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...