oatmeal sundays

The food was delicious, which inevitably transforms a meal into a celebration. I like oatmeal; I can eat it plain, with brown sugar, with salt, with yogurt, with mashed bananas, with raisins, etc. My affinity is probably linked to my Scottish ancestry; porridge is in my DNA. I've even eaten oatmeal for all three meals in a day; it's almost as versatile as eggs.

However, this weekend was a first. A. put out about ten bowls of toppings for the oatmeal; she called it "oatmeal sundays". It was delightful! It was the first time I had crushed mint chocolate chips in my oatmeal. Wow. I highly recommend it. I was unsure of the combination, but couldn't think of another opportunity to try it.

I dare you to mix something funky into your porridge. Ha. Oatmeal gone wild!

the retreat

My weekend was rich. Thursday started in Yadkinville, chatting with winemakers. It's energizing to be around people so passionate. The weekend ended in Lexington, VA with The Foam Henge, a replica of The Stone Henge... which was apropos considering it was a retreat for creativity. The biggest impression I have of the retreat is the people: wow. I spent my days in a pleasant awe.

I've decided to write about it in snip-its. "Communion Wine" was my first installment. It's the first poem I've written in about 9 years. I'm no poet. Hence, the brevity. Less room to make a fool of myself.

But, it's an excellent summation of the retreat. I felt free and comfortable enough to do things that I don't normally enjoy: writing poetry and singing. I was in the company of fabulous poets and singers, but I felt unashamed of my paltry offerings. I was the fat kid happy to finish the 100-yard dash oblivious to the ambition of winning. It's relaxing to be outclassed.

Why I don't write poetry:

Communion Wine

Among rows of baby grapes,
In an old white farm house
We relax at the kitchen table.

It's a hot one o'clock:
We pet the spoiled dog
And enjoy cold lemonade.

Between sips, we discover
Winemakers are farmers,
And farmers are philosophers.

retreat (v)

I'm retreating starting 6pm tonight through Sunday evening. I just need a ride home on Sunday night-- oops. It'll work out... right? Just like finding a job... right? On our way up, we're stopping at some vineyards to investigate possibilities for October's retreat.

I need some quiet time. My soul's wallowing in a stinky place.

donations to the cause

Today I dropped by my spiritual advisor's monastery because I was in town. He asked me if I had a moment, so I chatted with the office manager while he went and got something. He came back with two books on prayer, several pamphlets and pages on prayer (St Joseph and the Divine Mercy, etc), and a real rosary. It was the rosary given to him to mark his fifth anniversary with the Benedictines. I was glad to have it with me as I found out several rounds of bad news; squeezing the handful of beads reminded me that I wasn't alone.

(And three non-monks wowed me with gracious gestures of their time. I had a good interview today with a principal even though I was in jeans. He asked if I could come in tomorrow, and I told him no that I'd be out of town. He asked if I could be there in twenty minutes: I said yes. A newspaper man talked himself into helping me as I sat silently on the phone. And, a grad school friend agreed to meet with me and my pastor boss to chat vineyards on our way to Virginia.)

Sunday, M gave me Anglican prayer beads with Anglican prayers. I like the Anglican prayers the best, but it has 33 beads. I prefer the 5 decades of the rosary. So, I think I'm going to incorporate the anglican prayers into my rosary. This is such flexidoxy! But, when I figure out what works, I'll share. I'm finding beads helpful-- they're tangible without being intrusive.

And, a friend gave me a Virgin of Guadalupe candle. I burn it every now and then. Three people have contributed to my faux Catholicism. It's nice to know people care enough to give!

fabulous quotation

‘Men go to gape at mountain peaks, at the boundless tides of the sea, the broad sweep of rivers, the encircling ocean and the motions of the stars: and yet they leave themselves unnoticed; they do not marvel at themselves.” Augustine's Confessions. X, viii. 15

Augustine was a bit of genius who had a bit of impact on all of Western civilization. With little ditties like this, you can see why.

survey

Next week I'm going to meet with a head-hunter of sorts; she's doing it as a favor to my aunt, I gather-- or sheer altruism. Last night and today I filled out a survey of questions she asks her clients. The process of answering was clarifying and exhausting; I relearned the power of a good question*. It revealed how cloudy my thinking is and ways I've gone off course. It is good timing after taking the Meyers Briggs and getting the JOTC. I'm preparing as much as possible so that I can glean as much as possible out of it!

Instead of focusing on everything that's wrong with me and things I lack (hey, who doesn't want to be beautiful?), perhaps I should consider my strengths as strengths even I have no idea how to market them or myself**. For instance, I have no business looking for a job in public schools or even Christian schools in this area, I didn't fit in when I was a student and I don't fit now. And, the survey helped me define my need to believe in what I do. This week, several people (my uncle and a sales lady) have mentioned particular subjects that make me light up. Also, interning at my church, I'm getting insight into the way I tick. I'm not the efficiency model that my sister is.

Also, I need to differentiate between things I like (writing) and things I'm good at (exegesis). Furthermore, I need to figure out the components of situations that I like and loathe. I need to dissect all my interviews into their different components. Generally, I think in terms of emotion (how I felt during and after) and the person (do I like, do I connect). It's caveman logic. I'm more evolved than that; I have the mental facilities to take a step or two further.


* Both Plato and John Calvin are fans of self-examination and self-knowledge. They fail to mention that it is exhausting and humbling. DeSales suggests looking into yourself only in view of the cross. Otherwise it's too dark.

**Hope is hard (and sometimes laughable) right now. But, I found this prayer of confession, based on the ten commandments. One of the first questions is "Have you despaired of God's mercy?" Hmm.

random fitness thoughts

Whenever I fill out surveys about hobbies and interests, invariably I write running, reading and writing*. This list is a indication of my introversion-- although I hadn't thought about it in those terms before. I really do love these three things. Any of these three things can redeem a bad day. But, running is the highest alchemy. It's physiological: I'm a much more enjoyable person to be around when I'm training/running regularly.

And, I bought dumbbells today. My arms are shockingly flabtastic-- I realized this thanks to some recent pictures. And, J's blog talked about getting workout ideas off YouTube. I'm going to do it. I'll report if there is anything worth reporting.

Note to M: I'm starting to train for Nashville 2009!

Completely off topic: does humor count as a talent or spiritual gift? Seriously. I'm supposed to fill out a sheet on my spiritual gifts and I'm at a loss. I asked the chief, and she asked me to name the spiritual gifts like it was a multiple choice test. So, I'm not the only one at a loss about my spiritual gifts. I feel like I should know this because I went to seminary, but I took a more academic route.


*Perhaps, I may add sewing and gardening to the list if I can muscle through the novice phase.

aptitude

The Johnson O'Connor Research Foundation Bulletin 165 arrived in the mail today. I devoured it promptly. The bulletin had an article on family members and how their aptitudes played out in their careers. JOCRF has done aptitude testing and research since 1922; the test is performance based rather than interest based. It's not about what you like, it's about what you are good at-- there's not always a correlation. There are two sessions of testing when you play with blocks and tweezers, listen to fake words and tones, compare colors, et cetera. I thoroughly enjoyed the testing.

Ultimately, I found the test results encouraging. I have six really strong, extremely bizarre aptitudes and about ten skills that I fail at. I have a cousin who took it and he scored moderately in most everything (which is how most C-level execs score). Seriously, my little line of bar graphs is a source of entertainment, where his are nice and steady.

I took the test my second year out of university. It's helpful but vague. It gives fields that play to your strengths and others that would thwart them. Their philosophy on aptitude can be summed up in this analogy: a guy who's 5'4" can play in the NBA, but a guy who's 6'7" will never be a jockey. Essentially, a person's strengths define her more than her weaknesses. I can improve my manual dexterity by sewing and palying the piano but I cannot ignore my ideaphoria by becoming a CPA. JOCRF contends that most mid-life crisises and identity issues come from people not using their aptitudes.

It was to get the bulletin and recall my bizarreness. Here's a link to an article"On Aptitudes". Here's jocrf.org.

Are we pancake people?

I read a fabulous article:"Is Google Making Us Stupid?" It's well worth printing. It raises valuable questions about how we're letting the information age define us. Reading books is becoming obsolete-- what does that mean to people of the book? How do our attention spans affect our souls? Et cetera.

international salon- june

I brought a vase of gardenias to the discussion on the genocide in Darfur led by David Johnson last night. What does one bring-- let alone wear-- to a Saturday evening discussion on ethnic cleansing? Emily Post was no help.

Joking aside, I'm behind of learning, but at one level it seems so flippant. Maybe, I'm the flippant one. A human's capacity to suffer and do evil and good overwhelms me. All of our verbal manuevers and euphemisms for evil irk me. "Genocide" and "ethnic cleansing" would survive the censorship of a Victorian Parlor. Am I so far removed from death by my culture of medicine, hospitals and technology that I consider death as entertainment and abstraction?

After asking stupid questions, I still don't understand the motivation of the killing. Perhaps, looking for logic in this situation isn't the best strategy.

I remember in tenth grade researching and reading for the Security Council on Model UN. I remember sitting at my desk in West Dorm crying over the articles and statistics, being unable to articulate why I was crying to a friend. The malnousishment statistics for African children: girls were even more underfed than the boys. The mothers chose to feed their sons more than their daughters. I remember reading about rape as a war strategy. Life is grotesque. Last night, I looked at the subjects of David's pictures and saw women with dignity and joy instead of defeated victims.

I think it was Thomas Merton or Ravi Zacharias who said that we pose the question of evil incorrectly: it's not "where is God in this situation" but "where am I in this situation".

Before going, I chatted with the chief about it. She listened patiently and then asked why discuss the injustice in Darfur when their is plenty of injustice to be dealt with here. It's a valid question. After last night, it's not as if I'm empowered to somehow help the men, women and children being targeted. Yet, there's bound to be some efficacy in learning about the people even if I don't understand it. I guess it falls under "the communion of the saints" banner in the Apostles' Creed.

ideas for stories

I went by the local newspapers to check out how one goes about inquiring about free-lance opportunities. I spoke with pleasant, middle-aged editors. They handed me their business cards and told me to send them a resume and writing samples. The editor from the smaller paper told me to come up with ideas that interested me and he'd help me shape them into stories. So, here are some of my ideas:

1. The issues in local politics. what are the major decisions that will be addressed on the city, county and state level. And, what are the parties' stances on them.

2. Running: where are the best trails and loops? Do running groups exist? Maybe ask the history of a cross country running team. There definitely seem to be more runners here than when I was in high school. Running stores. Local races.

3. Nonindigenous plants that do well. Does my japanese eggplant have company? I could talk to the local nurseries and botanical garden maybe.

4. Local master's rowing club. I could talk with my friend on it.

5. Sewing-- are there sewing clubs?

6. Adult art, dance, music, cooking lessons? Where, when, why? Do it from a personal perspective. Link it to TV shows.

7. Ultimate frisbee and frisbee golf?

8. Container gardening. Other types of Gardening.

9. Histories of buildings/homes over 100 (?) years old.

10. Interviewing local writers.

11. The hat-designer; the local mad-hatter.

12. Recipes with stories behind them.

13. The Art of Picnicing.

14. Gastonia in 100 years.

15. Local farms: how to buy ostrich, etc?

16. Composting. Different types. How? Why?

17. Beekeeping.

one-week mark

Masako, the eggplant, wins best performance in growing and first plant of the second batch to produce a blossom. Her leaves fascinate me (they have delicate thorns along the spine of each leaf; plus, they're very excitable/reactive).

First runner up goes to Golda. She has produced no blossom but a lot of leaves. She caused me panic at first because she wilted so much in the heat; she looked cooked. But, she's adapted and now thrives in the heat. Her leaves are dark and large.

Hillary the cucumber has made a sensational come back in my garden. She got dubbed Hillary due to her poor performance; the first day out, her two largest leaves turned white. I asked people what I was doing wrong, and nobody had a clue what had caused that phenomena. Now, if you were to look at her, you'd think I am an overprotective parent. She's gorgeous, busy growing.

Theodora, Medea, Kate, Elizabeth, Catherine and Teresa are in good spirits. Goliath the Gardenia is out of control; his branches are weighted down with his glorious blossoms. Peanut has produced another puny blossom.

yes, more frustration please

Yesterday was delightful. I got a glimpse into exciting possibilities for my future through talking with two amazing associate pastors. They're both in their thirties, published authors and have cobbled out positions that suit them as they are. They offered interesting and encouraging ideas of how to frame my situation. So, I felt hopeful last night about getting to use my talents and passions.

Then, as I applied to MORE interim crappy jobs this morning, I got frustrated. Most chains have online applications that require the applicant's social security number, and I don't give out my ssn to third party people online. I was whining about finding a job to a friend, and she pointed out that people find jobs through connections. I believe she's right, but I have no connections around here and no money (because I can't get a job) to more or travel to where I have connections. Official quagmire. A scarce economy is all that meets the eye right now.

The Far Side cartoon where the kid is working out a math problem on the black board and for step 3 he writes, "a miracle occurs". Right now if a Starbucks manager bothered to call me back, it would seem a miracle. Perhaps, it would even be one.

P.S. My plants survived the overfeeding disaster!

DISASTER!

I mixed in a generous tablespoon of blue fertilizer to the gallon of water, but those were the directions for outdoor plants. Since my plants are in containers, they count as house plants. House plants get about half a teaspoon of fertilizer to a gallon. So far, the ladies are being total champs about the fiasco. So the Chief said, "Over fertilizing burns plants" just in case I wasn't feeling guilty enough. If they survive, they'll be stronger... and I'm guessing taller with singed roots.

While I was thumbing through one of the props for my budding faux Catholicism, I came across a groovy blessing:

Saranam (Refuge)
Receive our thanks for night and day
For food and shelter, rest and play.
Be here our guest and with us stay.
Saranam. Saranam. Saranam.

I have a busy, exciting day ahead of me.

INTJ

You know what I find truly fascinating? Me. And, you should be fascinated too. This is my Meyers Briggs score. I know it's legit because I took a quiz on Facebook. I'll soon find out my blood type. I'll keep you posted.

naming ceremony

After talking with M on the phone for an hour, I decided I needed to name my vegetables. Precedent? The Chief named her gardenias: Goliath and Peanut. I soon got overwhelmed with what motif to name them. Are they girls or boys? What do you name vegetables? But, I needed to name them because, let's face it, it's way more fun to write about Goliath than "the large garenia plant".

Come to find out, my vegetable plants are girls because they're beautiful, productive hard workers. Let me introduce my cast of garden characters:

Catherine of Siena is Grape tomato plant #1.
Teresa of Avila is Grape tomato plant #2. Since there are two identical plants, I decided to name them after the two female doctors of the Church.

Elizabeth is the name of the heirloom tomato. Elizabeth the First.

Kate Bushnell is the squash container. Squash is prolific and travels just like Kate.

Golda Meir is the yellow bell pepper. So, it's a little punny, but there's no messing with this lady.

Medea is the organic red bell pepper. Hell hath no fury... and red is the color of passion. And, Euripides is my favorite Greek tragedian.

Theodora is the red bell pepper. A Byzantine empress with no aversion to blood.

Hojo Masako is the Japanese eggplant's name. She goes by Masako.

Athena, the gray-eyed goddess, is the peppermint.

Hera is the orange mint.

Hillary is the cucumber plant. She's tenacious but the heat's taking it out of her.

I decided to name them after historic and fictional women (excepting Hills) instead of friends because I would feel terrible and awkward if I killed Bonnie, for instance. Kate's already dead and Athena immortal: they can take the hits. Hills is used to it. Next year, when I'm a more experienced gardener, there will be a Betty for sure.

No doubt you'll be reading more about these lovely, ambitious ladies.

I was chatting with The Chief about the attrition rate. She clarifies, "By "attrition rate" you mean you're expecting some of them to die."

-Yes. Die or not produce.

-Well.

She wasn't pleased to hear my callous attitude about her great, great grandbabies. But, it needs to be noted that the Chief told me to keep a tally of expenses to see how much my latest adventure costs. It's as my brother says, "Being a hippy takes money." Along those lines, I told the high-school girl ringing me up at the nursery: "These sure are expensive vegetables." She avoided answering me by proceeding to tell me about her Grandma's garden.

Now, I need to read up on composting because it makes a lot of sense. I did it in Vancouver.

(Afterthought: Alas, I come across as a little crazy in this post.)

busy bee day

Today I buzzed with activity. My main project was my container garden: 2 grape tomato plants, 2 crook neck squash, red bell pepper, organic red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, cucumber, orange mint, peppermint, japanese eggplant and a heirloom mountain tomato plant. I staked all the plants but the mint; for this, somebody told me, "You are an optimist." The seedlings do look silly tied to four-foot bamboo shoots. But, they'll grow... tall, strong... and straight. I also filled the containers with drainage pebbles and topped them with decorative pebbles to prevent as much evaporation as possible. You will be hearing about the vegetables and the gardenias, Goliath and Peanut. I should name the vegetables as well.

I also read in Acts. Paul had a lot of down time in his life (I consider jail downtime). I visited with G and then P in the hospital. Ran numerous errands of varying importance but with different levels of urgency. I watched the Belmont Stakes: man, imagine how happy the people are who bet on Da' Tara with 38:1 odds. Yowsers. I hate it for Big Brown and Eight Belles, but it was a solid race. The idea of a horse being worth $100,000,000 freaks me.

Tomorrow is another busy bee day, which is good. Projects energize me. Yay, sewing, gardening and writing club. I'm going to make a great octagenarian. I just need to learn how to play bridge.

new venue

Due to exasperation, I'm checking out the blogging here. It's nostalgic: it brings back memories of blogging in my green chair in my apartment in Marpole. Ah, the good ole days.

The closest thing to excitement today: buying a heirloom tomato plant and cucumber plant and agreeing to an internship in chronological order. We visited our family friend who had surgery Wednesday. I called a ton of businesses to see who is hiring. A lot of chains only have online hiring. My MBA sister was discussing the extreme genius and efficacy of HR. I told her I thought HR is the devil's spawn.

Perseverance: If I can just hang on, I'm getting a Our Lady of Guadalupe candle soon from a spontaneous fan of my faux Catholicism.

Pet peeve: People who drive SUVs complaining about gas prices. Irony, anyone?