On the Road Again

As much as I hate to say it, our apartment search has, once again, begun.


Zak and I love the home in which we currently live. We love the people we live with. My two best friends are under the same roof. I get to walk to work.

I see this from our front porch.

And we get to walk five blocks to this.

We're really spoiled. This house is huge. We have a bedroom that's twice the size of my bedroom at my parents' house. We can see the GG bridge from our bedroom window (on a sunny day, anyway.)

We have a porch and a living room and a working fireplace that makes the SF winter (and summer) nights bearable. 

I know it's time to move on. I know we need a place of our own, and a home space filled just with us. That doesn't make the change any easier. That doesn't make it any more fun to search for hours on Craigslist, looking at posting after posting of rentals that are too expensive, too small, to far away, too dangerous, too sketch.

Last time we were moving, God stepped in and stitched everything up nicely. I know He will take care of us this time around, too. We're playing the waiting game again, and He's in control of the clock. 

We watch the sand descend, grain-by-grain, into the cup. 

Source

I could give you all an update, I suppose. And when I say "you all," I mean the 3 readers google analytics tells me I get on a monthly basis.

This week begins Lent. Last week, I saw a bunch of Catholics walking around with the ash on their foreheads for Ash Wednesday. We don't do Ash Wednesday, but I get a little thrill when I see those crosses, because it means our Lent is about to begin.

The students were required to attend church every night this week; therefore, I was required, too. Even though most of the service I spent trying to keep the kids from molding their candles into balls of wax, I did enjoy it by the fourth day. And then it was over, and I felt as if it had only just begun.

Photo at Holy Virgin Cathedral, from Tikhon Thompson

Castleville

In other news, I've quit drinking caffeine, which means I never get anything done. I come home and my clothes are on the floor and I think I should pick them up but instead I end up clearing shrubbery in my Castleville.

That's a Zynga game. Don't ask.

Most things are the same, I suppose. I don't write as often. Obviously. Sometimes I think I should move back up to the mountains, where the only thing I ever did was write -- write, and complain about the snow and try to cook things that always ended up worse than I thought possible.

I dwell on Common Threads. Lives naturally take on a theme - or perhaps more accurately, a motif. For some people, it's addictions - to people, drugs, travel. For others, it's accomplishments - in school, at the workplace, finishing project after project in the home.

I don't know what my theme is, my 'common thread'. I bounce around from one place to the other and before I know it, I've forgotten where I started. On purpose, mostly.

In fact, I forget where this blog began.

Pie

I have recently checked my Google Analytics statistics and, since the numbers have revealed a neither surprising nor disappointing amount of "hits" to my site, I have decided that blogging about my vices will neither help nor hinder my popularity, seeing as I have, quite frankly, none.

To one of my many vices:

Dutch Apple Pie


or, the Spiritual Quest


(The most Adamant Questioner being my Self)

In my younger years I swore an aversion to pie of all denominations--be it apple, pumpkin, or berry. This hatred stemmed from an unfortunate experience at an elementary school party, where I was given a slice of "birthday pie". I sat beside the pool, hoping to continue to take part in the festivities while I enjoyed my dessert. I hardly enjoyed a forkful. Some middle school boy decided to perform a cannonball and subsequently drenched the bite of pie already halfway into my anticipatory trap. I was doomed thereafter to assume all pie was watery and chlorinated.

Yet, at this very moment I consume a large slice of dutch apple pie: a newly warmed leftover from the birthday party this weekend.

Some of you know we had tart, not cake, at our wedding, since I (and therefore my husband) also happen to hate cake. Tart is a close relative of pie--the crust the culprit. I now find it difficult to say "no" to a large slice of pie, as long as said slice is at least a quarter of the whole. I don't quite remember the turning point.

Pie is not the first of my conversions. At one point in my upbringing I distinctly remember loving broccoli. Today I cannot stomach the nauseating miniature trees.

I remember also a time when I prayed devoutly as I eat pie today.

When I was a kid, Sunday worship was enough. Or, if we were true Americans, Saturday nights. Then I converted. Now I feel inadequate if all I attend is Sunday morning. In the church we are supposed to spend our evenings confessing and our mornings drinking the body and blood of Christ. In all honesty, most times I count myself lucky if I remember to pray before I eat.

Perhaps my aversion to the "Experience" stems from my reluctance to turn my back on my heritage. Or, more plainly, the "me" that is my family.

Why must it be one and not the other, though? Why cannot I have the red and gold cross of the Orthodox church, the incense, the prayers, the protection of Christ's saints--why cannot I have all this as well as the upbeat contemporary worship music, the hope of a Protestant, the remembrances, the fellowship in community? The relationship with Christ?

I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God and is God come into the world to save sinners, of whom I am .. one. First?

Isn't that Protestant and Catholic and Orthodox? Aren't the followers of Christ all the same?

Can't I have apple pie and not feel guilty for it?

Isn't tart just a relative of pie?

I know my color wheel...

Purple shampoo is not going to fix this.

What I need is blue. Blue toner. Blue anything. I wanted to try Kool-Aid. Zak threatened to tell our grandkids about it if I did.

Needless to say, I am not attempting to neutralize my orange hair with blue Kool-Aid. Although, it worked great when I was a kid. Once I had a pink streak for three weeks. Or at least some of my friends did. Or.. the kids I wanted to be friends with had a pink streak. I wore floor length floral dresses. With built-in jean vests.

The point is, if I put blue on this pumpkin, it might at least turn brown. Blue and orange are complementary colors. It's science. Or the color wheel. Are colors science or art?

I'm not going to try it with Kool-Aid. Yet.

For now, feel free to revel in my foolery. I was going for ash blonde. I ended up with Jack.

-O lantern, that is.

Don't OTC your hair.

I never learn.

I thought I'd be able to dye my hair with an OTC boxed piece of junk, since I was just trying to fix the lower half (which is the last of the dye from before the wedding).

Instead, I once again ended up with a "lovely" orange hue.

UGH.

I never learn.

And I have no idea how to fix it.

Advertising

It's not that I'm doing nothing with my life. I'm just doing nothing with my education.

I teach English, and I was an English major, so I guess that's something. It's also the one thing I repeatedly swore I would never do.

I don't write anymore. It's not that I don't want to; I think I've mostly just forgotten how.

See this post? Peppered with "I"s. The capital kind.

In other news, my friend published another book. Buy it on Amazon. Please.

Reflections

My favorite memories of undergraduate college involve Veronica W. and Kelsey Q. Mike S, too. Then, of course, Zak.

I feel quite a bit of guilt over the fact that I neglected to post a Theme Night last night. It was supposed to be Thai Night. Do you think you can go a week without it?

Sometimes these posts get put up. I see them all over the blogosphere.

It's cause we want to feel like the things we think are still heard. Even if our blog isn't monotized. Even if Google Statistics tells us that only 5 people read our blog each day.

Because sometimes we write the things we can't speak. Sometimes we say the things we don't mean. Sometimes we mean the things we don't say.

This is one of the posts I tag as nonsense.

Some people always stay.

Theme Night: Mexico!

Welcome to Friday Theme night! Zak and I started this tradition about a month ago and we're having so much fun coming up with new foods to eat and new drinks to make and (my personal favorite) new desserts to enjoy!!

We had a special guest for this night. My sister Alyssa was on her way north to move back into school and she came through SF so we could go north together.

What Mexican themed night would be complete without tequila? We made some margaritas, snacked on delicious chips (but I forgot the salsa ... hmm...) and consumed this delicious vegetarian enchilada.

Vegetarian Enchiladas, chips (sans salsa :( ), and margaritas. 

Want the recipe? Click here for the free printable!

I originally found the base recipe in a really old cookbook & messed around with it until I figured out the right ingredients)

I've made this quite a few times before and let me tell you, it is absolutely delicious every time. Eating veggies gives us a nice break from the heavy way meat makes us feel. Don't get me wrong, I love a good piece of chicken or steak. But it feels good to lay off those heavy foods for a while and enjoy some sauteed, slightly spicy veggies.

We didn't do a dessert tonight, but we did eat my fresh baked pretzels (what?!) Yep! Alyssa and I baked pretzels!

They're soooooo good. Especially fresh. Stay tuned for the recipe!

Come back next week for Theme Night: Thai!

Theme Night: Cajun-Style!

Last week I introduced ya'll to Zak and my new Friday night tradition: Theme Night! For theme night, we choose a cuisine and copy it, drinks to dessert!

Last week's Caribbean night stemmed from our honeymoon adventures. This week, I was digging through my spices and found this:

(note the unopened top)

I don't remember why I originally bought this. I think I might have accidentally grabbed it when I was searching for ... curry, maybe? No idea. Anywho, I've never been to Louisiana. But I've seen the Princess and the Frog and I've been to New Orleans Square at Disneyland (therefore, I usually associate the region with Jambalaya and Clam Chowder in sourdough bowls - may or may not be accurate, really.)

When searching for "cajun" recipes, a lot of that popped up. A common thread I found was spiciness, though. For instance, I found a "Cajun Lemonade" online that called for rum and tabasco sauce (?!?!) 

Photo Credit: Recipe Review

It was divine. But the tabasco didn't exactly "mix" with the beverage. It mostly just pooled around. Our second round we made sans-tabasco, so I don't know if that deviated from the spirit of theme night.

For dinner I discovered a delicious cajun fish recipe, a side of green beans, and sweet potato fries. (The fries were supposed to be a baked thing, but I ran out of time/patience. Plus, the husband really likes sweet potato fries. We dipped them in the fish sauce and they were oh-so-tasty).

Cajun Swai Filets, Cajun-style green beans, 

& sweet potato fries!

Want the Recipe? 

Click Here for the fish link (I left out the bread) 

& Here for the green beans!

And, since I know you're dying to know what we had for dessert:

Feel free to drool over our 

Bananas Foster and Coconut Ice-Cream

We had some coconut ice cream leftover from last week's banana splits, and it really made this dessert! (never mind that Louisiana doesn't have coconuts.)

Want the recipe? Click here for the link!

 Tune in next week for our Theme Night: Mexico-Style!

This cracked me up

I'm working on powerpoints for my classes (interactive, don't worry) and found this online, via "Free Tech for Teachers".




The guy's delivery reminds me kind of Mitch Hedberg.

Friday Theme Nights!

Zak and I have started a tradition of having themes for our Friday night dinners! So far, we've covered:

( Next up, I think we'll do Thai. )

This idea began a few weeks ago when I decided to surprise Zak with a Caribbean themed night (honoring some great memories from our honeymoon, of course!)

For those of you who have been to the Caribbean, you know it's not exactly known for its food. :S

After much ado, I decided to go with a delicious Jamaican Jerk Pork and sweet potato stir fry, served over rice.

Jamaican Seasoned Pork 

& Sweet Potatoes Stir-Fried with Tart Apples. 

Mmmmm, Mmmm.

Want the recipe? 
Click Here for the free printable.

(Unfortunately, I don't remember where I found this. I figure that's probably okay, though, cause I don't make any money off this thing. :)

Since most Caribbean food is pretty monochromatic, it might not look too pretty, but let me tell you, it was delicious (as evidenced by my husband's face).

The best part about Theme night is that its the one night a week we get to have dessert and mixed drinks!

Pina Coladas and Banana Splits?! Yes, Please!

Where do you think we should "travel" next? France? Belgium? Italy?

Tune in next week for Theme Night: Cajun-Style!

There is nothing like a sister

When she's here I can pretend like I am
still seven-and-a-quarter years old,
pressing my fingers in between earth worms
and learning to trace the sun
across the sky.

Our hair's darker now.

We admit to things we probably should keep quiet,
but it's hard to keep those things from the memory
of a whisper across the space
between our beds,
after the world had gone to sleep.

And I don't want to keep secrets,
tucked away, anymore.
For once.
It's been so long since I was allowed
to remember, and in the remembering,
to finally, let it go.

6:30 a.m.

Even though the morning aches my joints, and makes the nerves at my knuckles and hips feel as if they were pressed between a cannonball and a centrifuge, I still rise into it.

I was a night creature, once. I'd like to say "many years ago" but you'd call me a liar and quote those things that have since become part of that blurred backdrop, my indefinite past.

Some days it is difficult to get out of bed.

In this city, we are all waking up mourning. We force ourselves to cross the threshold as the fog settles into our skin.

"And maybe blogging makes us all feel a little less alone or a little more unique or a bit more the same. Or a little more anything at all." (Terra)

Obsessions

Things I wish I wasn't addicted to:

Source

1. Coffee
- Wouldn't it be healthier if I could wake up all on my own? Apparently the health benefits vs curses are negligible. So I could pretend like it's just like water. But sometimes I hate feeling so dependent on something to keep me thinking during the day.

Source

2.Facebook
- I recently purged a ton of old contacts from my Facebook account, thinking that if I had less traffic on my newsfeed, I'd be more likely to stop spending hours stalking people I will never talk to again. Instead, I've started stalking people I should really just call up on the phone.








3.   Pinterest
 - This site is a black hole. Not only does it show me all the ways folks are crazy creative, but it makes me want every. single. thing. they've made.

Source

3. Teacher Blogs
- Especially since most of the blogs are by teachers who have lower elementary classes. I teach upper and high school. I'm not sure I'm really benefitting from reading up on how to create the perfect bulletin boards.







5. Office Supplies
- This is an expensive obsession. I just find it so difficult to pass up multi-colored file folders!






A few of these addictions are internet-based, so I've decided that the best way to put a clamp on them is to limit my internet use. Of course, every time I start to try to implement said clamp, I talk myself out of all the reasons I wanted to quit in the first place.

Justifications
1. Coffee frees my mind and helps me focus. At least I don't do drugs.

2. My friends are on Facebook because they want to be stalked. If they didn't want to be stalked, then they wouldn't have an account and I would be forced to call them and have a real relationship with them. They have social anxiety. Stalking them is helping them.

3. I need to get more ideas for classroom management. My eighth graders aren't going to self-police. Reading up on this classroom management manual for kindergarteners will help. I can apply the same principles and use books without pictures to illustrate my point.

4. By electronically keeping track of things that I like, I am saving trees.

5. If my desk is not organized, then my life is not organized and I will self-destruct. What if there is a natural disaster and I cannot find my passport? I need that label maker.



Things I wish I was addicted to:
1. Church
2. Exercise
3. Vegetables
4. Classical Literature
5. Cleaning


Dream big, America.

Manic

Mills people are really awesome. Every time I interact with any of my Mills friends, I just get so stoked that I decided to go there and got to meet all those genius individuals. No words to explain it.


And, my equally awesome housemate Erin just asked Zak if he wanted to be a polygamist so she could use his gym discount.


I am so blessed.

:P

Self-Improvment Plan Part 1: Like List

Lately, I've been reading this book called 

Character Makeover 

which I got from the Hume bookstore. It has a few good points but overall it's not really what I was hoping for. Mostly because it talks about improving your 'self' as something that's super easy to do. "Oh yeah, just stop doing x, y, z and pray more."

Good advice, yes, but not for the person who does x, y, z, a little bit of t and a regular dose of j. (Just to be clear, those variables are not drugs. This book in particular focuses on confidence, pride and humility, honesty, those kind of things.)

So I am taking their ideas in principle and applying them in a way that makes more sense to me. 

Step 1 in my Self-Improvement Plan is working out/getting fit. That's mostly because once I become this awesome person, I want to live long enough to enjoy it.

Step 2: Make a list of things that I like 

This reason is one-fold (is that a thing?). I don't really know what I like. I know what other people like. So: what do I like? (in no particular order. and I'm purposefully leaving out human beings because if I start on those I'll never stop.)

• the ocean and all the creatures in it. But mostly dolphins.
• pirates
• lists (obviously)
• the color blue in the grayer hues
• coffee and caffeine in general, though the word "caffeine" is on my ultimate list of "words I hate to spell"
• the desert heat - so dry. So not San Francisco.
• the permanence of family 
• Grey cats and black labs
• graph paper. I like to color in the boxes
• organizing (particularly labeling things.)
• Buying junk
• doing other people's hair
• taking pictures
• vodka
• researching anything
• the early morning
• sand in my hair. I like to feel it rub against my scalp. I also like sand under my nails.
• nostalgia; it is like a drug.
• cooking, but not necessarily food. I just want to make stuff and force-feed other people.
• reeeeally tall bookshelves
• the ring of fancy crystal
• collecting things (spoons, cows, bells, thimbles, books, notes, bookmarks, plates .. I could go on for days)
• anonymity
• silver hair

I might have to spread this out over a couple posts. I am discovering that I like many things. And some of the things on my list should be there multiple times.

Also, how perfect is this?

The length of this post is one of the reasons why I'm not a famous blogger.

If in the first twenty-something years of your life you don't succeed ...

I'm socially awkward.

This is not a new development, but one that I am finally coming to terms with. Or recognizing. It will likely take years for me to "come to terms with" aka "own" this part of me. I hope I'll just grow out of it.

The problem may have something to do with any number of things: my self-esteem, my ADD, my inability to see out of my glasses, hormones, lack of adequate protein in my diet, fear.

I looked up "awkward" in the medical dictionary, hoping it was a symptom of something else, but nothing came up. So, it's just me. Being me.

I have a hard time making and keeping friends, even though I really really really want to. I am infamous for making a formerly good conversation come to a rolling stop because I offered what I thought would be an encouraging response, only to find out that it was like saying "period" at the end of a sentence. Or writing "The End" in the middle of chapter 3 of a 14 chapter novel.

Usually, none of this bothers me, mostly because I hardly notice. I spend hours alone everyday, staring at my computer, making lesson plans for my hypothetical classes or reading the blogs of people I've never met.

But I do occasionally notice, on those rare occasions when I spend time with the one or two friends I still have, and their ability to be awesome totally blows me away. Then, instead of seizing the opportunity to connect, I spend the whole time admiring and studying their mannerisms, hoping one day to end up like them through mimicry.

This is the way you hold your head. This is the way you laugh. This is how to listen. These are the intuitive questions to ask to invite people in and make people like you. To make people trust you.

And Kellie, these are the ways you are not.

Isn't this Amazing?

I found this today while I was stalking some of my favorite teaching blogs on

 

Houston-Area Girl Paints with Her Eyes: MyFoxHOUSTON.com

This post will not change your life

Zak and I got up at 5:30 this morning so we could go to the USF gym and work out.

When the alarm went off, I tried to pretend that I couldn't hear it. I thought that if I seemed like I was going to cave, then Zak would too. (Un)fortunately for me, my husband has more self-discipline than I do. He got out of bed and got ready to go to the gym. As much as I wanted to stay in bed and sleep, I couldn't be shown up by him.

After a sweat-inducing work-out, I'm back and showered and trying to decide whether I'm going back to sleep, getting back out of bed, or getting out of bed AND getting dressed.

Anyone who's seen me this summer knows that even if I'm out of bed, I'm most likely still in my pajamas. At 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Yep. I cook dinner in my pajamas. What? It's the summer. In San Francisco summers, we don't get to wear bikinis and soak up the sun. We wear long johns and build a fire in the fireplace.

Also, whoever invented the elliptical machine really didn't thoroughly examine the mechanics of the human body. For those of you who've never seen one, it's like a standing bicycle. It's supposed to be better for your knees than running. But I toppled over every three minutes. There's just no way to balance on a thing like that. And then when I'd fall off, the machine made this high-pitched beeping noise and told me to pedal faster.

I'd rather have to get new knees at forty.

I hope this post makes you feel enlightened.