Thursday, September 13

Dad's vacation

As most of my readers know, my dad took a vacation and came out to visit me: his account of it is here:
And he's right; we see the LA area through totally different eyes. Even after 7 years, I love it out here as much as ever. I love being able to hop on the freeway and see a show in LA. I love being able to hang out at Forest Lawn. I love being so near to all this movie history. I love being in the midst of university life, and being able to participate in the dialectic. I hated being stuck in a small town; while I grant that they are good places to be, I will leave it to others to live there. I love having the freedom to be who I am, and not have to fit some mold (I am so glad to not have to pretend to care about football games anymore! And to be free to care very much about books) Give me the city skyline, the palm trees, even the freeways. Give me the ocean, and the long slow rains that drizzle for three days. Give me the long golden sunset light, and the milky whiteness of the eucalyptus trees. Give me the hot asphalt, the crumbling concrete, and even the earthquakes.
I love this City.
(But then, ya'll knew that already.)

Last night was weird

Yesterday was not a great day for me. I was tired, and somewhat depressed (note: this is very normal for me, just annoying) and by the time I got to Bible study, I was not in any mood to be around large groups of people.
I was too shy to share my struggle in the time for prayer requests (maybe next week), but prayed anyway that God would get me out of myself (oh dang that sounds so weird after the discussion last night....) and let me be present with the Plato group in a meaningful way.
I didn't notice that I cheered up, but I had one of the best discussions I've ever had. I was able to follow the discussion (mostly) and contribute a few significant things, I think. Maybe.
So thanks be to the God who understands bipolar introverts!

Wednesday, September 12


*munches* liquor-filled chocolate cake......yummy.....
Good thing I brought the leftovers of the cake to work. If it stayed in my house I'd eat it all!

Anyone like Frankie Valli?

Jersey Boys is going to the OC Performing Arts center, and the nosebleed seats are only about $30! Anyone want to go with me???
(what do you mean, you don't know who Frankie Valli is?  Everybody knows who Frankie Valli is!)

Tuesday, September 11

you know...

...that you are a geek and your friends are all geeks when:
you go to the store to get fish to make fish and chips, and all three of you stand in front of the frozen fish freezer, reciting Lewis Carroll's "Lobster Quadrille":
"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle - will you come and join the dance?
  Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?
  Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

Black Russian Cake... exactly what it sounds like. It's yellow cake mix, with chocolate pudding mix stirred in, 1/4 cup each of Kahlua and vodka, and a glaze made of butter, sugar, and rum.
It's delicious.
(the recipe is in the Red Hat Society cookbook. The cookbook is almost worth it just for this cake alone)

Today is September 11

I'm sure you remember where you were. You may even remember the time. I do. My roommate's mother called her to tell her to turn on the TV: I rolled over sleepily, and looked at the clock. 7:32 am. We turn on the tv, just in time to see the second tower fall. No-one knew what was happening, only that it hadn't been an accident. My roommate calls her boyfriend: he is panicked because his mother is an airline attendant with American Airlines. He knew she was on an international flight that day, and it's usually international flights that are hijacked.
We watch the tv for a long time, stunned. We watch people jump from the towers, people crying, blood and ash and smoke everywhere. We wonder if LA will be hit, or Disneyland. The whole day is a little fuzzy: I remember a prayer meeting being held in the chapel. I think I wore all black for a few days--I'm not good at mourning, and that was the only thing I could figure out to do. I remember classes being somewhat optional for a few days, or given over just to discussing the events. I remember how quiet it was, with no airplanes flying overhead. I remember when the airplanes did start flying again, how nervous you get now when one sounds too low to the ground, too close to the buildings.
Sometimes it feels odd to hear sound clips from that day, and feel the cold terror in the pit of my stomach again. Is it odd or morbid to remember that fear, the horror of all the death and injury and anguish? I don't know. I just remember. Every year.