Dear baby

Dear baby,

Before you arrive, I wanted to tell about our life—and yours—before you were born.
This spring, your dad was still in graduate school and I was working at the opera. One night in the middle of May, I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to cook, so we went to Yogi's (a sports bar with great cheap chili fries) for dinner. When we left, I joked that maybe I was pregnant--and then I realized that I could actually be pregnant. My first pregnancy test didn't work at all, and the second was very faintly positive. I had to tell your dad that I thought I was probably pregnant, and he agreed that it looked that way.

We were excited, but we knew things would change. Your dad was pretty stressed out. He had just found out that his grad school funding was being cut and the program didn't really want him to continue. So he was trying to decide if he would start looking for his first full-time job, or do something else.  We had always intended that I would stay at home with you, but of course at least one of us needed to have a job!

The first people who knew about you were actually some of the ladies from our church who were in my book club. They advised me on choosing a doctor for you. Eventually I decided to see a certified nurse midwife and made an appointment. The midwife did an ultrasound, and I found out I had been pregnant for a month longer than I thought! You were already ten weeks old, and I got a picture of you with your little nubbins of arms and legs.  When I got home from work that day, I took the picture to your dad.  He was speechless.  He thought you were beautiful right away.

Dad wanted to be involved as much as he could right away. He did a lot for me when I was tired or feeling sick, and when I picked up a stack of baby name books at the library, he got to them before I did and made a list of the names he liked. We picked out a boy's name and a girl's name together.
We told Grandma and Grandpa F. about you over the phone, but Grandma and Grandpa J. came to visit us in Bloomington so we got to tell them in person. Of course, Grandpa J. had already figured it out—he's impossible to surprise. We had planned to tell them in the evening, but we also met for lunch at Chipotle and your dad made a comment about how I was eating a lot. That made your grandpa suspect what was up.

I did feel tired and sick sometimes, but mostly I've had a perfect pregnancy. Even when I was nauseated during the first trimester, I never threw up. I went to work with a big bag of food every day—leftovers and yogurt and nuts and probably too much chocolate.  For a while I couldn't stand to cook. Handling raw meat was awful. There were a couple of nights that all I could make was plain boiled chicken and white rice, which your dad ate without complaint even though he didn't much like it. He cooked quite a bit too, but sometimes that didn't make me feel better either. The smell and taste of soy sauce was horrible. I could smell a bowl of salsa from rooms away.

Your dad had started looking for a job. He must have sent out a hundred resumes, and it was very frustrating. At first, he was feeling pretty burnt out with classics and applied for some jobs based on his work at the National Lab. Later he started applying for private school jobs too. Most places never even got back to him; he had one phone interview, but it didn't go anywhere. Finally, at the beginning of July, a school in Scottsdale, AZ, called and asked him to fly down and teach a sample class. He went even though he had to cut his shoulder-length hair short and take out his earring (he did that for you!), and they offered him the job.  We were very excited—it looked like a good fit, and it was pretty close to your dad's family. But even before the deadline for his response, Dad got an e-mail saying that the job offer was withdrawn. We were shocked and frustrated. He had planned to call and accept the job that day. Now we know that God used that job offer to prepare us for his next opportunity, but at the time it just seemed like his only chance at a job had evaporated without explanation.  I started to believe that I would keep working, and your dad would be a househusband for a while.

Early that spring, I had planned to work at Camp Shetek for one week in July, so I traveled to Minnesota by train right at the beginning of the second trimester. All my nausea and tiredness had disappeared overnight. I got to tell a lot of friends about you in person, which was fun. I was working in the kitchen, of course, and Mom Judy wouldn't let me handle any cleaning products or climb the stepladder to get things from the high shelves in the pantry. Summer Harms had just had a baby, and Audra was pregnant, so it was fun to talk to them about the future. I wasn't really showing yet, but I was wearing maternity shorts because they were much more comfortable.  I think I'm the only pregnant War Games sniper ever. 

On my Thursday in Minnesota, I came back from dinner to find seven missed calls on my phone, and a message from Dad to call him back right away. When I reached him, he told me that on Wednesday he had sent a resume to another charter school in the Phoenix area, and the head of school had called him back, interviewed him over the phone, and offered him the job all in one day! They needed an answer right away. Not only that, but they wanted him to be in Arizona by the end of the next week for a teacher-training retreat. The job would involve teaching Latin and ancient history to middle- or high-schoolers, and maybe he would get to teach Greek eventually. In just a few minutes over the phone, we decided that this was a good opportunity, and Dad should take the job. Now we know that was a good decision, but it was a big step of faith at the time.

I was so relieved that your dad had a job, but I knew I would have to quit my job and pack up our condo and get it on the market mostly by myself. That was a busy time, and I was fortunate to have a lot of help from Grandma F. (who helped me pack), a crew of guys from our church (who painted the condo and packed the moving van), and Grandpa J. (who drove the moving van cross-country by himself). Your dad got started at his job and found a place for us to live by the time I got there on August 13. Aunt B. and Uncle E. came to help us unpack, too.

Because of the move, the usual 20-week ultrasound had to get delayed. I was at twenty-five weeks before I had found a new place for prenatal care. The next week I went to get an ultrasound by myself. I got to see you and your little fingers, and even your brain and heart! Your dad and I wanted to find out if you were a boy or girl together, so the tech had me close my eyes while she checked that out, printed and labeled a picture, and put it in an envelope for me. She said you looked perfectly healthy and just the right size.

I picked up your dad at work at day, and when we got home, we opened up the envelope and found out you are a girl! We were happy. I think your dad is especially excited to have a little girl—since he doesn’t have any sisters, it’s a totally new adventure for him.

Now we’re just waiting for you! Every month (and now every week) I see a midwife to get weighed and measured and to hear your heartbeat, and they tell me everything seems perfect. I feel you kicking and moving around quite a bit. Last night you had the hiccups. You’ve been head down since the ultrasound. A few weeks ago, we went to get the hospital tour, and we did a one-night birthing class with the midwives, too.  Like I said before, the pregnancy has been very uneventful. I’ve had four or five people tell me that I have a “cute” or “perfect” belly—you were adorable even before you were born!

We’ve had four baby showers for you! One in Minnesota, one in New Mexico, and one with each of our churches in Bloomington and Phoenix.  Your grandparents and aunts and uncles have been especially generous in helping us prepare for you. Last week, Grandma J. came to spend some time with us to get the apartment nice and fill up the freezer. We arranged all your things in our bedroom, and all of the cloth diapers I picked out for you arrived.

Yesterday was exactly one week from your official due date, and your dad noticed that it looks like you have dropped a little lower. Today I feel a bit crampy and tight, so I hope that’s a good sign. I’m sure you’re sick of Dad poking at you and reminding you that you should show up before his Christmas break ends, so please come soon! I’ve packed my hospital bag, and I tucked in the little yellow sweatsuit I wore home from the hospital for you.

Love,
Mom

Nerdy moment of the day

For Christmas, I bought That Guy this year's LEGO Star Wars advent calendar, which he, obviously, will be opening before Christmas.  Yesterday he opened the number-one door to find a little bag of LEGO pieces and some assembly instructions.

The finished item was clearly a space ship of some kind, but he handed it to me, saying, "I don't recognize this one."

And then, a crowning moment of awesome. The next words that came out of my mouth were "It looks kind of like the Tantive IV, but red. Isn't there something like that in Episode 1?"  I think this is where I have to admit seeing The Phantom Menace three times in-theater. Don't blame me; I was 13 and didn't know any better.

A quick consultation of Wookiepedia confirms my suspicion: it's a consular-class cruiser that "was designed as a 'devolved' version of the Tantive IV to provide a link to the original trilogy." 

By the way, the Tantive IV, for the less-pathetically-nerdy among you, is the space ship in the opening scene of Star Wars when Princess Leia is being pursued by Darth Vadar.  But I still don't know anything about Star Trek, I promise.

Recipe successes

Mostly for my own use, here are some recipes I've tried and liked recently.

White bread - This recipe is perfect for soft, close grained white bread. Makes great dinner rolls too, as long as you serve them very fresh. They staled quickly.

Cinnamon rolls - You know that awesome, not-undercooked-but-still-doughy texture cinnamon rolls from a can have? Here's the home version. I can't even describe how perfect these rolls are. A quarter-size batch is plenty.

Pie crust - This is THE ONE, and I'm never going back. No oil, no butter, no vinegar, no vodka. I used it on an apple pie, and six people told me it was the best pie they'd ever had. No joke.

Speaking of apple pie, I would also like to record for posterity: there's really no need to peel the apples. I just eighth and core, then slice thinly.

Obviously I'm more of a baker than a cook.

Black powder

 

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving with the in-laws, who like to talk about the youthful hi-jinks of T.G. and the Tall Brother.  They had some very Calvin-esque adventures, and I can just imagine this happening at their house.

I've gotta say, I'm rather relieved that this baby is a girl and that we don't live near any sheer-walled canyons.  I'm hoping that cuts down on the "Hey, Mom, did we ever tell about the time..." stories I have to hear about twenty years from now.

In which I meet a fifth grader

When I show up to get That Guy for school, he's discussing Thursday's quiz with one of his students.

T.G.: This is Mrs. T.G.

Student: Your wife?

T.G.: Yes.

Student: She's small.

Adventures in cooking

As mentioned previously, That Guy loves New Mexican green chiles, which, in the Midwest, are only available as greenish mush in tiny aluminum cans.  Here, I can buy the fresh, Hatch-grown chiles at the grocery store (at least for a month or two in the fall).  Don't they look beautiful?

And I haven't paid a dime for them.  No, I'm not a shoplifter.  Every single time I buy them, the store rings them up at the wrong price--and so they give them to me free.  I'm up to four-and-a-half pounds of free green chiles.

My last green-chile dish was chiles rellenos, which, in the New Mexican style, are smothered in a green chile sauce.  Cooking with chiles is always interesting because they're unpredictable.  Where most restaurants post their soup-of-the-day, New Mexican places have a sign that says "Today's green chile is: hot."  Because they are used whole, the heat level varies from batch to batch.

So at dinner, T.G. and I were starting on our deliciously crispy chiles rellenos. As the first forkful went into my mouth, it brushed my lip.  Whoa! I put it back down. We had an extra-hot batch. I ended up eating my dinner with a giant dollop of plain yogurt (which we often use instead of sour cream) and a glass of whole milk.  T.G. ate his chiles wrapped in tortillas. But we were still sweating. 

Making green chile sauce from scratch was an adventure, but I probably won't repeat it. Like making pie from an actual pumpkin instead of from prepared pumpkin puree, the savings just isn't worth amount of time spent. The chiles have to be roasted and peeled before they can be used, and I can get big tubs of pre-roasted/peeled/chopped chile in the freezer section.  But when I need whole chiles (for rellenos, of course), it's totally worth it.

For the record, to roast chiles:
1. Stick them under the broiler, turning occasionally, until they're no longer crisp and the skins have bubbled up and blackened.
2. Let them sit a few minutes in a sealed plastic bag or covered bowl.  The steam helps loosen the skins further.
3. Peel off the skins.
4. For whole chiles to stuff, slit them down one side and remove as much of the seeds and membranes as possible, leaving the stems attached.
5. For sauce, remove the stems, seeds, and membranes; and chop.
6. WASH YOUR HANDS. DO NOT TOUCH YOUR EYES OR MUCOUS MEMBRANES.

My not-really-a-recipe for chile sauce:
2-3 cups of chopped green New Mexican chile
1 Tbsp. fat (lard, bacon grease, canola oil if you have to)
1 Tbsp. ground beef
Salt
Enough water to make everything is a little floaty

All amounts are approximate.  Simmer together for at least 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, 'til the ground beef is cooked and the chile has broken up into the liquid a bit more.  At this point, I would cover the saucepan and leave it over low heat until whatever I'm serving it with is ready, adding a little more water as needed.

A few minutes before serving, stir in about a tablespoon of flour to thicken.

Moving in?

Dear American health insurance system, you kind of suck (I'm paying HOW MUCH for WHAT?), but then I'm not a fan of any of the alternatives either. So thanks, I guess. Please don't hate me. Yours truly, etc.

Dear everyone else, this moving-in thing is going pretty slow. It turns out I'm not so good at staying on task when I don't have any outside pressure.  Pictures to come eventually, but probably not until the whole place no longer has papers, stray bathrobe belts, and random homeless objects strewn across every flat surface. If I owe you a thank-you note/letter/e-mail--I'm, um, working on it. Promise.

So, Phoenix, then?
Positives:

1. Sprouts - I'm in love with my local chain "farmer's market." Ninety-nine cents for cherries? Three red peppers for a dollar? OKAY! Chocolate-covered dried cherries in the bulk bins? YES PLEASE! Said chocolate-covered cherries are residing in the back of fridge to keep me from inhaling them all at once. Out of sight, out of mind I hope.
2. The mall - I never knew That Guy would go mall-walking with me, but when it's 110 outside and there's a Lego store (look! the Lego Death Star) AND a board game place (including yo-yoing, possibly cave-dwelling proprietor [seriously, the palest Arizonan I've seen so far]) AND a Teavana (cheerful salesgirls who couldn't possibly let you miss any of the six free sample varieties)....
3. Fresh Hatch green chile at the grocery store - as I was saying to T.G., I don't think I've ever met a New Mexican, or anyone married to a New Mexican, who didn't love green chile (not out of a can).
4. The swimming pool - there's really nothing like having a sun-warmed swimming pool all to yourself under the stars.
5. My itsy-bitsy galley kitchen - I wasn't totally sold when I moved in, but there's something to be said to just turning around to get from your stove to your sink.
6. Dry heat - yeah, I get it now, but would the former-Midwesterners please stop telling me how they can "never go back"?
7. T.G.'s job - Turns out he's great with fifth, seventh, and eighth graders. Who knew? Most of the teachers have adopted "Mr. T.G's Three Laws of Stupidity": 1) Don't do anything stupid, 2) Don't wear anything stupid, 3) Don't be stupid. This covers most classroom situations, with the added bonus that 10-12 year-olds LOVE saying the word "stupid." But don't call any person stupid, okay? That breaks rule #1. He's also turned into the designated human bullhorn (years of voice training finally coming to fruition) and the assistant flag-football coach. Also the short kids' favorite locker-opener; surely someone should have realized that it is futile to assign a four-foot-tall child a top-tier locker.

Negatives

1. Local drivers - Could we just stop with the illegal u-turns please? Also, you can't all have broken turn signals.
2. Dry heat - Not being sweaty is nice and all, but it's still 112 degrees, yo.
3. The library - Discovered I'm totally spoiled by my previous public library experience. What do you mean I have to fill out paper ILL requests?
4. It's still not Minnesota.
5. Distractions - Look! A Walmart! A Target! Trader Joe's! I don't have to go to work! Let's play on the internet/needlessly window-shop/write blog posts!

Looks like it's time to get back to what I ought to be doing.

Things I didn't know I would be doing this month

1. Moving (still pending)
2. Painting everything (done)
3. Hanging Venetian blinds (success!)
4. Changing the pull-cord switch in a ceiling fan (success! Stripping wires is a huge pain.)
5. Re-wiring three-way light switches (qualified success. Everything works but only one switch turns the ceiling fan on and off.  Both switches control the fan-light.  If anyone can explain how this is possible, please let me know.)
6. Pulling handfuls of cigarette butts out of the bush by the door (EW!)
7. Owning patio furniture for our sunshiny Arizonan patio.
8. Looking for a new doctor (anybody know any pregnant ladies in the Phoenix area?)

Happy panic

Last Friday, That Guy got a job offer, so we're moving.  To Phoenix.  Bonus craziness: he has to be there on Sunday for a staff retreat.

WHEEEEEE!

So we're a little loopy around here (plus I just ingested way more caffeine than I've had in, um, yeah).  T.G. is going to fly out on Saturday, but I'll be sticking around for a few more weeks to pack/resign/sell the condo.  Extra special thanks to the parents and friends who have been volunteering to help and/or take our cheap furniture. (Please, take our cheap furniture.)

Pros:
1. T.G. having a job!
2. Me quitting my job! (Which, don't get me wrong, has been a perfect job for me, but please see addendum 2 below)
3. Living near the Tall Relatives and Our Adorable Niece.
4. Living closer to Twin Sister and The Marine.
5. Living not-so-far-away from Mum and Pops.
6. Did I mention I'm quitting my job?
7. Swimming pools EVERYWHERE.
8. Big-city library system.
9. Real mountains not so far away.
10. The Grand Canyon.
11. Oh, I forgot: I'm quitting my job.
12. Cross country road trip!
13. No humidity
14. Probably better for T.G.'s allergies.

Cons:
1. Hot weather/no winter/where are they keeping the grass?
2. Having to retire my turtleneck collection, and what do I do with all six of my winter coats?
3. Living WAY far away from Mom, Dad, Eldest Sister and Mr. Currently-Doing-Research-in-Germany.
4. It isn't Minnesota.
5. Cross country road trip.
6. I don't think the cucumber plants will want to move with us.

Addendum 1: Sorry to anybody who is reading this whom I probably should have called/e-mailed.  I can't remember who knows what right now.

Addendum 2: Have I mentioned that I'm pregnant, due in January?

Selfish?

Two of my friends have written about the decision to have (or not have) children in the last week, and I found the contrast striking, to say the least.

Corey says: "No one would call you selfish for not wanting to have a dog or a cat. And children are basically high-stakes permanent pets with fine motor skills. [...T]he reasons for reproduction can be much more self-serving than the decision to keep our genes to ourselves."

Joy says: "It’s way easier to be married with no children. I haven’t gotten a night of unbroken sleep for about 10 months now, post-baby, and it makes me crabby and desperate and unsure of my own bold assertions here. [...] But either we and our peers believe that the hard road of discipline will yield great rewards for us and society later, just as God has promised, or we seek our own momentary self-satisfaction."

Hallelujah!

Here's one of the many (and, in the scheme of things, less important) reasons I love my church. It is our tradition to do a sing-a-long of the Hallelujah Chorus to close the Easter service. I'm playing the flute in our tiny ad-hoc orchestra, and That Guy is the one in the light green shirt toward the edge of the bass section (on your right) who is not looking at his music. He, of course, still has the bass part memorized seven (eight?) years after learning it. Considering we do this once a year and never rehearse (okay, the choir, all two dozen of us, sings it through a couple of times), we sound pretty good.


Hallelujah Chorus from ClearNote Church on Vimeo.

After this, the men tore down the rest of the chairs in about three minutes flat, and we had our Easter feast, another reason I love these people.

Saturday morning at our place

Me: We should have a waterproof thesaurus.
Him: A what?
Me: A waterproof thesaurus.
Him: A waterproof thesaurus?
Me: So we can look words up in the shower.
Him: Oh, I thought you were talking about a dinosaur.

Falling in Love

So, it's been a while!  I actually did some serious writing yesterday--trains and planes seem to bring that out in me, so I may have something to post shortly.  I've also been planning to do this post as a "Friday Favorite," but I couldn't resist one day early.

A number of sweet ladies of my acquaintance have posted on their blogs about about their courtship/dating/engagement/marriage.  They delight me.

"51 Weeks":  Start at the bottom and read up. Rebekah's most recent post is the one that finally made me post.

If we were to separate? If I had to say goodbye? If my future didn't include him? Oh God, I would feel like part of me had died, I truly would. My chest hurt just thinking about it.

I remember that moment.

Summer Harms: You'll have to do a little searching to find the entire tale, but Summer's got a lovely account of her penpal courtship. I remember this one! I was there the summer they started dating and had no idea they had been corresponding, or even really knew each other. It was Summer's first summer on staff. So when they kept disappearing together, I was really confused. Was something going on? Did Summer just have an irresistible crush and couldn't stop following Grant around (it wouldn't have been the first time!)? Then they started officially dating and it was too cute.

Breeding Lilacs: This is adorable, but the real reason I love it is that her first skiing lesson was pretty much exactly like mine.

He gave me a few general guidelines, let me practice stopping once or twice, then took me up the lift: no lessons, no bunny slope–nothing. And it was incredible! I made it down the first run without falling once, though I must admit that I screamed (half delight/half terror) all the way to the bottom.
Zach stayed with me the whole day. He kept behind me, even though I’m sure my beginner’s pace was painfully slow for him. He helped me up when I fell (for the beginner’s luck on that first run didn’t last all day). And when I really wiped out and sent a ski sliding down the mountain ahead of me, he went ahead to fetch it and then trudged up the slope in his ski boots to return it to me: no easy task.

A Silver Cord: I didn't get married during college, but I did leave college a semester early to do so, so I know a little bit about the feelings Sarah experienced.  This is a phrase I definitely heard quite a bit: "Wow, you're amazing, I could never do that."

And finally, One True Word.  This is actually more of a reflection on Rebekah's story, but it gave me comfort. While I love reading happy romantic love stories, like Joy, mine is "too sad and frustrating" to want to write about. I thought that it would have turned into a good story by now, but every time I go back to look at the writing and e-mails I did at the time, it's still painful. Maybe some day.

What a night

Last night at 11, That Guy left to take a friend home after dinner. He called me to say they had seen a car accident and would be delayed, so I read for a while and then went to bed. At midnight, my phone rang. It was T.G.

I was a little groggy, but I woke up right away when he said, "There's blood in my hair."

A young woman had rolled her car over on a residential street. They called 911, some neighbors came to see what was going on, and no one touched the girl.  Everyone knows you're not supposed to move an injured person in that kind of situation.

Then they noticed that there was gas leaking onto the street, and something in the car was smoking.  Neither the police nor an ambulance had arrived. The little crowd of people decided it was time to act.

But T.G. had to beg them five times to actually help him.  He unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her out of the car. He tried to turn the car off, but it was still in gear and he didn't want to touch the shifter, which was gory.  "I could see her skull," he told me.

The girl was conscious and speaking (though not coherent) by the time they took her away.  One of the neighbors let T.G. in to wash up. The neighbor had a large, friendly dog and a pack of cigarettes, which was the perfect combination to keep T.G. from going to pieces in the aftermath.

Meanwhile, three states away, my mother was sitting with her father, who was dying. He left us about 1 in the morning to see his Lord and his wife.

If anyone knows if the girl is all right, we'd love to find out.  Grandpa's better than he's been in years.

Happy Valentine's Day

For Valentine's Day, here's one of my favorite love songs:



See also:
Sara Groves, Fly
Jason G[r]ay, The Dance (good luck finding a recording of that one!)
MAE, The Everglow
Fauré, Notre Amour
 

Friday favorites

In college I fell in with a fantasy-reading, strategy-game-playing, sci-fi-loving crowd, and the (relatively) obscure TV show of choice was, naturally, Firefly.

 

Thanks for that, Mal. Having been inducted into the cult of Whedon, That Guy and I eventually ended up watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. All of it. And then Angel, too. Admittedly, it sounds like the worst teen soap set-up ever: cheerleader prevents the apocalypse by killing demons while navigating the social miasma known as high school.

But then there are the lovable characters, the world's coolest librarian, the Shakespeare references ("we few, we happy few, we band of buggered"), and the surprisingly good musical episode "Once More with Feeling."

And it's always fun to watch with a classicist. Ancient languages are a key ingredient, and according to this guy with a blog (a reliable source, I'm sure), translation was done by students in the classics program at UCLA. Pronunciation of said translations is mostly terrible.

Books and book-learning are important in the series. Despite Willow's hacking abilities, many episodes, especially in the early seasons, involve the Scooby Gang hitting up Giles' library for research after Buffy encounters a new threat. They do do a bit of internet research, mostly on a database called "Demons, Demons, Demons," but ancient books are their weapon of choice. There's also a great moment referencing the power of words in season four:

Riley: These spells, these really work? I mean, can you really "turn your enemies inside out"? Or "learn to excrete gold coins"?

Anya: That one's not so much fun.

Willow: They work, Riley. But they take concentration, being attuned with the forces of the universe.

Xander: Right. You can't just go "librum incendere" and expect...
[Xander's book bursts into flames and he slams it shut, extinguishing it]

Giles: [wearily] Xander, don't speak Latin in front of the books. 

Buffy and I both love giant books

BONUS: Buffy led me to this fascinating blog on classics in pop culture.

Friday [sic] Favorites

First I didn't know what to write about, but then the mail came.  Now I'm totally frustrated because I can't post the photo I want!  So you all get a link today: The Pleated Tartan Plaid Shirtdress from Lands' End Canvas.  Oh wow.  I ordered both colors and it's possibly the most adorable dress ever.  And it's on sale.  And it has POCKETS. 

Unless you are female (and if you're not, you've probably given up reading this already anyway), you cannot possibly understand how awesome usable pockets in dresses are.  They are AWESOME.

My blue shirtdress and I will see you at church tomorrow.  Black shoes or brown?  There's black in the plaid, but the tartan just gives me a brown vibe.  Hmmm.

The sky co-opted my blog topic

I picked up The Essential Calvin and Hobbes last night for a bit of bedtime reading and pondered this cartoon, ruminating on the parallel between it and my relationship to Indiana weather. 





Calvin is me; Hobbes is the Indiana weather, which is always promising snow, but never really delivering.  I was thinking of writing a blog post about how Indiana, lacking a true winter season, does not deserve the "Midwest" label.

Naturally, when I opened the door and stepped on to the stoop this morning, my ballet flats were overcome by three inches of newly-fallen snow. I was forced to retreat in search of boots.

Friday Favorites

This will (possibly) become a regular feature.  Things I love this week:

Summer Harms—my inspiration for all "things-I-like"-type lists.  We worked together for a couple of summers, she married one of my childhood crushes (wait, did I just admit that?), and now she's pregnant with the newest mini-Harms.  Awwwwww.  Anyway, she inspires me to try new recipes and clean the house.

Lace knitting patterns by Herbert Niebling—Google him!  This guy wrote the most beautiful knitted lace patterns.  Here's a tiny little section of the only doily I've finished so far.  It's two feet in diameter, in peach-colored silk, and I almost couldn't bear to part with it.  But it was a wedding present, so off it went!

Fountain pens and my mini Moleskine diary—the Borders in town has gone out of business, so I picked up this tiny daily diary for cheap.  It's adorable, fits in my bag, and has (so far) inspired my to write something about every day this year.  Even if it's only "Meatloaf for dinner and more Buffy with Astrid."  NB: a fountain pen writes more smoothly and lightly than a ballpoint and will improve your handwriting by about 50%.  No kidding.

Les Miserables—I'm kinda over my high-school Les Miz (the musical) obsession, but every time I pick up the book, I love it all over again.  See yesterday's post.

Epiphany

As it happens, a number of the non-Christmas books I've been reading have key scenes set at Christmas time.  I was re-reading the Harry Potters, including Deathly Hallows, which includes my favorite scene of the series, Harry and Hermione's visit to Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve.  One of the few things I missed in the new movie was any mention or explanation of the motto on the Potters' grave, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."  If you looked carefully, you could see it in the film, but it wasn't referenced by the characters.

On a tangentially related note, I also love Ms. Rowling's epigraph from Aeschylus:

Oh, the torment bred in the race, the grinding scream of death and the stroke that hits the vein, the haemorrhage none can staunch, the grief, the curse no man can bear.

But there is a cure in the house and not outside it, no, not from others but from them, their bloody strife. We sing to you, dark gods beneath the earth.

Now hear, you blissful powers underground - answer the call, send help. Bless the children, give them Triumph now.

Here's an interesting explanation, including the original Greek and a re-translation. I love the idea of "a cure in the house," as Christ came in the incarnation to save sinners from beside them.

I'm also re-reading Les Miserables and had forgotten that Jean Valjean buys back Cosette from the Thenardiers on Christmas Day.  He takes her to Paris, and in the following days:

On her part, Cosette, too, unconsciously underwent a change, poor little creature. [...] from the very first day, all that thought and felt in her began to love this kind old friend. She now felt sensations utterly unknown to her before—a sensation of budding and of growth.

Her kind friend no longer impressed as old and poor. In her eyes Jean Valjean was handsome, just as the garret had seemed pretty.

Such are the effects of the aurora glow of childhood, youth, and joy. The newness of earth and of life has something to do with it. Nothing is so charming as the ruddy tints that happiness can shed around a garret room. We all, in the course of our lives, have had our rose-colored skyparlor.

Nature had placed a wide chasm —fifty years' interval of age—between Jean Valjean and Cosette. This chasm fate filled up. Fate abruptly brought together, and wedded with its resistless power, these two shattered lives, dissimilar in years, but similar in sorrow. The one, indeed, was the complement of the other. The instinct of Cosette sought for a father, as the instinct of Jean Valjean sought for a child. To meet, was to find one another. In that mysterious moment, when their hands touched, they were welded together. When their two souls saw each other, they recognised that they were mutually needed, and they closely embraced.

Taking the words in their most comprehensive and most absolute sense, it might be said that, separated from everything by the walls of the tomb, Jean Valjean was the husband bereaved, as Cosette was the orphan. This position made Jean Valjean become, in a celestial sense, the father of Cosette.

And, in truth, the mysterious impression produced upon Cosette, in the depths of the woods at Chelles, by the hand of Jean Valjean grasping her own in the darkness, was not an illusion but a reality. The coming of this man and his participation in the destiny of this child had been the advent of God.

The coming of a benevolent father on Christmas, you see? An advent.  The father ends darkness and despair, and the child brings love and hope.