Try It, You'll Like It

Having grown up on the typical American diet of meat and potatoes (with an occasional foray into the world or rice), I wasn't introduced to tofu until high school. Not that I tried tofu in high school, but I heard about it and was convinced that it couldn't possibly be delicious. In college, I tried the "blackened tofu" that our cafeteria offered. It was detestable: firm tofu sprinkled with cajun seasoning and grilled. It even sounds disgusting.

Finally, in seminary, I was served pan-fried, extra-firm tofu and fell in love. Marinated in a small amount of soy sauce and sesame oil, I could have eaten it like popcorn. In fact, after using it to top our salads or stir fries, the extra bits would disappear quickly. These perfectly crisp, delectably seasoned bits of flash-fried goodness constituted the perfect re-introduction to a food I once considered unfit for human consumption.

Since my re-introduction, I've enjoyed tofu in many forms, but it wasn't until very recently that I prepared a recipe that included tofu for myself. Inspired by my vegetarian friend, Matthew, who promised to post any number of hippie tofu recipes on Recipe Awesomeness, I decided to post one of my own. I would love to claim this as my own creation, but it comes from The Commonsense Kitchen, by Tom Hudgens, my favorite cookbook of the past few months. This Curry Tofu Salad is terrific as a sandwich filling or served atop a delicious lettuce.

Ingredients:

1 pound firm tofu

3/4 teaspoon of salt, plus more as needed

1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced

2 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons canola oil of other vegetable oil

6 large white mushrooms, wiped clean, trimmed, halved, and sliced

1 1/2 teaspoons mild or hot curry powder

1 small carrot, peeled and finely shredded

2 green onions, thinly sliced

1 medium stalk celery, finely diced

1/4 cup mayonnaise, plus more as needed

1 tablespoon yellow mustard

1 teaspoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, plus more as needed

freshly ground black pepper

3 to 4 tablespoons chopped fresh dill, parsley, or cilantro (optional)

Instructions:

Crumble the tofu finely in a medium bowl, sprinkle with 3/4 teaspoon salt, and mix well.

Finely mince together the ginger and garlic. In a wide skillet over a medium-high flame, heat the oil. Throw in the garlic and ginger with a pinch of salt and saute, stirring, for 20 to 30 seconds. Add the mushrooms with a pinch of salt, then add the curry powder and cook, stirring, for another minute. Add the tofu, continuing to stir as the tofu heats through and excess water evaporates, 4 to 5 mintues. When there is no more excess water, remove from the heat and let the tofu cool completely in the pan, about 30 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients: carrot, green onion, celery, mayonnaise, mustard, soy sauce, lemon, black pepper to taste, and optional herbs. Taste for seasoning, adding more salt, pepper, lemon juice, or mayonnaise to balance. Serve immediately or refrigerate.

Ten Times Better than Kraft Dinner

Yesterday, I let you all in on my newest passion: good food. Well, the two best ways for me to share that passion seem to be sharing food and sharing recipes. Since I can't pass a plate through the computer screen, I'll do the next best thing - share a recipe.

Since mac 'n' cheese was the dish that finally convinced me of the superiority of fresh ingredients and deliciousness of cooking from scratch, it seems appropriate that it be the first recipe I share here. So, here goes!

Ingredients:

1 lb. pasta (any kind you like, but fun shapes are always better)

2 cups shredded cheese (2-3 kinds with complementary flavors, not pre-shredded - cheddar and monterey jack are good ones to start with)

3 tbsp unsalted butter

3 tbsp flour

1-2 cups milk or cream

salt (anything but table salt...blech)

freshly ground pepper (white if you don't like black flecks in your cheese sauce)

nutmeg

mustard

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Generously salt the water and add the pasta. Stir to avoid clumping. Pay attention to how much time your pasta needs to cook. Overcooked pasta is one of the worst parts of boxed mac 'n' cheese. When it is finished cooking, drain the pasta, but do not rinse it.

As the pasta cooks, melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When it's completely melted and bubbly, add the flour, some salt and pepper, and a dash of nutmeg (This is called roux, pronounced "roo." All the best cooking words are French). Stir continuously to ensure that the flour doesn't burn.

After about a minute, slowly add the first cup of milk. Using a whisk will help you avoid lumps in the sauce. When the milk is fully incorporated and bubbly, slowly add the cheese, a handful at a time. Stir in a figure eight pattern to avoid slopping the sauce over the edges. If the sauce gets too thick, add more milk. If it's too thin, let the heat work its magic of evaporation.

Taste the cheese sauce to determine whether it needs more seasoning. Add salt and pepper as needed. Some folks like to add mustard for a little tang. Hot sauce and garlic are more my style. When the sauce is finished to your taste, toss it with the pasta and enjoy. This amount will probably serve 4-6 people (more as a side dish).

Once you master this basic recipe (a matter of making it once or twice), experiment. One of my favorite variations includes onions, carrots and celery that have been sauteed in butter (a.k.a. - mirapoix, another fancy French cooking word). Another involves the addition of chopped ham or bacon. When I was working as a nanny, I would add a bag of mixed vegetables to the boiling water three or four minutes before the pasta was ready and brown some hamburger. Mix it all together and you've got the most "incredible hamburger helper" ever. I've never tried it, but I imagine various nuts and fruit could be delicious depending on the cheeses you use and your level of culinary adventurousness.

The point is, once you've got a recipe under your belt, you own it and can change it however you like. Go crazy, people!

Good Food

Over the course of the past couple years (particularly the past few months), I have become a bit of a food snob. No, I don't eat much in the way of exotic foods. Caviar and foie gras hold little appeal for me. My snobbery takes a different form; I can't abide mediocre food.

Why dump canned, boxed or frozen food into a pot and call it supper when only a little more work would produce an infinitely more delicious meal? Though I once hearkened to the siren song of time-saving convenience foods, the experience of scrumptious, yet uncomplicated dishes has convinced me that a little more effort is worth the abundance of flavor gained.

The dish that finally convinced me was macaroni-and-cheese. One night, I decided that Kraft dinner just wasn't cutting it anymore and purchased the ingredients to make some mac 'n' cheese from scratch. As the pasta cooked, I made the sauce, flavored with three cheeses, nutmeg and mustard. By the time the pasta was done, the sauce was also ready to go. In the same amount of time it would have taken to prepare a boxed mix (in which the pasta is inevitably overcooked and the sauce made from neon orange powder), I had a delectable, creamy, tangy, utterly satisfying meal. To make it even more satisfying, sometimes I add a little ham or some veggies or both! Of course, not all from scratch food takes the same amount of time as the boxed version, but the difference in satisfaction level between the two is light years apart, though. At least, for me.

So, anyway, I just don't get the point of food that's merely good enough. If we have to engage in a particular activity multiple times each day for our survival, isn't it worth our while to make said activity as enjoyable as possible instead of just getting it done?

Stop feeding yourself the slop the TV tells you is delicious. Buy ingredients instead of prepared foods. Make a fresh version of a boxed meal and marvel at the difference. Don't waste your time or calories on good enough. Life is too short for mediocre food. Join me in my food snobbery that demands robust flavor, wonderful texture and complete satisfaction.

Waking Up

Sometimes I hesitate to write my thoughts where everyone can see them. Words are so important to me - posting them for mass consumption can feel too vulnerable, like giving something away that I can never get back. But, today, I was overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings that flood my mind around this time every year. Fall is a restless time for me, a time when change seems not only good but necessary for survival.

This morning, I was thinking about the feast I'll be making for Sunday dinner and remembered that I needed to get some more apples for the bacon-apple crisp that I'm making for dessert (as if anyone will have room after the roast chicken, spaghetti squash with spicy eggplant and tomato sauce, home-baked bread, and cabbage salad). So, I set the alarm on my cell phone as a reminder and headed out to work. After hammering home some grammar rules with an exceptionally bright student, I headed home. Getting apples from the local orchard required a detour from my usual hypnotic route, however, and I soon found myself cruising down a small highway lined with flaming trees, empty cornfields, and signs for ham suppers (take-away only!).

The surroundings coupled with the perfect autumn afternoon light (that is never harsh because it's always sloping in rather than shining down), reminded me of fall days in my childhood when we would head to Burrville Cider Mill to watch them make the yummy brown liquid we were dying to sip. As we drove up the impossibly steep hill the mill sat on (which may only exist in my childhood memory), my brother and I would begin to salivate at the smell. While we were there we would enjoy as many free samples as we could sneak before being herded back to the car loaded down with apples and donuts and at least one gallon of cider.

That memory inevitably triggered another: this one from my junior year at Houghton. I don't remember who came up with the idea, probably Barry, since he was from the area, but a bunch of us took advantage of one perfect fall day by tromping around Letchworth State Park and visiting a local cider mill to get apples and pumpkins. I remember laying in the leaves and singing "How Great Thou Art" at the top of our lungs. I remember enjoying cups of hot apple cider once we got back to campus. I remember loving the people I was with and the sweaters and jackets we were wearing and the colors of the world around us.

My friends in seminary and I went apple-picking each year, too, at Terhune Orchard, where every weekend was apple festival. Every year, there was a new educational display to wander through, some bunnies to pet, incredible caramel apples covered in Reese's Pieces, and a necessarily lame corn maze, ruined by the impatient folk who walked through the stalks rather than finding their way out. I think I went three times my senior year.

Most of my best memories are from these months of chill and crunch and slanted sunshine. For many people, this time of year signals an ending. The awakening of springtime is long past, when skin is first experimentally bared after the long months of freezing. The heat and playfulness of summer have been extinguished. Winter lies just beyond the piles of dried leaves.

But, for me, fall is the time I wake up and want to move. I love winter. Maybe that's why I don't mind the first signs that she's on her way. Spring is lovely, but its usefulness to me is in that it starts the process that will provide abundant harvests as the summer dwindles. And summer, oh summer, how I loathe her heat and humidity. While most people dance for joy in the sunshine, I hide my delicate skin and sensitive eyes from the sun's burning rays, just waiting for the time I can once again don my well-worn hoodie and enjoy some time outdoors.

It's as if each leaf that falls is another message begging me to get out, to drive, to visit, to look, to walk and to listen. I revel in the perfectly crisp and juicy apples waiting to be plucked and eaten, the orange pumpkins and warty gourds and multi-colored mums that fill carts to overflowing at the local orchard, and the hay rides and corn mazes and hot cider by a fire while it's still just warm enough to be outside at night. Some produce comes in as early as May and June, but autumn is the real harvest season, when a sense of urgency pervades waking life, insisting that we put away all we can before it's time to hibernate. Fall is a time when we all get to nest like expectant mothers, anticipating the slower months of winter by stocking our pantries and getting out while it's still convenient and doesn't involve all the extra preparation of traveling with the threat of nasty weather.

Say what you like about this being the season of death and decay. Everywhere I look, I see life, life and more life.

Etsy Schmetsy: Wrapped up in Books

So, I never blog anymore. Whatever...I'm too busy making books and taking care of kids. But, just to share, one of my books was featured on this blog. Woot!

Etsy Schmetsy: Wrapped up in Books

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Great Point Lighthouse

Great Point Lighthouse, originally uploaded by kate e. did.

So Them

So Them, originally uploaded by kate e. did.

Two of my favorite people in the world asked me to take photos of them, so we had a quick shoot last night. This is one of my favorite photos from our time because it paints a brilliant picture of their relationship and personalities.

Also, it had been almost nine months since I took photography seriously and this shoot with Daniel and Megan reminded me of how much I love it.

Chapel Sermon

Hey, it's been an insanely long time since I've updated, it's true. But, just when you thought I was gone forever, here I am with a new distraction.

I preached in Miller Chapel on my birthday and if you click here, you can download the file to take a listen. It's only about ten minutes long and included my friend, Matt, reading the Scripture text. Unfortunately, the wonderful singing was not miked and is, therefore, not included.

Enjoy!

Purpose-Driven Choice?

I know I haven't posted in a while. Get over it. I also realize that I haven't followed through on my promise to write about my view of homosexuality...I'll get to it. Just let me find the words. Right now, I have something completely different on my mind.

I'm a little riled up about something; more riled up than I ever would have expected, actually. I'm rather disappointed in Obama's decision to have Rick Warren pray at his inauguration. There are many reasons why people object to this choice. Some are displeased because he has a problem with homosexual behavior. Others are upset because they don't think religion should be included in civil ceremonies. I have to admit, I agree with both of these groups a bit.

But, that's not my main objection to Senator Obama's choice. I think his choice is bland, made for political reasons and, thereby devoid of positive spiritual meaning. There's no way Obama could make a choice that would please everyone, but this choice may please too many. To my mind, Rick Warren represents pop religion. Honestly, I would be very surprised if Obama had been impacted by him in any significant way and that seems dishonest.

I am aware that Rick Warren has done charitable work in Africa and other places, but so have many other spiritual leaders that Obama could have chosen. I also realize there is something important about reaching out to and representing different demographics during the transition to a new administration, but I wonder if prayer is the proper venue through which to do so. And, if it is the proper venue, shouldn't he choose someone who would appeal to an even broader demographic than Rick Warren, such as a Catholic priest or a woman?

This morning, as I was discussing this choice with a friend and her parents and I was surprised to find that I began tearing up as I mused about why Obama hadn't chosen Jesse Jackson. Jackson wept over Obama's election, it would be a brilliant and meaningful statement to have him pray over Obama's presidency. Rick Warren just feels like the same old thing to me instead of a representative of the change our new president promised.

This doesn't seem like enough, but I think my thoughts might come together better in conversation. So, I'd love to hear what you think. Does it matter who prays? Should there even be prayer during civil ceremonies?

Are We Killing Babies

This week, in my class on Christian ethics, we've been discussing abortion and embryonic stem cell research. The reading has been interesting and compelling on both sides, but in the final analysis, I like to label myself pro-choice and anti-abortion. This means that I think abortion is a tragedy, especially when it is used as contraception by people who are simply careless, but I'm not ready to tell a woman who is impregnated by her rapist that she is bound to carry that child to term.

The questions of embryonic stem cell research have raised different questions for me, though. Several of the authors we read discussed the large number of embryos left over after fertility treatments (as many as 100,000). These embryos will never be implanted. In fact, many of them would not be viable even if they were placed in a womb that could nurture them. Since this is the case, debaters ask, shouldn't we make the most of these leftovers for research? Maybe you'd like me to discuss this question, but I'm more interested in why we have so many leftovers.

Fertility treatments are amazing, no doubt. The fact that science can "create life" is fascinating and provides the hope of having biological children to many. My question is, why are we all so intent on having genetic children? Is there really some biological imperative to spread our DNA? If there is, should we, as reasonable human beings, allow this imperative to determine our actions in such a way that we create multiple potential lives for every one that will come to fruition?

What does it say about how we think of children that so many American insist on having biological children? that so many Americans go to incredible expense to make that desire a reality? When we procreate, is it because we want to love and nurture young human beings or because we want a new accessory? If we place a priority on the former, the genetic make-up of the child we raise should carry little weight. However, if we want the 2.3 kids, kids that have mom's eyes and dad's chin, that every American is supposed to have, we might place a greater priority on genetics.

No, I haven't dealt with fertility issues, but I am getting older with no current prospects of marriage. It's possible that one day I may struggle through the pain of not being able to become pregnant. If that happens, rather than spending tens of thousands of dollars on fertility treatments and creating multiple embryos, that may or may not live, I would hope to have the presence of mind and compassion to pursue adoption, even adoption of an already fertilized egg that would otherwise be discarded.

Am I being harsh? Some might think so. But, shouldn't our views of embryos and fertility treatments and abortion be commensurate with our view of the purpose of having and raising children?

On a related note, one of my classmates made the claim that the discussion of personhood is a scientific one. I didn't get a chance to respond to this particular comment, but I would like to claim "person" as a sociological/psychological/social science term. The natural sciences might be able to determine whether a fetus is human, but beyond biological designations, I think natural science has little to say about who is and is not a person.

Too Late, My Friends

So, the whole point of blogging is to write about things when they happen rather than more than a month afterward. That's probably why I'm a failure at blogging. I like to have time to think and process, which takes a little longer for me that some people. On September 11, I began writing a post about a sign in the audience of the Republican Convention. Unfortunately, nearly six weeks have elapsed, and even though I remember what I was going to say, it doesn't seem like it would have the same power at this late date. Let's just say I think the idea of peace through power or force is a poor idea, one that will never have lasting results. Some of John McCain's supporters seem to have different ideas.

There have been a lot of things happening in my life in the past year that didn't seem appropriate blog fodder and now that there are some, I've gotten out of the habit. I'm going to try in the next few weeks to be more disciplined about the practice in an effort to determine whether I am at all interested in continuing this exercise. Maybe my first post (after this one) will fulfill my long-ago promise to write more about my views on homosexuality.

As Promised...

Here I am to give you some insight into my changing opinions. Rather than reinventing the wheel, I'm going to post a paper I wrote this summer during field ed. Hopefully, this will give you a better idea of how my thoughts have been developing. This particular piece was written as I considered my view of biblical authority, which has become a key issue in the debate over the acceptance of homosexual people into full fellowship in the church.

Hebrews 4:12 - For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

“Word of God” and “Bible” are not synonymous. The word of God can be found in and through reading, studying and meditating on the biblical text, but “word of God” is a more specific term, which can be applied to words on a page but primarily refers to the person of Jesus Christ.

The word of God is living and active. Life involves constant movement and adaptation. Relying on the Bible as a source of authority must take this into consideration. It is tempting to let the words on the page become hardened, retaining interpretations that no longer hold meaning for new situations, which the authors and editors of the Bible never even considered much less encountered. Consider, the Bible was written in a patriarchal culture in which women tended to be illiterate. It would have been irresponsible to have those who could not study biblical texts in leadership, which led some authors in the New Testament to prohibit women from being elders. However, in our culture, women are just as educated as men, forcing us to reconsider the prohibition on women in the pulpit as it applies (or doesn't apply) in our own churches.

The words in the Bible were inspired, not dictated, by the Holy Spirit. Though we are frail and prone to error, God used human beings to write the words of Scripture and continues to use us to interpret them. Knowing this, we must make allowances for the human elements in Scripture, being careful not to turn description into prescription. Care should also be taken in not adopting the cultural prejudices of the biblical writers or characters as our own (e.g. racism, sexism, shunning the poor, disabled, and diseased).

Some people think of the Bible as an instruction manual for life. Thinking in terms of the text from Hebrews cited earlier, which compares the word of God to a sword, it seems more appropriate to think of it as a tool. The instruction book model may leave the impression that the Bible gives an easy and obvious answer for every life situation. On the other hand, a tool model gives the idea that the words and ideas contained in the Bible enable us to live a more faithful life. Such a model also serves to remind us that the Bible is not a fit tool for answering every question. For instance, the Bible is not a textbook which can be used to support scientific research. However, it is a tool which can be used in dealing with the ethical implications of applying scientific discoveries.

Further, viewing the Bible in too simplistic a way does not follow with the interpretive traditions of the Jewish rabbis, the church fathers, the reformers, or modern theologians. The Bible is something much more complex than a yardstick.

Given the way human contexts have varied over time and space and the depth of meaning to be found in the biblical text, it seems reasonable to assume that there could be many different and faithful interpretations of the same text. There are not unlimited faithful interpretations of every text, but neither is there one unquestionable interpretation for any. For example, a community of people living with AIDS in South Africa and a small congregation of farmers in rural Idaho will likely have differing interpretations of the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Ultimately, the Bible only has authority in the lives of Christians if it can offer guidance in living faithfully toward God and one another in our time and place. In order for the Bible to function in this way, we must consider both the context of the author and our own. We must allow the text to challenge our assumptions and we, in turn, must challenge the text's assumptions. And we must remain dependent on the Holy Spirit, who can enlighten our hearts and minds to find what the text is saying for us, for now.

The Bible doesn't give us easy answers. We are held responsible for immersing ourselves in the texts of Scripture as often as we are able in order to discern its meaning for us and for our communities. Unfortunately, the busyness of our lives often keeps us from pursuing deep study and reflection. It is tempting to rely on notes at the bottom of the pages of our study bibles or the interpretation provided by the familiar voice on the radio or face on the television. Listening to alternative voices is an important part of biblical study but as much as is possible, we should examine what familiar voices tell us in light of what we see in the text ourselves.

This is a work in progress, which makes it a bit stilted, but I trust that as I have more time to consider the question of biblical authority that my ability to express myself on the subject will improve. I'm interested to know what any of you might think about what I've written here whether you agree with me or not. Thanks for taking the time to walk with me.

The Three Most Controversial Things Happening In My Brain...

Controversy has always been my most feared opponent. I hate it with a fiery passion because being controversial often leads one down a path toward confrontation, another thing I avoid at most possible costs. But, though peace can be a wonderful thing, constant avoidance is exhausting. What's more, most people never get a chance to see who I really am and to know what I really think. So, throwing a lot of caution to the wind, I'm going to make myself vulnerable here and write about three things that will surprise some of my readers.

Let's start with what will probably seem least surprising to most of you. Over the past few years, especially my time here at Princeton, I've been forced to consider what my next step in life should be. For many years, I was convinced that one day I would be a professor. The field of study I was interested in changed, but the end goal remained the same: Ph.D. and professorship. This summer, however, I decided to begin the process of ordination in the PCUSA. It's a step I never expected to take. I never fought it in the sense that some of my friends fought their callings to ministry, I just never really considered it. First Pres of Salem did a number on me, though. Up until my arrival there, almost all of the people in my life simply supported my opinion that I was not cut out for full time ministry. But, week after week in Salem, dedicated members of that congregation, including several retired ministers, people who had no idea what my vocational goals were, constantly affirmed my gifts for ministry. Scary step, yes, but I think I need to take the wisdom of these encouragers seriously. Also, active participation in worship from week to week was something I enjoyed more deeply than I ever expected. When we had communion, and I couldn't even serve the bread, I felt profoundly sad. Though I still wonder whether ordination should really be necessary to participate in that way, it is right now, so I'm going to work with the system.

I still can't picture myself in parish ministry, but I suppose that could change in the next few years as I walk through the steps of the ordination process. My supervisor in Salem actually suggested becoming a campus chaplain, a position that would allow me to combine my love of academia with my desire to work with folks face-to-face. I would still love to get my Ph.D., and expect I will sometime in the not-too-distant future, but studying for and taking the GRE, researching and applying to programs, and learning German won't all fit on top of the million other things I have to do this year. Instead, I'm going to take a few years off from school and get a job in a church, to gain some experience and remain engaged in "professional" ministry, and (possibly) a second job, which will help me pay the bills.

Moving on to my second item... one that will probably seem least controversial to some and most irritating to others: I'm going to vote for Barack Obama. Perhaps I have taken a little sip of the kool-aid on this, but let me tell you, it tastes good. I almost wrote "pretty good," but that would be a serious understatement. Most of my years of political awareness have been spent in knee-jerk support of conservative candidates because that's what you do if you're from my city, my church, my college, but I'm done with their pragmatism. I don't actually think that Barack is just a starry-eyed optimist, but if he is, so what? My life could do with a little more optimism. Believe me, I can supply all the pessimism for myself and three other people. Keep the pragmatists in the trenches getting things done, but give me a leader who can dream.

I'm not supposed to say this, but I'm okay with having higher taxes if it means children will get health care or that we will wean ourselves from oil so that our earth can begin to heal or that students who come after me won't have to go into serious debt to finance their education. Sure, I don't really want to surrender half of my salaray, but I can live in a smaller house with less stuff if it means that a family down on their luck won't have to live on the street.

Finally, and with little explanation because that will come later in it's own special post, I think it's okay to be gay; not a sin or a problem. I don't love homosexuals despite their "lifestyle," I love every part of them and encourage them to make wise and healthy decisions, just as I would a heterosexual person. There is a lot of thought behind this statement, but I'll lay that out more fully in a forthcoming post. Before that, I'll be posting a paper I wrote this summer concerning my view of biblical authority, which will probably help clarify why my thinking has turned in this direction. But, for now, I leave you with enough to chew on for a few days.

Things Are Looking Up

Things Are Looking Up, originally uploaded by kate e. did.

I took this photo the weekend before I left Oregon at the wedding of two folks I know from seminary. It was a lovely event. Too bad my social awkwardness and introversion led me to leave before they cut the cake.

How Do I Love Thee, Chevy Malibu?

Let me count the ways...

I'm so glad to have my car back. While it was gone, I made do and thought I didn't miss it that much. But now that it's in the parking lot ready for my use, there's a huge weight off my shoulders. When I need to go places, I won't need to beg and borrow and I won't need to wait around for someone else's schedule to clear up. It was okay for a couple years, but it's nice to feel more independent. I'm beginning to think that a small part of what made Princeton so unbearable for the past year or so was the inability to escape. Now I have that.

Now I can go home for Christmas without bumming a ride or taking the bus. Now I can visit friends in various places thinking only of the cost of gas. Now I can go to the grocery store or Target or the bank when I have a free afternoon. Now I can offer other people rides.

I forgot how much I liked my car and now it's sort of like getting it for the first time all over again. It runs so quietly and smoothly. It's roomy enough that my head doesn't hit the ceiling and that most of my junk will fit into it when I leave Princeton at the end of this year. It's an ugly color, but goldish cars don't get pulled over as often as some.

If gas didn't cost so dang much right now, I'd be going on joy rides all over town! Yay Malibu!

The 29th Olympiad

There must be something else going on that's making me a little emotional, but every time I've watched the Olympics in the past few days, I've begun tearing up. Sometimes it's during a particularly spectacular win, sometimes after a crushing mistake, and sometimes when folks are just going about their business of being incredible athletes.

It's amazing how inspiring it all is. I'm in awe of Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson and Michael Phelps. In fact, I'm in awe of anyone who can make it to the Olympics. Sometimes I dream of becoming a champion curler and going to the Olympics but, fortunately, I have better things to do.

Maybe what makes me most emotional is the possibility of unexpected things. Every event has a favorite competitor, but sometimes, the impossible happens and some unknown from Burkina Faso or East Timor sets a world record or bumps a favorite out of contention. These small triumphs of the human spirit give me hope.

I'm not a huge fan of sports, but when the Olympics are on, I'll watch almost anything, including synchronized swimming and stopping just short of ice dancing. I love the stories. I love the interviews. I love the looks on the faces of parents and coaches and competitors.

There's been lots of discussion about the location of the Olympics this summer. I can certainly understand the impulse to denounce China, given its record of human rights violations, etc., but I can't bring myself to boycott these games as some have urged. Watching doesn't indicate my support of China's political structure, but rather my support of the athletes and enjoyment of the competition.

As it is, I'm going to keep watching, keep cheering, and probably keep crying.

To quote one of my favorite movies ever: "PARLE VOUS OLYMPICS!!"

Here I Am

Back in the "dirty Jerz," as I've heard some of my classmates refer to it. They aren't kidding either. After spending my summer in the Pacific Northwest, with the mountains and the ocean and the mild weather, this place feels dirty and crowded. It doesn't help that it's hot and humid and the thought of walking outside makes me a little nauseous...

Anyway, done complaining. My last few days at FPC Salem were busy, but great. It seemed like everyone suddenly realized I was leaving and that they would have liked to get to know me better, so I got about eight invitations to lunch or dinner. No complaints from me. Eating alone was getting old, anyway. Given a couple more weeks, I would have been attached to the point of tears. As it was, I didn't cry, but I sure wanted to.

Jarrod, the youth pastor, is getting married in September to Megan. Megan and I became fast friends and in the past few weeks especially formed this unit in which we laughed constantly about things a sixth grader might talk about. It was wonderful and fun and I already miss her. It reminded me of the way my friendships with Laura and Rebecca formed when we first started at Houghton. There was nothing to force, we just enjoyed each other's company.

This past Sunday was a little overwhelming as dozens of people stopped me to wish me well and ask what my future plans were. Everyone was kind and gracious and made me feel like my time there had actually meant something to them. If any of you need to do an internship at a church and think you might like Oregon, get in contact with First Presbyterian Church of Salem...stellar group of people.

Leaving wasn't fun, but it wasn't awful either. My flight didn't leave until 12:30 a.m. on Wednesday, so I spent several hours waiting at the airport after Audrey, the CE director, dropped me off. Other than a small boy watching Charlotte's Web at top volume in the waiting area, it was a pleasant time.

The flights themselves were not very restful. I understand why the cram airplanes full now, but that doesn't mean I like it. Usually I can fall asleep on any flight, but I don't think I got more than half an hour while I was in the air. I almost missed my connection because fog was delaying arrivals but not departures.

I rode the train into Philadelphia, where Geila picked me up after she was done with her CPE meeting. Then I was finally introduced to the hostel in Wissahickon Valley Park, where Geila has often found retreat. It was lovely to transition back to the east coast there rather than in a lonely, half-unpacked dorm room. After not having slept for nearly fifty hours, I finally nodded off while watching Aladdin. (tee hee)

Now I'm back. My room is bare... Better get started.

Especially for Becca and Rebecca

Earlier in the summer, I made apple crisp to feed to the youngsters who attended the weekly Wednesday events here at the church. It wasn't the best apple crisp I've ever produced, but with a little ice cream it was still yummy. Many of the children turned up their noses at it. However, there was plenty leftover for the church staff to enjoy a bit.

Anyway, as the church financial whiz and I were enjoying our after lunch snack, I mentioned how spoiled I'd become by the amazing Pampered Chef apple peeler corer slicer gadget, without which I hadn't made apple crisp in several years. Well, it turns out that Virginia owned just such a gadget, but had rarely used it. Unbeknownst to me, she went on a hunt through the storage areas of her house and, finally, uncovered it and brought it to me in a lovely gift bag yesterday. It's still in the box! Some of the pieces are still in their original wrapping.

All I can say is, "WOOT!"

What do you title a sappy post about how sad you are to leave a place? Whatever the answer is, place it above.

Given that my previous top choice for field ed placements was in central Pennsylvania, coming to Oregon was quite an adventure. In the process of working at the church and traveling about the state, I've fallen in love. If I can find an adequate job in the Pacific Northwest, I plan to move here in the not too distant future. I never really put much stock in the differences between the east and west coasts, but everything they say is true. And, fortunately for me, I fit really well out here.

I'm still not entirely sure what I want to do immediately after I leave seminary, but I'm pretty sure that I'll take at least one or two years off from any further schooling. Geila is trying to convince me to teach English in some foreign land. It's a tempting option. Taking part in a Christian Ministry in the National Parks is another interesting transitional option. Don't worry, though, I'll keep you, my five regular readers, up to date.

Slideshow

I know I already put up a bunch of pictures from my weekend, but if you're interested in seeing all 76 I posted on flickr, click on the picture of the funny, Dr. Suess-looking flower above and you'll be taken directly to a slideshow. Enjoy!