big fat experiment

Got this recipe from my mom’s cookbook, entitled Big Fat Cookies.  Tried the “Butterscotch Blondie Marble Cookies” for the first time today.  They were a little bigger and a little fatter than I anticipated. Voila, the result:

 

I’ll proportion them better next time.  They still taste pretty darn good.  Stay tuned to see what I do with the loads of free time I have on my hands these days.

deep seeded fear

I have been blessed with a wonderful baby sitting job for a family here in SLO.  They have two young boys. J just turned three, and is so much fun.  He loves building forts, play dough, and ghost pirates.  C is almost 12 weeks, takes a bottle like a champ, and loves to have dance parties with his older bro.  Needless to say I stinking love them.  They are the best.  Save for one catch.

J, being 3, has naturally reached the threshold for potty training.  His mom reminds him each day as she leaves the house, “J, who are you gonna tell if you have to go potty?”  To which he replies, “Sawa.”  That’s me. 

Turns out that he never actually tells Sawa if he needs to go.  So the responsibility lies with me to constantly ask, “J, do you need to go potty?”  To which the response is infallibly a whiney “I don’t wanna go!”  But at least once I trudge him downstairs to the little, er I mean, “big boy” potty and let him try to go.  I mean, he loses nothing for trying.  He even gets a Pez candy just for squatting on the pot.  Win-win, I say.  He doesn’t think so, though.  

He usually stands, stiff-legged in front of his tiny potty and squeals “NOOOOOOOO.” As I try to calmly coax him into sitting down and just giving a little push.  I kid you not: he is deathly afraid of doo doo.  I have no clue why, but the kid will go days without a #2 sighting and give himself a huge stomach ache.  His mom assures me that this is totally normal for kids his age, but I still have my doubts.  I just feel like a villain each time I have to march him downstairs to give it a try.  Hopefully this phobia subsides soon!

how would you describe your faith?

I had my last training shift at Upper Crust last night. Joanne, one of the regulars, sat at the bar as I finished up my side work.  Her book caught my attention.  I didn’t read the whole title, but in bold orange letters, the word JESUS beckoned to me.  I asked her about the book, and she explained why she was reading it.  Joanne told me about her beliefs, and then I asked her to describe her faith to me.  She said that she’s in the pursuit of truth, always learning.  She said that she was a Christian, “in the most liberal sense of the word.”  Then she turned the question on little-old-unsuspecting me.  She asked me as I wiped the counter, “How would you describe your faith?”

There was no turning back.  I stared at the black and green flecked granite bar for a moment, then answered, “I’m a follower of Christ.”  After a pause, I rephrased my response: “I’m surrendered to Christ.”  I have found that this answer is solid.  The word “Christian” has so many negative, ugly and unseemly connotations.  How sad!  I can’t even use the phrase Christian to describe myself without seeming cold, judgmental and hateful.  

Quite frankly, that’s not the Christ I serve.  The Christ I serve created me for a divine romance with himself, that I might know the Greatest Love.  He laid down his life to pay the penalty of my shortcomings, that I would be reconciled with the Father.  He lavishes a love so great on my that I can’t even imagine its limits. That’s the love that he died to share with me, with you, with Joanne.  He even died so that my Agnostic and Atheistic professors would recognize his love.  My prayer in this time is that I could be a witness of this beautiful dance of Grace and Truth that Jesus so perfectly modeled.

Also–had a wild spiritual convo crop up outa no where tonight at the MLL Spring Banquet.  I just sat and picked at my Thai food (yuck) while my fellow students (and professors!!!) asked me to describe my beliefs and the work that I’ll be doing with Campus Crusade for Christ next year.  So, naturally I just presented the gospel to three other students and two professors. One prof wanted to stay late to discuss spiritual things.  The two of us sat the restaurant for a half hour after the rest of the party had left.  Absolutely loco, I tell you.  That stuff doesn’t just happen.  The Holy Spirit is alive and moving in SLO. Pray for changed lives!

piropo

Today, as I drove home from church, a noteworthy event took place.

I left CalvarySLO around 10:15am, and turned out onto Broad St, where a maroon Ford Aerostar van pulled up next to me (it didn’t look too different from that pic).  I took off from a stop light, and the van was going about the same speed as me, but I took no notice.  My window was down, as it was a beautiful SLO Sunday morning, and I wasn’t about to miss it in order to run my AC.  

I was enjoying the 3 minute drive home, soaking it in by not taking off from the light too fast.  I was even thinking to myself about how this is an excellent way to conserve gasoline, too!  The man in the passenger seat of the van (who I assume was of Mexican decent, perhaps he was some other latin american nationality, though) called out through the open window of the Aerostar,

“Hey!  ¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás?”

The driver whistled at me, and both gave that machísimo smile.  You know, that smile.  I don’t understand how any woman has ever been wooed by that smile.  Come on, ladies.  That really works on you?

I was caught off guard for a split second, then called back in my best Mexican accent as I slowly increased my speed,

“¡Buenos días! ¡Muy bien, gracias!  ¿Y usted?”

Well, that did the trick. They stared back, dumbfounded.  The ol’ white girl speaking Spanish gig strikes again!  I love my life and my (seemingly) useless major in moments like this.

back

I realize it has been a bit since I’ve written anything on here.  Well, after a little hiatus, I am back.

Most noteworthy:  I went to El Salv last week during my spring break.  It was so good.  I reconnected with friends that I haven’t seen since summer and fell in love once more with this miniscule Central American country.  Spanish came even easier than it did last time.  It was great to work alongside the Stint team and to get to know them more.  As great as it was to be in El Salv with a team of 29 people from Poly, it was really strange to be there without the peeps from my summer project team.  Overall, I loved my week there, and wouldn’t have chosen to spend my money or time any other way.  The Lord has placed a special passion on my heart for the people of this country, and he whispers so gently and clearly into my heart while I am there.  Will the future hold more trips to El Slav? Only my Savior knows.  Needless to say, it was wonderful to be back.

In other news:  school is so lame.  I seriously detest it sometimes.  I used to have this passion for learning and eagerly anticipated the start of a new quarter.  I would listen to my professors in lecture, hanging on their every word, hoping that they would notice my excitement for their classes.  Now I just sit there, ho-hum, watching the seconds tick away on the clock in the back of the room, hoping the professor doesn’t notice how frequently I turn my head and look  backwards to check the time.  I had to buy two tiny (around 200 p) French texts for about $250, and I can’t even really read them (because, let’s face it…I don’t really comprehend French).  I have homework for the first time tonight, and I feel myself growing more and more apathetic towards the text.  In this case, I’m not so happy to be back.

Economics update:  back in the work force.  Double timing.  I’m starting to Nanny for two families here in SLO for just a few hours a week.  Sophia, a 3 year old whose energy is only surpassed by her immense appetite should be a handful. After watching her last night, I had a nightmare that it was my responsibility to put her to bed.  Oh dear.  Cassius, a 3 week old boy is so tiny and so sweet.  I hope I don’t break him when I hold him.  Baby got back.

Forecast: finally submitted my application to Campus Crusade today.  It’s official folks….I’m planning to intern with Crusade here in SLO after I graduate in December.  I am excited/nervous/overjoyed/anxious/shaking in my boots.  Ministry is my passion.  I just love sharing the gospel.  I just fear raising support.  All of your prayers for my heart are appreciated.  I trust a big God for big results.  I really do believe that he loves me, that he has a marvelous plan for my life, and that this plan includes joining staff with Campus Crusade.  After all of this time wandering away from his fold, making my own plans for the future; I’m following his lead as he calls me back.

I guess that’s all for now. My heart hurts today, and I’m not really sure why.  I feel like I’m being refined.  And I feel the tender touch of the Lord as he molds me into his image.  He is protecting me from what could be big time heartache, and yet I still feel the pang of loss as I surrender my plans to him each day.  It is good, hard, stressful, painful, lonely, exciting, satisfying, to be back.

hey y’all

Went line dancing last night.  Had a blast.  Didn’t know what I was missing out on all this time by staying at home all these Thursday nights.  Gonna kick up my heels and head out line dancing when I can manage it from here on out!  I will say that cowboy boots are no small investment…

John and I will definitely not lose the next Salvadorian dance contest we enter.

nighttime story

We sat on the edge of the sea.  It was night, and our backs were turned to the water.  We could hear the sound of the waves breaking in the darkness.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and as we sat on the brim of the continent  the stars shone brightly, luring us to gaze into their infinite beauty.

As we sat, my eyes wandered up and up, wondering at the vastness of the universe, in awe of the Creator and his amazing creation.  I sent up a silent prayer of thanks when my wandering eyes caught a glimpse of Orion, who was stretched out in the sky directly behind my head.  The jewels of his belt glittered in the blackness, more brightly than they do when he appears above my inland home.  I could see his strong shoulders and his arms stretched out above his head, a constant guardian of the galaxy.  He was arrayed in the glory of the cosmos, and I managed to turn my head toward the sea to take in momentary glances of the constellation,  so that I might capture the image of his noble stature in my tiny memory.

Suddenly, I felt him move beside me.  We had been sitting cross-legged, listening to the story, half lulled by the rhythm of the deep at our backs.  He turned his body a quarter of a circle, so that he faced the water and me.  I watched him from the corner of my own distracted eye.  His eyes searched the night sky, and came to rest on Orion.  After a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed out.  In that instant, I knew his thoughts.  Did he know mine also?  I turned my face toward him and aligned my sight with his.

I wanted to whisper, “Orion is my favorite,” into his ear, but feared that my words would be drowned out by the crash of the black waves on the shore.  I feared too that perhaps he wasn’t thinking about the majestic Orion at all.  I doubted what I had been sure of only a moment before;  I doubted that I knew his private contemplations, and realized that I only wished that I could be acquainted with them.  Had I been bolder, more courageous, I would have leaned in to him and murmured of my admiration of Orion, my lips almost brushing his ear, just to be sure that he heard me over the roar of the sea.  But I kept my would-be utterance to myself, content to guess at his musing and to watch his soft, dark eyes probe the night sky.

It was enough to sit beside him and to enjoy the cosmic view.

planning ahead

Seriously. Would it kill the Sunset Drive In to let us know what movie they’re gonna be showing in 3 days? I’m just in the dark about it. I would love to know what movie it is, cause I’m inviting the business unplugged to go on Friday night.  I have no stinkin’ idea how its gonna go down.  Here’s hoping the business majors show up anyway!

creative revelation

I was sitting in Ms. Avery’s 11th grade AP English class at SLOHS today, flipping through the literary anthology the students use when I came across a familiar poem from my own jr. year of High School.

T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”  captured my attention when I was 16, but I had all but forgotten what it was about over the last 4 years.  As I glanced over the lyrical poem today, I realized I really sympathize with Eliot.  He’s just trying to have a conversation at a party, ya know?  He’s sitting there,  trying to come up with stuff to say to this girl that gives him the heeby-jeebies.  The poem struck a chord in my own life and therefore I have chosen a new title for the story I wrote back in December.  Henceforth, it will be called “The Love Song of S. Beth Kelly.”

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin? …….. I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. ……. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say: “That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all.”

Oh Eliot.  You said it, Baby.

middle school

I’m in ED 300 this quarter, which means I have to get 45 hours of in-classroom observation done by the end of the quarter.  I’m at SLOHS on Tuesday mornings and I go to Laguna Middle School on Thursdays.  I’m trying to get the most out of my experience, so I started taking notes during Mr. Wittman’s class this morning.  

Now, Mr. Wittman is a straight-laced 30 something eighth grade english teacher at Laguna.  He has green plants in the window of his classroom and has posted inspirational quotes on bright paper around the border of the classroom walls.  Such quotes read, “No man is an island unto himself,” and “Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.”  He rides his road bike to school (which, might I add, is the exact same bike that my dad used to ride before he upgraded last summer) and holds a commanding presence in his classroom, standing before his students in impeccably pressed pleated khaki slacks.  

These are the events that unfolded in Mr. Wittman’s class on  Thursday, January 29, 2009.

I sat in Mr. Wittman’s class, pretty bored since he wasn’t really teaching.  I sat in a back row desk and tried not to yawn as I watched the students interact.  Suddenly, Mr. Wittman stood up, walked to the white board and asked the students to define the word “clause.” A student answered promptly and gave a good example.  Next, Mr. Wittman asked for an example of an independent clause.  Here’s the discussion that followed:

Mr. Wittman:  Who can give me an example of an independent clause please? And make it at least PG rated. (I choose to believe that he meant to say AT MOST PG rated….)

Lauren:  I am hungry.

Will: He said AT LEAST PG rated….I am hungry….FOR BLOOD!!!!

Mr. W:  Good.  Now add another independent clause with a conjunctive adjective.

Will:  I am hungry for blood; THUS, I eat a cow!

Mr. W:  Right.  Can someone else give me another example?

James:  Jimmy vivisected a squirrel…..

Mr. W: ;Consequently, he was expelled from school.

Katie:  What does ‘vivisect’ mean?

James: To dissect when its alive!!!

Tess: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Jimmy vivisected a squirrel; consequently, HE WENT TO HELL.  Mr. Wittman!  He went to HELL.

Mr. W:  (doesn’t bat an eyelash) Separation of Church and State.

Samantha:  Do they get numbed first?

Jack:  Of course not!  It’s not a human!

Mr. W:  …and that’s how you make a compound sentence.

———–

I was dying to burst out in laughter.  Jr. Highers are too funny!  Sometimes, life is just so funny you have to record it.  This was one of those humorous moments.  I sat and transcribed the events so that I wouldn’t forget them, and could later relay the story to my dear sweet Brook (We like to take notes of random teacher commentary that we find hilarious).  I was just coming off the brink of bursting out in giggles in Mr. Wittman’s class when a student named Megan looked up at the board.  About 10 minutes had passed, and the students were back to drafting their biological research papers. Megan takes a look at the white board, gasps, and asks, “What does vivisect mean?” James was only so kind as to give another definition.  Megan then almost yelled, “WOW.  That sentence is inappropriate!  Can I erase it?”  Matt, another student then retorted, “It’s not inappropriate, it’s SCIENTIFIC.”

I have a huge respect for Jr. High teachers.  They’re great people.  I tried to stifle my giggles for the remainder of the class, but it was real hard.  I kept looking at the Webster’s Dictionaries placed under each desk.  They are all numbered (for clerical purposes, I’m sure), but most numbers have been scribbled over with a fat black permanent marker that reads 69.  

Ah, Jr. High.