isaac

I just had a dream about deer and buffalo.

If mom saw a bear in our house, she would say, *gasp* "there's a bear!" and then she would try to kill 'im.

Sometimes i freak out about candy and want some more after i've already had some.

You only eat candy at night, or in the early morning. But not in the daylight. Because that's not a good way to start your day. Breakfast is a good way to start your day.

I frake out.

You laugh like a pig.

[in the southernest drawl you can muster] I'm refillin my bullets. That's what i sure am doin'. Doin'. Doin'. Doin'.

ninjas don't attend weddings

(My weak attempt at weekly. No guarantees.)

On Thursday morning some friends and i decided to have the traditional (but still incredibly tasty) muffin at the Little Bread Co. and then stroll about the Farmer's Market--a typical but wonderful summer habit of our'n. As we settled into our outdoor booth (who is a huge fan of the little outside wonderland of garden dining right beside the LBC!?), a small boy of Peter Pan-ish expression popped out from the back Secret Hideout area, and joined our breakfast party.

Of the many learned topics we discussed, which included several games and performances on his part, one of note was his undecided future career. "Well," he said decidedly, "I have six choices." He proceeded to name them, and i'm pretty sure singer, drummer, game-maker, baker, and author were among them. He then sang a song (very impressively, i must add), exhorted us to attend his Hawaii Party, and had us guess the name of a series of books he was reading. The titles all had the same pattern: [pl. noun, usu. fantastical character] Don't [verb] [direct object].

This kid is 6 years old. (His parents own the bakery or something; he was being watched over.) It was the most entertaining breakfast any of us had ever experienced.

Sweet Sassy Molassy

There's something cultural about taking things literally. "Sure thing, chicken wing," doesn't mean you are a piece of fowl, a lotta bone and not a lotta flesh. It means "indubitably." And "You like Cinderella? Lost your slipper?" doesn't mean you have one shoe on and the other was left in haste on the palace steps for your true love to find. It means "honey child, you 'bout to fall asleep." And "train for a triathlon" doesn't mean "start an intense workout regime and spend lots of dollars on things." I'm learning what it really means. And it has cost me several wasted days of my life. "Wasting" means spending in selfish thought and action, whether pity party or prideful presumption; being disconnected from the Creator; believing what physical eyes see instead of what is really there. Days spent in distraction are wasted to me.

On Monday the thought came. "I should train for a triathlon." I took it so literally that i bought running shoes and got a summer gym membership (the HPER) and was looking into getting a road bike. I was going for it. On Wednesday night my dad talked to me about being a wise steward and remaining focused on my purpose in life. It felt like a knife in the heart. I moped around for a while, cried, and wasn't very much fun to be with (sorry, girls). Today i realized that i have been given three goals to work towards this summer, and they are physical, mental, and spiritual--sort of like a triathlon has three disciplines. I want to become a better rock climber so that i can have more fun out in Creation, and make more hippie friends. I want to memorize "the Entertainer" by Scott Joplin so that when people find out i play the piano, i actually have something to play, and they can laugh (it's impossible to hear "the Entertainer" played live and not laugh). I want to become faithful and effective in intercessory prayer so that the nations are shaken. How did i think i would have time for anything else? The good thing is that i needed running shoes because i didn't have ANY athletic shoes. And the HPER has rock walls. And the bike would be great for commuting purposes--the tax money i just got is about the exact amount that it would cost. The Lord is so merciful, y'all! (P.S. i've gotten a lot more Southern since i've been working at Lewis and Clark.)

Sweet sassy molassy.

cookery

I've been mussing about in the kitchen quite a bit lately, and thought i should share some of my successful recipes with you.

Yummy Cookie Things That I Sort Of Made Up
Preheat the oven! 350.
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup white flour
almost 1 cup wheat germ (about 1/2 inch from the top of the measuring cup)
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
Blend these until it looks like a pile of healthy nutrition. Then make a depression in the middle and add:
large glop of peanut butter (maybe around 1/2 cup?)
1 stick softened butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup white sugar
1 egg
several squirts of vanilla extract
Start mashing these around until it starts looking uniform. If it is too dry, add:
another egg
and maybe 2 tblsp vegetable oil (if it's still too dry). It shouldn't stick to the bowl much, and be nicely massive.
Add about 1/2 cup of coconut, and mix again.
Roll with your hands into little balls (about 1 inch in diameter) and bake for about 12 minutes, until the top looks dry. These are so small and yummy that they're hard to stop eating, so beware! Also, i baked some extra dough in the bottom of a pie pan and it made an excellent cheesecake crust.

Really Delicious Bok Choy Salad
Dressing:
1/2 cup vinegar (my recipe said red wine vinegar, but i used apple cider because that's what we had)
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup white sugar (this seemed like a lot to me. Maybe less would be better.)
2 tblsp soy sauce
Mix and set aside.
Salad:
1 head bok choy
Wash and shred. The white stems are good, too, but i used mostly the leaves.
The recipe called for green onions, but i didn't add any.
Crunchies:
1.5 cup chow mein noodles (the recipe called for 2 packages of dry ramen, which i think would be better)
1/2 cup slivered almonds
Stir-fry in a little oil for a few minutes, until crunchy and flavorful. Careful to keep stirring or it burns!
Add the crunchies to the salad, and toss with the dressing. Serve immediately.

Home Again

"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig
Home again, home again, jiggety jig."
--Mother Goose

Pleasantries and Parents

I love Nothern Thailand! It's cool in the evenings this time of year, which is lovely. My situation at the moment is really nice. I'm wearing the most comfortable clothes in the world (Thai fisherman pants and a yummy, soft t-shirt), and i'm listening to nice music on the Internet (a rather slight remedy for the fiasco of leaving my iPod behind). I'm nice and tired from a day of hard manual labor, and have a full stomach from a plate of delicious Thai food. It is definitely going to be missed when i get back! I'll want nothing but rice every day. Well, that's a lie. But i will miss the food here. I'm so happy that we are ending our trip in such a salubrious place (if you get my update emails you'll know what 'salubrious' means!) instead of an unpleasant one. The joy of being here reminds me to cherish this time and dulls the ache of wanting to be home. Note: I've been working alongside an erudite teammate of mine, so more of my proverbial vocabulary drawers have been opened in my brain. It's fun.

More people in the US should be on Skype at 7 am. I wonder why they're not?

Wise people who love and support me (i.e. parents) are so wonderful. Especially when i get wild-haired ideas like i sometimes do, and start heading towards things that i would regret, i am ever grateful for their guidance and foresight. I would never have gotten here, and would be somewhere i wouldn't want to be, without them. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

laughter and tears, worry and romance

As i signed in to my email this morning, there were several messages in reply to my most recent update (i love those!). The first was from Robin Bickel, and it was so full of his personality and zeal for the Lord that it made me laugh with joy. Thank you, sincerely, so much. There were several other equally encouraging emails from dear friends. It is truly a precious thing to hear from loved ones, especially when overseas. And then, another email was from my beloved father, bearing the sad news that my grandfather in France passed away before my mother could get there. We know no details. I'm sure if anyone had been watching me, they would have found it strange that i was crying so soon after laughing.

I haven't been feeling well for the last few days, which is good timing because they haven't been ministry days, just travel and rest. I hope, though, that doesn't affect ministry in Chiang Rai with the HIV/AIDS children, because i know their immune systems are weak or gone. How utterly horrible it would be to cause an early death. I'm pretty sure i'm not contagious at all--just some stomach discomfort, and i've been careful to wash my hands a lot and etc. But still..

Last night i had a lot of time to journal and read. I wanted to read a love story in the Bible, but not the Song of Solomon. So i tried to find romantic stories among the adventures of King David, but the most exciting romance was between him and God. His first wife, who loved him at first, turned against him when he was dancing before the Lord (which was because he truly realized how holy and worthy the Lord is: it was right after Uzzah died when he touched the ark of the covenant to keep it from falling when the oxen stumbled--evidence of the Lord's wrath; then, the ark was moved to Obed-edom's house for three months, and his household was exceedingly blessed while it was there--evidence of the Lord's love and grace) and given to another man. Then, the story of Abigail could have been really romantic, but then David took another wife from Jezreel right afterwards. Lame. They both got captured by the Philistines (or was it the Amalekites?), but it doesn't say anything about David's great relief when he went and rescued them. Imagine how terrible it would be to be kidnapped by the enemy with your husband's other wife. Ugh. So i got tired of David and decided to read Hosea. Let me just say right now that God is way more romantic than any human ever was. I really didn't realize that that was why i was enjoying Hosea so much more until afterwards, and then i chastized myself for my silliness. Of course God is more romantic than man, because He is love. The book of Hosea is so full of emotion--it's the best love story ever, because it is the utmost redemption, the utmost righteousness, the utmost True Love. I could hear God's deep sadness and anger, and then His overwhelming joy, just from reading the words. How right it is to be His, and for Him to be ours. That is what His heart desires all along.

The Latest, Greatest Adventure

Today, being New Year's Eve, was a free day for we In-Thailand folk. It started out slowly, we percieving not that adventure was waiting at its nether parts. In fact, our imperception was more accurate than we thought...

It all started when the sun went down. The light faded, the sky turned a smoggy orange, and reading out on the breezy balcony was impossible without blindness closing in soon afterward. I thought to myself, thought i, "Self, it's about time you and Veronica got some meat on your bones." So i gathered up my belongings (three half-read novels) and began to query my vicinity as to the status of my napping roommate. She had just woken up, and was in the state of mind often called "grouchy" in the vernacular. "Yo Vron," i threw down, "Whaddaya say we grab some grub up in this hood?" She, being kindly disposed to the idea, proceeded to prepare for such a venture.

As we walked along the dusky lane tangent to our dwelling, our conversation turned from mangy dogs and being run over by speeding drivers to the destination that would fulfill our quest, having been altogether indecisive up to this point. I, missing the American enterprise so widely accepted in our five-minute-or-not-innit society also known as the sandwich, suggested to the chagrin of my companion that we settle for KFC. She, being greatly indisposed to such an insult to the culture that we found ourselves in, made a remark to the effect that her preference was simple, English-speaking asian food. As we passed by the proximate option, Hot Pot, she also remarked that she had always wanted to have the cultural experience of cooking the food in a provided vessel centrally located on the table. I, being the kind and decisive friend that i am, considered the option taken, and began to redirect our steps to reach the point of interest: Hot Pot.

Slight wariness set in as we were handed the menu. It consisted of many pictures of single, uncooked food items, and their prices. There was no suggested mixture that we saw, so, I, being the imaginatively experienced friend that i am, started pointing things out to our waiter (who spoke "medium" English, which really meant not much at all). Feeling satisfied with the sensible order of beef, bok choy, and baby corn, with a side of vegetable noodles, i sat back in expectation of our delicous and imminent meal. Veronica, on the other hand, felt uncomfortable at the crowd of wait staff that was accumulating at our table in anticipation of our selections, and began to vociferate against the unfamiliarity and choice of restaurant.

When the order came, we discovered that, in proportion to our pot, it was quite meager. Wishing to fill our stomachs with more than a few leaves and slices of beef, we decided to use our ignorance to our advantage. Desperately, we appealed to the waiter to suggest more additions to the soup that was forming under our attention. He pointed out several more vegetables that suited our fancy. Veronica was ever skeptical, mutteringly eating the green, curly noodles. "The sauce is good," she admitted darkly. However, once there was less empty space in our pot, and it had come to a rollicking boil, the general atmosphere across the table from me improved. The sauce was indeed quite good. Our conversation began to include hopes and plans for much more cookery in the future, as well as many a giggle over our situation.

It turned out to be a satisfying meal, though we were the center of attention and probably a main topic of conversation in the kitchen. Our waiter saluted us with an erudite, "Happy New Year," which we heartily returned. We had had a truly cultural experience, and we both felt improved as individuals as we left.