are you kidding me?

An email asked me...

...if you died tomorrow, what would you want people to learn from your life?
If I died tomorrow I'd want people to learn joy from my life.
Joy in crisp wind, choppy water, dive bombing mocking birds, the way golden retrievers' hair looks like silken waves when they chase a frisbee, the warmth of a smokey ill-built fire, hot press-pot coffee from ethiopia when waking up cramped and sore after a night under the stars, seeing children's faces light up when they learn about how the nine times table works, their dropped jaw as a raven steals from a killdeer's nest, beavers floating in a half-frozen pond, the knowledge that someone has just met Jesus and have fallen at His feet is adoration, discussion about theology and how it's not a task only of ancient pedagogy to be thus dismissed, friends in far places that remember to write, red-winged black birds kareeking to each other among the cattails, knitting a warm hat for a little one to keep her ears warm, the touch and sight of natural textiles, the slubbiness of linen, the softness of alpaca, the strength of cotton, the smallest things like a nutchatch walking upside down on a tree, how themes are woven into novels, how butter makes things taste better, clothes that do things like insulate, wick moisture or keep rain out while not making you overheat, cars that don't break down, warm fresh-baked whole wheat bread, unconditional love, quirkiness, God being bigger than all your fears, truth, and hymns from scripture:

I know not why God's wondrous grace
To me He hath made known,
Not why, unworthy, Christ in love,
Redeemed me for His own.
But "I know whom I have believed
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day."
~Daniel Whittle

house of mirth

i'm not sure who this edith wharton chick was, but she surely manipulated a web of mental constructs in my brain. this book, above titled, dare i say it, affected me.
i wanted to desperately to stay distanced from the heroine. like in george elliot's daniel deronda. i fully knew she was star-crossed from the beginning.
but of this recent tragedy... i was a tool. what shook me deeply was its realness: her repeated naivety and blatant disregard of her true self. the seeking of comforts and predictability over personal growth and friendship.
and its relevance: to cultural and social obsessions. to glittery items and fancy words that are vapors. to furies and furies that snap the neck against our better self-possession. the gradual separation between what we know is reality and the cultivated fabrication thereof.
don't be fooled by the title, either. this one's a tragedy. but well worth every page.
sigh.
i've started brothers karamazov. at least it's predominantly about men. i need a break.

the elder swear

so hilarious... i wept...

a.r. ammons

small song

the reeds give
way to the

wind and give
the wind away

ridgefield wildlife refuge, washington

smoky mountains

the name of the great smoky mountains comes from the natural haze around them.
so what would you called these mountains? smokin' mountains.
this has been the eerie sight since we got home from Oregon. this is picture from the local newspaper. it's cool how they got the shot with the plane in there. it looks a bit end-of-the-worldish.
at first we were looking to donate goods to the other county because of the big fire near chico, but it's looking like we can help out in our own backyard. while the ash keeps falling in it.
also, the air quality hasn't been so great. there's a singed flavor in the air.
something like 24K acres burned in the shasta-trinity forest so far...

The sun will become dark,and the moon will turn blood red
before that great and glorious day of the Lord arrives... Acts 2:20

i'm waitin' for it.

Prosit Neujahr!

okay, i'm very aware it's not january. it's like 106 degrees out there. but the blog is the first of the year, yo! frohliche! ( i think that means happy or something.)
after months of silence on the internets, this is where i've been spending my time and brain. millville. note the hay bales and be amazed. sweet little school with sweet little kids. and even though they lived more outdoors than most of us, they still are utterly fascinated by a vulture flying by and raven's raiding the nest of a killdeer. "they are pecking and divebombing the black bird's head mrs. loucks!"

a word concerning trifles

trifles rock. seriously.
cake.
zabaglione.
fresh berries...
fresh berries? where do i live, mexico? not hardly. (have you seen the monochromatic nature of redding?) and while they (the .com recipe forums galore) do have double chocolate mocha trifle or pumpkin cream trifle... there's really nothing like the original.
talk to me wiki: A trifle (English version of the Italian zuppa inglese) is a dessert dish made from thick (or often solidified) custard, fruit, sponge cake, fruit juice or, more recently,jelly (gelatin), and whipped cream. These ingredients are usually arranged in layers with fruit and sponge on the bottom, and custard and cream on top.
so how does one make the best dessert ever for the well-deserving event of the holidays? ha-ho! i have two words for the curious: flash frozen so here's a great method if yr short on fresh blueberries, blackberries and strawberries (which would be absolutely essential if in season.) and are really into taste. and might i add fat. and cholesterol. and sugars. (all in all a winning combo.)
step 1: put trust in paula her killer southwest georgia pound cake recipe is the perfect base. follow the directions though the richard simmons in you will be shrieking. when it cools, cut off crust, eat and share, then cut the rest into 1/2 inch cubes and stick in a air-tight container of some kind.
step 2: the thaw buy a non-generic bag of each of the following: strawberries, blackberries, blueberries. you want the good stuff here. let them thaw at room temp. drain, don't rinse. taste the berries. if the batch of one is stank, don't use it! (make a pancake glaze or something.) taste is critical!
step 3: whip it whip up a pint of heavy cream til stiff peaks form. (gotta love the hand mixer.) put in bowl and refrigerate.
and step 4: the CIA knows this is the best zabaglione. don't get frustrated with how long you have to stand over the stove with a hand mixer (an appliance indispensable and superior to hand whisking). vin santo works well instead of marsala. pour mixture in w/ yr whipped cream and gently fold together. fold over top of gallon zippy, dump the goop in, push out the air, seal, snip an inch off a bottom edge, use immediately. or it turns to slop.
step 4: dog pile with yr newly purchased trifle bowl (i've actually used a glass flour container with a lid) layer the following until it reaches the top... pound cake, berries, zabaglione. the layers look best when they are about an inch thick. top with whipped cream, if you want.
refrigerate until you grub.
oh, and grub you will. it makes an excellent breakfast on the next day, too.
i can't believe i just published my brilliant dessert. use yr newly found powers for good, not evil.

it called for polyethylene

i think maybe we've taken this whole radah thing overboard. radah as in hebrew to rule, have dominion over...pertaining to our relationship with the fish of the sea, the birds of the heavens, the cattle, and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. (wow am i glad NASB went modern in '95).
ruling, my eye. we're dominion/ruling them into the ground.
my dad and i watched this report on wired science about plastic in the ocean. something about nearly 46,000 pieces of plastic per square mile of ocean? "ew" doesn't begin to describe that.
where is all this crap coming from? why are we hating on the animals? it's disturbing to look at the pictures (below), don't you think?
where do i fit in w/ all of this? i'm not wanting to be the preachy activist. my heart hurts, though, to think how we've junked the earth God made.

perspective: it's an issue of value. like whole wheat bagels vs. iceberg lettuce. which is gonna substantially satisfy you with it's sumptious substance? delicious complex carbs or low calorie dirt-tasting water-food? lettuce is crunchy and pretty, but my buck's on the bread everytime.
God loves His children way more than animals. His kids please Him.

the LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. zeph 3.17

anyway, i'm thinkin' He's got a serious-genius-stealthy plan to make things right and nail the chumps that carelessly trashed His creation.
and i'm here to shmear grace on everyone i can reach w/ a spatula.

...consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that he creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. rom 3.18...

au naturale

apparently it is very rare in these moderno times to birth a child w/o the aide of chemicals. val had a nurse who had 35 years of experience in l&d and this was the first time she had seen any women birth w/o drugs. no way... i think that's nuts.
and 8.2 oz ain't no thing. go val!
i don't think i've ever been so anxious as i was in that stupid waiting room. in less than 4 hours of labor, little isabella was born. super healthy. super alert. praise the Lord!

chi-wow-a-wow-a... anyone want a beast?

okay. my sister and i were talking about her huge st. bernard who's rescue-agency bound. in other words...
her dog eats cats.
when i told my loving husband about the tragedy, he, in his undying compassion and sensitivity to all living things, laughed hysterically.
dogs are hunters, i guess.
in calvin's defense, he was being taunted daily by the neighborhood feral cat clan. he was locked in his house while his family worked and the cats did like, mocking mean dances to make him furious.
we knew it was only a matter of time when while he went pee he would do a mean dance with his teeth on one of the feline offenders.
so my sis and her husband are trying to give him to a rescue thingy that places st. bernards with people who want to them. the hopeful applicants bring whatever dogs they happen to own with them to meet the adoptee. my question is, what if they bring a chihuahua? they are very cat-like. what if calvin gets confused? the beady eyes, the pointy ears, the small rat-like stature...

he might eat the little booger.

football season rocks

i've never heard of such a crazy game as the dallas v. buffalo monday night shenanigan today. that kick at :02 was unbelievable. the downcast bills fans were a funny sight to see. 'cause football is soooooo important to life as we know it. oh man. how many souls did i just infuriate with that?
been about a year since we've had a tv. don't miss it. though it has entertainment value. but not for the reason you think.
it's fun because my dad's comments on the espn commentators is way more entertaining than i had ever anticipated. apparently they talk more about nothing than football. i don't know how many consecutive downs we watched w/o hearing a thing about what was going on on the screen. though ever-gracious, my dad doesn't really appreciate that so much. and that's true entertainment.

gather together

i think i would’ve made a good gatherer. as in, hunters and gatherers. i’m very content crouching in the grass picking acorns out of sod so they don’t hack around in the lawnmower.
and because they look cool when you shine them. like tree jewels.

i think my sister would’ve made a great gatherer to. though of a different nature. a smellier nature. i mean, she does make a good gatherer. even if she cheats and uses a shovel. and if ruby had anything to say about it ("woof") she'd be gathering all the time.

again, maybe i’m in the wrong career. or country. or people group. or century. picking berries and cooking outdoors in earthen pots and sleeping under the skies in handmade clothing of pelts and skins... maybe mukluks... maybe hating the white man in his white birds of the sea arriving to exploit my neighboring seal cove.

clearly I’m reading too many american history books about 18th century alaska.

ka-boom

aside from the religious powder-keg surrounding the art that is yoga... ( i know, i know, it's the worship of a snake from the underworld or something? that's the richest one i've heard. it's pretty harmless when the tv is muted...)
it is heralded for its relaxing and stress-relieving powers. (so is barbiturate abuse but let's stay on this side of the law.) it's one of the most popular and culty exercise methods ever, right?
the reason it's relaxing, my friends, is not a great mystery. have you ever done yoga for a good 45 minutes? it's absolutely exhausting. it's all this isometric sickness. that means yr body is in a static position in which the joint angle and muscle length do not change during contraction. thanks wikipedia.
i'll just call it crazy hard. or "moments of shaking taxing weakness-revealing exercise". but working on the core is a good thing. helps yr back and stuff. which'll be good if we ever get to backpacking (now that i have a sick pack w/ cushion pads of glory. thank you arc'teryx.) maybe the isometrics will pay off on the next mountain...
but i'd rather be hiking freezing my tookus (how does one spell that?) like here on mt. adams.

tears on museum marble flooring (or, my day in stumptown)

peer pressure being as intense and prolific as it is today i find it remarkable that it was only until last week while waiting for the street car at 19th and lovejoy that i was offered a joint. (and yes, it was politely refused.)

the rijksmuseum of amsterdam has its collection of rembrandt and 17th century dutch art at the portland museum this summer. it is amazing. especially the one here the denial of saint peter.

granted, peter doesn't look like a crusty fisherman i imagined him to be. the piece illustrates the moment between the servant girl's question and peter's lie. in the right corner (click to zoom), being lead away by soldiers, Christ looks back to see peter's response. and there i was, standing in the museum and gazing at the shadows of His face, my heart broken.

people in portland love high performance gear. at the trimet stops near the REI, the clothing is especially practical and outdoorsy. urban trekking in all this moisture-wicking material and 3/4 solid shank soled shoes is a sweet ode to denial. sorry guys. it's still pretty metropolitan here in the pearl. and i'm pretty sure yr just walking to work. good effort.

at the old church i listened to a piano and flute concert. they played bach and shumann. then silliest piece ever. it was called comicosmic by a crazy italian dude. the flautist blew, spit, yelled, hummed and talked into his flute for 5 minutes. it was like a strange cartoon score. and absolutely captivating. albeit insane. it's so weird it's not even google-able.

weather trumps

i think it's so neat that after thousands of years of scientific and technical exploration and advancement that people still freeze to death.
just try and track with me here a minute...
people every year die out there in the cold of the pacific northwest mountains (or even hills) within sight of warm fires and cocoa on a snuggly couch. seems odd that in an age of instant electronic communication and space travel that the primitive and basic threat of weather still holds the best cards. and i'm not talking about the grossly ignorant dudes who embark upon journeys best left to those who properly research, prepare and suit up. i'm talking about cats with mountaineering experience and burly weather know-how.
here, in our 21st century existence of high performing synthetic fibers, very clean fluffy down and superior weaves of woolen fabrics, folks can go out of doors and still be totally unprepared, ill-equipped and, might i say, beckoning for the wiles of exposure.
it's like God saying, sure, you've got your polypropylene base layer and you may even have a sick windstopper fleece with articulated sleeves and pit zips for chance overheating. it may even breathe well before you don your 800 fill down parka with fleece lined pockets, water-resistant zips and micro-chamois lined chin. if you're real ambitious you may have incorporated the superior waterproofing ability of gore-tex. you can even add a merino wool beanie fully lined with polartec in the way of the sherpas. perhaps you're smart enough to bring a negative degree mummy bag for inclement weather at an inconvenient time.
perfect. we could sum up all proceeding goodies as gear.
great plan. gotta have the right gear.
but as to rephrase, God's like, you have your gear. watch this.
i give you... cold.
enter unrelenting bitter winds, maybe wicked gales, pelting rain, maybe even some blizzard-type snows or sleet.
and what do you with your gear do?
pray.

mensa brilliant

you know how elevators go up and down?
my job at ikea this week is to greet people as they arrive by elevator and escalator to the 2nd floor showroom. for some reason, the following story is hilarious to me.
more than a few times, as i stand in front of these 2 devices (which are directly next to huge plexiglass windows peering down into the entrance on the 1st level), people who have just come up the escalator or elevator ask this question:
customer: does this (points to elevator) go down?
jess: yes. the elevator goes down.

brrr...

a pair of flannel pants, wool socks, hooded sweatshirt and a steaming bowl of oatmeal...
not an evening by a wintry fire. nah. this is me in 72 degree weather after spending 4 days in redding, ca.
strange what a week in arid 100 will do to a body.

the g-rents visit

God is hilarious

you know i'm always ready for adventure.
my clarion call to fulfill my occupational destiny has finally gotten through:
jess: hello?
lady: yeah, hi. this is jennie from the temp agency. are you available to work?
jess: totally.
lady: well, it starts on wednesday from 8 to 5 for six weeks.
jess: what would i be doing?
lady: stocking and such in the warehouse.
jess: for what company?
lady: ikea.
(flashbacks, bayarea ikea, crowds, large parking garage, boxes, long lines, multi-pitched racking with furniture, emeryville, wrong turns, getting lost in fruitvale, at night. fear. lots of fear.)
so after mulling for a moment i obviously took the job. (how can i risk an environment sure to rich in blogable madness?) hung up. and strongbadded it, "BWAA HA HA HA!!!" stocking.
is that more like being an author who blows peoples' minds with paradigm-busting philosophizing in seemingly poetic form or molding young tender minds and souls in preparation for their good citizenship with its positive impact on their community and world?

what then, shall i do?

i feel like a speech-savvy, purpose-ignorant 18 year old right out of high school. last night i wanted to be a web designer then translator. this morning i want to be an artist. but I also like kids. hm.

i know my purpose: “to glorify God and enjoy him forever…” (thank you westminster catechism), but quite frankly that’s just not enough right now. (you know what is enough? to be a wife and sister. but apparently that doesn’t fly in this particular time continuum. so i press onward). so how do i do this glorying and enjoying? don’t give me a bunch of verses. i know them. i mean practically. HOW.

i sit here in my calm apartment on an overcast muggy day sipping decaf sierra dorada from peet’s and an organic, vegan, unprocessed, raw, non-gmo, gluten- dairy- sugar- free, kosher nut and fruit bar and wonder…

what next? i’m not looking for esp here. i’m looking for purpose… i am a ________. filling in the blanks with an occupation/vocation (whatever the difference is between the two. though I like the sound of vocation… it sounds like being on a holiday. maybe that’s the one people enjoy more and look forward to going to).

and don’t throw me the purpose driven literature by warren. that book seriously put me to sleep. a lot of books do, actually. dickens. woolf. macarthur.

authors that stay a comatose state: london. tolstoy. lewis.

and looking at that list i can honestly say maybe there is something quite wrong with my mind. (i’d put rowlings in there somewhere, but she’s just lost and anst-driven).

maybe i should write books that don’t put anyone to sleep. yikes. i can’t even put into words the face i’m making right now. it’s one of “that’s a little crazy in a socially faux pawish sort of way.”

filming the holiday

what words can't say...

we meet her majesty

if you click and look very closely... on the walls of this lovely glacial moraine, you will find us picking our way along the trail to the bottom where we get our feet cold and wet in the ice. just another thing one can do in july in the pac nw. tromp around on mt hood. she's quite amazing. and finicky... tank top and 80s to soft shell and beanie in 3 minutes.

commit & trust, delight & rest

these are the words sent to me recently by a dear friend. pretty much sums up life.
here we wait oh so patiently for the plane. and off we went to oahu.
first class there and coach on the return. but we still felt like winners. it's strange telling people we went to the island.
"yes. we have trouble paying rent. yes. we also went to the ko'olina resort on the southwest side of oahu for 7 days."
that doesn't jive so much. but then, when does God's grace ever jive with our pathetic self-strivings? jive schmive.

measure twice, cut once

while in Cali this last week, the youngest sis and i endeavored upon a whirlwind quilt. she had been pondering this avenue of creativity, and jo-anns, a not so great fabric shop, had a very great sale.

so we purchased.
we designed.
we measured.
we rotaried.
we should've measured again.
we compensated for error.
"i thought you were supposed to be my mentor, jess." "yes, and i'm mentoring you on how to redeem yrself when you don't measure twice before you cut once."
we redesigned.
we ironed.
we seam-ripped.
we sewed.
we smoothed.
we aligned.
we safety pinned.
we quilted.
i left at this point. i'm waiting on a pix of the finished product. here's a bit of the focus fabric. it should be incredible.

crabby patty

just out of beckoning curiosity, why is it that when they serve crab, it has to be in its shell? honestly. i’m not saying that the task of freeing the delicious sweet meat of a snow crab isn’t worth getting juices up to yr elbows and gashes on yr hands from shell and crab zipper isn’t worth it. i’m just saying, why have we eliminated the middle man?
my hands are burning, yo. though, in part, that may have to do with the fact it was ripped apart and eaten outside on the columbia river in not-so-warm April weather. it was, after all, 38 degrees this morning.

vegan, my eye

well, that was short lived to say the least. by midnight of the fourth day of my hilarious vegan endeavor i broke down and had a bowl of cereal.
milk. raisin bran.

i know, i know. i am so very weak.

but didn't i say that dairy would be my undoing?
that would be me at the bar, while others order frosty mugs of micro-brewed ambers, pilsners, stouts and the likes...
"may i have a pint of whole milk? and i'd like it in a frosty mug, as well."
the looks. the sniggering. but seriously, i'm just saving them time. they don't have to card me or wait for that foamy junk on the top of the beer to subside to finish filling the glass.
i'm low maintenance.

and have healthy bones.
calcium in a pint of micro-brew stout beer (Deschutes Brewery Obsidian Stout): 0 mg.
calcium in a pint of milk: 600 of 1000 mg suggested daily allowance
i think the numbers speak for themselves.
(beer is vegan, though...)

soy vegan, ahora

i’ve gone vegan.

before ya’ll freak out that i’ve freaked out and finally let the pinko-commie p-land air and it’s incessant precipitation get to my head... please know it’s only a temporary detox to see what’s making my joints and muscles hate me... and also know that i still love dairy. at least we’ll always have that.

segue: and also, i’m not about flinging blood-simulating ketchup at passerby mink-wearing nuevo-reich while wearing a fox costume. (i’ve always wondered at PETA, who [incidently being one of the most morally bereft and offensive organizations.... i won’t even tell you why; you’d puke.], being so disgusted by the exploitation of animals, would engage in hurling apparent body fluids of said innocent animals on their fellow mankind in attempts to proselytize them. does anyone else see a contradiction here? i love all God’s creatures but enjoy a nice steak, and that totally grosses me out.)

but while researching the strange world of no animal products, and that word "strange" is used only for lack of a more articulate word, i found this snippet on www.reallynatural.com:

People who ate a low-fat vegan diet, cutting out all meat and dairy, lowered their blood sugar more and lost more weight than people on a standard American Diabetes Association diet, researchers said on Thursday.
They lowered their cholesterol more and ended up with better kidney function, according to the report published in Diabetes Care, a journal published by the American Diabetes Association.
Participants said the vegan diet was easier to follow than most because they did not measure portions or count calories. Three of the vegan dieters dropped out of the study, compared to eight on the standard diet.
"I hope this study will rekindle interest in using diet changes first, rather than prescription drugs," Dr. Neal Barnard, president of the Physician's Committee for Responsible Medicine, which helped conduct the study, told a news conference.

wouldn’t it be just that more horrible if the very foods we loved the most were working hard to hurt us? i’m hoping it’s not the case with me. chronic pain vs. delicious food.

if such is the case, my constant prayer will henceforth be: God, please make there be dairy in heaven. didn’t you say the promised land would be flowing with milk and honey?

las palabras

just so you know... i did not win this round. actually. if i were to be completely honest with myself and the world around me...
i didn't win any rounds this weekend. four days with my mom playing scrabble. four day losing to my mom playing scrabble. at least she didn't score any stupid bingos. you know, the ones where you use all yr letters? yeah, i'm not sure how those are done, either. though i've seen it cause my demise time and time, again. she's not lettin' on, either.
and yes. guano was mine. it means bird poo.

en la parada de autobús

"Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him." John 7:38
this weekend i quasi-boasted about loving to talk to strangers. i am, after all, my grandfather's granddaughter and my mother's daughter.
driving home from a "tea luncheon" (isn't women's ministry funny?) i saw an elderly woman in a bright and very pink coat sitting at a bus stop. did i mention i could see her lipstick shade from my peripheral vision going 30mph? i turned my head to get another glance. i was intrigued.
God: you say you like talking to strangers? why don't you go talk to her?
Jess: what? are you serious?
God: see if she knows Jesus
(it's just like God to not answer when the questions are stupid... and sorry kids, whatever yr teacher told you, this teacher is going to tell you truth it's high time you knew: there is such a thing as a stupid question. i think i just proved that quite effectively.)
Jess: i'm losing my mind
but i figure, i've been hurting lately and people who don't know Jesus hurt all the time, so maybe i can minister to the pink lady somehow.
i make a u-dog.
Jess: maybe the bus is gone... that would be great
God: look
Jess: yeah... didn't think so
the strange thing? how easy it was.
the bummer thing?
i couldn't remember where the verse about the inerrancy of scripture was
the amazing thing?
i got the gospel to her right before the squeaking brakes pulled c-tran to a stop
the motivating thing?
couldn't remember the brilliant verse 1 Cor 15:3-4:
For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance:
that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures...
He's gracious, though. gotta do my homework so i can do that whole being ready with an answer deally.

la cosa que ahorra, sostiene

the thing that saves, sustains.
matchless grace. grace without matching.
that God would bestow the gift of life upon me and then pour blessings upon me on top and brimming and over and above even that.
romans 8 is starting to make a lot more sense to me. this is good, since it is about living by the Spirit. the highest and noblest of callings.
who or what can be against me? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?... who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall trouble or hardship...?
He gives all good things. every good and perfect gift is from above coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights... comfort. joy.
what do the lost do without Him? my heart hurts to conjecture. a dark and scary place. it's a wonder to me the suicide rate isn't profoundly higher. tell them! Christ's love compels. tell them!

Wonderful grace of Jesus,
Greater than all my sin;
How shall my tongue describe it,
Where shall its praise begin?
Taking away my burden,
Setting my spirit free;
For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me.

Wonderful the matchless grace of Jesus,
Deeper than the mighty rolling sea;
Wonderful grace, all sufficient for me, for even me.
Broader than the scope of my transgressions,
Greater far than all my sin and shame,
O magnify the precious Name of Jesus.
Praise His Name!

árboles de cereza

So... whether or not these are the reason for my sinus misery... commensurate to their great burden upon my histamines is their beauty upon the backdrop of shiny green grass. Cherry trees are everywhere and it makes the air feel soft and fresh.
Below the tree in our backyard are crocus and daffodils, as well. It makes me sing "All on a Golden Afternoon" (Alice in Wonderland).
Spring is a good thing.

a wintry sonnet

Christina Rossetti

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.--
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.

schauen wir verrückt? ich denke Nr.

what is so brilliant about this is that we are so sun-kissed. a funny thing to see when currently there is snow everywhere and ice to slide in when one drives.

severe weather alert

new england and the pacific northwest have profound discrepancies in their definitions of severe weather.
new england severe: Snow flurries or snow showers. 8 inches accumulated. Very cold. High 16F. Wind gusts from 25-30 mph from NE.
pacific northwest severe: Variable rain showers with a chance of snow showers. Trace accumulation. Cold. High of 36F. Winds variable 5-8 mph.
the warning is wisely issued, however. have you seen these western-types drive in ice or snow? yikes.

xmas list

1.

for Peet's sake

peet’s is my all time favorite coffee roaster. of all time.

life increased in beauty when they decided to open coffee shops throughout the western continental u.s. i can’t remember the first one i visited, but we’ll just say it was walnut creek, california, off of ygnacio parkway. because my cousin worked there and it’s my first memory of a peet’s.

and steadily since, they’ve graced the Pacific side with shops selling not only their delicious beans but coffee drinks as well. i never knew a cappuccino could be so wonderful.

did you know they have loose leaf tea, as well? black currant is amazing. so is the royal Darjeeling.

we have often thought that our future relocations should, in fact, be determined by the location of a Peet’s. interesting fact: there are no Peet’s in Montana. bummer, huh?

skip ahead several years and we find ourselves in the Portland metro area. and while i don’t expect the ‘Couve to have a Peet’s the nearest one (to our chagrin because we knew the distance could not keep us away but just prolong the travel and increase the gas bill) was in the Hollywood district of Portland.

but... as the Lord shines His rays of happiness on His children, even in the minor details of life, He has granted us a Peet’s in the ‘Couve. and all this month the festivities roll.

on fridays when you buy anything, you get a ¼ lb of beans free. (this is an invaluable event inasmuch as i have thus discovered the bean of the year: Sierra Dorado Blend. so complex you can have it as a meal all on its own. also, while drinking it you can sing “El Dorado... Reno’s shining star... feel the excitement!” an old jingle for a casino/ski resort of some kind from the early 90’s.)

free coffee is available 1-3 pm and you can choose what size you want. and yes, i get the large, and no, i can’t get through half of it. but harken to this fact, dear reader: reheated Peet’s drip coffee tastes better than the americano or coffee any other chain can offer. every time.

one important understanding must be made. don’t microwave in the paper cups. it gets plasticky smelling. but even then, it’s the health issue that’s a concern. not the taste. reheating is king.

is this necessary? is this... pathetic? is this ghetto?

to which i respectively respond: yes. probably. and most definitely.

"a blustery day" redefined

here's the view- and understand that the picture doesn't do it justice- of the coast from North Head lighthouse in washington.

the trip to this particular lighthouse wasn't a challenge. a .25 mile walk uphill on a foggy day on a trail that hadn't seen rain in a few days. that was saturday.

today's trek was very different. today was the 150th anniversary of the Cape Disappointment lighthouse so they actually allowed civilians- not just the u.s. coast guard- to climb to the top of it and gaze upon the miles and miles of ocean.

seen here (and i would've taken a picture myself had i purchased a new lithium battery for my camera) is the Cape "D" lighthouse from the shore. it's a very stunning black and white striped thing.

but back to why it was such a gnarly trek. the gale force winds (we listened to the weather band in our friends' subaru) was like, 60 knots at 9 am. i'm not sure what that means to the commoner, but we were at the top of the cliff at noon and could lean right into the wind.

the same rain that forced us to do a mach3 break-camp at the campground below forced its way into the crevaces of our clothing (the plug for underarmor and mountain hardware comes later) as we stomped in wind, rain and mud .75 miles (i know cause it was posted, thusly) on a narrow trail up to the lighthouse. there we climbed 53 freaky, slippery metal stairs to the top and drilled the docent on duty for obscure facts like "what year did they transfer this light from kerosene to a fully automated lightbulb?" riveting.

on the way down we scoped out the coast guard station and sadly noted there were no seahawks to be seen.

things we have learned about camping in the pacific northwest:

• foul weather gear is not such a bad idea... however ridiculous it may look
• always keep the firewood in the car where it will be safe and dry
• when there is a large yellow flame on the coleman stove, know it will warp yr sissy teflon camping pans
• the log cabin model works better than the tee-pee campfire
• and towels soaked in white gas work best
• the mothers that have raised children of the 70's and 80's have within them a wellspring of camping common sense.. they themselves have spent their summers in a hot station wagon and a cold canvas tent... when they suggest you bring a butane lighter... you zip yr lip and bring one
• the same applies for when she says to bring a cast iron pan

anatidae mergus merganser

notice i'm wearing a soft shell. a black one at that. in august. while the sun is up. clearly, i am not in redding.
we went w/ fam to the hamilton brach of lake almanor. i'm seen here with a super-secret rigging of lures of a clandestine nature. we were the only ones getting any hits so it must have been a ingenius combo.
the only action i got was watching a small trout nibble at my lure and swim away laughing at his brilliant avoidance of my hook.
dad, however, nailed a 18.5 inch rainbow. very nice. i got to hike up the trail back to the car with it. we sang songs. (the fish and i).

speaking of cars... ever try to fit three adults over the 5'11' mark in the back of a 4-runner? it's a hoot.
while there, we also saw two hungry osprey catching what we were after, a belted kingfisher zooming by, and a common merganser mama and her young.

¿es el coexistance pacífico posible?

vista perfecciones

does this not look like something out of one of those expensive picture books that lots of people have on their coffee tables but seldom read themselves?
but nay, we were actually here at panther meadows on the south side of mount shasta on saturday. the bubbling brook running through the lush grass was just about the most soothing and heavenly sound we'd ever heard. pam, bryan and i agreed that it was a great day to visit the mountain with the thunder and cool breeze rolling over us.

we all rawred for the camera, drank some homemade mochas, and discussed life's deepest issues like... are we going to get struck by lightning? and, should we maybe get in the car now? and isn't it cool how God made this great big earth for us to tromp in?

pursed and furrowed

that described my lips and brow as the lady at the coffee shop gave me her timid 2 cents about why she served my iced doppio in a 8 oz instead of 12 oz like she said she would. so i questioned it, of course. she replies:
"are you going to milk in it?"
(is that any of her business? i might just put a bit of hydrocodone in it, too. what's it to her? she might call the cops. this is, after all, a christian coffee shop [now there's a subject for future discussion])
"just a bit of half & half" (as i am on a breve kick this summer)
"okay, cause then we would usually charge you for a latte. just to let me know."
(didn't she see me counting out nickels to pay for this out of obligation for using their wireless service?) and (duh. the extra cost is why i asked for a doppio on the rocks. again, i only use a little half & half.)
"well the lattes are too strong" (full of milk i mean)
latte infers the heating of milk, yes? when you pour 2 shots of espresso on ice and add 2%, how can that be considered a latte? allow me to paste from the dictionary website maintained by none other than Princeton University (if we can't trust them, who can we trust?)
latte n : strong espresso coffee with a topping of frothed steamed milk
ha! at what point does the pouring of everyday (non-organic and 2% i might add) milk from a jug constitute a latte?
seems to me the extra price of a latte results from the energy spent in heating said milk under a potentially dangerous situation (every had a steam burn? ouch?) and that is clearly not what would have happened here. clearly she would add a bit of said "jug milk" to my doppio and ice. cause i know she wouldn't have heated the milk and then added to the espresso. would she have? heated then cooled milk? hm.
there's so much to learn about the barista's life. so much.

ode to a greasy urn

aside from the profound maiming potential of a standard garbage disposal, consider the convenience of said appliance. then, further consider life and regular kitchen goings on without the use of such a machine.

is the picture painted a bleak one?

it should be.

the standard disposal (as seen here... i like that it's called a badger. a rather viscious toothy mammal.) is used for only one purpose, yet its spectrum of application is worth stewing over. common knowledge is its purpose to grind nasties up well enough so the household plumbing doesn’t require the sucking snake of purification. the diposal’s execution... during the clean-up of meals, the riddance of peels and skins (except of course of particularly sinewy material in which case you would mourn the day of their sacrifice to the pit as you will surely cause its very bane), the scrapping of spoiled and otherwise inedible foods (by the by, if you leave your standard cheese sauce made from a roux that has been combined with cheddar and a dash of cayenne and paprika, you will find a cultivation of disturbing pools of magenta substance), and of course, the drainage of dishwasher ickies ...is wonderful, resplendent, nay, even pulchritudinous.

however, any machine use is machine wear. i heard that so brilliantly stated during an informational video on gasoline and diesel engines in a small machine technology class i subbed for last month, (which was a nightmare i am quite beholden to forget).

when this appliance becomes defunct it is one thing to deftly and thoroughly scrape food items into the trash can (which necessitates more frequent removal of this bin’s contents to the dumpster than normal… but happily this is not my job). but it is another thing entirely to watch the month’s decrepit protoplasm and remains seep up into the sink in a swirling cyclone of putrescence leaving its particles and slag for the world to see and smell after the liquid has slowly ebbed away.

Let it snow...

It snowed today and it may snow tomorrow. But the people of the Pacific Northwest are not of the same stuff as New England. A dusting of 2 inches and the schools shut down. Pathetic. But it's for the best. B couldn't even get to school in Portland cause there was 2 accidents on the bridge. People don't know how to drive in this stuff.

cuando tengo que comer una hamburguesa

there are many advantages of not dining out:

• save scratch
• know what's in yr grub
• don't get ill from potential gorging
  
• using yr own bathroom
• avoiding inflated prices
• eat in peace
• no annoying doggy bags to feel obligated to eat out of as seen here
  

these are things i must remind myself of when i crave a juicy cheeseburger and frothy soda.

forget gore-tex

monday, we went to the Seattle zoo. forget the space needle. this was the best zoo i've ever visited. it was raining and cold. we saw maybe fifty other visitors. it was a perfect day.
the whole place is laid out like a system of trails cutting through the wilderness. each trail head indicates entrance to another area of the world. southeast asian, african sahara...
my favorite was the pacific northwest trail. there was a pair of brown bears sleeping on their sides, their front paws propped against each other like a dreamy dance. streams bubble over rocks and pools of water teeming with salmon. a beautiful herd of elk roamed the expansive enclosure. eery white-grey wolves stood silent following us with their eyes. it was the most pristine and authentic representation of an environment i've seen.
here's perfect weather-proofing: the incessant rain rolling off one of the two bald eagles' feathered backs.

karrotesuppe
let's discuss delicious vegetarian options for dinner, supper, or even a very hearty (and maybe desperate and creative) breakfast. this soup is great even as a gespacho. no kidding, even picky kids (or husbands for that matter) will likely enjoy this bowl. soooo easy as well. 50 min. tops. ready?
1. sweat like, 3-4 chopped shallots in a bit of olive oil
2. add 6-8 peeled and coined carrots and 2 T sherry/white wine
3. add a pinch of nutmeg and toss to coat and mingle the flavors
4. add 4 cups of veggie broth ( i love Better than Bouillon)
5. salt and pepper
6. bring to boil and simmer for 30-40 min.
7. skim any scum
8. blend till smooth with 1 cup milk
grub! tastes great with cracked pepper on top.