I can't believe...

...that culottes are making a comeback, only now they're actually calling themselves gauchos, as if a mere name change can disguise their intrinsic hideousness. Weren't the eighties styles bad enough the first time around, and shouldn't we be letting them cower in oblivion, instead of pretending that 'Career gauchos' can now present themselves in professional society?

The inevitable Jane post

Snapshots of thought

- This Sunday marks the return to Standard Time. Hurrah for sleeping in an extra hour! But alas, it's going to be powerful dark by suppertime.

- I'm staggered by the news of Harriet Miers' withdrawal. Can't decide whether it's a good thing or not. Probably easiest to step down gracefully now than to try to stick it out and be battered to pieces in the process and probably not win anyway, but it's got to be a setback for President Bush.

- I'm reading aloud Ella Enchanted to Michael. It's a delightful fairy tale that I enjoyed reading to my little brothers the summer before I left home, but I still can't figure out how to pronounce Ogrese. It's definitely not as linguistically complex a language as any of Tolkien's works, but it's still original how it uses random capital letters and punctuations to denote a completely foreign tongue.

- Michael's reading aloud War on the Eastern Front to me, chronicling the ill-fated Russian campaign by Germany in 1941-44. It feels very much like reading War and Peace, and I'm struck over and over again with the vast expanses of land and grand sweeps of destiny. Last night we read about how the Red Army would round up civilians from local villages and march them across minefields planted by Germans to clear a path for the army to advance. There were millions of peasants to spare, and the Soviets had absolutely no respect for human life.

- Suddenly this week we are using the heat instead of the A/C. That transition happened quickly. This is the third winter we've lived in this house and we have yet to light a fire in the fireplace.

Quality of life

It occurred to me, as I was rinsing off the dishes preparatory to dumping them in the dishwasher, how very grateful I am for running (hot) water, which enables me to live in a state of comparative cleanliness. I can't imagine eating food off of dishes which have merely been soaked in dishwater, and yet that is how people lived on a daily basis up until a hundred years ago or so, except for the very rich people, who were able to pay (or force) other people to use several tubs of water for the process, thus getting the dishes fairly clean.

But it got me to thinking about the standards of cleanliness to which we are accustomed, and which we take for granted. Now we assume that we can have running water on hand to bathe in every day, to wash our hands off with several times a day, to wash our clothes in whenever we want, to wash our linens and dishes in; and we have top-notch vacuum cleaners to whisk away every last particle of dust, and long-handled brushes with powerful chemicals to deal with microscopic filth. But if we didn't have these tools, we wouldn't know any better, and would just live with it. Just like the medieval castle people who ate soup off of pieces of bread and didn't wipe the tables down afterwards, because they didn't know any different. Or like the pioneers who bathed basically whenever they came across a river, and considered themselves lucky if the water wasn't too cold. Or like the 18th-century commoners who routinely ate the weevils and mouse droppings in their grains because they didn't know any other way of food storage.

We think we have it pretty good. But the nobles in the castles thought so too, suffering from cold and damp and smoke in the cold stone rooms and halls and relying on the servants to pick the lice and bedbugs off of them, turning up their noses at the peasants who had to muck around in the dirt.

Modern technology has made possible a whole new level of cleanliness, and I am so grateful for it! I can't imagine life any other way. But I wonder whether further advances will push the frontiers of cleanliness even farther, and if future generations are going to look at us and wrinkle up their noses at us for living in such conditions. Will modern science ever find a way to rid us of those microscopic eyelash spiders, or invent a silt-proof spray we can spray on all household surfaces to repel cobwebs and dust particles, or eradicate the little dust-mites that live in linens and feed off dead skin cells? Or is there some natural barrier to how far human ingenuity can go, some limiting factor on the amount of scrubbing up we can do to tidy up the nastiness of this world? Is it even possible to ever be totally, completely, thoroughly sanitary and hygienic in a fallen and dying world? Probably not. So I'm very glad to have come as far as we have. As long as I don't know about the grasshoppers in my ketchup, I'll be happy.

Smarter than dolphins??

Yesterday Jane was fiddling around with something. Usually anything within reach goes straight into her mouth, but sometimes when she gets intrigued she'll start working with her fingers as a look of profound concentration floods her face. I think it had to do with a fastening on her playmat.

Me: Look at that! She'll have that figured out any minute now.
Michael: She's a smart one, all right.
Me: She's figuring out how to work the latch, just like a raccoon! Five months old and she's almost as smart as a raccoon!
Michael: Well, she's a human. I think that ranks higher than raccoons.
Me: Oh, yeah, that's right.

More of the wonderful weekend

I had barely uploaded the pictures yesterday, and had not gotten so far as to format them nicely, when I heard a soft thump behind me and turned around to discover that Jane had rolled off the bed and landed on the floor. Fortunately she landed on her back and the floor is carpeted, so after an initial bout of crying to work off her surprise, she quieted down and seemed perfectly fine. The little dear has been such a trooper these last few days!

As the pictures will demonstrate, we had a fabulous time of meeting old friends, although somehow the pictures with the bride and groom ended up on a different camera. Jane and I flew up Friday morning and spent the afternoon circulating around HSLDA, and Jane was a paragon of smiles and laughter despite having awakened at five and getting only an hour's nap all day long. Sara very kindly drove out to see us, and we hung out trying to converse, although in the midst of three little children clamouring for attention we agreed that we probably could have covered more ground just talking on the telephone during nap time. =) It's the thought that counts. Cora had baked us two loaves of her famous banana bread, and got to feed Jane her bottle. We breezed through most of the entire building, noting all the changes and being absolutely astounded at the sea of new faces. I think Legal has turned over about three times since my day.

Saturday was a beautiful day: sunny and warm, as all wedding days should be. Michael very generously walked with Jane out in the hallway through the entire ceremony, which was absolutely gorgeous. The bridesmaids wore long, sleeveless wine-coloured dresses and carried a single long-stemmed white flower (the name of which temporarily escapes me), and there was Janice!! I sat behind a whole row of PHC students, too, so it was a real blast from the past. It was a beautiful ceremony, and Joanna was radiant. I must add that here and there floated out a subdued whimper or bleat from some young member of the audience, and I wished so ardently that there could be a subtle way to get the word out that 'That's not my baby! My baby is being quietly walked in the hallway, and has been a perfect angel all weekend, despite not having gotten nearly enough sleep!' I tell you, this Mama Bear stuff is wholly engrossing. The reception was a wonderful party in which I got the biggest scoop of the year, over which I am still bubbling.

Sunday we went to church and met yet more old friends, and got to tour the new church building, oh-so-close to completion. After a pleasantly relaxing lunch with my family, we up and left. And Monday night we watched an episode of The Avengers, per Sara's recommendation and lending. Very quirky.

And that's the weekend in a nutshell! I am no longer setting Jane down on the bed while I work on the computer, no matter how far away from the edge she starts out.

The whirlwind weekend

Christian charity

Somewhere between turning the other cheek and turning out the money-changers in the temple lies a right and respectable model of behaviour for those of us who wish to honour God in our daily walk. I don't have a one-size-fits-all guide for ascertaining exactly which course this is, but I do know two extremes it is not. One is the abuse of God's name for personal gain at the expense of others, as experienced recently by Sara. That form of godliness strikes me as a scam designed to take in credulous good-hearted and well-meaning people.
And the other is the let's-not-make-waves, they-will-know-we-are-Christians-by-our-niceness brand of meekness to a fault.

Case in point: A certain person (let's call him Caesar) was invited out to lunch. The restaurant advertised that lunch meals would be served within fifteen minutes or the meal was free. Caesar's lunch break being limited, he was naturally anxious to get back to work, and went so far as to time the arrival of the food. When it arrived a good twenty minutes after ordering, he attempted to bring the matter to the attention of the waitress, and was immediately voted down by his fellow diners, who were obviously uncomfortable with the idea of holding the restaurant to its word and were apparently more interested in not making a scene than in following up on a perfectly good policy.

My guess is that they were simply people who couldn't deal with confrontation in any form, and didn't want to come across as critical of the waitress. But it seems an insult to God to cloak such timidity in the guise of Christianity, as if being a Christian means never being able to point out error in others or to complain of a wrong suffered. This reminds me of situations when an item of defective merchandise was not returned because 'it would be such a bad testimony to complain.'

I think the misconception here arises from a careless mixing of the rules governing the secular and the sacred, the personal and the institutional, perhaps an audacious statement because of course I believe that our Christianity should transcend every aspect of our lives. I propound, however, that applying principles for Christian individuals wholesale to institutions, policies, or governing bodies, is not what God intended when He called us to a life of personal holiness and commitment.

That misapplication of principle is where we get criticism of capitalism as such a brutal, uncaring, unloving, and therefore, surely, un-Christian economic system. Yes, capitalism can be cut-throat. As Churchill said, it's the worst economic system, except for all the others. (A socialist economic system, run by evil fallen human beings, is ten times scarier than a capitalist economic system run by evil fallen human beings.) But it's not the point of the economic system to exemplify Christ's ideal kingdom; it's the job of the people in the system to model Christ's character. What does that entail? In the professional level, it should involve good stewardship of one's assets; living as prudently as possible; seeking out the best bargains (but not using unethical means to do so); and using the bounty to bless others. One should not attempt to coerce the system into shouldering the burden of demonstrating Christ's love to the masses; in fact, that's a cheap cop-out of one's own individual responsibilities to love one's neighbour.

Now we see it...

On Saturday we suddenly felt very much like watching a movie. After the LOTR binge of the past few weekends, we were absolutely dried up on the movies front, so we decided to run down to Blockbuster and check something out. The price of movie rentals, however, has become outrageous. It would have cost $4.55, with tax, to rent one new release DVD! So we decided to spend $9.99 - practically the cost of two movies - and sign up for their unlimited movies program, planning to cancel at the end of the month. We've done this before, and it's a great way to get all those movies-we've-always-wanted-to-see-but-would-never-spend-the-money-on-individual-rental out of our system.

So we came home with our 'throwaway' movie, which really was a bad choice and made me very happy that we hadn't wasted any money on it. Perhaps it's that movies are getting worse, or perhaps it's just that I'm getting older (both true, actually, but their bearing on the present case remains indeterminate), but I find bad language soooo jarring and disturbing in a movie. A certain vulgar word was gratuitously used so many times in this particular movie that I told Michael, 'If the inventor of that word had been collecting royalties, he'd have made a fortune off of this one.'

We have decided that Jane can no longer stay awake during movies. Her infant cluelessness has officially worn off, and we don't want her learning things even if she doesn't understand them. So no movies until after 8:00 PM in this household.

And I have a whole list of Irish movies I want to see now...

The ocean blue

I've always had a fondness for Columbus Day, not least because I worked for four years at a place - somewhere besides the federal government - that considered it a holiday.

Over Columbus Day weekend 2000 I bought two smashing hats from Kohls - using the $10 gift certificate I received for Secretaries Day - hugely on sale, with change left over. One of those hats I brought with me to England and wore the day we gadded about St. Ives.

It's amazing how faithful a record of history we have, to know to the day when it was that Christopher Columbus actually sighted land. After five hundred years, it's great enough that we know the exact year of his voyage, but to have preserved the date and the details of his incredible voyage is stupendously impressive! One of the best history books I have ever read, which has given me an unforgettable perspective on the how and why of major events and put the discovery of the New World into context like nothing else has, is The Story of Liberty, by Charles Coffin. This book takes the reader from the signing of the Magna Carta to the establishment of a colony in the New World, always tracing the growth of liberty throughout the centuries. From reading this book I learned about Henry VIII's six wives, Wat Tyler's rebellion, the partnership of Lawrence Coster and John Gutenberg, the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, Joan of Arc, Lucretia Borgia, Dr. Tetzel, Diet of Worms, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and so much more.

The chapter on Columbus ends on a somber note, chronicling Columbus' ignoble end at the hands of a bloodthirsty country that gave us the Inquisition and the Armada: 'Columbus is rewarded for discovering a new world by being sent home in chains; and the man who discovered the Pacific Ocean is executed. That is the gratitude of Spain to her illustrious men.'

Still raining on Friday

It was only about three years ago that I found out what 'TGIF' stands for. And I still don't get that attitude. Except when I have big plans for the weekend, there would be no particular reason to look forward to it, and besides there's nothing to prevent me from having big plans on a weeknight. Generally my mentality has been that I love work. I always loved my job in Virginia, and though there were grueling days, I never really had a mentality of simply living for the weekend.

I've had three different jobs in Georgia, and each one I thoroughly enjoyed. Two were temporary assignments - the longest lasted three months - and one I worked at almost a year, right up until the week before Jane was born. Every single one had its tense moments, but overall they were extremely satisfying. I loved dressing professionally, driving to work, interacting with co-workers, talking with clients, solving problems, drinking water from the water cooler, and of course cashing my paycheck! There is no way I could have lived my life hating my job, or even just enduring it, living for the weekend, considering how much of my waking time I spent doing it.

Michael emailed me today with several questions on paperwork he has to fill out for HR. (SS #s, etc.) I love this kind of stuff. Filling out forms and going through orientation in a new situation is so fascinating to me that I wish I could do it for him, since he's not so crazy about it and views the paperwork as a necessary drag and the exciting adventure of the new horizon as a lesson to be patiently learned so that the thrill of the unknown can be compressed into the predictability of the familiar and therefore be more efficient to work with. I suppose there's something to be said for the comfort of a known quantity, and I definitely enjoy my job when I know what's expected of me and when I know my colleagues well enough to establish a rapport with them. But I so enjoy striking out for new adventure, reveling in the sensation of a clean slate, rising to the occasion and solving the problems of the world no matter how stressful it may seem. Especially now that I know that stress does not cause stomach ulcers.

Rainy Thursday

- Australian scientists win the Nobel prize in medicine for discovering that stomach ulcers are caused by bacteria, not stress. I don't know why, but this fascinates me. I guess it's helpful to know that I can hyper-stress over everything and not have to worry about contracting ulcers into the bargain.

- I used to have this really yummy recipe for microwave fudge. When I lived in Oregon (i.e. when I was a lot younger than I am now), I would mix up a batch of fudge whenever I felt like it and then eat the whole thing over a good book. Once I discovered a recipe for almond roca (or toffee, more precisely, since we never had chopped almonds), and I enjoyed several pans of that while perusing Sara's manuscript. For some odd reason, last night I was seized with a desire for toffee, so I whipped up a pan of it and, delicious as it was, felt very homesick for Archea. So I guess this post doubles as a personal email to you, Sara, asking you when I can get my story back.

- Rainy days always make me feel lazy.

- While backing out of the garage earlier this week, I whacked off the side-view mirror on the driver's side. Michael is always warning me about this, and I couldn't believe I had finally done it! I called him at work in great distress, much overcome with worry at the cost of repair and disbelief at having done something so patently silly and avoidable. His response was to laugh most heartily and tell me never to mind about it, we'd get it fixed and it was time to take the car in for a check-up anyway. Thus a great emotional outpouring of tears was avoided. Seen in that light, it doesn't seem so bad.

- The idea of laughter as a palliative against distress reminds me of a poem that I like very much, only I wish the moral could be adjusted to reprove whining and worry, as I tend to struggle with those emotions - in response to a catastrophe - rather than anger:

I wouldn't be cross, dear, it's never worthwhile;
Disarm the vexation by wearing a smile.
Let happen what may, dear, of trouble and loss-
I wouldn't be cross, love, I wouldn't be cross.

- My little brother Thomas (8) is quite the clever one. I called the other day to talk, and he was all excited about this poem he had learned.

Thomas: Shall I recite it to you?
Me: Umm...how many lines is it?
Benjamin: 36.
Me: Well, why don't you start reciting it and I'll tell you to stop when I get bored.
[He started reciting it. It turned out to be If, by Rudyard Kipling, one of my favourites, so I listened to the whole thing.]
Me: That was very good! Do you like poetry, or do you like to memorise things in general, or do you just like reciting?
Thomas: Well, all of that, but Mommy said she would give me a dollar if I could recite it to you.

Or was it Jamestown?

On Sunday, as we were driving home from church, Michael asked me, 'So can you list all five makes by GM?'

'Cheerios!' I said. 'Ha, ha!'

Michael proceeded to enlighten me by telling me all five makes. He has done this before, but apparently the lesson did not stick, or else I would have known the answer this time around, which is Buick, Oldsmobile, Chevrolet, etc. On we moved to the topic of Chrysler, despite its having sold out to the Germans and no longer being an American company. I did not know any of the makes, so Michael had to tell me the first one, which is Chrysler - which I think is cheating, to have a make named after the manufacturer.

Me: I don't know any of the others.
Michael: Sure you do. Think of the Pilgrims.
Me: The Chrysler Progress?
Michael: No, silly! Think of them landing.
Me: Ummm...the Chrysler Mayflower?
Michael: Boy, this is embarrassing. Think of where they landed.
Me: Oh, the Plymouth! I've seen those!

Sugar and spice

Jane Victoria is five months old today. A year ago we were aware of her existence (though not her identity) and now we can't imagine life without her. She smiles, giggles, and coos readily, and has just discovered her toes.










Her name means 'Gracious' or 'God is gracious,' she loves making plies when she stands, and to top it all off, she was born on a Tuesday! If that's not a recommendation for a career in ballet, then I don't know what is.

Somewhat mollified

Over the weekend we watched a few more hours of extras from Return of the King (which I DID like much better the second time around). It's so fun to see all the behind-the-scenes footage, and I love listening to all the native NZ accents. I still disagree with the necessity for certain departures from plot (Frodo sending Sam away; revealing Eowyn's identity before the battle) but I am more reconciled to them and like the movie better as a whole despite the changes, which seem far less glaring now in context of all the thought that went into them.

What impresses me so much about these movies is what incredible pains were taken with the details. There were no shortcuts or cutting corners - everything was done exactly right and with the utmost degree of painstaking thoroughness, like intricate hand-embroidery on the undergarments of a gown that was worn for one scene that was shot only from the shoulders up! The miniatures were carved on such a scale and with such an elaborate degree of intricate detail that they earned the nickname 'Bigatures' from the crew who worked on them. With this level of quality, no wonder it took so long and cost so much to film these movies, and no wonder the finished product looks so magnificent.