weak sauce

stardate 08102011

i just read the pentateuch through. (as in, Genesis through Deutoronomy.) then Joshua. very good stuff. i thoroughly enjoyed it.

then i read Judges.

sick. shocking. and super disturbing.
dis-turb-ing.
i will not meditate or even think about some of the stories in that book. at one point, i had to have psalms read to me to wash the imagery out of my head.
(my new least favorite character in the old testament is Jephthath. after reading the account of his life i pretty much hate his guts. the who's who of who not to invite if you want me at your party.)
i get it though. Israel was entrusted with the very words of God. and then messed up. big time.
don't we all? over and over and over...

dirty, dirty Judges. it shows the sheer filth of life without the fear of God. times ten spajillion since it was most the nation of Israel. let me just try, having just read it once through, to stab, in no particular order, at some themes here:

• doing whatever you want doesn't work out so great
• God uses some seriously crooked and confused people to accomplish His purposes
• a group of people need leadership
• it is helpful if leaders aren't of moral weak sauce
• being left-handed can be quite a tactical advantage
• women can be vicious and awful 4:21; 14:16-17; 16:15-16;
• men can be stupid and violent 8:27; 11:35,39; 19:25-27
• God intervenes in the gnarliest of times
• He really means what He says so you better do so

then i remembered a verse that sums it up real nice-like:

"All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people,

who walk in ways not good,

pursuing their own imaginations—

a people who continually provoke me to my very face..."

Isaiah 65:2-3a

by His grace, i hope i may never be counted among those. who provoke.

yikes.

special forces on a special day

yep. that would be the two year-old wearing her new special forces cap. suits her.

this girl loves her hats. and bracelets. and barettes. and bags. that's my accessorizing girl. and she didn't learn it from me.

it was truly hilarious to go through the Costco with her in a bright-white ankle-length lace-trimmed April Cornell cotton dress and a black cap that says,

"SPECIAL FORCES:

Mess with the best,

Die like the rest."

it's pretty neat the things they peddle at the Nob Hill/Raley's.

"two two, two two." and now you know how to count to five.

the world is ours to rejoice in. for we know its Creator.
thus comes our haikus of wonderment:

lizards across toes
the crows whom are all our pets
soft donkey muzzles

bright blue plastic ball
mister potatohead hat
sinking pink balloons

nuggets with Page then
shaun the sheep, cousins, grandma,
grandpa on the couch

hearing the news

when i was small—and i mean before 1987 small—a little boy i used to play with in my grandparents' neighborhood died after being struck by a car. (that is one of my least favorite phrases, by the way. "struck by a vehicle" and variants thereof are very ugly words.)
it was unexpected. when i heard of it i was sitting behind our brown recliner with the brass-looking rivets. a friend was over. and i blew it off.
"did you know that kid?"
"yeah," shrugging my shoulders.
what else was i supposed to do? i'd never see him again. was he in hell? did he trust Jesus? i didn't know how to react.
but i was heartbroken.
his name was Paul.
and sometimes i think about his family.
this month is my grandpa's memorial service. he died in his sleep a few weeks ago. a thing we knew would come. expected even. i read it in a text one morning. i didn't know how i'd react to his death. i knew i would see him again by and by.
turns out i smiled. i rejoiced. all i could think of was the wonders he was beholding. seeing clearly. hearing.
Jesus.
but i'm heartbroken.
his name is Roger.
i always think about his family.
and how they just welcomed him home.

just say no...

...to taking pseudo-ephedra pseudaphedrine pseudi... whatever it's called. don't take it at night. even if the very fear of a head cold yields insomnia. this would be more adventageous. it's 00:50 hours and my resting pulse is 96. is that high? it feels awful poundy.

...to starting new projects. i've officially declared this the "summer of completion." i just gave my friends a quilt i began last spring a full 364 days after their wedding—certainly was very Emily Post of me... barely.

...to clearing bush that looks like poison oak.

...to throwing away crochet patterns from the 1940's.

...to wearing anything but sandals in July.

...to putting the ponies with the other barnyard animals.

the quag and a thing i know

there's a thing i know that sustains me through times of upheaval.
God loves loves loves His bride. hear that? He adores the church.
did He not give Himself up for her? Wayne Grudem writes, "So great is God's plan for the church that He has exalted Christ to a postion of highest authority for the sake of the church..." Whaaa??

wow. chew on that for a minute.
or month.
them that mess with those whom the Lord of the heavenly armies loves are fools. destined for the smite-age even. (smittage. smitage. whatev.) nuh-uh not i. (none of those three lines are sentences. i know.)
i once heard a professor tell a good story to illustrate this. he was an elder of a church. the church leadership was given clear direction by God to take a bold step of faith. all the elders were of one mind and excited to move forward. except one crotchedy old fart who'd been there forever and had hardened his heart. the other elders pled and conversed with this dude but he wouldn't budge. they then prayed that any hindrance to God's plan be removed.
the old man died the next day.
true story. they moved forward and saw God's sweeping hand bless their socks off.
i'm telling you, don't mess with His bride. it's not the road to simple living--simple in the how-not-to-get-rebuked-by-God-in-ways-more-creative-than-you-can-possibly-imagine sense of the word.

yesterday was my birthday

and so i ponder.
besides immediate family (six homes represented) i never get cards.
except my cousin Rebecca. always from my cousin. she gets what i'm just now getting. being acknowldedged for your birthday is huge. it's your one day in a year when folks can say, "i'm glad you're alive," without it sounding super awkward. (okay. it still sounds awkward. but it's warranted.) it takes a bit of forethought and a stamp, but it's way worth the smile at the other end. did i say stamp? yes. because e-cards hardly qualify.
growing up there were something like 37 cousins' birthdays to contend with just on my mom's side. we gathered (wisely) only once a quarter lumping everyone's together. mine was always with Rachel (Rebecca's sister. perhaps ironically.) which was rad since our families were closest anyway. (this happens when your mothers are sisters.)

tim, rachel, rebecca, and me (incidentally after i cut my own bangs. i'm an artist.)

and also if you are awesome.

which is so very obvious from this picture of us in 1982 at the cabin. (sorry sisters. you were not yet.)  you can see our awesomeness clearly. sheer awesomeness. it's radiating off the screen even as you read this. such love. such affection. such a pout from a stong-willed only-child. who could that be...?

anyway, with birthdays three days apart, we had cakes together. opened gifts and cards together. then played with our presents together. hopefully the presents weren't lame. they rarely were. our uncles, aunts and grandparents were good gift-pickers. you can imagine why these gatherings went the way of the dinosaur. just think of the budgeting required to buy 37 gifts a year for snot-nosed children.

which brings me to my second point. why have birthday parties and cake become perfunctory obligations to be ignored? 

sadness.

just because we're adults? don't we enjoy cake just as much? even while feigning a weight-loss diet, do we not ditch it for birthday cake?

lame.
this culture needs a birthday revolution. let it start with me.
happy birthday Rachel! your card will be terribly late.

revelation vs. poultry

it cracks me up when people say, "God told me..." or "I received a word from the Lord," and then proceed to tell me something that can't be found in His word.
consider that "God will add to him the plagues described..." painful sores, bloody fish waters, third degree sunburn, gnawing of one's tongue in agony...
need i go on?
(thanks for that John.)
in the words of a wise man i know:
keep it to yourself.
"maybe you just ate bad chicken."

bird walk

these are the birds i've seen the last few weeks by the sacramento river. i'd take pictures of them if i was able. but i don't have a nikkor telephoto and sick nikon like my dad. so i rely on others to illustrate.
hooded merganser 
gadwall
american widgeon
mallard
northern shoveler
buffflehead
ring-necked
and maybe a common goldeneye
my favorite this season is the gadwall. at first glance, you'd think he was a boring brown. but nay. he is gorgeous. i especially like the black bum.
the following is by Kenneth Grahame from Wind in the Willows, possibly the best story book ever composed. it's the song the water rat sang to tick off the ducks in the river.


Ducks' Ditty
All along the backwater,

Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!

Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river!

Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim—
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.

Everyone for what he likes!
We like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!

High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call—
We are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!

a quarter score and two weeks ago

i have been blogging (rather inconsistently) for five years ago. the first picture posted was of my cat in my apartment. i certainly do not have a cat now. this is us in front of our apartment now.

still rainy, but in a different way. redding, california cannot claim vancouver, washington's epic rainfall count. bryan's nose still has an oakley sunburn line. people in the pacific northwest go to tanning salons to acquire this effect in december. here, you just work outside for a day.
the third entry of this blog is about us visiting redding. now we live there. here. whatever.
in five years i've finally realized a truth about people: most are nuts.
really?
this comes as a shock.
we just got our fourth round of neighbors in the unit behind us. within 48 hours they fulfilled the quota: swearing, screaming, threatening, throwing things, slamming doors, and general domestic dispute-age. why i've been surprised at this every time comes from a gross ignorance i've now officially nullified.
people are nuts.
duh.
we don't fight like that in our family. i've never lived in a home where cussing each other out or whooping on someone is a matter of course. but apparently, brawling with the folks you live with is commonplace.
Nearly three out of four (74%) of Americans personally know someone who is or has been a victim of domestic violence. 30% of Americans say they know a woman who has been physically abused by her husband or boyfriend in the past year. 
gross.
thank you Jesus for a sweet family. this is ever-gracious of You.

trashy food worth purging

i think the creators of fruit loops took color theory or something. or maybe i'm quilting too much. but this cereal seriously makes me want to make a quilt.
why do i even have this nasty stuff in my kitchen? sigh. it was buy one get one free. so duh i bought these and apple jacks. and maybe corn pops.

the colors look so happy together. i think it's to counter the illness you feel after you eat them. and there's only 12 grams of sugar per serving... but it's super toxic sugar. it's the only time i think i've ever read the ingredients start with SUGAR. how do you start with sugar? is this hard candy? ew.
and am i not supposed to be cutting this stuff out of my diet? yes. i have been. really. then i had a cereal craze. it was cheap. so yeah. i see how people who don't have a lot of money are obese. i mean, eating poorly is super cheaper than eating well. man did that binge make me feel ill.
don't do it friends. don't.

one thursday morning

written on my cell at  0400 hours...

life. the series of odd and seemngly unrelated visions.

a french-braided ER nurse with a pink scrunchy.

bryan singing the theme song to married with children.

a moaning obese woman with her gown wide open.

a bubbly x-ray tech with hari reminiscent of a painter of happy little clouds.

princess patient stickers.

the codeine glaze of my child's eyes.

and the blessing of the discharge.

i used to play the piano

which is interesting. but only if you have known me a short while.
i took lessons preschool into high school. i even have a cassette tape of me accompanying my mom singing sandi patti. (pause/silence for a bygone era of quality synthesizer music.)
i used to be rather good. now i forget how to read the notes below the lines. have a hard time hitting each note of a chord at the same time. my fingers forget where they are. and here i am trying to remember how to place my fingers just so to play a run of fifths.
i'm rusty.
whenever i see my grandpa, he asks if i still play. no.
clearly disappointed in me he asks, why?
well, it has a lot to do with the fact i live in an apartment in a county with a high number of individuals toting guns.
and also, somewhere along my history, it started to hurt. so slowly, i played less and less.
not that i ever dreamed it would bring me somewhere. or make me money. or solely fulfill my need for the arts. but it was nice to do. therapeutic somehow.
a gift given to me by my parents. lessons and a piano. do you have any idea what sort of sacrifice it entails having someone learn how to play an instrument in your home? a huge one. at times i was so irritated with practice. with teachers. with the time i had to spend. but they knew better. and it's a grace to me that i can sit down and play what i like. that with practice i could sound good. could. if i wanted to.
by the way, hiromi uehara is my hero. what?! you haven't heard of her? uncultured swine. :)
(if you don't have the patience to watch the whole video, go directly to 2:00. you will not be disappointed.)

shovelers not among us

it got a lot cooler. in the 60's. the wind is chilling my fingers as i type. a welcome change.
with the cooler weather i'm reminded, among other things, of my previous home in the great pacific northwest. how with the changing weather comes the huge migration of birds.
at the ridgefield national wildlife refuge (here's a little picture of it), we used to drive slowly around the loop and watch for the newly arrived birds of the season. mallards, wood ducks, canada geese, red-tail hawks, bald eagles, yellow-headed black birds, soras (which have the coolest call in the world. just click on the little play button to hear it. you won't be disappointed.), snow geese, cinnamon teals, ruddy ducks (with blue bills!) even sandhill cranes once. to name a few.
but my favorite has always been this little guy:

i know. he's adorable. i was thinking the same thing. he's like a mutant mallard. but much prettier. and as long as i've drawn his bill, i think it's actually longer. they swish it around in the water eating plants. like how someone would swing a metal detector.

i think people shoot them and eat them. i'm not going into that.

they're only here in the winter on the way to mexico. and in california, i've only seen one pair at delevan nwr near sacramento. i'm hoping i get to take a trip there and see him this winter. 

thursday september 9, 2010 11:07

see what i mean: 

http://vimeo.com/2095656

she makes a queue o' wee folk

the melting pot one

currently, i'm phasing out refined sugar. it's part of an inner quest for peace.
peace from pain. (other recommended fasts are from coffee, red meat, and dairy. who are these people? and why do they hate joy?)
anyway.
i didn't know why chef ramsay calls this a hot chocolate "fondant" cause that's like, fancy cake frosting. i looked it up and it means melting in french. ahhh. i can see why he renamed it. it sounds much more neato.
regardless of what it is called, i do know it had sugar in it. i know cause i made it. duh.
but i am allowing a nice dessert once a week, so this was this week's from Gordon Ramsay Makes it Easy.

and it's so ridiculously easy. it's almost wrong. you melt two things together, whip two other things together, and add some other thing. it bakes for 12 minutes and you flip it over. like i  said. ridiculous. oh. and delicious. though next time i'd use 72% cocoa instead of 60%, and add liquer for sure. just to make it even more ridiculous.

especially when paired with peet's uzuri blend. mmmm....

the book says "100 sophisticated but simple recipes." sophisticated. read: never heard of unless you when to a culinary school in france. but truly simple. which i can get into. it's like, a minimalist's approach to diabetes, really.

(but to cancel it out, my sis and i made this beautiful roasted butternut squash soup. very wintery of us. i know. but that's what happens when it gets in the 70's here. we go a bit crazy.)

a dream i had

okay, so in this super-rough sketch of mine, where proportions and perpective are a thing of disregard and shading has gone the way of the dinosaur...
my cousin, rachel (of ridiculously beautiful ayrshire, uk) and i are playing wii. everyone was wearing white choir robes. isn't that obvious? except she. she was normal. stylin' even. don't take my color pallete's word for it. seriously. i have limited drab-colored pencils to work with.
we're in a an old folks home. i tried to recreate this ambiance with said drab colors. again... obvious. we're not old. everyone else is. but we fit right in, of course. and are playing on an ancient television. the kind that they tried to make look like furniture?
our grandparents had one like this for a long time. it was sweet. and sort of more like a stocky refrigerator than anything high tech. it was brown. and smelled weird.
the old folks were cleaning my clock at wii. and rachel was laughing hysterically at me. isn't that obvious from her facial expression?
dreams are weird, yes? this goes without saying. and so often i can determine why certain features are in my dream. like what i ate, who i was thinking of, what movie i saw on hulu. but this one was way random. and worth sharing.

left is ridiculous ayrshire. by glasgow. heard of it? i know. it's like she's famous. 

it's like they say...

before you have a kid people tell you all this stuff about how it will be when you have one. some of it's true. some of it isn't.
the following is true for us. because God blessed us with this one. one He knew before she was created. to be our love and joy. this little one. for His lovingkindness is everlasting.

this little one is precious.

she's very chill.

makes great faces.

gives joy and affection.

is a true and beautiful gift.

and is a year old.

O LORD, our Lord,
       how majestic is your name in all the earth!
       You have set your glory
       above the heavens.
 From the lips of children and infants
       you have ordained praise...

the two lennys, part II

pools are very important to the residents of redding. and while we've had a cool spell of high nineties this week, you will still find us basking in a chlorinated bowl of relief.
i have a pool. well, i have access to a pool between the hours of 7 am and 10 pm with the help of a walk across the parking lot and an old key. what good is apartment living if you can't partake in a communal pool? i got my polio vaccination. i'm good.
this pool is great because it is cool. it refreshes. and if one desires to observe a significant, albeit dead, representation of local bug life, it's perfect. i've never seen so many bugs in one place. and they're all floating and easy to study.
and if one swims at dusk, one is likely to see a few family of quail strutting by. adorable. (tasty, my husband would say. good eatin' he would add.) just adorable. well worth the germ and polio risk.
the second pool in my life is at my parents' house. this pool is great because it is not cool. you can swim at midnight without any risk of hypothermia.
it is dark and pretty. it's rated one of the nicest in town. (i guess there was a contest or something. very appropriate for redding.)

it also has a leviathan. named lenny. he cleans the pool. runs over your feet. wraps his tentacles around your legs. scares the resident golden retriever. and squirts water all over when stuck on a rock.

but because of lenny, this pool is always clean (save maybe some golden fur after a certain pup takes a dip) and bug free.
it also has quail. but bird dogs don't like birds in the their yard. weird, huh?
anyway, my neice and i went "swimming in gramma's pool" today and i must say. the folks who thought of making artificial ponds in one's backyard are geniuses. they deserve the ranks of the creator of cheerios, sewing machines, and frisbees. on par with kalashnikov even.

the two lennys, part I

what place is shady even at night?
when's the last time you've been to a denny's? i know. think hard. my girl kelly and i couldn't remember so we went. that, and the black bear was closed for maintenance (bear-ification? whaaaa? they still don't have bear paw prints on the carpet. this is stupid. and thusly not bear-ificated [not to be confused with bifurcated]).
so as we sat in the car mourning the loss of real mac and cheese, we thought long and hard about where to go after 10 in redding. bars and in-n-out don't count. we came up with one place. and this is that one place.

initially, what is so endearing about lenny's-i-mean-denny's, is this sign. as if we would get seated served and cashed out in less than 90 minutes denny's. i just wouldn't happen. so already our hopes are lifted and dashed.

first off, the cherry cola float. it was only after a few sips that i came to wonder... why is this pink? what is making my float pink? cherry coke is not pink. am i sucking down a dye-rich food? why yes i am. upon further reading (there is fine print at denny's if you're faithful to look for it.) i learn that it is coca-cola with cherry flavor added. and who knows what was in the ice cream. i didn't ask.
regardless. it was delicious. i mean look at it. no photoshopping! this is true to life. i know. you can hardly believe it. you also wouldn't believe the film of ick that was on that paper-thingy i placed next to it for juxtapositional effect. (i made that up. just now.)



the club was alright. nothing to write home about. the bacon didn't speak to me, you know?
in the background of this next photo is little round balls of love. pancake puppies. aside from the fact i find it terrible disconcerting to eat anything with nomenclature from my favorite animal (besides the red panda, of course), it was very tasty. how could they not have been? basically they are berry and white chocolate chip pancakes rolled in a sphere and deep fried. deep fat fried. and they came to us hot sprinkled with powdered sugar and wholly unnecessary side of dipping syrup. (check the outrageous nutional value of just one.) so of course i had three.

i regretted this later. but not as badly as i anticipated. there is, after all, something magical about acidophilus pills and herbal tea (homemade yo! calendula, chamomile, peppermint, and lemon grass).


on a side note: blogger is really ticking me off with this layout mess. how hard is it to get their code savvy? apparently, very.

shotgun

i've been working on a quilt. and when i say working, i mean, sometimes i pick up the hoop and hand quilt for 30 minutes. it's supposed to be for the small one's first birthday.
it's looking more and more like a christmas present.
i'm learning to set reasonable goals.
i'm learning that i truly do not know what it means to set reasonable goals.
so i grace it.
for you see, often my mind races so. the creative thoughts ignite and explode all over my brain. their intensity is overbearing. and there's no telling what, if anything, will control the choke. sometimes it's like the improved modified to extra full and i don't know how to control the pattern. we're talking grouping of pellets at a given yardage. we're talking crafty ideas and thoughts. we're talking, grab some graph paper and get sketching. dump out the fabric stash and get scheming.
where do goals fit in here? they don't. save one: don't start it if you aren't going to finish it. (or afford it.)
it's a hard one to respect. because of the shotgun effect. but i'm getting better. and my sketchbook fuller.
and someday, maybe i'll be more of a doer. but for now, i'm mostly a schemer. something this world needs anyway.
i hope.