During my senior year of high school I got my first car. It was actually my Christmas present. My mom bought it for a couple hundred bucks off of her best friend. It was an '85 Toyota Carolla and you couldn't fill the gas tank more than half way because there was a leak. No lie--that car was awesome. I loved him...and named him Wilber. Wilber gave me more freedom than I had ever had before. No longer dependant on rides from my parents and/or friends I was free to explore and attend different churches on my own. Churches to attend weren't hard to find. Most of the kids that I went to school with were pretty conservative, religiously and politically. There was a different protestant denomination on every corner. It seems religion is the only thriving business there nowadays.
I started 'church hopping' going to a different church most weekends, asking friends if I could go to services with them. I realized that the fundamentalist non-denominational church my friend attended wasn't for me when I looked over the seat in front of me at a children's book that said that the 'dinosaurs died out because they couldn't fit on Noah's ark." That did it for me. My parents were pretty free with allowing us to explore, but becoming too conservative is a cardinal sin in my family. My mom didn't let me go back to that church after I told her about the book. We like evolution in my household. When I started reading the 'Left Behind' series I learned the term 'take with a grain of salt.'
I never realized how many church denominations start with M...Let's see...
Mennonite
Methodist
Mormon
Missionary
There was also the Lutheran Church and a bunch of others. It's been awhile. I used to be able to rattle this list of 15 different churches off.
I really enjoyed going to the Mennonite church with family friends of ours. I would sell my mom's jam at the farmers market to raise money for my mission trip to Nicaragua and she would teach me about her faith and her family. They don't use instrumentation in their church, but everyone sings joyfully. My friend was teaching a first grade Sunday school class and I got to learn about Nebakanezer. I realized around then that I didn't know very much about the Old Testament and started reading the Bible more on my own.
I've been to two different Mormon churches and rather enjoyed myself. This probably doesn't come as a surprise but I will ravenously study languages and religions in my free time. My friend had borrowed the Encyclopedia of the Church of the Latter Day Saints and we read for hours. It was so similar, and so different. I found the use of old English quaint and adorable. I didn't really form an opinion then, and in no way was pressured to convert or join the church. Everyone was polite and it was a good experience overall.
I loved Praise and Worship music. I have always loved music, and felt like it spoke to my soul. I started around this time to phase out 'modern' music and listen to classical, oldies and Christian rock. I was sick of all the negative messaging that I was exposed to, and friends turned me on to some music that, while still maintaining the musicality, didn't have the negative lyrics.
My friends attended the local Methodist church, so in the end I spent more time there and involved with their youth group programs than any else. When the youth group started discussing going to Nicaragua on a mission trip, I knew I had to be there. My aunt and uncle have worked in Nicaragua most of my life as linguists and I wanted to see what I had heard about first time. I wanted an adventure before starting college in the fall. A lot of my senior year was spent trying to gather the money for this trip, and getting all of the necessary shots. There were way too many shots required for this trip. Never let them do an immuno globulin Hep something shot on you. It is incredibly painful, and in the ass. I couldn't sit, seriously. We ended up having to drive hours to find places that actually HAD the vaccinations on hand as well.
My trip to Nicaragua was amazing. I was a girl that had never seen the face of poverty any closer than a television screen. Seeing it up close makes you reassess how you spend your money, and live your life. I think that my experiences there helped solidify my desire for social justice, and continue to study US foreign policy in Central America. See, it all ties in--I swear. It was in Nicaragua that I saw the roll that religion played in peoples lives; giving hope to the hopeless. If you have nothing, and are promised everything if you live a good and virtuous life, then you take it. If you have nothing, no hope and you are given hope, a goal and a community then you do everything you can to keep that hope strong. I saw the hope.
There was a teenager named Cesar that I met. His 'job' was to take care of his young cousin while her mother was selling goods in the market. She was a toddler and likes to nap in my arms every afternoon. Cesar had a rough life, everyone did in the shanty town that we were working in. He sniffed glue, like many of his peers, because it made the hunger pangs go away and being high felt good. Parents, starved themselves, with starving children would let them sniff glue to stop their crying out of hunger. They quickly became addicted, rotting their brains as starvation rotted their bodies. Cesar came to the work site, where we were adding an addition to a church, every day bringing his cousin. On the last day we were here, the daughter of the missionary in charge of us sat down and talked and prayed with him. In the end, he accepted Christ as his savior, and at that point we were all crying. Cesar did change his life. He joined the church and became an active member. Religion, finding God in his life changed it. I get that, I get that blind faith in his life. But I really do think that it was him finding hope in a hopeless world. Him finding love where there was no love.
It was this societal order that Marx was commenting on when he said 'Religion is the opiate of the masses.' If people are content believing that if they suffer now for something better, they are less likely to revolt and fight the system. I didn't go because I wanted eternal life, but because I think that it is our duty as humans to help one another. Call it karma, or guilt over crappy political movements on behalf of my country, but I do truly want to help make this world a better place and when I was a teenager, I was a hell of lot more idealistic than I am now.
I'm going to leave you with the bible verse that summed up my trip to Nicaragua. When it was originally read to us, I cried because I really thought that this is exactly what we were trying to do.
Matthew 31-46
31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
Next...on to college
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Losing My Religion...Guest Post
Thank you to everyone that has been reading this series and writing me emails, and comments. I am still blown away by the fact that people like what I have to write and want me to continue to write. I am currently doing some more research into journals I kept before college to get a better picture of my frame of mine for my next installment. I am leaving you however with a guest post from a high school friend Nicci. Nicci kindly shared her story of the role of religion in her life.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Losing My Religion...Part 2
Living in the Midwest was an...experience. I moved there when I was 10, and didn't leave until college. It was the longest I'd ever lived in one place. Hell...still is. I loved the smell of wet grass, the chirp of the birds and the sounds of buggy wheels coming down the road. I loved living in a big old Victorian house that we were convinced was haunted with the soul of the wife of the builder. I still dream about that house, frequently. I wonder if I'm dreaming about that house because of this blog, and all the memories and feeling it is bringing to the surface.
When I was introduced to the Catholic faith, we were living in New York state, about 90 minutes upstate of the city, in a very Catholic area. Along with acquiring a rather strong New York accent (caawfee anyone?) I absorbed the culture around the church. Our community lived, worked, and went to school together. We had a great base, a great foundation that we really lost when we moved. When you go to a church school those people are your family, your friends and your community. In the days before the internet, and skype it was a lot harder to stay in touch.
My mom talks about how our family changed when we moved, and how happiness left us. It was really excruciatingly difficult for her to give up this community that supported her during her sobriety and learning to be a good parent. She credits the St. James community for teaching her how to be a good parent. We struggled both individually and as a family unit to cope with the changes that we were faced with.
We joined the local Catholic church, but the community there wasn't terribly strong. It was established and loathe to let new people in, plus we got a new priest right after we arrived. Fr. P wasn't a very good Priest. In fact, he was a pretty awful priest that didn't know what he was doing, since he was a Friar that they hooked into becoming a Pastor. He just wanted to cook, and study and all of the sudden he was in charge of an entire parish. I can only imagine how daunting that task was and how relieved he was when he was able to retire.
When we lived in New York we had Priests that would give homilies (or sermons) on a level that children could understand. They would tell stories to illustrate their points, and make it interesting and short enough that we didn't completely lose interest. Someone forgot to tell Fr. P that this was a good idea. My grandfather told me when he was in seminary they were taught to keep Sunday homilies between 5-7 minutes and weekday homilies to 3. This is exactly my attention span as it so happens (since I've never lost interest in one of his homilies). Fr. P however would ramble on for a half an hour it seemed like and in the end I would have no idea what was said. This is an important point since the next step in my journey is to attend a ton of different Protestant churches which are all sermon based, not worship based. The main difference between those sermon's and our weekly homilies was exactly the issue I had between parishes--I couldn't relate to the homilies. I could relate to the sermons, and the spiffy handouts with outlines and power points to illustrate points really helped. Perhaps there was also the element of just wanting to get through it. Going to Church was about going it wasn't exactly demanded that we get something out of it. When I decided on my own to go to other churches, I wanted to go and therefore I had more of a vested interest in it.
What created this interest? It was meeting people who truly had faith. They had this aura of peace around them. They have 'noor' which means God's light emanating from them, and I was jealous. I want that! I want to feel at peace in this crazy world, safe in the knowledge that it will all be alright. I wanted that noor and so I went out looking for it. I really think that I thought that I would hear some sermon one day and all the sudden, BOOM there it would be. I would just...get it. Sadly, it doesn't work like that.
I remember the moment when I really started questioning what I was taught. I was in the car with a friend and she was describing the idea of being 'saved' and that people that weren't saved weren't going to go to heaven. "What about people that don't know about Christianity?" I'd asked.
"Well, if they truly honestly don't know about Christianity because they live in some remote place then maybe they will be able to, but there aren't many places like that now."
This didn't sit well with me. Religious exclusivity never has. What makes one group convinced that their way, the definitively the 'right' way? I know a lot of it has to do with faith, but as you will read...I never felt that connection to faith.
When I was in high school I, like every other high schooler in the world, just wanted more than anything else to fit in. I joined campus ministry and student leadership (another campus for Christ organization), went to prayer circles in the morning, and religiously read my bible (haha nice pun, right?). I wanted to find a place where I fit in, belonged, and a place that I could feel trust and trusted. The 'religious' kids were nice to me. They didn't ask me to lie, cheat or steal and didn't make fun of me. I still felt like I was an outcast though.
It was during this search that I started to go to every church I could, and learn as much as I could. Living where I did, my resources were limited to attend or learn about any faith outside of Christianity. That didn't really happen until college.
Up next...church shopping, or hopping
When I was introduced to the Catholic faith, we were living in New York state, about 90 minutes upstate of the city, in a very Catholic area. Along with acquiring a rather strong New York accent (caawfee anyone?) I absorbed the culture around the church. Our community lived, worked, and went to school together. We had a great base, a great foundation that we really lost when we moved. When you go to a church school those people are your family, your friends and your community. In the days before the internet, and skype it was a lot harder to stay in touch.
My mom talks about how our family changed when we moved, and how happiness left us. It was really excruciatingly difficult for her to give up this community that supported her during her sobriety and learning to be a good parent. She credits the St. James community for teaching her how to be a good parent. We struggled both individually and as a family unit to cope with the changes that we were faced with.
We joined the local Catholic church, but the community there wasn't terribly strong. It was established and loathe to let new people in, plus we got a new priest right after we arrived. Fr. P wasn't a very good Priest. In fact, he was a pretty awful priest that didn't know what he was doing, since he was a Friar that they hooked into becoming a Pastor. He just wanted to cook, and study and all of the sudden he was in charge of an entire parish. I can only imagine how daunting that task was and how relieved he was when he was able to retire.
When we lived in New York we had Priests that would give homilies (or sermons) on a level that children could understand. They would tell stories to illustrate their points, and make it interesting and short enough that we didn't completely lose interest. Someone forgot to tell Fr. P that this was a good idea. My grandfather told me when he was in seminary they were taught to keep Sunday homilies between 5-7 minutes and weekday homilies to 3. This is exactly my attention span as it so happens (since I've never lost interest in one of his homilies). Fr. P however would ramble on for a half an hour it seemed like and in the end I would have no idea what was said. This is an important point since the next step in my journey is to attend a ton of different Protestant churches which are all sermon based, not worship based. The main difference between those sermon's and our weekly homilies was exactly the issue I had between parishes--I couldn't relate to the homilies. I could relate to the sermons, and the spiffy handouts with outlines and power points to illustrate points really helped. Perhaps there was also the element of just wanting to get through it. Going to Church was about going it wasn't exactly demanded that we get something out of it. When I decided on my own to go to other churches, I wanted to go and therefore I had more of a vested interest in it.
What created this interest? It was meeting people who truly had faith. They had this aura of peace around them. They have 'noor' which means God's light emanating from them, and I was jealous. I want that! I want to feel at peace in this crazy world, safe in the knowledge that it will all be alright. I wanted that noor and so I went out looking for it. I really think that I thought that I would hear some sermon one day and all the sudden, BOOM there it would be. I would just...get it. Sadly, it doesn't work like that.
I remember the moment when I really started questioning what I was taught. I was in the car with a friend and she was describing the idea of being 'saved' and that people that weren't saved weren't going to go to heaven. "What about people that don't know about Christianity?" I'd asked.
"Well, if they truly honestly don't know about Christianity because they live in some remote place then maybe they will be able to, but there aren't many places like that now."
This didn't sit well with me. Religious exclusivity never has. What makes one group convinced that their way, the definitively the 'right' way? I know a lot of it has to do with faith, but as you will read...I never felt that connection to faith.
When I was in high school I, like every other high schooler in the world, just wanted more than anything else to fit in. I joined campus ministry and student leadership (another campus for Christ organization), went to prayer circles in the morning, and religiously read my bible (haha nice pun, right?). I wanted to find a place where I fit in, belonged, and a place that I could feel trust and trusted. The 'religious' kids were nice to me. They didn't ask me to lie, cheat or steal and didn't make fun of me. I still felt like I was an outcast though.
It was during this search that I started to go to every church I could, and learn as much as I could. Living where I did, my resources were limited to attend or learn about any faith outside of Christianity. That didn't really happen until college.
Up next...church shopping, or hopping
Yogurt Making Tutorial
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| My starter! You need 3-5T, not much at all! I just saved a bit from my first batch! |
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| I measure the milk so I know exactly how much yogurt I'm getting |
Okay people now that you have your yogurt starter, and your whole milk we take some milk (I do 8-9 cups at a time) and put it in a saucepan and bring it to just a boil. Don't scald the poor milk--this is to kill the bacteria, not to fry it. After bringing it to a boil, you let it cool off to 110 degrees (bottle hot) and pour in your starter. As it is cooling off, I pour it into a dutch oven (since I don't have a ceramic container) and then keep stirring occationally to keep a film from forming. At the beginning of all this, turn the oven onto about 150-175 and then when it preheats, just turn it off. You are just making a happy environment for those yummy yogurt bacteria.
After the starter is stirred in, leave it the hell alone for 8-10 hours. I just put it in the oven in the dutch oven with a lid on and leave it be!
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| Finished Product! |
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Losing my religion...part 1
Recently a friend on facebook asked my conclusions on religion and I realized that it was time to write this post. I think that I have had difficulty writing this post as I don’t really feel like defending my lack of religiosity to people who are thoroughly entrenched in their own beliefs. As you will learn, I love faith and religion and it’s role in humanity. If you have questions, feel free to comment and ask them, but know that I’m not and will never pretend to be a theologian.
This caveat aside, let’s dive in.
When I was 8 years old my parents decided to formally join the Roman Catholic Church. We were, at the time, attending a lovely Catholic school, and my step-father had been brought up in a very Catholic influenced household (German AND Irish, need I say more?). I once asked my dad about their decision to join the Church and he told me that they (he and my mother) wanted us to have some religious foundation in our lives. My parents never forced us in any way in our religious upbringing. We went to Church on Sunday’s and said Grace before meals, and that was about it. If we wanted to explore, or question we were allowed to, as long and we still went to Mass with them. By the time I was in high school, I was going to Mass by myself most of the time, which in the end, enabled me to go to other Churches as well.
I still remember the first time I went to Mass (this may have actually been before we were enrolled in the school....I was young and things get moved around in my head over the years). Fr. Francis a lovely priest with a heavy Ghanan accent was leading Mass. I did not have a clue as to what he said for the entire hour. Not because the Mass is such a rich ritualistic prayer celebration, nope...it was because his accent was so thick. If you’ve attended Mass many times, this isn’t a problem since it is pretty much always the same and you can follow along. For an 8 year old...it was a little daunting. I asked my dad if it would always be like that, and he explained to me about the whole accent thing. Like I said, I was young.
My brother and I were baptised together when I was in second grade. My 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Ryan was my sponsor since my aunt and grandfather that I had picked as Godparents weren’t able to come. Mrs. Ryan scared the crap out of me. I was too young to even know all of the stereotypical ‘Catholic school-teacher’ myths but she sort of...no, she did fit them. I went from having a huge public school first grade teacher who was very soft spoken; I don’t remember her ever yelling at us, to this tiny class with a spitfire of a woman that could put anyone back in their place with a single glare. She even scared my mother! She wasn’t all bad though, she had a lot to teach us, plus I’m sure we were a rowdy bunch. During my second grade year I was Baptized, received my First Reconciliation (confession) and had my First Communion. I don’t remember the specifics but my brother was Baptized and received First Communion with my class.
Attending Catholic school meant that we had catechism lessons during class, and attended Mass at least once a week. During the period leading up to receiving First Communion we would hang out in the church a lot practicing. We got to eat popcorn instead of the ‘bread’ served during mass, and let’s just say, the popcorn tasted a lot better. You’d be surprise at how long it takes 15 7-8 year old’s to hold their hands correctly and respond correctly when there is an entire church to look at. We also got to go back into the sacristy and see where the Priest would get dressed, and all of the ceremonial garb and accouterments. One thing that struck me was this sink with a sieve. Our teacher told us that it was in case someone were to throw up after receiving communion they could sift out the host. I have no idea what they’d do with it then, but vomit was a taboo subject and I might have stopped listening.
Another thing we learned was that the church was named after St. James, and that in the alter there was a box with a tiny fragment of bone from St. James. At the time I thought, and I still do, that this was a little morbid. I have never felt the urge to keep the bones of a dead friend close to me for comfort.
After we moved to the great Midwest we still attended Sunday school weekly (at this point I’m not sure if my brother attended) and eventually I was confirmed in the church. I was also, interestingly enough, an alter server. My dad was the one that trained us actually. If you go to a church where they ring bells, did you know that this is because Mass was originally in Latin and it was to wake up the people that couldn’t understand Latin and alert them that something interesting (in this case the blessing of the host) was going on? I learned that that day!
I loved being involved the church, the choir and the community, even if it was small. I’m a social person, and I didn’t really fit in at school.
I love the Catholic church and it’s devotion to social justice. My Catholic university experience really emphasised that. I love nun’s who devote their lives to service and helping others. I also adore my grandfather who, after my grandmother passed away, became a priest. He is such an amazing and awesome man and I can’t thank him enough for all of the long email conversations about religion that we had through my college years, and beyond.
Even if I don’t consider myself Catholic anymore, I have defended the Catholic Church and what it’s dogma stipulates. For many years after, I still felt like a warm blanket was thrown around me and I was held in my mother’s lap when I attended Mass. It was a comfort. The familiar words and hymns washed over me.
I just don’t believe it. In something like religion that, in the end, comes fundamentally down to faith, I just didn’t have it anymore. I have however always admired people that lived their faith, and had this light about them of belief. This comfort in their own skin and assurance for what comes next. This is the next part of my story....
It was during high school that I started studying other religions in earnest, starting with the hundreds of Protestant churches around me.
This caveat aside, let’s dive in.
When I was 8 years old my parents decided to formally join the Roman Catholic Church. We were, at the time, attending a lovely Catholic school, and my step-father had been brought up in a very Catholic influenced household (German AND Irish, need I say more?). I once asked my dad about their decision to join the Church and he told me that they (he and my mother) wanted us to have some religious foundation in our lives. My parents never forced us in any way in our religious upbringing. We went to Church on Sunday’s and said Grace before meals, and that was about it. If we wanted to explore, or question we were allowed to, as long and we still went to Mass with them. By the time I was in high school, I was going to Mass by myself most of the time, which in the end, enabled me to go to other Churches as well.
I still remember the first time I went to Mass (this may have actually been before we were enrolled in the school....I was young and things get moved around in my head over the years). Fr. Francis a lovely priest with a heavy Ghanan accent was leading Mass. I did not have a clue as to what he said for the entire hour. Not because the Mass is such a rich ritualistic prayer celebration, nope...it was because his accent was so thick. If you’ve attended Mass many times, this isn’t a problem since it is pretty much always the same and you can follow along. For an 8 year old...it was a little daunting. I asked my dad if it would always be like that, and he explained to me about the whole accent thing. Like I said, I was young.
My brother and I were baptised together when I was in second grade. My 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Ryan was my sponsor since my aunt and grandfather that I had picked as Godparents weren’t able to come. Mrs. Ryan scared the crap out of me. I was too young to even know all of the stereotypical ‘Catholic school-teacher’ myths but she sort of...no, she did fit them. I went from having a huge public school first grade teacher who was very soft spoken; I don’t remember her ever yelling at us, to this tiny class with a spitfire of a woman that could put anyone back in their place with a single glare. She even scared my mother! She wasn’t all bad though, she had a lot to teach us, plus I’m sure we were a rowdy bunch. During my second grade year I was Baptized, received my First Reconciliation (confession) and had my First Communion. I don’t remember the specifics but my brother was Baptized and received First Communion with my class.
Attending Catholic school meant that we had catechism lessons during class, and attended Mass at least once a week. During the period leading up to receiving First Communion we would hang out in the church a lot practicing. We got to eat popcorn instead of the ‘bread’ served during mass, and let’s just say, the popcorn tasted a lot better. You’d be surprise at how long it takes 15 7-8 year old’s to hold their hands correctly and respond correctly when there is an entire church to look at. We also got to go back into the sacristy and see where the Priest would get dressed, and all of the ceremonial garb and accouterments. One thing that struck me was this sink with a sieve. Our teacher told us that it was in case someone were to throw up after receiving communion they could sift out the host. I have no idea what they’d do with it then, but vomit was a taboo subject and I might have stopped listening.
Another thing we learned was that the church was named after St. James, and that in the alter there was a box with a tiny fragment of bone from St. James. At the time I thought, and I still do, that this was a little morbid. I have never felt the urge to keep the bones of a dead friend close to me for comfort.
After we moved to the great Midwest we still attended Sunday school weekly (at this point I’m not sure if my brother attended) and eventually I was confirmed in the church. I was also, interestingly enough, an alter server. My dad was the one that trained us actually. If you go to a church where they ring bells, did you know that this is because Mass was originally in Latin and it was to wake up the people that couldn’t understand Latin and alert them that something interesting (in this case the blessing of the host) was going on? I learned that that day!
I loved being involved the church, the choir and the community, even if it was small. I’m a social person, and I didn’t really fit in at school.
I love the Catholic church and it’s devotion to social justice. My Catholic university experience really emphasised that. I love nun’s who devote their lives to service and helping others. I also adore my grandfather who, after my grandmother passed away, became a priest. He is such an amazing and awesome man and I can’t thank him enough for all of the long email conversations about religion that we had through my college years, and beyond.
Even if I don’t consider myself Catholic anymore, I have defended the Catholic Church and what it’s dogma stipulates. For many years after, I still felt like a warm blanket was thrown around me and I was held in my mother’s lap when I attended Mass. It was a comfort. The familiar words and hymns washed over me.
I just don’t believe it. In something like religion that, in the end, comes fundamentally down to faith, I just didn’t have it anymore. I have however always admired people that lived their faith, and had this light about them of belief. This comfort in their own skin and assurance for what comes next. This is the next part of my story....
It was during high school that I started studying other religions in earnest, starting with the hundreds of Protestant churches around me.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Portal...
My husband loves video games. So much in fact that he started his own video game studio with his friends. That said, the man owns a LOT of video games. I asked him to delay playing Portal 2 until this weekend so I could watch/play with him. Frankly...I suck at the coordination involved in playing most video games, but I like the logic and problem solving involved so I, most times prefer watching him play.
After seeing how excited my hubby was to have me play this game with him (it is an awesome game) I sort of devoted my weekend to it...or so it seems. We've been at this for like 10 hours, and let me tell you this game is a hell of a lot longer than it's predecessor. It's okay, you can't really go wrong with a game about a psychotic passive aggressive robot and a portal gun.
I make cupcakes...I think it was a mistake. They are beautiful and I've got pictures up on facebook. The problem is...now I've got cupcakes and I do NOT need them. Anyone within 20 miles of me want some Easter cupcakes? I may be willing to drive, otherwise I'm going to hide them until Monday and send them to work with the hubby. I can't guarantee he won't eat them all though. I really need to stop compulsively baking!
I hope everyone has a lovely Easter! Don't eat too much candy....I did it already for you and the bellyache really isn't worth it. No seriously...I really need to stop eating. The jelly beans are already gone. Thank God I only bought one bag, but still....we ate an entire bag of jelly beans in less than 24 hours. *moans*
Thanks for all the great comments on my last post. The hubs and I have made some of our own traditions. I like that we do random awesome stuff just any day verses having to be tied to a particular day. That doesn't mean we don't do special stuff on Valentine's day or birthdays (mostly because I am very demanding about my need for presents) but we do attempt to do something that doesn't feed into money making that society attempts to force us in to. I really can't wait to see how our traditions develop as a family when we have children.
After seeing how excited my hubby was to have me play this game with him (it is an awesome game) I sort of devoted my weekend to it...or so it seems. We've been at this for like 10 hours, and let me tell you this game is a hell of a lot longer than it's predecessor. It's okay, you can't really go wrong with a game about a psychotic passive aggressive robot and a portal gun.
I make cupcakes...I think it was a mistake. They are beautiful and I've got pictures up on facebook. The problem is...now I've got cupcakes and I do NOT need them. Anyone within 20 miles of me want some Easter cupcakes? I may be willing to drive, otherwise I'm going to hide them until Monday and send them to work with the hubby. I can't guarantee he won't eat them all though. I really need to stop compulsively baking!
I hope everyone has a lovely Easter! Don't eat too much candy....I did it already for you and the bellyache really isn't worth it. No seriously...I really need to stop eating. The jelly beans are already gone. Thank God I only bought one bag, but still....we ate an entire bag of jelly beans in less than 24 hours. *moans*
Thanks for all the great comments on my last post. The hubs and I have made some of our own traditions. I like that we do random awesome stuff just any day verses having to be tied to a particular day. That doesn't mean we don't do special stuff on Valentine's day or birthdays (mostly because I am very demanding about my need for presents) but we do attempt to do something that doesn't feed into money making that society attempts to force us in to. I really can't wait to see how our traditions develop as a family when we have children.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
An Easter Tradition...why I miss Christianity, or at least the holidays
Neither my husband nor I practice any religion. While I love studying and learning about religions I'm generally a failure at practicing them. I tried Catholicism, I tried Protestantism and then I went a little wild in college and tried Islam. I have studied dozens of other faiths. Those are all really long stories of their own, but in the end I ended up back where I was in the beginning. Constantly wondering about the origins of the universe, where I came from, what my purpose is and what happens after we die. I have no answers to any of those questions, aside from deciding that I was going to stop thinking about dying and start living. I wasn't going just to survive anymore, getting through each day, I'm going to get up and go do something, go see something and go make a memory.
Tangent about the meaning of life aside, the reason that I miss Christianity is because I miss the holidays and the community around them. I miss Easter dinner, eating ham around the table. All the warm fuzzies. Atheists/agnostics don't really get holidays. My husband and I don't celebrate Easter, so unless we go out (as we did one year) and dye eggs with a friend's son, it isn't a Sunday any different than any other.
I never really liked Easter that much growing up. The weather in the north east seemed to always be either cold, rainy or both cold and rainy. I had to dress up in 'pretty' clothing, keep my tights clean and go to a really long Mass first thing in the morning. Umm...in a 10 year olds world, none of that is fun. I did however like the candy. I love jelly beans, although I'm rather picky about which ones I like. I like letting chocolate melt on my tongue, and I especially loved this tradition we had in our family.
In my family you had to work to get your Easter basket. You want that chocolate? You want those jelly beans? Then you had to play the game. Every year we had a an Easter Basket hunt with clues written on little pieces of paper leading to other clues around the house. And somehow there was always an Easter basket at the end, even if you had surreptitiously looked in the pots and pans, or in the tub before the actual start of the hunt and there was nothing there, in the end there was always one pristine Easter basket. My parents were sneaky like that! There were places that there were always clues such as the piano, our favorite Beatles record (Sgt. Peppers), the dictionary or our encyclopedias. We always had fun, and I can't wait to teach this tradition to my children.
Another tradition that we had is that my mom gives us toothbrushes on Easter (and in our Christmas stocking). It seems fitting to get a tooth brush right before the start of the sugar rush holidays. Also, my mom would always break the ears off of our bunnies. When we were kids she would steal them (don't deny it mom!) but now she just cracks them off before she send them to us. It is funny, but tends to confuse friends that wonder why we have broken candy in our baskets. It still cracks me up when she sends me candy bunnies in the mail with broken ears.
What is your favorite part of the holidays? The warm fuzzy memories? The traditions?
Tangent about the meaning of life aside, the reason that I miss Christianity is because I miss the holidays and the community around them. I miss Easter dinner, eating ham around the table. All the warm fuzzies. Atheists/agnostics don't really get holidays. My husband and I don't celebrate Easter, so unless we go out (as we did one year) and dye eggs with a friend's son, it isn't a Sunday any different than any other.
I never really liked Easter that much growing up. The weather in the north east seemed to always be either cold, rainy or both cold and rainy. I had to dress up in 'pretty' clothing, keep my tights clean and go to a really long Mass first thing in the morning. Umm...in a 10 year olds world, none of that is fun. I did however like the candy. I love jelly beans, although I'm rather picky about which ones I like. I like letting chocolate melt on my tongue, and I especially loved this tradition we had in our family.
In my family you had to work to get your Easter basket. You want that chocolate? You want those jelly beans? Then you had to play the game. Every year we had a an Easter Basket hunt with clues written on little pieces of paper leading to other clues around the house. And somehow there was always an Easter basket at the end, even if you had surreptitiously looked in the pots and pans, or in the tub before the actual start of the hunt and there was nothing there, in the end there was always one pristine Easter basket. My parents were sneaky like that! There were places that there were always clues such as the piano, our favorite Beatles record (Sgt. Peppers), the dictionary or our encyclopedias. We always had fun, and I can't wait to teach this tradition to my children.
Another tradition that we had is that my mom gives us toothbrushes on Easter (and in our Christmas stocking). It seems fitting to get a tooth brush right before the start of the sugar rush holidays. Also, my mom would always break the ears off of our bunnies. When we were kids she would steal them (don't deny it mom!) but now she just cracks them off before she send them to us. It is funny, but tends to confuse friends that wonder why we have broken candy in our baskets. It still cracks me up when she sends me candy bunnies in the mail with broken ears.
What is your favorite part of the holidays? The warm fuzzy memories? The traditions?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I wish I could send you a smell... (an adventure in homemade granola)
No, seriously. My kitchen smells AMAZING right now. Why you ask? Because I embarked on yet another food making odyssey to make homemade granola. Granola cooking might be the best smell ever. It might actually beat baking bread for me right now, and I love bread. My mom swears she made this stuff when I was a kid, so maybe that is where that ingrained love of the smell of baking granola comes from.
I have been struggling lately with being really tired and having no energy. I'm not sure if I'm sick, or if it is diet (all the crap I ate on 'vacation' catching up with me)or getting used to a new routine of working out, but today by the grace of God, and a lot of caffeine (chai at lunch...they really should cut me off after the fifth mug of it...the mugs are little though) I managed to get my house cleaned, laundry done so my husband has pants to wear to work, and some cooking done.
I think I was laying in bed this morning when I started thinking of the nuts and such I would need, that I didn't already have, to make granola. It was time for a trip to Trader Joe's. I think the clincher was that I was out of raisins, and that just wouldn't do.
I figured the recipe couldn't be that difficult (it isn't) and that as long as I didn't let it burn into a molten mass on a cooking sheet, it would be edible enough to pass off to my husband. I picked up some cashews (roasted but unsalted), two different types of raisins; since I like them on everything, and some pressed dried mango to chop up to put in the granola when it was done.
Tonight I was planning on making yogurt, since my landlady gave me a starter of her amazing batch, but instead started cutting up nuts and throwing things into a bowl. This is the recipe that I 'sort of' used, but since I had walnuts, cashews, pecans and almonds I added them all. I also put in the dried cranberries (my addition) and raisins before I read the recipe and saw that it said to put them in at the end (woops), so then I proceeded to attempt to pull as many out as possible. That would be why in the picture there are very few raisins. There will be loads in the finished product. I like raisins...a lot. The whole thing took 5 minutes tops to throw together. The only 'tough' part is sticking around to stir it every 15 minutes.
Dear Alton, thanks for a great recipe. I think the maple syrup base instead of another type of sugar won me over. Maybe you could make this a little healthier? Maybe next time I'll throw some stevia in the syrup instead of the brown sugar. I also sort of fudged on the measurements since granola is NOT an exact science.
I have been struggling lately with being really tired and having no energy. I'm not sure if I'm sick, or if it is diet (all the crap I ate on 'vacation' catching up with me)or getting used to a new routine of working out, but today by the grace of God, and a lot of caffeine (chai at lunch...they really should cut me off after the fifth mug of it...the mugs are little though) I managed to get my house cleaned, laundry done so my husband has pants to wear to work, and some cooking done.
I think I was laying in bed this morning when I started thinking of the nuts and such I would need, that I didn't already have, to make granola. It was time for a trip to Trader Joe's. I think the clincher was that I was out of raisins, and that just wouldn't do.
I figured the recipe couldn't be that difficult (it isn't) and that as long as I didn't let it burn into a molten mass on a cooking sheet, it would be edible enough to pass off to my husband. I picked up some cashews (roasted but unsalted), two different types of raisins; since I like them on everything, and some pressed dried mango to chop up to put in the granola when it was done.
Tonight I was planning on making yogurt, since my landlady gave me a starter of her amazing batch, but instead started cutting up nuts and throwing things into a bowl. This is the recipe that I 'sort of' used, but since I had walnuts, cashews, pecans and almonds I added them all. I also put in the dried cranberries (my addition) and raisins before I read the recipe and saw that it said to put them in at the end (woops), so then I proceeded to attempt to pull as many out as possible. That would be why in the picture there are very few raisins. There will be loads in the finished product. I like raisins...a lot. The whole thing took 5 minutes tops to throw together. The only 'tough' part is sticking around to stir it every 15 minutes.
Dear Alton, thanks for a great recipe. I think the maple syrup base instead of another type of sugar won me over. Maybe you could make this a little healthier? Maybe next time I'll throw some stevia in the syrup instead of the brown sugar. I also sort of fudged on the measurements since granola is NOT an exact science.
Click here for website
Ingredients
- 3 cups rolled oats
- 1 cup slivered almonds
- 1 cup cashews
- 3/4 cup shredded sweet coconut (I used unsweetened)
- 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
- 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons maple syrup
- 1/4 cup vegetable oil
- 3/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup raisins
Directions
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F.
In a large bowl, combine the oats, nuts, coconut, and brown sugar.
In a separate bowl, combine maple syrup, oil, and salt. Combine both mixtures and pour onto 2 sheet pans. Cook for 1 hour and 15 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes to achieve an even color.
Remove from oven and transfer into a large bowl. Add raisins and mix until evenly distributed.
My advice in making granola--shake it up! Put in your favorite nuts, not just what the recipe says. I didn't add salt...it didn't need it and neither do we! My other advice and the most important advice is STIR THE GRANOLA while it is cooking, otherwise you could end up with the molten mess discussed above, and no one wants to clean that up.
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| before cooking...looking yummy! |
On another fr ont...my cat is hilarious. What you thought you'd get through a post without reading about the infamous Newton? Come on people.
So my kitty has this ratty old teeny hairband that he stole from my cousin, and since he drooled all over it, my aunt wasn't exactly clamoring to get it back, although I did offer. This little teeny pink hairband has moved with us from WV and just randomly shows up until Newton yet again, loses it. He found it again this morning when I lifted up a laundry basket and it was underneath. How did it get under the laundry basket? Your guess is as good as mine. Anyways, here are some pictures right before he once again lost it under the couch. I was going to ask my husband to get up off the couch so I could get it out, then I remembered that my husband is working and my cat is...spoiled. He will have to do without for now.
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| See the tiny ratty pink hairband? It is almost gray now because of him carrying it around and spitting it back out. |
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| The second he realized he lost it (and part of my husband's leg..sorry hun). He spent the next 5 minutes staring at me, under the couch and back at me sadly. He is pretty pitiful when he wants to be. |
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sensational Sunday!
Before I went to bed last night I wrote a list of things I need to do today. Here is it
*laundry-contine to push through
*make pasta for hubby
do something with the *chicken-make pecan chicken?
*yogurt (skim!)
*get mail
*costco, need lemon juice
Instead...when I woke up unusally early this morning my husband asked for my phone and asked what I had planned for the the day. "Nothing special," I replied.
"Oh good, I've got a surprise for you, and you can't guess it. Go take a shower and dress up...we are going into DC today."
See...my husband doesn't generally like leaving the house. He has this theory about setting his house up as his comfortable castle and never leaving it. It works for him, but for someone as social as I am, it can get annoying (hence my making up a meetup.com group!). Because of the rarity of him wanting to leave the house, much less voluntarily going into the city, I hurried to get ready and tried really hard not to guess correctly (since he said we wouldn't do it if I guessed it correctly). I have a habit of randomly guessing correctly, and it drives him insane. We were out the door around 10am heading down to the metro. I'm wearing my favorite purple velvet coat. It isn't too heavy and it is perfect for the cool weather. Much more practical than the short shorts I saw girls shivering in today.
When we got to the metro and got on the train, the first person I saw was the founder of another meetup group that I met ON FRIDAY. The probability blows my mind!
Turns out we were going to see the Broadway Musical of The Color Purple! We had a bit of time to kill before the show...
Since it was a Sunday Matinee, there were a lot of empty seats, and we were in the fifth row, center.
*laundry-contine to push through
*make pasta for hubby
do something with the *chicken-make pecan chicken?
*yogurt (skim!)
*get mail
*costco, need lemon juice
Instead...when I woke up unusally early this morning my husband asked for my phone and asked what I had planned for the the day. "Nothing special," I replied.
"Oh good, I've got a surprise for you, and you can't guess it. Go take a shower and dress up...we are going into DC today."
See...my husband doesn't generally like leaving the house. He has this theory about setting his house up as his comfortable castle and never leaving it. It works for him, but for someone as social as I am, it can get annoying (hence my making up a meetup.com group!). Because of the rarity of him wanting to leave the house, much less voluntarily going into the city, I hurried to get ready and tried really hard not to guess correctly (since he said we wouldn't do it if I guessed it correctly). I have a habit of randomly guessing correctly, and it drives him insane. We were out the door around 10am heading down to the metro. I'm wearing my favorite purple velvet coat. It isn't too heavy and it is perfect for the cool weather. Much more practical than the short shorts I saw girls shivering in today.
When we got to the metro and got on the train, the first person I saw was the founder of another meetup group that I met ON FRIDAY. The probability blows my mind!
Turns out we were going to see the Broadway Musical of The Color Purple! We had a bit of time to kill before the show...
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| so we stopped to smell the flowers |
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| ironically purple tulips. They smelled like honey... |
Since it was a Sunday Matinee, there were a lot of empty seats, and we were in the fifth row, center.
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| obligatory theatre shot... |
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| The opening screen. Dear God, I am fourteen years old. |
The show was pretty awesome. I would highly suggest seeing it if you have read the book or seen the movie. It follows the movie apparently more than the book. One of the challenges in making a musical that spans 40 years is expressing to the audience the passage of time. I think that if you hadn't seen the movie or read the book their way of expressing it would be difficult to follow.
The book is graphic and disturbing at times. The musical portrayed these hardships while not being overly graphic or glossing over them. There were some seriously hilarious scenes (including some VERY ripped field workers "flirting" with Celie when she first comes to Mister's house). The whole thing comes off as a humorous story of overcoming hardship and finding love. My husband's favorite character was Sophia whose tag line is, "HELL NO!" The National Theatre is running a special next week for $29 tickets on Easter. If you are interested--check it out! It is worth the time and prices. The acting/singing were amazing.
Best pickup line from the movie is, "If you need anything else done around here Ma'am, just call...it doesn't have to be plumbin.'" Like I said earlier--it was hilarious.
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| main course was this ribeye steak and onion fries |
Next...oh yes, this amazing day isn't over yet, Aaron suggested was meander towards the Ceiba Restaurant where we went on one of our first dates. Since they take reservations and it is barely 5pm, I didn't think we'd be able to get dinner but Aaron strode in and said "Reservation for 5pm" and gave my name. Wait...what?! Did he just make that up to pretend we had reservations? No...he had made them online earlier when he was hiding in his office while I got ready. The true surprise was the dinner at Ceiba Restaurant, NOT the show. See, when we first met he took me there and it was that dinner and the following show we saw, Avenue Q, at the National Theatre, that made me realize how serious our relationship was, and ultimately that I was going to marry him. It was wonderful to relive those moments and make new amazing memories, plus...the food was AMAZING...
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| this was right after he told me about the surprise. He still looks...sneaky |
We had a lovely metro ride home...seeing the most adorable little Asian baby that I wanted to snuggle so much. Her mom kept trying to get her to wave at us, and she was like uhhh...no. We loved that she was sitting in her stroller with a plastic cover, and propping her feet up on it like it was an easy chair. Too cute for words.
Now we are sitting at home on the couch with a snoring cat between us, and I can say with certainty that this was a much better Sunday than I had originally planned!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Stupendous Saturday! Friends and yogurt...and mulch?
(insert big satisfied smiley face right here!)
What a great Saturday I have had. My husband and I both had friends over, and it was a great day, even if it poured most of the day.
Yesterday morning Mona and I headed over to a meetup (with another group) and met some great people. On the way out, they gave us these beautiful flowers!
This morning I decided to attempt to make yogurt after a friend sent me a link to the http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/ recipe. I only have skim milk and skim fage yogurt, so this might end badly, but oh well I can buy the proper ingredients next time! After putting the ingredients in the crockpot, allowing the milk to heat for a couple of hours, stirring in the yogurt and letting it cool, I put it in the oven (OFF!) and covered it with everything I could find (including sending my friend upstairs to grab a towel to wrap around it. I have two aprons around it, and there might be some place mats. Whatever...it works!
Since I didn't want anyone preheating the oven and starting a massive fire, I also put a sign up...
One of the things that my friend Mar and I love doing is coloring. No joke...I like it more now that I'm an adult than I did when I was in school. This is our latest...project. If it were more zoomed you could see how her side is perfectly even and beautiful and mine is...well me. Not always inside the lines and uneven. Pretty much sums up my personality-messy but effective...
Last night the husband and I hit up Costco for some serious produce. Mona and I shared some of hers as well, so I now have mangos, cantaloupe, pineapple, avocados, a sweet potato, spinach and 2 asperagus shoots. I can eat asperagus, but no I don't like it. This fact is making it really hard for me to finish. I sort of gave mona most of it.
The menu this week worked pretty well. The hubs either ate a couple of bites of my food or had it for left overs, which worked pretty well. I ended up cooking the hamburger meat yesterday, and then we can make tacos whenever we want. We ate at Costco last night since we were there, which made me feel a little guilty but my husband doesn't deal well with hunger, so I had to feed to beast. Here are some yummy produce shots...
Twice a year we apparently have to mulch our front garden. This is okay in theory, but I didn't know jack about mulching. I made a big mistake. Instead of getting the more expensive stuff that is darker, I got the cheap red crap that it looked like they had put down before. Dyed...wood. What was I thinking? Basically, I don't now won't eat anything out of the garden (there was an herb garden) because God knows what chemicals they use. Oh well...lesson learned. Next time, I'm getting cedar or pine. Does anyone know anything about using dyed mulch? I've never mulched before. I'm glad I was planning on simply container gardening anyways!
Before the red mulch fiastco I pulled out a bunch (no seriously, it takes over) of mint and decided to make mint lemonade from a recipe I found online. It's good...I've had way too much. I ran out of lemon juice...two bottles. I should be shot for using it, but I had it on hand and...they did all the work for me! I just had to measure it, right? It was a good project for 9pm.
That is it for tonight! I'm thinking tomorrow will be low key. I will try to get some pictures of our front garden now that it is mulched, even if I will grimace every time I look at it...just a little.
What a great Saturday I have had. My husband and I both had friends over, and it was a great day, even if it poured most of the day.
Yesterday morning Mona and I headed over to a meetup (with another group) and met some great people. On the way out, they gave us these beautiful flowers!
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| you can't really see anything but the string hanging down from my apron |
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| It says 'NO TOUCH! yogurt" It was a small sticky note...and a bad marker! |
One of the things that my friend Mar and I love doing is coloring. No joke...I like it more now that I'm an adult than I did when I was in school. This is our latest...project. If it were more zoomed you could see how her side is perfectly even and beautiful and mine is...well me. Not always inside the lines and uneven. Pretty much sums up my personality-messy but effective...
 |
| It is hard to see, but it is apparently a picture of a sorcerer's chamber. The orange thing at the bottom was supposed to a lion. |
Last night the husband and I hit up Costco for some serious produce. Mona and I shared some of hers as well, so I now have mangos, cantaloupe, pineapple, avocados, a sweet potato, spinach and 2 asperagus shoots. I can eat asperagus, but no I don't like it. This fact is making it really hard for me to finish. I sort of gave mona most of it.
The menu this week worked pretty well. The hubs either ate a couple of bites of my food or had it for left overs, which worked pretty well. I ended up cooking the hamburger meat yesterday, and then we can make tacos whenever we want. We ate at Costco last night since we were there, which made me feel a little guilty but my husband doesn't deal well with hunger, so I had to feed to beast. Here are some yummy produce shots...Twice a year we apparently have to mulch our front garden. This is okay in theory, but I didn't know jack about mulching. I made a big mistake. Instead of getting the more expensive stuff that is darker, I got the cheap red crap that it looked like they had put down before. Dyed...wood. What was I thinking? Basically, I don't now won't eat anything out of the garden (there was an herb garden) because God knows what chemicals they use. Oh well...lesson learned. Next time, I'm getting cedar or pine. Does anyone know anything about using dyed mulch? I've never mulched before. I'm glad I was planning on simply container gardening anyways!
Before the red mulch fiastco I pulled out a bunch (no seriously, it takes over) of mint and decided to make mint lemonade from a recipe I found online. It's good...I've had way too much. I ran out of lemon juice...two bottles. I should be shot for using it, but I had it on hand and...they did all the work for me! I just had to measure it, right? It was a good project for 9pm.
That is it for tonight! I'm thinking tomorrow will be low key. I will try to get some pictures of our front garden now that it is mulched, even if I will grimace every time I look at it...just a little.
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