Montana

Just a few photos from our time in Montana...

big skies...

working on a very tricky jigsaw puzzle (which we did not complete in our week there...)

alex and hunter and newly acquired toy helicopter

(dogs love snow too)

not pictured: the hours five of us spent reading the Hunger Games, christmas breakfast with cinnamon rolls and stockings, a cozy christmas dinner, the awesome sled run the kids created, which sort of conquered us due to the steep hike back up the hill.

#6 - ducks

They are one of the things that never fail to make me cheerful, as they plod around the Biola campus.

Sometime last year, as I walking towards the main administrative building on campus, I heard a panicked quacking. I saw a mother duck, looking down over a big curb where her many little ducklings were trapped and too small to hop over the curb like she had! It was sort of heart-breaking...later I found out that a team of staff from Metzger had come out and helped all the baby ducks over the curb to their mom. Community at its finest.

When I walk across campus every morning, I often see a duck or two out in the middle of Metzger lawn, just taking its morning walk or nesting in the grass. Today when I got to my car there were two ducks waddling around the parking lot. Question: is it strange how happy they make me?

Leisure time

Oh the bliss of finally having free time again. No longer do I come home from work, make dinner, eat dinner and dive straight into portfolio work. Instead I...

-WATCH something fun on Hulu. Either the Bachelor or Grey's Anatomy. Yes, I know these shows are known for their relentless and admittedly insipid relational drama, but I still find that I have become wrapped up in them. Despite the predictable final scenes of each weekly series (The "roseless" girl mourns that she has not "found love" and contemplates which of her insecurities were the cause of her rejection and demise. Maybe if she just did a little math, she would realize that a 1 in 30 chance of being Brad's match should not have left her with much hope, and that trying to find love in these circumstances is not going to be good for her emotional health!), I still need to know who Brad is going to choose. Grey's Anatomy remains interesting because of their wacky medical scenarios and emergency surgeries, most of which, I admit, make me think I understand more about medicine then I really do (this "knowledge" is fine as long as you keep it to yourself. But when you start telling a friend the amazing qualities of the liver which regrows itself after you transplant half and she replies "Did you learn that on Grey's Anatomy?")

-KNIT 4 rows on the blanket I am working on. Get up and do something else because I have the attention span of a gopher, and because I always feel like knitting is something I can only do when everything else is done, and I inevitably remember something else to do while I am knitting.

-COOK or bake something fun. Currently -- loving making pizzas, like this one:

(Sweet Potato and Brie Flatbread, Realsimple.com)

Also, as an appropriate response to the rain last weekend, I made these cookies.

-READ. I just finished the latest book for our supper club, Philip Roth's The Ghostwriter -- a writer writing about a writer admiring another writer. No but really, I enjoyed this book, though it was slow moving in its plot it was easy to read and I think offers a lot for reflection. I look forward to discussing it with the other 7 attendees of the sup club (which is tomorrow! yay!) I am also reading The Hidden Life: Thoughts on Communion with God by Adolph Saphir. Only two chapters in, this book has already proven to be instructive and encouraging for me.

-CLEAN. I really enjoy when I have enough free time to leisurely make our house a little more presentable. I realized this past week, when I looked around our living room and noticed the growing number of stacks of miscellaneous items, that my priorities have shifted. Yes, I still love a clean house, but during the week I can somehow turn a blind eye to the three stacks of books on our coffee table that would normally drive me crazy. As long as the dishes are clean and the bed has been made, I can live with a little more clutter during the week.

But to take 30 minutes to go around and put things in their proper places, to have CLEAN surfaces, mirrors without spots, and an empty dish-rack? Luxury.

Season's Greetings from the Spastic Housewife

Well, it's been some time since I've had the misfortune of dropping things, burning things, or generally creating messes in the kitchen.  In the past two weeks, though, I made up for it.  In the past, I've thought to myself that increased opportunities for cooking mean I will grow in my experience and expertise as a cook.  While this is hopefully true, I was not prepared to grow by means of failure.


Holiday Baking Endeavor 1 -  Chocolate Chip cookies
Everyday Food had the greatest looking recipe for chocolate chip cookies - classic. I set out to make them and was doing well, with minimal clean-up to do in the kitchen. However, when I went to turn on the mixer to add in the dry ingredients, my hand slipped and I flipped it to high speed with about 3 cups of flour in there.  FLOUR EVERYWHERE. On the floor. On the wall. On me. On our appliances. Behind and under our appliances.


Failed on one count.


Holiday Baking Endeavor 2 - Orangettes
These orangettes (chocolate covered candied orange peel) needed to be boiled in sugar water for 1 hour.  Despite the recipes heeding to check frequently less they burn, I happily bummed around on facebook instead and then leisurely went to check on them after what I thought had been an hour.  SMOKE EVERYWHERE.  To the extent that my eyes started burning, I was coughing, and there was a slight haze throughout our house.  In an attempt to air out the apartment, Alex placed our box fan on our dining room table, level with the windows in that room.  It fell off. Twice (loud noises).  The second time one of the blades broke off.


Failed on two counts?


Holiday Baking Endeavor 3 - Cranberry Upside-down Cake
In preparation for a craft tea a friend and I hosted this Saturday, I decided to make a Cranberry Upside-down cakefor the main feature of the food table.  Yum.  This cake is where it's at -- a "topping" of cranberries, orange juice, brown sugar, butter.


After you bake the cake, you have to turn it upside down onto a plate or cake platter of your choice.  When I went to do this, I noticed that the center of the cake looked rather...gummy. gooey. totally and completely not finished, with absolutely no way of getting it back into the pan or oven, and a total and complete need to get driving up to Pasadena.  Another friend of mine was driving with me and encouraged me that maybe it would "set" in the car or in the fridge once we arrived.


Friends, it had no chance. 85 degree heat in bumper to bumper traffic for an hour (My, how I love how L.A. brings in the Christmas season), that uncooked cake center broke a hole through the cake's exterior and began making its way around the plate.


Facing the fact that we would have to throw the cake in the trash, we consoled ourselves by sampling the edge -- it was DELICIOUS. Once we arrived, we offered a sample to the other hostess -- she agreed.  We couldn't throw the cake away.  We cut off the edges and served it as "cranberry coffee cake."


Failed on 3 counts (uncooked cake, heat, traffic). Succeeded on 2 (deliciousness of cake, ability to salvage cooked pieces).


Holiday Baking Endeavor 4 - Buckeyes
Last night, I made buckeyes with my friend Janna.  We mixed the peanut butter center, carefully dipped them in tempered chocolate, and set them on wax paper, layed out on a baking sheet.  After we had finished, I suggested we put them in the fridge to harden the chocolate. I grabbed the baking sheet, walked over to the fridge, and tried pushing in a drawer with my foot so I could open the fridge door. Not so good. The shift in balance caused a slight tilt to the baking sheet. The wax paper slid off. In. slow. motion. all. the. buckeyes. fell. to. the. floor. CHOCOLATE EVERYWHERE. PEANUT BUTTER EVERYWHERE. SADNESS, DISAPPOINTMENT EVERYWHERE.


Fortunately, the wax paper saved most of them from touching the floor.
Fortunately, we had more chocolate to re-dip them, as any elegance they had had departed after their 3 foot descent and encounter with the counter, the cupboards, the floor.
Fortunately, the combination of chocolate and peanut butter tastes good enough that looks lose their importance.


Failed on every count except one (the extra chocolate/peanut butter we got to snack on due to this incident).


-----


Sometimes I do wonder how I got this way.

Living in Fullerton

It has been a great thing that Alex and I decided to up and move to Fullerton for year 2 of our marriage.  We live on the 650-square-foot top floor of a triplex, with interior walls of a light grey color, some beautiful painted white woodwork and built-ins, and a bedroom with two large windows that peer out on a lovely tree.  We live on the edge of downtown, close enough to walk to a frozen yogurt place, to Starbucks, to shops and to get our haircut.  Since Fullerton is an older town, it is home to some of the more elegant and quaint architecture in our area of L.A., including Fullerton College, which has a sort of Spanish Architecture and to which I walk every Monday and Wednesday for my dance class.


Yes, DANCE CLASS. This fall I started dancing again, and it has been so good.  I enjoy the teacher, and have enjoyed feeling my body get used to modern dance movements again, by learning to let go and sink into the floor and maintain balance and be strong in the midst of it.


There are some fun and quirky things about living in our new place, as well. I have already mentioned the strange habits of our garbage man and the dripping flowers on our tree. I should also say that our kitchen is the size of a small walk-in closet and the counter-space barely surpasses the square footage of an ironing board. Our shower also resembles a cave, which you must sort of duck/climb in to - but the drain works and the water works so we are HAPPY.


Overall, I love it. I love the light in our place  --  the early morning darkness that becomes a cool blue light, the tired, late afternoon light, the brightness of light mid-morning on a Saturday, and at nighttime, when the only light comes from our lamps, a few overheads, and the glow of the computer (it had to be said). And the company? (meaning my husband of 1.25 years) Can't be beat. (It is Alex's birthday this weekend. Consider this the birthday celebration shout-out to the one I love).

Three things that are funny, one that's absurd.

ONE. Our forest green honda. It has tinted windows, a large dent on the drivers' side door, and a subwoofer that takes up half the trunk. In its current parking space, a tree consistently seeps pollen on it so that 1) it is embarrassingly dirty two days after its washing, and 2) it attracts ants, who happen to like this pollen and crawl all over the hood and roof (also embarrassing, hoping no one sees the bugs crawling all over your car). One of the only bugs I fear is ants. Today when I was driving with the window down (because there is no air conditioning), I imagined lots of tiny ants flying onto me. Also, it is impossible for me to get out of the car in any elegant manner (it being so close to the ground), which is made even more complicated by the pencil skirts I wear to work.


TWO. Our trash man. Every time we leave for work on Tuesday morning, the landlord has kindly brought out the trash cans. These are neatly placed to the side of our parking spot, so that we can easily back out our car and head off to work. Every time we return from work that same day, we find the three trash cans spaced a yard apart from each other, ENTIRELY blocking BOTH parking spots we have been given, and making pulling in to our parking spot (without getting out to move the trash cans) difficult to impossible. I don't know what we did to the trash man, but he is exacting his revenge, one week at a time.


THREE. The fact that we live across from a fire station.


ABSURD. How long it takes me to make decisions, and the number of times I change my mind while doing so. Today, I wondered around Cost Plus World Market for 45 minutes looking for cushions for our dining room chairs. I held 6 cushions in my arms, walked back and forth across the store to the various locations for cushions, scattered the cushions on various tables to see how they looked against the wood, asks the sales people whether the 14 different types of cushions they had in the store were all they had, walked next door to Target to look for cushions, realized their selection consisted of one small shelf of mismatched cushions, went back to World Market, resumed the process, chose a cushion, walked around the store with it once, put it back, chose another cushion, walked around the store twice, put it back, called my mom for advice, tried to think of any other friends I could call for advice, panicked, bought a bar of chocolate, refused to let the sales reps take any of the six cushions I was holding to the front because "I was deciding between them", and finally ended up taking home two mismatched cushions so I could "try them out." When I approached the register with these two mismatched cushions, the salesman looked at me and said, "Couldn't make up your mind?"


Right man. Like I needed you to tell me that.

Chester, the cockroach: The extermination

About a week ago, Alex and I came home from visiting his parents up in Fresno. As we approached our doorstep, we noticed several cockroaches lying about. It was still light outside. These were dead cockroaches.


There really isn't much to say when you've named a cockroach and given him a personality and then discover that he is dead. Not just dead, murdered. Exterminated. I thought I might be a little sad. I'm not.


I do continue to look forward to the day when Alex and I can have a real pet - a dog. Here's what needs to happen before we can get one:


1. We need to move to a residence that allows for dogs. This might mean we need to move to Canada, since Ontario has had a law since 1990 that bans apartment owners from discriminating against animals in lease-terms, and other provinces are now fighting for "Fluffy's Law" too.


2. We need to set up our 401ks. I am not going to invest in a dog who has CONSTANT NEEDS and will drain my bank account for many years -- not until I have financial stability and security, man. No, but really, dogs cost money.


3. We need to decide on a breed. (Current leanings are towards larger dogs, like retrievers and labs, although I still have a soft spot in my heart for Beagles ever since my childhood dog (Frisky, the Beagle) passed away on December 18th, 1998. Frisky was the typical beagle who liked to bay and chase rabbits, although when he finally caught them, he would just lick them. The rabbit would be trembling, shaking, and there would be Frisky, happily panting andlicking the poor thing. Also, Frisky liked to cross the street to the junior high and steal food from the students. Once he ate a piece of cake off a teacher's desk. Another day, he came trotting (trotting? do dogs trot?) up our driveway with a package of hotdog buns in his mouth. Frisky was twice the recommended weight for beagles his height).


4. We need to decide on a name. I guess this could wait until we actually have the dog. But I am one of those types who likes to have a list of 10 possible names a year before I am ready to purchase said animal. So, yes, we at least need a smidgen of inspiration before we are ready to take the dive. Or maybe I will just work on becoming more free-spirited.


So while Alex and I continue to wait for the lodging, funding and unity of decision necessary to buy a dog, why don't YOU tell me about some of the animals you have, used to have, or would like to have someday? (This is my attempt to begin brainstorming names. Participation is appreciated).

Chester, the cockroach: A family reunion

Chester, our beloved Cockroach, has in the last seven days.... multiplied. And not just by two.


One evening last week, Alex and I were leaving for our night walk when we noticed more than one dark shape below our doorstep. There were three. Chester had, apparently, invited his two brothers over for a little family get together.
We turned the outside light on.


And all their children. I kid you not; there were too many baby cockroaches to count.


Evidently, Alex had noticed this surplus of cockroaches the night before, but had neglected to tell me. I think he was trying to protect my ability to sleep at night. At night -- when all the cockroaches come out to chill in front of our apartment.


We talked to our landlord about it, and apparently this is a seasonal thing. The cockroaches never come inside (they would have a flight of stairs to make it up anyways), and he would spray for them soon.


All I know is tonight when we returned from our walk (which was a different walk then we had left for the week before), one of Chester’s brothers tried to chase me through the grass. I screamed like a maniac, jumped up the stairs, open the door, slammed it and left Alex outside to fight them off for me.


Not really. But I did scream and jump, just as I had earlier in the night when I saw a cricket. My poor husband.


Chester, I understand your desire to host your family party on our doorstop. You are, after all, a butler, and hosting must be one of your primary joys in life. But your brothers are a little wild, and the kids are over-running the place. The fun needs to stop. Now.

Chester, the cockroach

Alex and I have a cockroach. The word alone grosses me out. The bug itself makes me want to scream and jump onto a chair, or a counter, or whatever elevated surface is nearest.


In our last apartment we had one itty bitty cockroach so we set up multiple traps, consisting of coffee grounds placed inside glass jars, with the lid resting partially against a wall and partially on the rim of the jar. We caught nothing, nor did we have any "run-ins" with other resident roaches. I did, however, have a dream that a cockroach the size of a ferret was in our kitchen cupboard, banging (loudly) around the pots and pans.


I'm sorry.


The good thing about our current cockroach is that he lives outside, about 4 feet away from our door. Every once in a while when Alex and I come home at night we see a dark shadow on the ground and then we'll turn on the outside light and he'll scamper back to his safe (dark) hiding place under the house. The funny thing about this is that consistently seeing the cockroach sitting quietly outside our doorstop made us feel a strong enough attachment to...well, name him. We call him Chester.


I'm sorry.


Also, Chester sounds like a name a butler would have, and as cockroaches shiny wing-like things slightly resemble a butler's coat, we feel that Chester (our cockroach) is sort of a butler. (This inspiration may have come from our recent discovery of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster series. We just finished watching the A&E version of the first season and enjoyed it very much).


So, there you have it. Consider yourself introduced. If I can bear to write any more of these repulsive creatures, I may have other stories to tell. All I know is, if Chester ever comes inside, his days of buttling will be over.

Memphis, Tennessee

Alex and I just returned from a lovely trip to the charming city of Memphis, Tennessee. While I have visited there frequently to see family, this was his first time in the "Volunteer" state (nick-named so because of the number of volunteer soldiers from Tennessee in the War of 1812).  Alex's dad grew up in Nashville, did his undergrad in south-central Tennessee and went to med school at University of Tennessee, so we were glad Alex was able to see one of the places that his Dad had spent some significant time (University of Tennessee is in downtown Memphis).


The last time I had been to Tennessee for an extended visit it was the middle of January.  It was cold-ish then. However, Tennessee has a reputation for being hot and humid - and boy did it live up to this reputation  in these early weeks of June.  I had been asked by my physical therapist to go on two short walks a day (which I did with joy), but boy was it HOT.  I think though, that the beautiful botanicals made possible by the humidity make it worth it.  I loved the hydrangeas, the crepe myrtles, and the lushness of the trees and bushes and grass that never have a chance to get so green in the desert of Southern California.


I also loved the architecture. I am not sure what inspired the designers to plan for red brick and white pillars in fifty percent of their work, but it sure does show-off some beautiful churches and homes.  Tall white steeples, large front lawns, symmetrical building fronts framed by towering trees. While I am coming to enjoy the Spanish architecture that characterizes the West,  symmetry is beautiful, easy on the eye and somewhat refreshing.


Southern food - ALSO delicious. We had the chance to be among the eaters at a delicious southern style buffet brunch, and feasted on grits, a southern style eggs benedict, Cajun seasoned fish with okra, and chocolate bourbon pecan pie. We also were treated to a wonderful dinner at possibly the most brilliant restaurant I have ever eaten at - FLIGHT. It is a restaurant based entirely off the idea that some people can't make decisions to save their lives. Or so I like to think. For each part of your meal (salad, entree, wine, dessert), rather than choosing one item, you can order a "flight" of three items for about the same price. That means you can have a trio of watermelon/feta, blue cheese wedge, and caprese salads, and a trio of different white wines to accompany them. For dinner I had 1. lobster with roasted potatoes, corn, and asparagus, 2. Buffalo with mushroom risotto and cabernet syrup, and 3. Jumbo shrimp with tropical salsa and sriracha butter sauce. Yes, I had lobster, shrimp and buffalo all in one sitting. Yes, it was delicious. YES, you should go to Memphis just so you can go to this restaurant. Alas, when it came time for dessert, I was a bit too full to sample one of their chocolate or cheesecake flights (could it get any better than this?) I did try a small plate of white chocolate fudge, complete with a few chopped pecans and sweet dipping sauce. Definitely satisfactory.


We ended our feasting by going to Rendezvous - a rib restaurant Alex's Dad had recommended. It was delicious. One has no idea how many ribs one can eat until the bones are piled on the plate in front of them. Also, one has no idea how messy one can get eating ribs until no matter how they try to get the barbecue sauce off their nose, there is no clean finger or square inch of unsoiled napkin to do the job...


During all my visits to Memphis I have never toured Graceland -- this visit was no exception.  We did have a chance to see and hear an Elvis impersonation when we went to  "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,"  put on by Theatre Memphis. You know Pharaoh? The Pharaoh who tells Joseph his dreams about cows and hay and asks for an interpretation? Elvis plays Pharaoh. Or Pharaoh plays Elvis. I don't know. I just know that he sang his dreams while doing Elvis-like dance moves and the Memphis crowd went wild for it! (The rest of the musical was well performed - one can't go wrong with Andrew Lloyd Webber as the composer. Alex and I still catch ourselves humming tunes from the different songs).


Alex certainly got a feel for the town, and I became reacquainted with some of my favorite spots as well as learning a few new places. And, of course, we thoroughly enjoyed our stay at my grandmother's house, meeting her friends, helping my aunt redecorate and rearrange her room, and having several good conversations. Thanks, Memphis, for showing us a good time. And thanks Ga (and Boo) for showing us Memphis!

Ten reasons I should never enter the kitchen again: Chronicles of a Spastic Housewife, Chapter 3

Last week was an especially trying week for me in terms of uncoordinated moments. I had to wait for a week to post about it so I could recover.  I still am not at the point of thinking these things are funny. I still think they are very, very sad, and I only laugh because they are ironic.  Laughing at the ironic is not the same as a good belly laugh.  Ironic laughter hurts, especially when the joke is on you.


The following happened (in a particular order. An order which placed these events so close to each other in their happening that I could not help but feel that the gods of grace and finesse are against me):


1. In trying to slice a bagel, I sliced my thumb instead.
2. In trying to toast a bagel, I burned my hand instead.
3. I got cream cheese on my ankle.
4. I dropped the cream cheese knife on the couch.
5. I broke my watch.
6. In trying to serve dinner onto our plates, I dumped half the scrambled eggs on to the floor (I ate them anyways. I'm sorry. I was hungry).
7. I dropped a carton of icecream from the freezer onto the floor. It splattered everywhere.
8. I spilled crumbled Kit-kats all over the floor.
9. I spilled more icecream. On the cupboards and floor. (I was just trying to put the lid back on the icecream carton. Unfortunately, all the icecream sitting on the lid had melted).
10. I knocked over a bag of trail mix. Onto the floor.


See what I mean?  After the last five incidents, I spent twenty minutes on my hands and knees with a soapy sponge scrubbing the stickiness off our kitchen floor. Fortunately, being on my hands and knees is the one comfortable place for me right now.


I do not ask for pity. I only ask for love.


And maybe a new carton of ice cream -- mint chocolate chip, please.

One miracle at a time

Tonight I went to the Brea Mall.  Alex and I were meeting up with some friends for a casual gathering at a nearby restaurant, and I decided I needed to take advantage of the 45 minutes the mall was open to get in my girly portion of late Spring/early summer clothing shopping.  Alex dropped me off and went to meet our friends at the restaurant.


I already had a plan - to find the information booth, rent a wheelchair, and do as much as I could around H & M in those 45 minutes.  Unfortunately, both times I called customer service to ask about the location of the information booth/wheelchairs, they gave me very general directions, assuming I could wander around to find it.  The second time I spoke to the woman I even said, "No, really. I can't walk. That is why I need a wheelchair.  Please give me specific directions to the wheelchairs." She still sent me in the wrong direction, telling me to "turn right" when I was at a cross-section with five possible hallways to walk down. Funny.


I rented the wheelchair, and after hearing that I had "15 minutes" until it had to be returned, I jetted off as fast as my little arms could take me to H & M. Navigating a clothing store in a wheelchair is tricky, especially when the store is of the type that tries to cram in as much clothing with as little aisle space as possible, and especially when you are rushing to meet the deadline of the management company who has rented you the wheelchair and is currently in position of your debit card.


I think it went fairly well.  Aside from a few bumps into railings, a few jostlings of hangers, the difficulty of balancing clothing and my purse on my lap, and the near run-ins with other shoppers, it went well. I did not hit anyone.  I did not knock anything over. I did receive kind looks and help from strangers (which I am sure would have quickly turned to confused and slightly angry looks when they saw me walk out of the mall unassisted on my own two feet).


The best part of the night happened when I returned the wheelchair to the kiosk.  As I stepped out of the wheelchair onto the mall floor, I heard a young man exclaim in an Italian accent,

"It's a miracle!"

(Come on, people.  An Italian accent. In Los Angeles. Who are we kidding here?)


So I think I will continue to repeat this phrase ("It's a miracle!") to myself every time I need a little laugh. How silly that my act of standing up from a wheelchair inspired a stranger to declare, "It's a miracle!"

On a side note, I was 40 minutes late returning the wheelchair. The kiosk was abandoned, forcing me to explore abandoned, concrete, creepy hallways to knock on the management door and retrieve my debit card.  Life is an adventure indeed.

Just so you know...

...Alex and I are moving. We are moving 15 miles across town to a cozy community called Fullerton, and so all my extra thought time and creativity has been spent trying to figure out how to make this happen with two bummed feet, full-time work and the desire to do it on a small budget.  We have been lugging as many boxes we can fit in as many trips as it will take in our two-door car, and have been grateful to receive help from our friends in wrapping china and kitchen things.  We have purchased a few items and placed some furniture for sale on Craig's List. Currently the living room floor is comprised of boxes, boxes, boxes.


And so this is the reason for the lack of posting.


In the meantime, however,  I have been dreaming a little bit about summer and hope to have the spare time that will allow me to --


-read books
-make food and take pictures of it in our new place, which has better light (Once the camera gets fixed).
-lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. or out a window. or at the wall. I'm not too particular.
-drink lots of coffee, made via our french press since our coffee maker is too big to fit in the kitchen. (Yes, this can be a reality).
-spend time with friends. Preferably at the beach, coffee shops, and eating frozen yogurt.


This is all. Doesn't it sound delightful?

College grad --> adult?

It's a funny thing, being 23. Today at lunch my coworkers were describing the "20's" as the volatile period of your life, and I can't help but agree. Your twenties are the years during which you are constantly making decisions and shifting your plans as you evaluate and reevaluate the direction of your life. You are finishing college and (hopefully) starting your first "real" job, which requires lower levels of accountability than were needed to write your Senior Thesis, but solicits strong bonds of dependence since it is with this job that you will pay for rent, insurance, a car, cell phone bills, the internet, repairs, and maybe save enough to buy a $3.00 cup of coffee from Starbucks twice a month. At the same time, you have no idea what you're doing with your life, there's a 90% chance that what you currently spend your day laboring at has nothing to do with your college major, you are likely still in debt from said (seemingly) impractical college degree, and at best, you're living just above the poverty line. You are grateful to be able to purchase simple groceries and "two-buck chuck" to wine-and-dine yourself as you manage your small apartment and apply to graduate schools or research your "dream job" on the poor old laptop that lasted your three-hundred trips hauling it to and from the library but is not going to last much longer.


(Here ends a fairly realistic account of the sad state of life the average humanities major encounters post-graduation).


This is not to say that your twenties are without their perks. There is certainly less responsibility as you likely do not have children (or at least do not have teenagers), have less to file for in taxes, do not have mortgage payments, and hopefully have your health. It is fantastic to be able to take advantage of your spare time and energy to be with friends, go exploring, discover new likes and read new books (especially with your college-conditioned reading skills). In fact, having lesser responsibility and fewer years of 9-5 work wearing down on us, we might just see each day and weekend as an opportunity for adventure (again, save the financial constraints).


It isn't time to settle down yet. I asked Alex the other day how many years from now he would like to have started his career, and he said "six." That puts him at 29. That gives him (and me), six years to re-evaluate what we want to do with our lives, to research grad schools, apply, get-in, work; to research our dream jobs and apply to the entry level positions of those industries. Six years to learn about taxes and IRA accounts, to learn about politics and the corporate ladder. Also, six more years to live adventurously, to explore local areas with our free(er) weekends, to sleep in on Saturdays, to have our friends over on weeknights just to watch TV shows together, and work 9-5 rather than 9-7 or 9-8. It's not that we expect or intend to have everything figured out by then, it is just that this feels like the time for a large dose of both learning and adventure.


So here we are. 23. Not yet adults, definitely no longer teenagers. Six more years 'til we are just about 30. Then does real life begin?

The (injured) cook and her (disproportionate) kitchen

This week I am learning to live life from a different angle.  My sad, damaged plantar fascias are having trouble healing,  so I have been told by the doctor to help the process by using them as minimally as possible.


This means I now must try to live my life from the seated position.  Working as a secretary makes the workday fairly stationary - I am taking advantage of the term "desk job."  Sleeping happens to also be a predominately sedentary activity, save those prone to sleep-walking, which, fortunately I am not. Unfortunately, the third thing I give my life to (aside from working and sleeping), does not easily oblige itself to restful positions  -- meal preparation.


In the kitchen countertops are built for someone to use while standing, making  them about 1.5 feet too high.  This means that as I try to do the dirty dishes from a seated position, I am knocking other items  into the sink (so far, nothing has been broken).  When I try to cut baked chicken off the bone my arms become achy and my progress is slow.  Maybe I could kneel, but there is only so much pressure that knee joints will take before they too join the force of dysfunctional body parts.


So I sit in my chair in the kitchen and manuever my body every which way to reach what I need.  At least in a small kitchen I can reach the stove, 90% of our cabinets, our fridge and our sink without moving the lower half of my body, or the chair.


Nonetheless (despite the mostly easy-reaches of our little kitchen), I can no longer cook alone.  I cannot reach the spices, I cannot move quickly, I cannot run and leap to hit the smoke alarm when the eggs start burning.  It is now a team effort -- Alex is learning to cook.  While he struggles to get over his fear of raw meat, I am doing my part by taking over dish-duty, a task I can attend to comfortably (no matter how many innocent bystanders I knock into the sink).

Ten things I learned from my friends

1.  The friends who suffer through massive amounts of studying, reading and writing together, stay together.
2.  Tea is the most soothing late night studying accompaniment.
3.  Follow the trends when everyone else is excited about them too.  Otherwise you will be alone in your excitement.
*This is especially true when it comes to television series.
4.  When you are with a friend and bored by your usual activities, it is perfectly acceptable to dress up as pregnant women and go to Starbucks.  It is also perfectly acceptable to run to your car in embarrassment after having happened into the Senior boy you fancied. (He would not have been fooled by the pillow stuffed under my dress. However, since he didn't know my name, I doubt he recognized me.  Still, what are the chances?)
5.  Decorate your locker.  Decorate your dorm room.  Decorate your desk at work.
6.  Laugh, and do not stop laughing, at the boys who stalk you on facebook.  Cry when the boys you like don't like you back.  Be sad when the boy you love is living 4,000+ miles and an ocean apart from you.  Also, eat cookies.  They are perfect to console (If you really need a sugar kick, dip Girl Scout cookies in sprinkle chip frosting.  This may be slightly disgusting, but it is also kind of delicious. Or was).
7.  How to listen.
8.  How to cheer each other on.
9.  How to make Peanut Butter popcorn (This one deserves to be separated from the list below.  Trust me).
10.  How to sew, knit, quilt, play Nintendo, take pictures, do the Lindy hop, enjoy poetry, make Sun tea, wear dresses, paint my nails,  jump rope, drink diet coke, stay up later than I should (on rare occasions), talk on the phone (a skill I've lost since Junior High), conquer 6 mile runs with big hills in hot hot weather, chew excessive amounts of gum, and laugh at life.

Ten things I learned from my siblings

(I'm sorry for portraying us as ducklings.  It was the only image I could come up with.  Also, I like the little yellow duckling, trying to keep up with his elders).


1.   Don't count walking as an option when you're on a run.  You can slow your pace, but you can't walk.
2.  Don't be too rowdy on a trampoline.  You could break your leg.
3.  Don't borrow people's clothes without asking.
4.  Don't chew your food too loudly.
5.  Using spreadsheets to plan out your spring wardrobe is helpful.  Using spreadsheets to plan out the gourmet dinner you are hosting is also helpful.
6.  When you're a kid, building forts and playing in dirt are worthy playtime activities.  When you're a teenager, move on to prank wars and TPing your friends' houses.
7.  Grab adventure whenever there is an opportunity for it. (This is why my name is Jane).
8.  It is more fun to watch your brother play video games then to play them yourself. It is more fun to wear your sister's clothing then your own.
9. Morning drives are a good time for silence, unless you are taking finals at school that day - in which case you should listen to Beethoven.
10. The tooth fairy deserves to be reprimanded (or discovered)(or given a hug) when she fails to do her duty.

The cook returns to the kitchen: Chronicles of a Spastic Housewife, chapter 2

I had just finished doing an impromptu session of kick-boxing in our tiny apartment living room in an attempt to intimidate our neighbors.  Having not engaged in such challenging muscular activity for some time, I was visibly shaking.


This was when I decided it was time for dinner. I was, like I said, visibly shaking (both from hunger and from exercise). Nevertheless, I thought it would be good to not only take on dinner for that night, but also for the next night, and pack lunches and put away dishes from breakfast.  And maybe sweep the floor, wipe down the counters and touch up my toenails while I'm at it.  Just kidding.
So here I was with a crock-pot on one counter, cutting boards, knives, and vegetables falling off the other counter, boiling water, lunch baggies, dirty cereal bowls, a running faucet and a saute pan on the stove containing oil that was quickly getting hot. And, shaking.


As I prepared to cut miniature bell peppers, green beans, and onion on one too small cutting board that wouldn't quite fit on our too small counter, I inched it over toward the stove, and continued happily chopping, adding pasta to the water, wiping clean the coffee mugs to put in the dishwasher, adding snacks and fruit to Alex's lunch, etc.


Next thing I knew, it was melted. MELTED - the cutting board.  Our lovely color coated cutting board (this was the blue one with the fish emblem on it) was looking very wobbled. SAD.  [I do have a short history of melting objects in the kitchen: read: chunks of melted spatula ruined my only (failed) batch of apple butter].


Then, within the next thirty seconds, I managed to spill a large amount of water onto the floor and dump a medium amount of cooked pasta onto the stove instead of back into its proper pot. Also sad. And wet.


But, hear this: I did not scream. I did not panic. I did not begin to cry.  Maybe I whimpered a little at the sight of poor melted fishie cutting board -- but that is all.  I also happily ate (some of) the pasta off the stove top instead of putting it back in the pot.


I think this is an improvement, don't you? Hot pasta on the table, a chuck roast in the crock pot, sandwiches packed for the next day, and an empty kitchen sink.  All in 20 minutes.  With only a little chaos, and only a little whimper.

Ten things I learned from my parents

1.  How to brush my teeth.
2.  How to make a budget.
3.  How to live on a budget.
4.  How to pack, move cross country, paint, unpack, and decorate in 3.5 weeks.
5.  How to foxtrot.
6.  How to drink coffee like you can't get through the day without it.
7.  How to make homemade corn chips.
8.  How to trust God amidst difficulty.
9.  How to serve the church.
10. How to continue learning (and reading) through your adult life.

Ten things I learned from my grandparents

1.  How to tie my shoelaces using only one bow.
2.  Icecream in the freezer is a sign of abundance.
3.  You will never regret generosity.  You will never regret sending a thank-you note, either.
4.  Dance with your spouse in your living room, even when you are 75 years old.
5.  When you are purchasing real estate, there are three things to consider - Location, location, location.
6.  The city zoo is always worth a visit, especially if there are elephants to be seen.
7.  The best way to eat a cheese quesadilla is with one side of salsa and one side of grape jam.
8.  It is possible to decorate with leopard print in such a way that it never goes out of style (my mom's mom has leopard print carpet running up her black and white painted staircase -- CLASSY!)
9.  The name we call our dog can be as long as we want it to be.
10.  A college education is wonderful, but we should continue learning (and reading) throughout our adult lives.