I am entering my last four days of complete freedom before A) Doug is off for New Year's Day and B) I start Russian classes. Just a few days left to exercise before I start the sedentary life of a student. I realize that it has been 25 years since I've been a full time student. I hope I can get my mind wrapped around this. I'm trying the visualization that was so helpful in my move to D.C. I'm seeing myself attempting all the sounds and words even if I'm not confident. I don't think I have the leisure to wait for surety. I'm picturing myself practicing with Douglas in the evenings even though I don't always like it when he corrects me. I am preparing myself to be done with Christmas candy (BOO!) and snack on raisins and cranberries, drink water (no Pepsi). I'm going to pack my luches so I don't spend money and eat their (yummy) pizza every day at the cafeteria. Doug and I are planning on buying new bicycles (ours are in storage) so we can ride to the Foreign Service Institute together. His classes begin in March.
I really feel for my students now. You have no choice but to be in student mode. I had the option to study Russian or not; to take a quick, short set of classes or this lengthy course. I don't mean to make being a student sound negative, it's the whole freedom thing. In a way, I'm envious of my students. When you have no choice that can make discipline easier. You must answer to someone. You are accountable to more than yourself alone. Even our laws require education. I am accountable only to myself who, by the way, is the most important. Seriously. Our personal standards for ourselves should be the highest as long as we don't get unrealistic with perfection.
I don't have that problem.
I understand that the first day or two of language school is testing to see how we learn best. Am I a visual learner? Oral? Tactile? The teachers they hire are the best of the best. Each teacher is required to be a native speaker. If I do my work, I should be conversational by the time we leave.
When we get into the Russian itself, the classes are M-F approximately five classroom hours daily with apx. three hours daily independent study. We'll begin with learning the cyrillic alphabet for a week or two. I already know that alphabet which made me think, "Great. I'll be teacher's pet. I can relax." Then Doug wrote something in Russian in cursive. I've been printing and reading printing. I have to learn to write and read again. Imagine that, will you please? We are periodically required to get exposure outside of the classroom to our language of study. This may entail visiting a Russian Orthodox church service or renting a movie in Russian. My friend Rada speaks Russian and has offered to work with me. More on all that when I actually get into it.
This is random but, it was not lost on me that my first Winter in Minnesota brought the record breaking Halloween storm and my first Winter here in D.C. brought a record breaking snow. You may not know that my final summer in Phoenix brought record breaking heat (124 I think). I cant' wait to see what I do to Uzbekistan. Maybe it'll be positive and the Aral Sea will miraculously rise in water level. If you don't know the story of the Aral Sea, here it is in a nutshell. During our Civil War, cotton supply to Russia was cut off. We were busy. So they decided to grow cotton in a region of Uzbekistan. But they needed water, so they rerouted a river that emptied into the Aral Sea. Eventually this drained the sea which caused a catastrophic chain reaction of consequences including the dying off of the fish, an extraordinary amount of dust particles in the air, unclean water left behind, and on and on. As a result, people are unemployeed, sick and without basic resources. It is said that it is unfixable. Read about it if you get the chance, it is sadly interesting. It is a strong fable for our current behaviors and the effects on the environment.
I wasn't going to tell anyone this but if I say it, it's more likely to happen. Bobby McFarin (the singer who lives in Minneapolis) broke through to popularity with the song "Don't Worry; Be Happy". He made amazing instrumental sounds with his voice that most people had never heard before. When asked how he came up with that unique sound he once answered that he went into his basement, did not listen to other people's music for a period and just began playing with his voice. Surely this did not last only a few days to get the incredible sound he achieved but it gave me an idea, one I wish I had thought of months ago. I love telling stories. I love singing. Both use my voice. I am currently not singing with any group so I am out of practice simply because I'm not keeping myself well-vocalized. One of my goals in Uzbekistan is to share stories with the people. Here's my idea: I'm going to use all this alone time to play with my voice. I'm going to spend time each day singing. I'm going to practice telling the stories aloud and learn to listen to myself. I'll read and practice delivery and expression and timing. I can do this with many of the half-written stories I have and, perhaps, I can actually finish some of them.
Poor Douglas. I say that alot. This means, of course, that throughout the next few days I'll get all excited about this story or that story and he'll "just have to hear it." My captive audience. Ah, the blessing of a one-bedroom apartment.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Perspective
It snowed all day Saturday (and a good part of the nights on each side of it) so Doug and I were grateful to have nowhere to go except up two floors and down the hall for dinner. Rada and I met in the gym where we both exercise each morning. She and I are funny together because we each think that the other is sooooo beautiful; definitely a small mutual admiration society. Doug says if we ever got dressed up and went out together we’d be dangerous. I agree. The men would be helpless puddles at our feet.
Anyway, Rada made plov for dinner. Plov is a traditional Uzbek dish of spiced rice and any combination of chicken, lamb or beef (we had all three Saturday). Also invited was a man named Tim who had worked in Afghanistan with Peter (Rada’s husband). They showed us pictures they had taken during their time there.
I was a little distressed to hear either Peter or Tim – I don’t remember which – refer to one man with whom they had to deal as an idiot. I could tell by the way it was said that the man was either difficult (as in works differently than we do) or ignorant - neither which calls for referring to him as an idiot. At the end of the pictures I asked what made the man an idiot. Thankfully, Tim said he wasn’t an idiot he just had nothing to work with. The man had no electricity and no training for starters. This got Tim to talking about dealing with the Afghani people in general in our quest for peace and democracy there. At one point he said something like “How do you teach people democracy who don’t even know that the world is round?”
That weighed heavily in my thoughts the rest of the night. I hear about the lack of education in places like Afghanistan and feel for the ignorance of the people there. Saturday night I realized how ignorant I am. Some of the Afghan people only know their little desert corner of the world. They see Americans come in and try to fix things (build bridges, build schools that the Taliban blow up) but they don’t know where these people come from. And they don’t know where they disappear to when their tour or post is over.
Tim said they saw men with hands black from never having been washed. There was one photograph of Tim and Peter standing with two Afghan men dressed in layers with their heads wrapped. They looked like relatively well dressed men. Tim remembered how heavy their stench was as they posed for that picture. It’s not just personal hygiene. At a voting station, a 14 year old girl ran the booth even though she was too young to vote. She was the only one who could read. And she was stunningly beautiful. She was with one or two other girls about her age who would not have their picture taken nor would they uncover their heads. This girl did not wear her head covering for the picture. Some people who work building with the Americans actually work dually for the Taliban also. So they spend all week building a school then go off and plot and execute its destruction. God help them. We see this as counterproductive; they see it as survival.
But I’m going to go back to that shocking statement about working with people who don’t even know that the world is round. I tend to think of uneducated as being illiterate, unexposed to the sciences, unfamiliar with other cultures, etc. These people may know no more than what they have needed to survive in the deserts of Afghanistan. They may have never heard of Ireland or heard a recording of any kind. I guess in their contact with Americans they have seen their picture taken with a digital camera.
I know that the people I’ll meet in Tashkent will not be that uneducated but it still has me thinking. I’m not used to being the, uh, sharpest tack in the box shall we say. No laughing. Now I’m faced with quite possibly in some social situations being the worldly, knowledgeable one. That has great appeal. I, however, have spent a great deal of my past life judging others. I don’t want to find myself thinking of any one as “idiot” because of their circumstances and my frustrations with not being able to deal with the difficulty of communication in such situations. I also don’t want to get an over inflated ego. I need to learn how to expose them to as much as I can while humbly learning what I can from them which apparently is going to be a lot more than stories and cooking as I originally thought.
Doug is extremely patient with people who are ignorant. He has little tolerance of those who choose ignorance. This is understandable. We (you and I) live in a world in which almost all knowledge is ours at our bidding. We cannot learn it all but if we don’t put a concerted effort it is a shame. We can build up treasure and see it vanish to poor investments, mismanaged banks or our own lack of discipline. We can build up our bodies only to lose our strength to age or illness or an accident. If we build up our minds, it is ours to keep as long as we live. Ooh! Ooh! I’m on a roll here (if not original). If we build up our spirit it is ours for eternity.
Anyway, Rada made plov for dinner. Plov is a traditional Uzbek dish of spiced rice and any combination of chicken, lamb or beef (we had all three Saturday). Also invited was a man named Tim who had worked in Afghanistan with Peter (Rada’s husband). They showed us pictures they had taken during their time there.
I was a little distressed to hear either Peter or Tim – I don’t remember which – refer to one man with whom they had to deal as an idiot. I could tell by the way it was said that the man was either difficult (as in works differently than we do) or ignorant - neither which calls for referring to him as an idiot. At the end of the pictures I asked what made the man an idiot. Thankfully, Tim said he wasn’t an idiot he just had nothing to work with. The man had no electricity and no training for starters. This got Tim to talking about dealing with the Afghani people in general in our quest for peace and democracy there. At one point he said something like “How do you teach people democracy who don’t even know that the world is round?”
That weighed heavily in my thoughts the rest of the night. I hear about the lack of education in places like Afghanistan and feel for the ignorance of the people there. Saturday night I realized how ignorant I am. Some of the Afghan people only know their little desert corner of the world. They see Americans come in and try to fix things (build bridges, build schools that the Taliban blow up) but they don’t know where these people come from. And they don’t know where they disappear to when their tour or post is over.
Tim said they saw men with hands black from never having been washed. There was one photograph of Tim and Peter standing with two Afghan men dressed in layers with their heads wrapped. They looked like relatively well dressed men. Tim remembered how heavy their stench was as they posed for that picture. It’s not just personal hygiene. At a voting station, a 14 year old girl ran the booth even though she was too young to vote. She was the only one who could read. And she was stunningly beautiful. She was with one or two other girls about her age who would not have their picture taken nor would they uncover their heads. This girl did not wear her head covering for the picture. Some people who work building with the Americans actually work dually for the Taliban also. So they spend all week building a school then go off and plot and execute its destruction. God help them. We see this as counterproductive; they see it as survival.
But I’m going to go back to that shocking statement about working with people who don’t even know that the world is round. I tend to think of uneducated as being illiterate, unexposed to the sciences, unfamiliar with other cultures, etc. These people may know no more than what they have needed to survive in the deserts of Afghanistan. They may have never heard of Ireland or heard a recording of any kind. I guess in their contact with Americans they have seen their picture taken with a digital camera.
I know that the people I’ll meet in Tashkent will not be that uneducated but it still has me thinking. I’m not used to being the, uh, sharpest tack in the box shall we say. No laughing. Now I’m faced with quite possibly in some social situations being the worldly, knowledgeable one. That has great appeal. I, however, have spent a great deal of my past life judging others. I don’t want to find myself thinking of any one as “idiot” because of their circumstances and my frustrations with not being able to deal with the difficulty of communication in such situations. I also don’t want to get an over inflated ego. I need to learn how to expose them to as much as I can while humbly learning what I can from them which apparently is going to be a lot more than stories and cooking as I originally thought.
Doug is extremely patient with people who are ignorant. He has little tolerance of those who choose ignorance. This is understandable. We (you and I) live in a world in which almost all knowledge is ours at our bidding. We cannot learn it all but if we don’t put a concerted effort it is a shame. We can build up treasure and see it vanish to poor investments, mismanaged banks or our own lack of discipline. We can build up our bodies only to lose our strength to age or illness or an accident. If we build up our minds, it is ours to keep as long as we live. Ooh! Ooh! I’m on a roll here (if not original). If we build up our spirit it is ours for eternity.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Searching for My Soul - Is My Mind in the Way?
I like this spiritual emphasis I am in lately. It’s only been a couple of weeks (at this posting, it’s been several weeks) but I have found myself often looking forward to quiet times – prayer time - because I know I’ll get something lasting from them. I sometimes feel more a sense of obligation and sometimes dread – will I be able to focus? Am I insulting the Lord when I can’t? I’m learning to just ride those feelings out - no guilt, no defeat, just dread and worry.
What I had hoped would happen in these quiet times is, I believe, happening. I am ‘hearing’ God’s voice more clearly. I don’t mean like Moses at the burning bush, I mean the indwelling Holy Spirit communicating with me. Usually when I think I’m hearing from God it is a thought that slides into the front of my mind that I don’t feel like I could or would have come up with myself. It was given to me. I have always had the idea of prayer as being something concentrated between me and God or Jesus whichever aspect I’m thinking of at the time. That’s fine when my mind can stay there. But what about the days when it won’t park itself? I have discovered many ways to commune with God that are rewarding and very doable. Some days I just tune into my senses while walking around outside. I simply appreciate nature. Some days I meditate by sitting in a chair with my eyes half closed, perhaps a candle lit before me and I breathe for a half hour. That’s it; I send everything I can away in my breath. If I remember correctly, the root for the word spirit comes from breath so it may all be very intricately connected. Some days I have a topic I dwell on like my body being the temple of the Lord or my spirit/my soul – are they the same? Do I have access to them now? I have thought about how Muslims pray (I think) six times a day. At first that was overwhelming to me. But I have tried it and, frankly, for those of us with short attention spans, it’s nice to check in several times for a few minutes rather than trying to tune in for one longer period of time. The Bible says “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). I don’t know how literal that is supposed to be, but in checking in several times a day the thought is never far and just may be what the author had in mind. One day, I was having quiet time while on the treadmill. Someone came in next to me and we were introduced. I said hello then proceeded to ignore her. Not rudely, I just had nothing to say because I was in prayer. I felt a little guilty because she was visiting one of the few friends I have made here. Anyway, this voice inside me said that talking with others can be a fine way of spending quiet time as God dwells in all of us. I don’t mean to imply that any old thing I do constitutes time with God, I am learning that there are many surprising ways to do it that I can fit in to my current mood.
I watched on Oprah show one afternoon. Hillary Swank was on with a small group of women who were doing things outside their comfort zone (roller derby, sky diving and public skinny dipping). We were left with this thrilling feeling of putting ourselves out there for challenges so we could see what we’re made of. I watched the show quite pleased that right now I am preparing myself for just such a challenge. I have started learning Russian on my own (with Doug’s patient guidance) so I have a head start on the January class. Have I mentioned that this Russian class meets five days a week for five classroom hours per day plus three hours of independent study daily? I have also set high standards for myself which I am alternately keeping and not keeping.
One more thought today. Dreams. I have always dreamed very vividly and lucidly. Freud and Jung showed the importance of dreams in knowing oneself and in problem solving. Ancient tribes saw them as a second life one lived. The Bible has many accounts of God speaking to people through dreams.
I had two very telling dreams the other night; both recurrent in theme, both turning out very differently than the norm. In one, I am in the bathroom at my parent’s house, the door is closed and my sister is in the hall on the other side of the door. I am asking her something. I hear her but cannot understand what she is saying. After asking her several times I realize she is mumbling and laughing mockingly at me. I get frustrated in asking her repeatedly and finally give up. I then get worried that she’ll break into the bathroom and hurt me. I lock the door. Most of my bathroom dreams are of someone or several people not giving me privacy and I am unable to keep them out. For those of you who do not know, my sister and I are long estranged. I hurt her years ago and she is too hurt and comfortable in her life to talk it out with me. That is my opinion since I do not have her take on it. It was years before I could think of her without crying and conceiving ideas of what may get her to talk to me. Last July, after another failed attempt at meeting with her in hopes of resolution, I locked that door in my life. Apparently, my subconscious just confirmed that.
The second dream that night had me being pursued by a man. Usually in these dreams I cannot run and I cannot yell for help. In this dream, however, I ran fast and screamed bloody murder. The man kept pursuing me. I got a little ahead of him and dodged into a corner to collect myself. As I was in the corner, I decided to get him. I rose into the air (flying dreams are very common with me) and slowly moved toward him. I stared him down the entire time hoping to intimidate him. Unfortunately neither the staring nor the fact that I was floating put him off in the least. The dream ended. I was safe. Often in these dreams, I am frozen with fear, unable to run or make any sound. Also common is that I realize I’m dreaming and do all sorts of things to my antagonist. I was just pleased to be able to run and scream.
I encourage you to pay attention to your dreams. They aren’t all grand messages. Sometimes it’s jus the day’s leftover mental slop. Sometimes they are purely entertaining. But every once in a while there is a gem, and in that gem, a lesson or a revelation or acknowledgement. I’m working on a story called the Dream Interpreter. If anyone want to preview it, let me know and I’ll send it to you.
I hope your Advent season is a happy one. I hope you feel that there is much worth waiting for. And in the waiting I hope you encounter blessings you would have otherwise missed.
What I had hoped would happen in these quiet times is, I believe, happening. I am ‘hearing’ God’s voice more clearly. I don’t mean like Moses at the burning bush, I mean the indwelling Holy Spirit communicating with me. Usually when I think I’m hearing from God it is a thought that slides into the front of my mind that I don’t feel like I could or would have come up with myself. It was given to me. I have always had the idea of prayer as being something concentrated between me and God or Jesus whichever aspect I’m thinking of at the time. That’s fine when my mind can stay there. But what about the days when it won’t park itself? I have discovered many ways to commune with God that are rewarding and very doable. Some days I just tune into my senses while walking around outside. I simply appreciate nature. Some days I meditate by sitting in a chair with my eyes half closed, perhaps a candle lit before me and I breathe for a half hour. That’s it; I send everything I can away in my breath. If I remember correctly, the root for the word spirit comes from breath so it may all be very intricately connected. Some days I have a topic I dwell on like my body being the temple of the Lord or my spirit/my soul – are they the same? Do I have access to them now? I have thought about how Muslims pray (I think) six times a day. At first that was overwhelming to me. But I have tried it and, frankly, for those of us with short attention spans, it’s nice to check in several times for a few minutes rather than trying to tune in for one longer period of time. The Bible says “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). I don’t know how literal that is supposed to be, but in checking in several times a day the thought is never far and just may be what the author had in mind. One day, I was having quiet time while on the treadmill. Someone came in next to me and we were introduced. I said hello then proceeded to ignore her. Not rudely, I just had nothing to say because I was in prayer. I felt a little guilty because she was visiting one of the few friends I have made here. Anyway, this voice inside me said that talking with others can be a fine way of spending quiet time as God dwells in all of us. I don’t mean to imply that any old thing I do constitutes time with God, I am learning that there are many surprising ways to do it that I can fit in to my current mood.
I watched on Oprah show one afternoon. Hillary Swank was on with a small group of women who were doing things outside their comfort zone (roller derby, sky diving and public skinny dipping). We were left with this thrilling feeling of putting ourselves out there for challenges so we could see what we’re made of. I watched the show quite pleased that right now I am preparing myself for just such a challenge. I have started learning Russian on my own (with Doug’s patient guidance) so I have a head start on the January class. Have I mentioned that this Russian class meets five days a week for five classroom hours per day plus three hours of independent study daily? I have also set high standards for myself which I am alternately keeping and not keeping.
One more thought today. Dreams. I have always dreamed very vividly and lucidly. Freud and Jung showed the importance of dreams in knowing oneself and in problem solving. Ancient tribes saw them as a second life one lived. The Bible has many accounts of God speaking to people through dreams.
I had two very telling dreams the other night; both recurrent in theme, both turning out very differently than the norm. In one, I am in the bathroom at my parent’s house, the door is closed and my sister is in the hall on the other side of the door. I am asking her something. I hear her but cannot understand what she is saying. After asking her several times I realize she is mumbling and laughing mockingly at me. I get frustrated in asking her repeatedly and finally give up. I then get worried that she’ll break into the bathroom and hurt me. I lock the door. Most of my bathroom dreams are of someone or several people not giving me privacy and I am unable to keep them out. For those of you who do not know, my sister and I are long estranged. I hurt her years ago and she is too hurt and comfortable in her life to talk it out with me. That is my opinion since I do not have her take on it. It was years before I could think of her without crying and conceiving ideas of what may get her to talk to me. Last July, after another failed attempt at meeting with her in hopes of resolution, I locked that door in my life. Apparently, my subconscious just confirmed that.
The second dream that night had me being pursued by a man. Usually in these dreams I cannot run and I cannot yell for help. In this dream, however, I ran fast and screamed bloody murder. The man kept pursuing me. I got a little ahead of him and dodged into a corner to collect myself. As I was in the corner, I decided to get him. I rose into the air (flying dreams are very common with me) and slowly moved toward him. I stared him down the entire time hoping to intimidate him. Unfortunately neither the staring nor the fact that I was floating put him off in the least. The dream ended. I was safe. Often in these dreams, I am frozen with fear, unable to run or make any sound. Also common is that I realize I’m dreaming and do all sorts of things to my antagonist. I was just pleased to be able to run and scream.
I encourage you to pay attention to your dreams. They aren’t all grand messages. Sometimes it’s jus the day’s leftover mental slop. Sometimes they are purely entertaining. But every once in a while there is a gem, and in that gem, a lesson or a revelation or acknowledgement. I’m working on a story called the Dream Interpreter. If anyone want to preview it, let me know and I’ll send it to you.
I hope your Advent season is a happy one. I hope you feel that there is much worth waiting for. And in the waiting I hope you encounter blessings you would have otherwise missed.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Our Apartment
Oakwood apartments are primarily for temporary housing for professionals in transition or on temporary assignments. The State Department has a contract with them so many of the people living here are in the same situation as Doug and I.
They are huge, plain brick apartments buildings scattered around a common area with a pool, Jacuzzi (closed for the season), tennis courts (3) a sand volleyball pit, a gym with saunas in the locker rooms, playground and gas barbeque grills that are cleaned daily. It’s nice and we are treated very well. They have an activities director that plans events like s’mores night, lasagna night, game night and karoki night. Also offered are free exercise classes including tennis mixers, cardio jam, abs and more and yoga.
Our apartment is a one bedroom with colorless carpeting, baby poop brown walls, someone’s vacation pictures blown up hanging on the walls as art, appliances from the ‘70s, and doors (including cabinets) that cannot be shut quietly. We did not have the luck of the draw on apartments. We are on ground level so if we want to look out the nice arcadia door, everyone else gets to look in. I can (usually) live with that. Our view out back is the dog poop station. Out our front door is the fire alarm. I’m not inventing this to make you jealous. There are six drawers for clothing. My undies are in one, my tops in the next and my pants in the third. I have a sock shelf. This includes stockings (woolens, etc.) and exercise clothes. There simply is no organization possible there. It’s like I’d be if I were in a hotel for a week. I’d unpack all my clothes to “settle in” but it would be discombobulated.
Thank God for Angelina. She comes in Wednesdays to clean up after us. She cleans surfaces, dishes, the bathroom and sinks, vacuums and changes the linens. She works hard. She is around 55-60 (I’m guessing). She wears a support on her right forearm because is gives her lots of trouble and pain. When she works, I hear her breathe hard and I hear her breath catch when the pain hits her. It’s difficult for both of us in very different ways. She primarily speaks Spanish but is pretty good with English so we talk. One day we were talking about her arm and I have no idea how it led to this but we realized that we both had breast surgery. At first, I thought she had the same surgery I had so I moved my shirt and showed her my scar. She lifted her shirt and showed me where her breasts had been. Total masectomy. She had had cancer. Suddenly my little surgery was NOTHING. Occasionally she still will point at her chest and ask me how I am. We hug when she finishes. I bet we are the only two (housekeeper and tenant) who hug like that. She’s going to retire in January. I’ll miss her.
The entire staff here is great. I even wrote a short story inspired by one of the maintenance men. I’ve had to call maintenance a few times. This is really embarrassing but I had to call them to change a light bulb. Stop laughing. I can hear you from here. “How many piano teachers does it take . . .” Never mind. We are supposed to call them – okay? So Joachin shows up. He’s my favorite maintenance man. Joachin likes to talk. Every time he comes I get another story – the time he temporarily lost his eyesight from being in a strobe too long, the shopping experience at B.J.’s (which, he says, is like Costco but better) and there are plenty more where those came from. Remember – I like Joachin. But I had to take him to task one day which we both handled admirably.
My biggest pet peeve with hotels (and now apartments) is that housekeeping and maintenance don’t give you enough notice before they let themselves in your room. I have had quite the experiences here. Most of you know that I was married before Doug. Well, on Stan’s and my wedding night we got back to our room – the honeymoon suite – around midnight or so. I should tell you that Stan and I waited to do certain things until we were married. So we were READY TO GO. We had JUST begun consummating our marriage when there was a knock at the door and, before we could react, the door was open and in walked a maid of some sort who, of course, did not speak English. Stan and I were shouting and looking for things to throw. We were mad. It kind of spoiled the moment. It was, as I look back with perfect vision, an omen. I called the desk and demanded that the maid who did that was fired immediately – it was after midnight for crying out loud. Another time, I was at one of the storytelling conferences when I returned to my room between workshops. I needed to go to the bathroom. I really needed to go. When you opened the door to my room the bathroom was immediately on the left. I entered, turned and sat to go. Right away there was a knock on the door. “Just a . . .” The door opened before I could finish my sentence. Thank God women have strong off switches. I leapt up (no visuals, please) and slammed the door on the maid. I truly hoped I hurt her. I finished up then went outside to yell at her. She, of course, did not speak English. I know. You’re wondering “why don’t you lock the door?” Good question. I do lock and bolt the door and line up my luggage up (no kidding) in front of it. In that particular situation, remember, I really had to go. The point is, as I told Joachin after he walked in on me, they need to knock then wait then knock again. Whoever is inside may not hear the first knock. They may be busy or asleep. Then they need to open the door and say something loudly just to make sure it’s okay to enter. Please, someone, tell me I’m not asking too much here.
Joachin and I are cool now. He even got a pumkin pie from me to share with the other maintenance men.
MAKING DO
One of the goals I set for myself upon my move to the D.C. area was to cook more. When I taught piano M-F from apx. 3-7 P.M,. that made it difficult to cook for dinner. So I was looking forward to cooking here in our Falls Church apartment. I am making two or three main dishes a week. (Since it’s just Doug and I, there are lots of leftovers.) I make lots of soup and stew, a casserole – whatever sounds good and is healthful. If is not easy to cook when one doesn’t have good cooking supplies, however. All I have is what the apartment came with:
Three glass nesting bowls (Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear sizes)
One 9” round Pyrex cooking dish
One 9’ X 14’ cookie sheet that rusts when you soak it
Two skillets (one non-stick)
One soup/sauce pan
One larger pan
One extra large pot (no handle)
One colander
Set of dull knives (including kitchen shears – thank the Lord)
A plastic slotted spoon, narrow scraper, wire whisk (thank the Lord) and a
spatula
A 12 X 12 casserole dish (which we bought) and an 8 X 14 glass cake pan
My first challenge was steaming vegetables (yuck). I put some water in the Pyrex, boiled it in the microwave, put the vegetables in the colander and set them in the boiling water. Odd, but it worked.
The BIG challenge was Doug’s birthday cake. He loves Red Velvet Cake (Waldorf Cake?). So I was determined to make it. The first step was to beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. I had no beaters. Thank God for the wire whisk. My arms were pretty sore after that ordeal. Mixing alone took a couple hours I’d guess. The amusing part was selecting cake pans as the recipe was for a double layer cake. I wound up using the 12 X 12 casserole dish for the lower layer and the 9” round Pyrex for the upper layer giving the whole cake a sort of hat-like look. To keep the upper layer from sliding around, I used Q-tips (no toothpicks). It wasn’t pretty, but it sure tasted good.
I am also learning to make do with fewer distractions. I have fewer books, for instance. I may actually read a few cover to cover! It’s nice because it’s forcing me to be more focused and to work through complicated or dull passages in exchange for a complete reading.
We only brought a handful of CD’s with us along with our vinyl albums on the computer. A friend of mine put several of her albums on some little thingy which, when I stick it in my phone, is supposed to play that stored music for me. We haven’t gotten it to work yet. (Help, Miss Julie!)
My piano is in storage so I cannot practice or play. I brought my recorders with me but managed to not pack any music.
I have fewer pieces of clothing and am getting pretty tired of wearing the same thing. However, I have mixed different tops with different pants or skirts and been surprised of the new looks. That’s kind of fun. So is shopping. My biggest regret here is that all dressy clothes I packed are black but one.
We bank with ING online and Wells Fargo for checking. There are no Wells Fargo branches out here so getting cash is a bit of a challenge. When we first arrived, I had to depend on some cash my Aunt Katy gave us (thank you, Aunt Katy) some cash on hand from certain piano students. (Thank you Andreas, Hitzemans and Divitas!) Consequently, I am not eating lunch out or stopping for junk to munch on because I don’t like using a card for $5. And I’ve made a ruling on candy: I can buy a little at the grocery store when I do the weekly shopping but that is the only place I’m allowed to buy it. If I want to eat it all in one day (which I have not) fine, but that’s it for the week. Doug doesn’t like change (coins), so I get all his change. It’s enough to buy a Sunday paper and a weekly small Pepsi from Target.
I go into this much detail to try and show what a difference this is from my life in St. Paul. If I went with Doug to visit his parents on the other side of town, I’d take my “possible bag” with me. This bag contained anything I’d possibly want, usually a crossword, a couple of books, writing paper and pen and pencil, some candy and/or Pepsi, and sometimes a craft of some sort. That was for a short visit! From home, I would walk the couple of blocks to Cooper’s Grocer almost daily to buy what I was craving to eat. I really lived according to my mood with little discipline. Instead of thinking, “What do I want to eat?” I have now learned to ask myself “What is there to eat?” Oh, that’s so philosophical. I have learned to ask myself “What is there?” rather than “What do I want?” Ooh . . . I like that.
Our house in St. Paul was not a big house, but it did have a basement, main floor and a second level. There is no getting away from each other in this one bedroom job. If one of us needs quiet, the other cannot watch a movie. If I feel like doing Yoga, he has to watch me balance and position myself with my bum in the air. Doug has lots of computer work to attend to which means I must listen to it chug and chime daily. We have one bathroom, one sink and one mirror - enough said. When I can’t sleep at 2:00 in the morning it’s just plain hard. Where do I go? What do I do? I can’t roll around in bed and disturb Doug who has to be up at 6 AM (although I think it’s a King size bed, he may not notice). I can’t watch a good late movie. Being unable to sleep, by the way, is how I found out how squeaky the door to the bedroom is. Weekends are kind of tough because he has worked all week and wants to kick back. I have also worked, more freely and in my own way, but I have worked in the apartment. I want to get out. But we get by. So far we still like each other.
I am making do without my favorite places to hang out and visit. This is pretty easy because I am still in the discovery stage; just walking the neighborhood streets is still fun. There are a few paths nearby plus the metro to take me into D.C. quickly.
Making do without company and conversation is harder, but so far so good because I’m focused on my personal goals. Actually I can say I'm thriving here. All of the goals I set for myself need to be done by me, alone. There are some women who I see regularly at the gym. Rada we had over for dinner with her family – great time. Li Li and her husband will be going to Christmas Lessons and Carols with Doug and I. We are all in the same boat here at Oakwood so we understand the longing for company, the company of strangers.
They are huge, plain brick apartments buildings scattered around a common area with a pool, Jacuzzi (closed for the season), tennis courts (3) a sand volleyball pit, a gym with saunas in the locker rooms, playground and gas barbeque grills that are cleaned daily. It’s nice and we are treated very well. They have an activities director that plans events like s’mores night, lasagna night, game night and karoki night. Also offered are free exercise classes including tennis mixers, cardio jam, abs and more and yoga.
Our apartment is a one bedroom with colorless carpeting, baby poop brown walls, someone’s vacation pictures blown up hanging on the walls as art, appliances from the ‘70s, and doors (including cabinets) that cannot be shut quietly. We did not have the luck of the draw on apartments. We are on ground level so if we want to look out the nice arcadia door, everyone else gets to look in. I can (usually) live with that. Our view out back is the dog poop station. Out our front door is the fire alarm. I’m not inventing this to make you jealous. There are six drawers for clothing. My undies are in one, my tops in the next and my pants in the third. I have a sock shelf. This includes stockings (woolens, etc.) and exercise clothes. There simply is no organization possible there. It’s like I’d be if I were in a hotel for a week. I’d unpack all my clothes to “settle in” but it would be discombobulated.
Thank God for Angelina. She comes in Wednesdays to clean up after us. She cleans surfaces, dishes, the bathroom and sinks, vacuums and changes the linens. She works hard. She is around 55-60 (I’m guessing). She wears a support on her right forearm because is gives her lots of trouble and pain. When she works, I hear her breathe hard and I hear her breath catch when the pain hits her. It’s difficult for both of us in very different ways. She primarily speaks Spanish but is pretty good with English so we talk. One day we were talking about her arm and I have no idea how it led to this but we realized that we both had breast surgery. At first, I thought she had the same surgery I had so I moved my shirt and showed her my scar. She lifted her shirt and showed me where her breasts had been. Total masectomy. She had had cancer. Suddenly my little surgery was NOTHING. Occasionally she still will point at her chest and ask me how I am. We hug when she finishes. I bet we are the only two (housekeeper and tenant) who hug like that. She’s going to retire in January. I’ll miss her.
The entire staff here is great. I even wrote a short story inspired by one of the maintenance men. I’ve had to call maintenance a few times. This is really embarrassing but I had to call them to change a light bulb. Stop laughing. I can hear you from here. “How many piano teachers does it take . . .” Never mind. We are supposed to call them – okay? So Joachin shows up. He’s my favorite maintenance man. Joachin likes to talk. Every time he comes I get another story – the time he temporarily lost his eyesight from being in a strobe too long, the shopping experience at B.J.’s (which, he says, is like Costco but better) and there are plenty more where those came from. Remember – I like Joachin. But I had to take him to task one day which we both handled admirably.
My biggest pet peeve with hotels (and now apartments) is that housekeeping and maintenance don’t give you enough notice before they let themselves in your room. I have had quite the experiences here. Most of you know that I was married before Doug. Well, on Stan’s and my wedding night we got back to our room – the honeymoon suite – around midnight or so. I should tell you that Stan and I waited to do certain things until we were married. So we were READY TO GO. We had JUST begun consummating our marriage when there was a knock at the door and, before we could react, the door was open and in walked a maid of some sort who, of course, did not speak English. Stan and I were shouting and looking for things to throw. We were mad. It kind of spoiled the moment. It was, as I look back with perfect vision, an omen. I called the desk and demanded that the maid who did that was fired immediately – it was after midnight for crying out loud. Another time, I was at one of the storytelling conferences when I returned to my room between workshops. I needed to go to the bathroom. I really needed to go. When you opened the door to my room the bathroom was immediately on the left. I entered, turned and sat to go. Right away there was a knock on the door. “Just a . . .” The door opened before I could finish my sentence. Thank God women have strong off switches. I leapt up (no visuals, please) and slammed the door on the maid. I truly hoped I hurt her. I finished up then went outside to yell at her. She, of course, did not speak English. I know. You’re wondering “why don’t you lock the door?” Good question. I do lock and bolt the door and line up my luggage up (no kidding) in front of it. In that particular situation, remember, I really had to go. The point is, as I told Joachin after he walked in on me, they need to knock then wait then knock again. Whoever is inside may not hear the first knock. They may be busy or asleep. Then they need to open the door and say something loudly just to make sure it’s okay to enter. Please, someone, tell me I’m not asking too much here.
Joachin and I are cool now. He even got a pumkin pie from me to share with the other maintenance men.
MAKING DO
One of the goals I set for myself upon my move to the D.C. area was to cook more. When I taught piano M-F from apx. 3-7 P.M,. that made it difficult to cook for dinner. So I was looking forward to cooking here in our Falls Church apartment. I am making two or three main dishes a week. (Since it’s just Doug and I, there are lots of leftovers.) I make lots of soup and stew, a casserole – whatever sounds good and is healthful. If is not easy to cook when one doesn’t have good cooking supplies, however. All I have is what the apartment came with:
Three glass nesting bowls (Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear sizes)
One 9” round Pyrex cooking dish
One 9’ X 14’ cookie sheet that rusts when you soak it
Two skillets (one non-stick)
One soup/sauce pan
One larger pan
One extra large pot (no handle)
One colander
Set of dull knives (including kitchen shears – thank the Lord)
A plastic slotted spoon, narrow scraper, wire whisk (thank the Lord) and a
spatula
A 12 X 12 casserole dish (which we bought) and an 8 X 14 glass cake pan
My first challenge was steaming vegetables (yuck). I put some water in the Pyrex, boiled it in the microwave, put the vegetables in the colander and set them in the boiling water. Odd, but it worked.
The BIG challenge was Doug’s birthday cake. He loves Red Velvet Cake (Waldorf Cake?). So I was determined to make it. The first step was to beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. I had no beaters. Thank God for the wire whisk. My arms were pretty sore after that ordeal. Mixing alone took a couple hours I’d guess. The amusing part was selecting cake pans as the recipe was for a double layer cake. I wound up using the 12 X 12 casserole dish for the lower layer and the 9” round Pyrex for the upper layer giving the whole cake a sort of hat-like look. To keep the upper layer from sliding around, I used Q-tips (no toothpicks). It wasn’t pretty, but it sure tasted good.
I am also learning to make do with fewer distractions. I have fewer books, for instance. I may actually read a few cover to cover! It’s nice because it’s forcing me to be more focused and to work through complicated or dull passages in exchange for a complete reading.
We only brought a handful of CD’s with us along with our vinyl albums on the computer. A friend of mine put several of her albums on some little thingy which, when I stick it in my phone, is supposed to play that stored music for me. We haven’t gotten it to work yet. (Help, Miss Julie!)
My piano is in storage so I cannot practice or play. I brought my recorders with me but managed to not pack any music.
I have fewer pieces of clothing and am getting pretty tired of wearing the same thing. However, I have mixed different tops with different pants or skirts and been surprised of the new looks. That’s kind of fun. So is shopping. My biggest regret here is that all dressy clothes I packed are black but one.
We bank with ING online and Wells Fargo for checking. There are no Wells Fargo branches out here so getting cash is a bit of a challenge. When we first arrived, I had to depend on some cash my Aunt Katy gave us (thank you, Aunt Katy) some cash on hand from certain piano students. (Thank you Andreas, Hitzemans and Divitas!) Consequently, I am not eating lunch out or stopping for junk to munch on because I don’t like using a card for $5. And I’ve made a ruling on candy: I can buy a little at the grocery store when I do the weekly shopping but that is the only place I’m allowed to buy it. If I want to eat it all in one day (which I have not) fine, but that’s it for the week. Doug doesn’t like change (coins), so I get all his change. It’s enough to buy a Sunday paper and a weekly small Pepsi from Target.
I go into this much detail to try and show what a difference this is from my life in St. Paul. If I went with Doug to visit his parents on the other side of town, I’d take my “possible bag” with me. This bag contained anything I’d possibly want, usually a crossword, a couple of books, writing paper and pen and pencil, some candy and/or Pepsi, and sometimes a craft of some sort. That was for a short visit! From home, I would walk the couple of blocks to Cooper’s Grocer almost daily to buy what I was craving to eat. I really lived according to my mood with little discipline. Instead of thinking, “What do I want to eat?” I have now learned to ask myself “What is there to eat?” Oh, that’s so philosophical. I have learned to ask myself “What is there?” rather than “What do I want?” Ooh . . . I like that.
Our house in St. Paul was not a big house, but it did have a basement, main floor and a second level. There is no getting away from each other in this one bedroom job. If one of us needs quiet, the other cannot watch a movie. If I feel like doing Yoga, he has to watch me balance and position myself with my bum in the air. Doug has lots of computer work to attend to which means I must listen to it chug and chime daily. We have one bathroom, one sink and one mirror - enough said. When I can’t sleep at 2:00 in the morning it’s just plain hard. Where do I go? What do I do? I can’t roll around in bed and disturb Doug who has to be up at 6 AM (although I think it’s a King size bed, he may not notice). I can’t watch a good late movie. Being unable to sleep, by the way, is how I found out how squeaky the door to the bedroom is. Weekends are kind of tough because he has worked all week and wants to kick back. I have also worked, more freely and in my own way, but I have worked in the apartment. I want to get out. But we get by. So far we still like each other.
I am making do without my favorite places to hang out and visit. This is pretty easy because I am still in the discovery stage; just walking the neighborhood streets is still fun. There are a few paths nearby plus the metro to take me into D.C. quickly.
Making do without company and conversation is harder, but so far so good because I’m focused on my personal goals. Actually I can say I'm thriving here. All of the goals I set for myself need to be done by me, alone. There are some women who I see regularly at the gym. Rada we had over for dinner with her family – great time. Li Li and her husband will be going to Christmas Lessons and Carols with Doug and I. We are all in the same boat here at Oakwood so we understand the longing for company, the company of strangers.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Advent
Advent, the season of waiting. Doug and I have already been waiting for months so entering the Advent season seems redundant except that Christmas follows at its heels. In the Christian faith, we are waiting for Christ’s birth. Again, this seems a bit redundant as Christ was born centuries ago. I started a poem yesterday called “Jesus is an Old Man Now”. It’s not finished, but if anyone wants to read it, let me know and, when it’s ready, I’ll send it to you.
So we’re really waiting to celebrate Christ’s birth. I do enjoy trying to put myself back in biblical times when it was all just happening. So many of my piano students are Mary’s supposed age at the time of the annunciation (when Mary was told she would be Jesus's mother). As for me at that age, I was not yet against having children so I may have felt honored. I think, though, that I would have had stars in my eyes; what will everyone think of me? That’s a tough age to be selfless. I picture Mary and Joseph riding to Bethlehem and wonder what they talked about. I hear Joseph lamenting, “So much for abstinence until marriage.” There is a precious carol that is not as well known called the Cherry Tree Carol. In it, Mary and Joseph are riding and Mary sees a cherry tree. She asks Joseph to pick her some cherries because she is with child. Joseph must have been in a mood because he replies, ‘Let him who made you with child pick you cherries.’ God, of course, heard this and caused the tree to bow down to her so she could reach them. Be careful what you ask for. . .
But we are living today so what are we really waiting for? I’ll be honest; I’m waiting to eat my Christmas candy – fudge and fondant. I wish I could offer something more spiritual but that’s the truth. I’m trying to hold off making the candy until next week. One year, I ate so much I put on five pounds in a single month. I have spent the last three months disciplining myself so hopefully I can enjoy the candy sanely. I've been cooking things like Tangy Lentil and Chickpea Soup so that if I can't resist 18 pieces of candy one day at least there were only about 50 calories in my meal.
The Advent season is the start of the church year. We tend to look at the start of our year as a time to get going. We set goals and take off with the best of intentions to better ourselves and our life. It is interesting to me that the church year begins with waiting. Like we’re supposed to THINK or something before we get going.
Advent is also for preparation. In the Christian faith we are preparing ourselves for Christ’s birth. today, we could easily translate that for preparing for His second coming. That’s easy to see. But that has been coming for SOOOOOO long that who really believes that it may happen this year? I don’t. So what are we to ready ourselves for? That answer comes easily to me in my life now. I’m readying myself for Russian classes that begin January 4. For five hours a day, five days a week I’ll be in class. I should mention the three hours of daily homework/lab work. This will be a full time job. I’ve never sat still for that long for a single subject. I truly don’t know if I’m physically and mentally capable of it.
Last Sunday, Doug and I attended Advent lessons and carols at the National Cathedral. We were pushing it on time when we were walking up to this enormous church. We didn’t know where to go. I saw another couple who had crossed the street from the neighborhood and asked them if they were going to the service. They were and said they’d show us the way. Who were we walking with? The Norwegian Ambassador and (we assume) his wife who is one of the canons at the Cathedral! We enjoyed talking with them after the service. If you have never gone to a lessons and carols service – go. Particularly if you have never been to church or it’s been a while. It’s a low key service. There is singing interspersed with readings (some scripture, some poetry, it depends on the church) and prayers. There is normally no communion (or Eucharist) for lessons and carols so if you don’t partake in that, there will be no awkwardness in skipping it.
I tell you this because the priest used another word to describe the Advent Season: yearning or longing. Some people don’t like the Christian scriptures because they are full of “don’ts”. I like the “do’s”. We are told to love. We are told to rest one day a week and do no labor. The Advent season seems like our chance to anticipate. If we allow that the preparation of the season is internal rather than external, we could really get in a nice rest. Doug and I don’t know what we’ll do for Christmas this year. We will be away from our family and friends. Though Doug’s classmates invited us (and others) for Thanksgiving, Christmas seems to me more intimate and I don’t expect an invitation. This will be a good chance for us to truly have a holy Christmas. Since we have no expectations and no one has any of us, we can relax. Think about this as you say to yourself “There’s too much to do, I can’t relax now.” Be honest and answer: What expectations do you put on others at Christmas time? What expectations are truly put on you? You may be doing much more than is necessary. When I was a child, I expected gifts from my parents and I expected certain food. So, certainly, there may indeed be expectations. What would it be like to celebrate a different Christmas? Who would really miss having EVERY particular food item on the table? Let those preparations you must have (like the fudge and the fondant) be a participatory activity. If your family or friends don’t like that idea, tell them the story of the Little Red Hen.
I actually look forward to making candy. I thoroughly enjoy making the fudge. The fondant is a mixed bag. It’s hard work. There is an incredible amount of stirring the thick cream center. The rolling and dipping must be timed just right and it gets tedious after a few dozen. But as I see the shiny dipped chocolates with the cherry or walnut on, top it’s such a happy sight it makes my mouth water – NO! I mean it makes me want to continue and (with the proper frame of mind or Christmas music playing) the tedium becomes a blessed ritual. What else can I do that with in my life? What tedium can you make blessed ritual? What expectations can you release? What will Christmas be this year?
So we’re really waiting to celebrate Christ’s birth. I do enjoy trying to put myself back in biblical times when it was all just happening. So many of my piano students are Mary’s supposed age at the time of the annunciation (when Mary was told she would be Jesus's mother). As for me at that age, I was not yet against having children so I may have felt honored. I think, though, that I would have had stars in my eyes; what will everyone think of me? That’s a tough age to be selfless. I picture Mary and Joseph riding to Bethlehem and wonder what they talked about. I hear Joseph lamenting, “So much for abstinence until marriage.” There is a precious carol that is not as well known called the Cherry Tree Carol. In it, Mary and Joseph are riding and Mary sees a cherry tree. She asks Joseph to pick her some cherries because she is with child. Joseph must have been in a mood because he replies, ‘Let him who made you with child pick you cherries.’ God, of course, heard this and caused the tree to bow down to her so she could reach them. Be careful what you ask for. . .
But we are living today so what are we really waiting for? I’ll be honest; I’m waiting to eat my Christmas candy – fudge and fondant. I wish I could offer something more spiritual but that’s the truth. I’m trying to hold off making the candy until next week. One year, I ate so much I put on five pounds in a single month. I have spent the last three months disciplining myself so hopefully I can enjoy the candy sanely. I've been cooking things like Tangy Lentil and Chickpea Soup so that if I can't resist 18 pieces of candy one day at least there were only about 50 calories in my meal.
The Advent season is the start of the church year. We tend to look at the start of our year as a time to get going. We set goals and take off with the best of intentions to better ourselves and our life. It is interesting to me that the church year begins with waiting. Like we’re supposed to THINK or something before we get going.
Advent is also for preparation. In the Christian faith we are preparing ourselves for Christ’s birth. today, we could easily translate that for preparing for His second coming. That’s easy to see. But that has been coming for SOOOOOO long that who really believes that it may happen this year? I don’t. So what are we to ready ourselves for? That answer comes easily to me in my life now. I’m readying myself for Russian classes that begin January 4. For five hours a day, five days a week I’ll be in class. I should mention the three hours of daily homework/lab work. This will be a full time job. I’ve never sat still for that long for a single subject. I truly don’t know if I’m physically and mentally capable of it.
Last Sunday, Doug and I attended Advent lessons and carols at the National Cathedral. We were pushing it on time when we were walking up to this enormous church. We didn’t know where to go. I saw another couple who had crossed the street from the neighborhood and asked them if they were going to the service. They were and said they’d show us the way. Who were we walking with? The Norwegian Ambassador and (we assume) his wife who is one of the canons at the Cathedral! We enjoyed talking with them after the service. If you have never gone to a lessons and carols service – go. Particularly if you have never been to church or it’s been a while. It’s a low key service. There is singing interspersed with readings (some scripture, some poetry, it depends on the church) and prayers. There is normally no communion (or Eucharist) for lessons and carols so if you don’t partake in that, there will be no awkwardness in skipping it.
I tell you this because the priest used another word to describe the Advent Season: yearning or longing. Some people don’t like the Christian scriptures because they are full of “don’ts”. I like the “do’s”. We are told to love. We are told to rest one day a week and do no labor. The Advent season seems like our chance to anticipate. If we allow that the preparation of the season is internal rather than external, we could really get in a nice rest. Doug and I don’t know what we’ll do for Christmas this year. We will be away from our family and friends. Though Doug’s classmates invited us (and others) for Thanksgiving, Christmas seems to me more intimate and I don’t expect an invitation. This will be a good chance for us to truly have a holy Christmas. Since we have no expectations and no one has any of us, we can relax. Think about this as you say to yourself “There’s too much to do, I can’t relax now.” Be honest and answer: What expectations do you put on others at Christmas time? What expectations are truly put on you? You may be doing much more than is necessary. When I was a child, I expected gifts from my parents and I expected certain food. So, certainly, there may indeed be expectations. What would it be like to celebrate a different Christmas? Who would really miss having EVERY particular food item on the table? Let those preparations you must have (like the fudge and the fondant) be a participatory activity. If your family or friends don’t like that idea, tell them the story of the Little Red Hen.
I actually look forward to making candy. I thoroughly enjoy making the fudge. The fondant is a mixed bag. It’s hard work. There is an incredible amount of stirring the thick cream center. The rolling and dipping must be timed just right and it gets tedious after a few dozen. But as I see the shiny dipped chocolates with the cherry or walnut on, top it’s such a happy sight it makes my mouth water – NO! I mean it makes me want to continue and (with the proper frame of mind or Christmas music playing) the tedium becomes a blessed ritual. What else can I do that with in my life? What tedium can you make blessed ritual? What expectations can you release? What will Christmas be this year?
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