and disconcerting to me. As with the above, there is a plot line that ends in some rather horrific violence that I just felt was unnecessary.
• The Good Earth: I chose this for book group back in April. It is a remarkable book, and a clear definition of a true classic. The simplicity of the story and Buck's language belie just how much depth is to be uncovered here. This is a book to read and then talk about and then feel changed by.
• The Titan's Curse: A Percy Jackson book. I will review all five of these under the first "The Lightning Thief."
• A Wrinkle in Time: Another book group pick. I knew I went out on a limb for this one; it wasn't very well-received. Whatever. This was probably the first book I remember really loving and read my first copy into an early grave. This was the book that unlocked fantasy for me and helped me to think about the universe and spirituality in terms bigger than anything I could imagine on my own. It is so wonderful.
• Granta 114: This particular Granta was called "Aliens" and was about people who end up living in a different place than where they were born or raised, and their experiences in the foreign place. Good stuff. But like all the Grantas I've read: some of the pieces are wonderful and other pieces are just rubbish. Don't think I'll be renewing.
• Of Mice and Men: Again, the simplicity of this story, its characters and the coarseness of its language is deceptive. This little novel speaks to many aspects of the human condition, and it will probably never run out of things to say. Another true classic.
• The Sea of Monsters: A Percy Jackson book. I will review all five of these under the first "The Lightning Thief."
• House of Mirth: Depressing as hell. But then, it is Edith Wharton, so maybe that goes without saying? I am really glad that I read this as a book group title because I think the discussion is pretty essential to having a good experience with this book.
• The Lightning Thief: This is a very original kids' book series. Just like the slough of Harry Potter knock-offs from a few years ago, this series has been much copied in recent years. (The author is even capitalizing on his own success with a second series that is only marginally different.) The first book uses the formula of two guy friends and a girl, appealing to both male and female readers. However, throughout the other books, this formula is sometimes shaken up so that Percy (the main character) takes each quest with a new assortment of characters. Other successful elements from the Harry Potter stories pop up here, but the context is so new and the writing so funny that the stories are really great on their own. Though not as brilliant or with the depth of the Potter books, I think it is safe to say that the Percy Jackson books will be a mainstay in children's literature for years to come. The same cannot be said of the movie franchise. Loads of mistakes were made in the plotting and casting of this movie (including kids that were way to old to begin with), and a sequel would be nearly impossible. In addition, these books were aimed mostly at tweens, but the movie is a terribly scary PG and was way too much for my little kids. 
• The Associate: Though not as political charged as The Confession or The Appeal, Grisham has plenty to say about the ridiculous lenghts companies will go to in order to defend lawsuits. In the end, only the lawyers stand to benefit. Not the public. Not the corporations themselves. If we need an answer for why products are so slow to come to market and so expensive when they do . . . There is also some discussion of mistakes we make when we are young coming back to haunt us later on.
• Cry, The Beloved Country: This is one of my very favorite books, and two recent readings were both in the context of book groups. The first was wonderful, the second not so much. In this book, I see the author essentially on the side of the Black South Africa as he casts blame upon the White minority for their indifference and calculated oppression. He is pleading with his countrymen to find a better solution and a new way forward. Our discussion devolved into the question of how poor people need to better help themselves, with one woman sitting next to me even pulling out the word "Negro." Really. In 2011. I nearly fell of the couch. Our lovely host that night seemed a bit disappointed. She had much she wanted to discuss, I could tell, and the conversation got rather away from her. I have also read this book just because I like it, on several occasions. Some people say it is hard to get through, but I don't see it. The rhythmic language and flowing style are remarkable and lovely. The intro to my book said that Alan Paton wrote the book while he was touring the world speaking on educational reform. He had just read "The Grapes of Wrath" before he left. He wrote this manuscript every night in his hotel room. What a fascinating paper would result from a combined analysis of both texts.
• A Short History of Nearly Everything: I actually read about half of this book before the end of last year and I believe I reviewed it there. This book is delightful.
• Madame Bovary:  I actually read about half of this book before the end of last year and I believe I reviewed it there. This book is much less than delightful.  

 That brings my total to 38 (or 37 and two halves). Not my best showing. Not even close. But there are more years and more books. My anticipated titles this year are The House at Riverton, The Help, Grapes of Wrath, The Warmth of Other Suns and Left to Tell. Of course, I am hoping for many more books to happen my way also. Maybe it is, as Juliet says in "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society," maybe books have a way of honing in on their perfect readers. May 2012 be the year you find your perfect book.

Party!

Done. Lovely. A good turn out--certainly as much as my house could handle anyway. Everything was nearly perfect. The cider was an especial hit. Recipes later. Right now I'm going to take a nap!

On Having Faith

The thing that makes the fiction writings of C.S. Lewis so brilliant is that he is never merely telling a story. He is sharing an allegory, that if carefully read, will give any reader a deeper sense of wonder and faith. Scripture "stories" are great at this too. It is what makes C.S. Lewis (can your really say just "Lewis?" and who names their baby Clive?) classic and highly readable year in and year out.

I love the movies too. The screenwriters have taken Lewis' rather simple stories and pulled out the parts that will translate best to film and extrapolated them into broad action sequences. They have addressed questions of children torn from parents during the Second World War in a way even C.S. Lewis didn't. After all, when the books were first published, the war was over just a few years and maybe people weren't yet asking about the effect of children being sent away yet. It was such a fact of British life that it maybe didn't seem noteworthy in characterizing the Pevensie children. So although it is a wonderful and well-portrayed device in the movies, it wasn't at all the author's intent to tell a war story.

No, he was much more interested in the fate of the soul than the fate of nations. Narnia, as lovely and wonderful a place as it is, was only created as a means to teach Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter about the plan of salvation. To teach all of us about it.

The books are all extraordinary, and as I get older I realize more and more just how much scripture is loaded into them. In this post, however, I'd like to turn my thoughts specifically to the volume, Prince Caspian. A few weeks ago on Facebook page, Mike posted this article. The author talks about how crucial decisions made in this novel demonstrate how life's choices can sometimes be cruel . . . that some things are really meant to test our faith and be difficult. Her essay is well-done and her logic is interesting; it would make for a great discussion. But as I pondered it, I found myself thinking about what else C.S. Lewis was trying to do as an author during the part Ms. Welch referenced.

Some quick background on the novel in case it has been some time since you've read it. The four Pevensie children are taken mysteriously back to Narnia only to discover that hundreds and hundreds of years have passed. Their adventures, and even Aslan himself, have passed away into legends and ancient writing. They meet up with a Dwarf who is able to explain--Narnia is in its darkest hour. The rightful king (Caspian) is attempting to lead one final uprising of old Narnians against the usurpers to keep Narnia from losing all its faith and magic forever. He is out numbered and out-strategized. Finding Queen Susan's old horn, they have summoned help from beyond Narnia.

The Dwarf is doubtful that four children will do a lick of good, but he agrees to take them to Prince Caspian and the others. They must go a different way to avoid the enemies, and Peter, who roamed those parts often once-upon-a-time is confident that he can lead them. Only nothing is the same. And time is running out. And nobody thinks the adventure is amounting to much. Then Lucy sees Aslan. She knows that He is beckoning them to follow. The problem is that nobody else sees Him. There is a vote to follow Lucy or to continue following Peter's instincts which make more logical sense than the direction Lucy is proposing. The vote is 3-2. The Dwarf, Peter and Susan agree to Peter's plan. Edmund, who learned his lesson very well, thank you, believes Lucy, though he himself cannot see yet.

Peter's way is a dead-end, and they lose a lot of time. They end going Lucy's direction by default, which, once the initial barrier is overcome, is clearly the way to go. Eventually Edmund, Peter, Susan and even the Dwarf (in that order) see Aslan.

I think that Brother Lewis is trying to teach us about faith, but not necessarily in the way Welch reports in her essay. I think the allegory here is told in each of our five characters:

Lucy. She represents one with deep and abiding faith. Not perfect, however. Aslan reprimands her for not having followed regardless of the others. She insists that she didn't dare split up and then realizes that Aslan is trying to tell her that it would have worked out. When she begs to know if things would have been better or different if she had just followed the first time he chides, "We can never know what might have been, only what could be." Lucy's gift of the spirit is belief.

Edmund. Edmund represents the one whose experiences, not all good, have taught him faith; but, perhaps more importantly have taught him that believing on testimonies of those who believe is also a very important gift. Edmund is fully aware that he doesn't see Aslan, but he'd follow Lucy, the girl-prophet, anywhere. Edmund, though unable to see Aslan right at first, is rewarded with sight for his faith and meets Aslan with a clear conscience.

Peter. This strong oldest brother represents our worker. He wants to get to the battle, to fight for Aslan and Narnia, so he steadfastly plows away into the wilderness, pridefully listening to his own instincts when he doesn't immediately see the hand of God in his enterprise. He put the whole follow-Lucy-thing to a vote because he is fair and honest and loves his sister, but without some kind of proof he wasn't seriously going to follow her. He repents of his pride when he gets over the ridge and sees that oh, yes, Lucy's way really was the best. His apologetic attitude then leads him to his own vision of Aslan, in front of whom he feels deeply humbled.

Susan. Dear Susan. Blessed with skepticism. Susan represents one who lived in the world too much. I think of all the Pevensie children she would be the quickest to chalk up their first Narnian experience to a dream, or a shared make-believe world the children shared. While Narnia was as real to Lucy as England; I think it became less and less real to Susan each passing day. Susan sees Aslan only when the balance of proof tells her that he must be there, only when she allows Narnia to get inside of her again. But, if you read all seven books, you see that it may not be enough. At the end of the Last Battle, Susan's three siblings are taken home to Aslan who transforms before their eyes into an entirely different form, and Susan is left behind.

Trumpkin. While the four children represent differing levels of faith, Trumpkin, our dwarf, represents no faith at all. Though it is safe to say he is more agnostic (indifference to the lack of evidence for things beyond the physical world) than atheistic, he will do very well for this last category.  Even in the face of miracles--the return of the children, the finding of their way through the ancient jungle--he refuses to believe in Aslan until he is physically lifted up and shaken and dropped. His reaction is one of abject fear when he first sees the God of his world. Every knee shall bow indeed.

Don't get me wrong, I sincerely appreciate Sister Welch's thoughts. But this is what I'm trying to say about Clive Staples Lewis. His lovely stories carry in them such a wealth of depth and truth than any earnest Christian would be misguided to overlook them. As I've pondered on these thoughts over the last two weeks, I see a little of myself in each character. Except perhaps Lucy. I am like Edmund in that I sometimes have to follow others in faith until I can see for myself, thought lately I've been reminding myself that this is also scripturally given as a gift. I have Peter's sense of duty and work that sometimes gets in the way of what needs to be done. I trudge along, doggedly and earnestly looking for a path without remembering to look up on the ridge and ask God which direction He would have me go. I carry Susan's skepticism for many things in spades. The world blocks my own view of the Lord far too often. I've even had my Trumpkin moments. Though as I get older, I find that cynicism leaching more and more out of me as I try to make room for things that are good and light.

It is a long post, but I finished my semester today and it felt enormously cathartic to write about something not related to the state of American education and its somewhat indifferent pupils. Maybe I'll even get around to reviewing my books next week.

The Menu.

As mentioned before, next week I'm hosting the ladies in my neighborhood for the annual Christmas cookie exchange. They have been doing this for years and years. Our street does other activities during the year too. It is a very cool neighborhood. The majority of folks are empty nesters, but still pretty young. I imagine that this was quite the happening neighborhood ten years ago when all of them had little rugrats about. Now it is pretty much the Jedi, but everyone has been really kind to us ever since we moved in. In my defense, I did say "yes" to the request because it was between semesters and three months ago and before I was put in the primary presidency. Back in August it seemed so doable. Nine days out . . . not so much.

That's where you come in.

I am going to post the menu here today and you are going to give me some feedback. The prize for helping is that you get to come to the cookie exchange! The airport is just ten minutes from my house and I'm more than happy to come and get you.

The format is an open house sort of  luncheon from 11-1. At about 12:45, everybody chooses a few cookies from each platter and then takes them home. So here is my plan:


Meatballs: Purchased at Costco and heated in my crockpot that morning. My sister puts a mixture of BBQ sauce and grape jelly on them which she swears is delicious. I don't know. I don't really love meatballs but I do like things that are easy. These will be very sweet.

Cranberry-Orange Salad: This salad has a yummy homemade poppy seed dressing with mixed greens, cranberries, mandarin oranges, feta and pecans. It is lovely and Christmasy. It is sweet but really tangy also.

Pasta Salad: Bowtie pasta with chopped cucumber, tomato, olives and cilantro. The dressing is a homemade one also--feta cheese, lemon juice, black pepper, purple onion and lots of oregano. Very savory.

Marinated Cheese: Layered cream cheese and cheddar with an Italian dressing marinade that sits for a day. Before serving I dice a little bit of red pepper on the top and some basil ribbons. Served with crackers. Very savory.

Gingerbread: This is my mom's favorite Christmas thing to cook. It is so delicious and fragrant. Her version is dark with molasses and just amazing. Probably served with lemon sauce. 

Costco Cream Puffs: Because, honestly, who DOESN'T need one excuse a year to buy these bad boys. 

Hot Cider/Wassail: Loved this suggestion. I'll probably use some variation on one of the recipes you comments with.

Lemon Water: For non-cider folks.

As for preparation--the meatballs can easily be thrown together first thing in the morning in about ten minutes. The lettuce salad is a matter of opening a few bags or cans and tossing stuff together because the dressing can be made the day before. The pasta salad parts have to be cold so the noodles, at least can be done ahead. The tomatoes are little and go in whole. The cucumber would need cutting. Again, the dressing can be made ahead of time. The marinated cheese is primarily made ahead of time. If I go with the gingerbread I would want to make it that morning so that the house smells nice.

So what do you think? Do I need another carb? I have lovely homemade rolls that I could do a day ahead of time. They could also be turned into orange rolls, which are totally amazing, but sweeter. Any feedback would be awesome.

As for the cookie I'm exchanging . . . I will either do cookie dough truffles rolled in ganache which can be done several days ahead of time and frozen. Bagging them up for people might be a bit messy. They need to be eaten or refrigerated pretty much right away. My other choice is something more roll-like: hazelnut ringalings or orange rolls which could be more work but the are just so good. And the last option is Russian tea cake cookies. I discovered a wonderful recipe for these last year and I really love them. They could be done the day before.

For decorating, it isn't too hard because I set the house up for Christmas already. I mostly need to move some furniture out the garage in exchange for chairs so there is room for everything. I will do Christmas plates and napkins. For everyone's cookies I will probably put them on the chargers I bought at Walmart at the end of last season for about a quarter apiece. Wrapped will cellophane and a ribbon they will look super festive.

I have no idea how many to expect. Ten to twenty people? I know, helpful, right? Should I have Christmas music playing in the background?

Feedback, folks, please.

The Day After Thanksgiving is Pretty Much Its Own Holiday

And no. I don't shop.

What I do is spend the morning cleaning like crazy; the lunch hour picking at various types of pie and eating as many leftover sweet potatoes as possible; and the afternoon redecorating the house for Christmas. It is the only holiday I redecorate for. I think it is the only way to make the dark winter afternoons bearable. If all is so cozy and inviting inside it is really okay if Mother Nature is not giving us her very best.

This afternoon while decorating the Christmas tree I have felt very reflective. Plantboy and I right now live in a culture where people tend to get married a little bit later, if they do, and many people have at least one marriage over and done by our age. It has lately occurred to me that we have been together a long time. And in a good way. Many of my most pleasant memories now include Plantboy and our kids. Though these more recent delights have certainly not supplanted the best days from my own childhood, they seem now to carry equal, formative weight.

The story of that life together is told in our Christmas tree. The first year we were married, I insisted on a tree though there was no money for it. We bought a very fat tree from the carnies in the parking lot at Smith's in Logan. It would hardly take an ornament it was so full, but no worries. There really weren't ornaments. There was a pathetic strand of lights. There was a smattering of handmade ornaments--felt, buttons and white thread--I made at Homemaking (Relief Society) that year for probably a quarter apiece. There were pinecones with satin ribbon hot-glued onto them to make them festive. There were also ribbons. I had seen somewhere, no doubt, that decorating the tree tips with ribbons was enormously popular that year, and decided it was an inexpensive look to replicate. I tied gold and red ribbons to the tree.

Just as I have done every year since. The same ribbons. The same felt ornaments. The same pinecones.

And I remember. I remember the hideous ornaments from childhood that mom insisted we hang on the tree each year. The felt reindeer in olive green with the little bit of tinsel and a brassy bell. The little falling-apart soldiers made from what might have been spools of thread. Also olive green, bless their little hearts. Each year, when the ornaments came out, there was the story of that first poverty-Christmas my parents had together. We would groan and hang them anyway, along with all the other ornaments collected and made over the years. The ornaments that told the story of my family. It was a story I didn't understand very well for a long time. My mother's childhood was turbulent, at best, and her own brightest memories all involved Christmas lights and a single Christmas record. That first Christmas that she and Bean Boy spent together was her attempt to bring with her the best of her childhood into a new life. That simple tradition, decorating a Christmas tree, was her way of saying that she would do everything in her power to be a good wife and mother.

It is mine and Plantboy's 13th married Christmas together. And today I felt the story of my own little family told in those ornaments--crafted by mine or grubby, gluey patties as gifts for mom and dad; collected from neighbors and friends and church; purchased on end of season sales and rediscovered the next year like early gifts; treasured and put away carefully year in and year out. There is hardly room to fit our ornaments on my $5 garage sale tree (another lovely Christmas story that will keep). We have had to move it more central to the room and out of the corner so that it can be decorated all around.

As we finished our tree tonight, my tender-hearted almost seven year old (the best Christmas gift I ever received) said, "Tonight, let's turn out all the lights except the tree and sit around it." I suggested we should do so while we read the scriptures. He smiled broadly and said, "Great idea. It will help me to be reverent." I thought of my own mother, huddled under the Christmas tree while a record of Christmas songs played in the background, seeking to escape the myriad things that were hard for a little girl to deal with. What a lovely thought for that little girl's grandson to carry in his heart. It is a time of year to feel reverent. And while I know it will be hectic: there is a ladies' tea to host, a birthday party to put together, presents to buy and wrap, finals to be finished, a trip to Colorado to plan--I also know that every night, for at least a few minutes, I will turn out all of the lights except the low lamps and take my own turn to sit by the tree and feel the goodness of a single baby and His power to change the world. I will feel reverent. I will remember.

A Little Help?

Here is the short story:

I am hosting our neighborhood cookie exchange this year. Typically it is  munchies with tea and coffee affair. I am serving a light luncheon--meatballs, festive green salad, marinated cheese with crackers, rolls possibly, gingerbread, Costco cream puffs. What I need to figure out is beverages. It is kind of a ladies' tea type situation, but I obviously don't really do tea and coffee here. Jeff suggested that I get box coffee from Starbucks (he has picked it up for people at work in the past and they really like it); I could get tea packets, but what kind and what to have with it? Lemon? Honey? Cream? Sugar? All of the above? Or I could just do lemon water and gloss over no tea or cookies by just not saying anything about it?What about hot chocolate? Do non-Mormony people feel like I do--that hot chocolate can be served any time any where and in any weather?

Not really interested in making any kind of moral stand here. Don't really feel the same about tea and coffee in the house as I would say cigars and brandy (insert chuckle); I mostly want to be hospitable and somewhat accommodating without spending money on something that nobody is going to like.What would you do?

Tender Mercy

I felt the Spirit at church yesterday . . . the whole time. It has been a while. I know that is probably more about me than church, but I sure am grateful. It makes this busy week seem a little bit more doable.

Sometimes

Sometimes a friend who really understands you calls at just the right moment and everything seems so much more do-able. Just such a moment last night. Thank you. From the bottom of my too-stressed heart. Thank you.

Worst Blogger Ever

It has been a very fun, very busy fall. Here are a few photos. A good post is coming. I promise. Maybe in another month . . . . how about if you just keep your expectations really low? The best I can give you today is a little commentary.

Look at this pie. Honestly. It is pretty much perfect. Razzleberry. (Yes, the decoration looks like cherries or mistletoe, but it is pretty much the extent of my free hand dough art) It tasted even better than it looked. My best effort ever. Late August.

The Jedi on their first day of school. Padawan is now in school all day. He is the smallest first grader (maybe the smallest KID) on campus. It is kind of starting to sink into him also and he doesn't always take it all that well. Both of them are brilliant, of course, and I am at the school three days a week volunteering. It is a lot of fun and, for me anyway, less stressful than babies.  The day after Labor Day.


 

A late summer harvest. Isn't it gorgeous? I think so. Yellow peppers, onions, tri-colored carrots, multiple varieties and colors of tomatoes. We pulled out beets this week and I think we'll have shallots until they freeze in the ground. It was a great summer for harvesting.

Stealing from the strawberry patch. The only kind of stealing that is actively encouraged 'round these parts.

Plantboy had a few chances to go fishing in the early morning. He took some amazing sunrise pictures on the Umpqua River. This particular trip he only brought home photos, unfortunately. 

On a whim, we took off after school and work on a Friday afternoon and hit the Coast. It was a lovely, sunny day and cool and breezy as always on the coast. The surf was remarkable that day and we had to leave by eight o'clock to beat both the tide and the darkness. On the left side in this picture, out on the point, you'll see a lighthouse. Our favorite beach is the one just below the lighthouse. 

We did a campfire and foil dinners. By the time we left we were all huddled around it. Weather forecasts are very deceptive concerning the beach in the evening in late September. Still, it was completely awesome. We had the whole place to ourselves and we ran in the edge of the surf until we were properly exhausted.

The mist rolled in. It was both eerie and  beautiful. As night fell we could see the lighthouse beam cutting through the fog and dark, reminding me that sometimes old-fashioned things are the best things.

For our boys, "playing" at the beach always looks more like work. Building, tunneling, damming and digging.  

Some minor triumph no doubt. Though the Youngling looks poised to throw a mudball. His smile tells me that he is always up to something. 

 

 The last wistful look of summer out across the Pacific. Next time we do the beach in the early fall it is jackets and pants and more layers. But it was so awesome that there will definitely be a next time. And I mean awesome in the soul-stirring, wonderment sense of the word.

I helped can the pears, but Plantboy gets full credit for this amazing tomatoes. All organic and from the garden--multicolored tomatoes, basil, garlic and shallot. A pure delight. My favorite discovered recipe this fall is to take a jar of these, a couple of chicken breasts, and a crockpot. Stew it all together until the chicken falls apart, serve over noodles and voila! Delightful chicken cacciatore in a snap.

Okay, two tomato shots. They really are so pretty. I think they would make lovely gifts with a square of checked fabric, a bit of raffia and a card. Plantboy, however, isn't likely to willingly part with any of these lovelies. 

On the second trip he apparently paid less attention to sunrise and more to the fishing. Not so empty handed this time around. I guess we are eating salmon again this year. 

 

The two football games above were also a blast. The one on the right was Jedi Knight and Plantboy two weeks ago at BYU/OSU in Corvallis. They met LaVell Edwards in the will-call line. JK was featured on TV for about four seconds and the Cougs creamed the Beavs. It was a fun, big-boy thing for the almost-ten year old to get to do. His birthday was last Sunday and grandma paid us a surprise visit. I am sure it isn't possible that I have a ten year old, but that is what his birthday is telling me. 

The picture on the right is today's University of Oregon/Washington State Game. The Ducks won by nearly 20, but it is proof that I'm a Ducks follower that I was a bit disappointed that the guys in yellow didn't score above 50! In case you didn't notice, the game was a "yellow-out." Think blackout, but brighter. This is my sweet friend Devery who invited Jeff and I to share tickets with she and her husband today. Front row. Fifty yard line. Those kind of seats make paying the babysitter for all day totally worth it. We don't get a whole day to ourselves very often. Thanks Dev. 

Halloween, Thanksgiving and a bunch of other stuff still to come. How is your fall shaping up?

No Time to Post. Just Repost.

There has been a ton of this stuff going around the blogosphere/bloggernacle/facebook/email etc. this week. This is my favorite from the St. Petersburg Times. Funny. Touching. It is so interesting to see those who have rushed to our (meaning the LDS as a people) defense as Romney and Huntsman have been raked over the coals. Kathleen Parker's article was also wonderful. That wonderful post is still coming. Breakdown is lasting longer than expected. Getting there.

Brain Exploding. NOT literally.

I had this super-fantastic essay all worked out in my head this morning. Politics. September 11th. Wall Street protesters. Movie Review. The Lost Decade . . . it was awesome.

But it will have to wait. I'm going to have a complete breakdown today instead.Okay, not complete, there is too much to do. But certainly a partial breakdown. Trust me, I'm entitled. And being a Democrat I'm all about laying around and feeling entitled.

Educational Ethics

If I needed further proof that I was in exactly the right major, it showed up this week in the form of the Utah State Magazine. The cover story is about how great it is that nine USU professors are working on grants from the National Science Foundations. Seven of them are in the hard sciences, but two of them are in Instructional Technology an Learning Science. They just happen to be the professors I have this term. One is studying the positive effects in math (statistics) learning when students take their own biometric data, the other is studying how science education is improved when students have to make logical arguments.

I've been thinking a lot about the reading I've done recently and wanted to discuss some questions with you all. I posted these same questions in a section of one of my classes today because I wanted to see what system "insiders" had to say. But I'm also very interested in the opinions of those outside the education establishment. Here is what I wrote:

In the Martinez book most of us have studied for Dr. Lee's class this semester, part of the working definition of learning in that book is that people's minds will be open to new ideas, to reconfigure schema as necessary. According to educational psychologists and learning scientists, therefore, to be educated means that you are willing to be open to new ideas. 

And yet, in every one of our classes, we work with children whose parents are terrified of this very thing. Years ago I knew a man who was asking me about his daughter's English class--why couldn't her  AP English teacher  just teach her writing and proper grammar? "Why," I'll never forget him saying, "do they have to read all these awful books and cram her head full of ideas?" He was a very religious man; his concern was that his daughter would reject his world view if she was too encouraged to seek her own. And yet, he was a successful accountant with a degree. No doubt he would consider himself to be very educated. 


I've taught both sex education and evolution in very conservative states.  (Utah and Texas.) Ethics questions are very real and complicated. . . and sometimes honesty as the best policy means the phone will ring off the hook after school. What might be common sense to one person might not be so common or make any sense at all to another. So now for my question(s): What do we do as teachers when what we are trying to teach our students puts us at odds with members of our school community? How do we encourage students to explore new ideas and possibilities without undermining parental authority or rights? What have been your experiences with teaching controversial subjects? How do we address this very fundamental disconnect between our most conservative communities and one of the stated goals of real learning (the opening of the mind)?

"And it is very real--people are leaving public schools in astonishing numbers to home school with no more credentials than seminary graduation and righteous indignation. Our current political climate is toxic to our schools and half of our families tune in every night for another tirade about the place down the street where you send your kids on the bus every day to become little comrades, or just as bad, liberals. What can be done?

Before anybody says anything, of course I know that this isn't the reason that all home school parents use. The argument was to make a point.

Heaps to Say, But It Can Wait

You should check out this blog today instead:

http://deeperstory.com/on-choosing-to-listen/

That's all.

One to Watch

Here is my female candidate for President in 2016:

I heard an interview with her several months ago about her frustration with the inability of Congress to create a Consumer Protection Agency that had some teeth. This pictured quote is what I have been trying to articulate for a long time.

What do we think? Is there some unspoken underlying social contract? What obligations to our country and fellowmen come with being a free citizen?

One Bright Spot

Okay, there are really a lot. But the sweetest might be that my little Youngling learned to ride his bike this week. Training wheels, of course, but it is still just so cute.

On the downside, I didn't even know it was possible to be this tired. A new calling has thrown a monkey wrench into so many carefully laid plans. Though, in all fairness, maybe this IS the plan.

Have Your Forgotten?

No doubt there will be plenty of blog posts in the next several days about THAT DAY. I'll just add mine to the list. Eight months pregnant with my first baby. I wasn't under teaching contract that year, just subbing, and I had chosen not to work that day. I took the morning to walk (waddle) at the park near the Houston on Champion Forest Drive. I was wearing hideous and uncomfortable maternity work-out clothes. I headed to Wal-Mart. There was a teaser on NPR that a story related to education that was coming up. Then there was a break in the coverage. My first selfish thought was to wonder if this meant the education story (which sounded interesting) would be delayed or not done. Information at the moment was unclear and the official line was still "accident." I went in to Wal-Mart where strangers were asking one another, "did you hear?" By the time I got back to the car, the second attack had occurred. And the third. Then a fourth plane went down. I drove to the temple, where Plantboy was working. We watched the towers fall down on live television, stunned and horrified.

Like you.

I felt my dear boy squirm and kick inside me and I wondered just what kind of world I had brought my child into.

Ten years later, and now I know. As in any time, it is a world of sorrow and joy. Of good and evil. Of contradiction. Of growth. Of learning to seek out and hang on to what is best and pure. I hope I have taught that baby those things. For even though nobody he would have known died that day, he is a child of September 11th too. Who will these post-9/11 kids become? This thing that has come to define their generation has left them in a world filled with war and contention and conflict. In the immediate aftermath, even two and three years later, those tower images would frequently fill the TV. With his still-baby voice Jedi Knight would ask about it. I would tell him. Now I sometimes hear my history-loving boy talk about that day as if he has a memory of it. Does he? Or does he just carry the archetypal image in his head somewhere? Did those images burn so horribly into his mind even as a young child that he is part of our collective consciousness too?

October 2001 wasn't just a game changer in our family--two weeks to the day before my son was born, The US army invaded Afghanistan, where it has stayed and fought the longest war in our history. The day he was born the iPod was announced in a press conference. His will be the generation of war and information--two things that can bring people together or disconnect them entirely. I hope he will be a man who builds bridges, who is filled with compassion for others, and will learn the lessons of THAT DAY even though he had not yet entered the world.

What a Week!

Grad school started. Last minute things to get ready for school. Back to School Night. Squeezing more fun things out of summer. Getting our Cub Scout Program up and running. A broken dryer. Picking up more working hours. A new calling (without releases from my other two--though the first order of business in the new calling was finding my replacements) in the Primary Presidency with an unwritten program coming up in six weeks and all the stuff that comes from keeping Primary chugging along.

I think next week will be better. I'm getting on top of a few things. The schedule is tight, but I think it will be doable. It has to be. I'm not sure what to let go of at this point. Okay, I suppose I do know: reading for leisure, writing, scrapbooks, cooking for pleasure . . . .so many of the things that make me feel human. I guess that is what all those breaks built into the college schedule are for. Though I am blogging and did make cookies with the kids tonight, and Plantboy and I did get a date yesterday. (Mexican food and Captain America--highly recommended.) Maybe it won't be as impossible as it seems.

Aggies and Ducks both lost today. Not a grand start to the coming week, but I'm sure that Fast Sunday will help restore the balance. Balance. Balance. Balance. I think this will be the new mantra.

My Turn on the Bus

Oh. Boy. Today was a doozy.

Have I taken on too much?

Today is not the best day for me to ask that question.

While I Was Away

I always think that Warren Buffet speaks such good sense. This time is no exception.

Emotional Posting

My previous comments about Utah and my vacation were a bit jumbled. Visiting my family in Utah does make me feel conflicted, though I think I came across in a couple of ways that weren't intended. I will try to clarify here a bit, though without specifics, it may be hard.

First of all, we have no current intention to move. My thoughts are for the long term. In a year I have an adjustable rate mortgage that will need attention; in two years I will have a variety of employment options and all of my kids in school all day; I will also have a child entering middle school. In the current economy it is hard to say if thinking ahead is helpful . . . or just frusturating. If we want to make life changes then two years from now is a great time to do it. The question is whether or not that move will be to a house down the street with a laundry room that doesn't double as a garage, or if that move will be a major life change.

Mike's late comments on the post were well-taken. Of course making a decision to stay or go doesn't mean more or different revelation won't come later. However, as I have gotten more settled in our current community, and ponder on my own growing up, I have begun to feel strongly that there are very real merits to putting down roots. And yes, the blog is still going to be titled "Nomad." A person might relieve restlessness in a lot of ways that don't involve renting a moving van. I finished Little Women; Jo ultimately started a school. Hm . . . .

Mike's comments were further noted: I agree absolutely that a righteous family can be raised anywhere. And so can an unrighteous family. I also recognize that even doing your best and being very committed as parents still won't take away kids' choices. I was misunderstood in my previous post if I seemed to be saying that all Utah Mormons are a certain way. I certainly don't believe that, and I willingly admit that I am largely a product of a small-town Utah background. I do think, however, compared to where I have been living, and feel very comfortable living, the outward trappings of success and properity in Utah are so apparent. Coming from a state with some deep economic depression to a place that changes dramatically every time I come (more businesses, homes creeping further and further up the hills . . .) is, quite truthfully, overwhelming.

And there are some very good-looking people in my parents' ward. And my parents live in an affluent area. And there are some incredibly righteous people in my parents' ward. Many of them are the same people. Many of them have had deep and difficult trials--they just don't happen to be things that show up when you are looking at their lovely faces and homes. Based on the friends I have had over the years, I can't really have any other opinion. I do apologize if I came across otherwise.

I know that if we stay in Oregon we will sacrifice some of of the loveliest things about my own childhood, but we will have other opportunities. I guess. Those things are unknown. I am not sure if it takes courage to strike out on a new path, or if I'm just avoiding the going back to Utah thing because being there makes me remember things that I have long tried to put behind me. Maybe staying away is just running.

So here is my short list of things I do really love/like about Utah. I can be reasonable.

1. The view from my mother's deck. When the air quality is good (half the time?) you can see 20 miles.

2. The radio station 101.9 The End. Nobody else has one like it. I heard new songs from bands I didn't think existed any longer.

3. The accent. It is just so funny. When I miss it I can just tune into RS or Young Women's General Conference.

4. A church on ever corner. My kids get a kick out of counting them.

5. There are just so many temples. *sigh*

6. Logan. I could do a whole post on what I love about Logan. Oh, wait, I have. What a glorious couple of days of true homecoming I had there.

7. The local high school and its unchanging rhythms--two a day football practice, early morning range, the teacher parking lot filling up before school begins next week, the red and black tee-shirts in the local grocery store.

8. Seeing people I know almost every where I go.

9. Wards and primaries chock-a-block full of people.

10. Aggie Ice Cream, turkey steaks, Creamies . . . you know, the food you can only get in Utah. Don't miss the Jell-o so much. (My sister brought "Y" shaped jigglers to the family party.)

11. Family parties following a day on Dad's boat.

All wasn't well this time. There was a degree of drama that threatened to overwhelm everyone. I was glad to be able to walk away, but feel guilty for not being there at the same time. Conflict, conflict, conflict. . . . maybe it isn't Utah. Maybe it is family. Maybe it is me.

The Help

More on my Utah trip later, but this is just a quick note to tell you that you must go see The Help. Tonight if possible.

Sunset

I find myself terribly discontent when I visit "home." Utah, that is. I'm not sure why. I can never decide if it is that I still miss this place that really is home to me in many ways, or if I wish to move back here to see family more often so that we don't feel like such outsiders when we come. Or is it that the houses are bigger, the hair bleachier and the women prettier? Maybe the discontent stems less from a desire to come to "Zion" and more from the overwhelming feeling of being unsuccessful, at least by a certain standard. After church today, Plantboy, one of the best-looking men I've ever met, said, "I don't think we are good-looking enough to live in Utah."

Whatever it is, this vacation has not been revitalizing in the least. I have loved seeing so much family, but we've been non-stop in the car for three days and really aren't done yet. The longer we stay away from family, however, the stronger the sense of being an outsider fills me. Yet, at the same time, I cannot shake the solid truth that this community in which my parents have been a part for 40 years helped to form exactly the person I have become.

The mission for which I departed 15 years ago today is largely responsible too.

I think the mission might be part of the conflict. For twenty-one years I lived in the same community, surrounded by people who did the same. Even at college I was close to my extended family. Generation after generation with little alteration from the ones before. I suppose that I expected to do the same. Settle close to parents. Visit on Sundays. Have my own children grow up around their cousins doing the things that kids in a certain social strata are expected to do. Dance lessons. Sports. Church. I suppose. Though I think even from a young age I felt vaguely dissatisfied and restless with the cliche.

Enter Australia.

Exit a woman no longer content with the ordinary.

In the next few years it will be important for us to make some decisions because Jedi Knight is getting older, and if Utah has taught me anything this time around, it is that putting down some roots is important. Will we stay put, accepting the economic downturn and the spiritual knowledge given to Plantboy just a few weeks before taking his job in Eugene that the Church in Oregon needed us? Will we trust the Lord enough that our unique little boys will be able to make it in schools where there are the merest handful of LDS kids? Am I willing to sacrifice the kind of childhood I had for one of greater opposition that might make them powerful men? Or will we move closer to family for an idyllic support system that might only be in my head? Will we start over again, economically speaking, in our forties, and be strong enough not to care that we live in a small house that is decidedly in the valley and not on the hill? Do we move where there are more members of the church so that we can slip into blissful anonymity because couples like us abound? Do we stay put because we have a much greater capacity to serve where we are?

I feel so weak right now, and not at all up to the task of navigating my dear little mannies through the next phase we are now entering. But I have to be. There is no one else.

Tonight I was driving straight west from my brother's house to get back to my parents' house when I saw the most gorgeous sunset I've seen for years. My emotions were full as I looked at the scene. My heart was touched at the impression of the Spirit reminding me that God loves me immensely, but that most of my own human accomplishments will be weak and frail compared to what God can do. I felt enormously loved and properly humbled at the same time.

O God, Thou hast always shown us the way forward now. Please see fit to do so again. And if it is the direction I begin to think it will be, then please, O Lord, grant us the strength to hold our family together and to sacrifice cheerfully whatever Thou asks.

Little Women

I love how the girls in Little Women patiently submit to their lots in life with zest, enthusiasm and obedience. Trials stemming from rebelliousness are temporary and soon ended with a kind word from "Marmee."

There should be a personality test for women in which you are identified as a Meg (bustling, domestic, motherly, likes nice things but is willing to sacrifice, proper, musical); a Jo (rebellious, rough, tomboy, restless, literary, unconventional); a Beth (charitable to a fault, kind always, still, faithful, also musical) or an Amy (elegant, tactful, artistic, the center of her social circle).

I've always most identified with Jo, though in some ways the above description isn't necessarily self-fitting. On a recent reading, Jo's main character trait that stands out to me is her restlessness. What suspends belief is that when she is married and more or less settled with her old professor and a houseful of boys is that all restlessness ends for her: maybe the houseful of boys was enough movement for her. Or not. Alcott herself was pretty much Jo, though she never married. The last chapter of her novel reads like her own castle in the air that isn't really grounded in reality. I can almost see Alcott in the garrett of smallish home, writing her prose and pining away for a man who would never come. Her father was a great friend to Thoreau: perhaps he was her ideal man in the way the professor was to Jo.

I am very restless this week. As we plan our annual pilgrimage to Utah, during which Plantboy and Jedi Knight are going to take an awesome canoeing trip, I cannot help but think that women spend a lot of time standing still while men get to move. And I am still having trouble learning to be still. I know that some of it is situational--my kids are still quite young--but it doesn't change things a whole lot. And we train them from a very young age to think this way: our girls go to Girl's Camp for long afternoons of crafts, a few water games, lots of cooking lessons and touchy-feely self-esteem boosting type activities. The teenage boys? They left this morning for a 50 mile backpack trip this week. In my mind it should be pretty clear which type of activity is more character-building, and yet we persist in defining kids almost wholly by their sex.

Oh, I am so restless. Graduate school this summer was very easy as I took an introduction class. Maybe as the challenges arise in the fall I won't feel like my spirit is trying to crawl out of my skin.

Thinking Before I Speak. Novel. I Know.

Remember the good old days of journaling? Okay, so some of you are awesome and you STILL journal, but I gave it up for blogging. (Not to be confused with Lent.) My journals are filled with some good stuff, but it is mostly incoherent rambling. I used my journal to sort out thinking that I either couldn't share with others or still wasn't sure of myself. Unfortunately, in that medium, I seldom got back around to clarifying my thoughts when solutions presented themselves. My entries from my teen years, in particular, make it plain that I was the most depressed person who ever lived. I guess I only wrote on the hard days.

Blogging has been different. When I write longer pieces here, I often will take some days to organize my thoughts about something I have seen or experienced, and then attempt to present those thoughts in a cohesive essay. Generally, what you see is the result of something I have spent time puzzling through and on which I have formed an opinion.

And then I write a piece like 'Cause I'm a Woman, filled with opinions that were probably not very well-considered before just throwing them up there. Thirteen articulate opinions were elucidated in a blog post that became a very important conversation. Your perspective-laden comments, in conjunction with a letter-only friend sending me a copy of an editorial response to a Republican Senator's complaint about "degrees to nowhere," has given me much to think about in the last couple of weeks. My thinking is now clarified, and unlike my journaling of old, I am going to take the time to complete my thoughts. (And in an unrelated note: I hyphenated three phrases in this last paragraph. It is probably because my vocabulary isn't large enough to supply better words!)

I do stand by some opinions, but others have been softened. Caitlin made an excellent point about motherhood being "life-altering." And in the case of (at least) Caitlin and Karin, motherhood has come with unexpected challenges that have erased the possibility of ever having an "empty nest." For them, motherhood is not a detour from another life (the way I too often view it), it is the only path. Each of these women are brilliant and might have done anything with their years on earth . . . indeed each might have had a very different dreams once upon a time. Instead, each has been blessed with a sweet little daughter who will never come to a place she doesn't need her mother. The conversation I attempted to initiate with my talk of paychecks and giving back to society is practically an insult to the remarkable work these two lovely women and countless others like them do every day.

A woman embarking on the medical school trajectory doesn't know how she will react to motherhood until it happens. I have three close friends from my growing up years who became doctors. An optometrist, dentist and dermatologist. They have four, three and two kids respectively. They have found ways to balance work and family through a variety of methods. They have made sacrifices that I wasn't/wouldn't be willing to make. The point, however, is that those sacrifices are THEIRS. It doesn't matter what I think of it, nor is it my business to sit in judgment of their choices. It is funny how I keep forgetting that.

As for the public college thing . . . it seems I'm not the only one having this debate. As the school accountability movement continues to gain momentum, many eager politicians have suggested that higher universities seeking accreditation and/or public funding should have to prove that their graduates are working. After all, many go to college with the expectation that there will be employment opportunities on the other side. While I think my statements in the earlier post (basically amounting to the idea that without the intent to work then there was no point in attending college) were off-base, I don't think it is unreasonable to ask yourself or your children what the purposes are for attending college (their might be many, not all of which are academic), which college or university is the best value for meeting those purposes, and how that education is to be paid for in the short and long term. Women especially need to be candid with themselves about "plan A" and "plan B" insofar as those terms are at all descriptive.

There was quote in my planner yesterday that read, "A liberal arts education is supposed to provide you with a value system, a standard, a set of ideas, not a job." I really like that quote, and I think I agree. Some things are inherently valuable, even if they don't turn into some arbitrary definition of "net-worth." The problem is that the liberal arts education still comes with a price tag, even if you can't easily measure its value or gain a return on it. If your dreams aren't tempered with a degree of practicality, then they are unachievable wishes or can eventually turn into nightmares.

As to the idea of shared public resources--my own mode of expression may have been over the top, but I think there are legitimate concerns to be spoken of here. In an era of fiscally (and morally) bankrupt government, it is necessary to ask hard questions about what exactly the government's responsibilities are. And what is the cost of that responsibility? To what degree is education an investment? A public service? How do we measure success in public education at every level?

I've also come to a deep realization the last few weeks that much of our self-reliance is an illusion. Oh, we might pay our own bills and have our food saved up for a year and store hundreds of gallons of water under the bunkbeds . . . . but our ability to truly live on our own is very limited. I listened to an interview with man named Russel Fox. He is a professor of political science at a university somewhere in Midwest. He is also LDS. He subscribes to a political philosophy called Communitarianism, which I find totally fascinating. The philosophy is that classic liberalism (i.e. individual freedom supersedes everything) is mostly impossible to achieve and ultimately leads to a broken and uncivil society. If individuals don't agree to give up some freedoms in return for the broader success of the group as a whole, then everything eventually collapses, or reverts to a state of oligarchy in which the privileged few are the only ones who actually have any freedom or power. He cites the Declaration of Independence as an example. While it begins with the words about individual have a right to "life, liberty and pursuit of happiness," the grievances in the document are all collective and perhaps the most powerful route to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for everyone is only through a recognition that we are all in this together.

He talked about the idea of "owning your home." Such a thing is only possible because a bank is willing to back you, because the public as a whole puts money into that bank that can in turn be lent, because the government backs the bank so that people will trust it enough to put their money in it. Your insurance on the home is possible because so many people pay into the system. Unless you are one of those rare folks off the grid, living in that house is comfortable because of a public sewer and utility system. The water coming into the house is clean because there are laws about that sort of thing. The road going to your house is paid for with public resources. You don't have a porn store open next door because there are laws for that too. In short, hundreds, maybe thousands, of people are responsible for the simple step of self-reliance that is called home ownership.

It isn't hard to see the same jump to education. I went to a public college and didn't pay tuition in five years of higher education. A scholarship endowment--backed by a LOT of generous people and taxpayers--did that for me. And while my obligation may not be to work at a traditional nine to five job, I still have to assert that I have a deep obligation to society. Where I overstepped the mark in my previous post was that in implying my own approach to paying it forward (or back or whatever you call it) is the only approach. If the first generation of feminists taught us anything, it's that women should get to choose whatever life they wish; I hope that the second generation of feminists has the wisdom to realize that choosing means leaving behind the things we don't value and rejecting false ideas of what it means to be a woman.

Not Yo Momma's Fruit Salad

Plantboy didn't trust me at first when he brought all of those delightful ripe berries in the house from the garden and I wanted to do more than just wash them and throw them on the table, but he learned to trust me. And you should too.

Not Yo Momma's Fruit Salad

* 2 cups of fruit in any combination of the following--kiwi (Zespri brand only, please), blackberries, blueberries, strawberries and/or raspberries
* 1/2 cup good quality balsamic vinegar (Costco actually sells an excellent one)
* 4 Tbsp white sugar
* Crumbled feta cheese



About an hour before serving, make a balsamic vinegar reduction by combining the sugar and the vinegar over low-medium heat, whisking frequently until the mixture thickens slightly. Take some time on this: you don't want to burn/crystallize the mixture. You want to just steam the moisture out of it. You also don't want to reduce it TOO much because then you end up with syrup. That is actually quite awesome too, but you want something that will cool to a dressing texture, not a solid.

When your reduction begins sticking to a spoon, put it in the fridge to cool. Slice larger fruit (strawberries and kiwi) into bite-sized chunks and toss it with the smaller fruit. Drizzle cool dressing down over the top and let it sit for about ten minutes before serving. The fruit will begin to lose some of its moisture to the dressing and make it fruity and tangy at the same time.

Just before serving, sprinkle the top with feta. (The cheese isn't as pretty if it absorbs the dressing.)

Other options:

Spoon the fruit over the top of pound cake, then drizzle generous portions of the dressing/syrup over the whole thing.

Dip anything you have on hand into the reduction. It is my new favorite thing.


The garden has been my best friend this week. Wednesday it was a delightful all-vegetable dinner--creamed peas with sweet onions over new potatoes, roasted golden beets and tri-colored carrots, salad from the garden. The night I served the above it was with bacon spaghetti (using Plantboy's canned Italian Tomatoes and loads of fresh basil) with lemon rosemary bread. Since I cannot get the balsamic vinegar reduction or my new crepe pan out of my head, Sunday is going to be grilled chicken and roasted vegetable crepes drizzled with the stuff with a side of caprese salad and green beans. And next time you have a hamburger, you must (MUST) add a thick slice of roasted red or golden beet to the top. It tastes like Australia.






I suddenly feel so hungry.

Summer

We haven't had family photos in three years. Pathetic, I know. Still, I think the result was worth waiting for. We found a photographer who was willing to meet us out at the coast. This spot is one of my favorites in the whole world. (At least the small part of the world I've seen up until now.) It was a perfectly lovely day, and I think the effect she put on these pictures is just so cool. Getting around to printing might take some time, but for now you can enjoy them.