Now that I’m settling into my new work schedule, it’s becoming clear that Thursday is not an optimal blogging day for me. On Sunday (aka the day I might have time to write) I think “It’s four days until blog day! I have plenty of time!” Then wooooosh! The week is gone.
So I think I’m going to try switching the blog post day to Mondays. Let’s see if that leads to fresher and more content!
Solving questions you did not know you had, in case you must defend yourself in front of the Academy.
My dear friend has covered one of my absolute favorite fantasty books on religion. Enjoy the read as much as I did!
I love the way Tom is taking the feedback after the last election and making changes based on it!
Another election is over and I was somewhat surprised to learn via the Stoneham Community Facebook Group that some people didn’t know that there had been an election. In further discussion, I discovered that even more people had no idea who the candidates were, nor did they know who the elected officials were. There was a lot of talk about improving communication from the town and many people seemed to think that if there was a good, informal way to meet the elected officials in a relaxed setting possibly outside of town hall, that they would be amendable to attending.
I thought this was a great idea, and coincidentally I had a meeting scheduled with the Stoneham Theatre about having collaborative events with the town. This lead to another thought: I was already planning to host a pre-town meeting designed to take the mystery out of the annual Town Meetings…
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I’m definitely running behind today. I haven’t even figured out what I want to write about! So it will come. But not on time.
Editor’s note: This is the second installment in my mother’s Camp Gramp updates. We’ll have a bit of a hiatus as Adam and I go tackle the North Side of Mt. Rainier. Tomorrow night, Berkeley Park!
Day Two
Today was chose your own adventure day. The children are old enough to have some say in what we do, so we made a powerpoint and posters for things we thought they might like, and each child chose one. Today’s adventure was the Carolyn Adventure, Northwest Trek. The tram ride was awesome. We saw a bull moose about 5 feet from the tram. We saw caribou, bison, elk, big horned sheep, deer. We saw ducks, geese, and swans. The bull elk herd was hot, so they were all standing in the water, fabulous racks bending and twisting like wind-tossed reeds.
We even had an adventure of another kind. A 1 1/2 year old took off his shoe and tossed it out the window. In case you are wondering, they send the game keeper to pick it up!
The core area was not so good. It was warm and everyone was sleeping. We got a good view of the fox, which is why we were there. We dragged ourselves out of NW Trek, tired but happy and came home to dinner.
Now the living room is ringing with voices engaged in a game they say is called “politics”. Hmmm! What kind of grandchildren are they raising? I don’t know what the game is, exactly, but periodically there is the patter of little feet coming into my office and a child whispers in my ear, “Don’t tell them I am here!” I would never do that!
They are playing together so well! Lovely!
I’ve thought a lot about little Gabriel with the story of Jeremiah Oliver (http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/2013/12/28/family-community-search-again-for-missing-fitchburg-boy/8X4J8TfzNlKJoBcd0HYtEK/story.html). It does not reassure me that Gabriel is well and taken care of, somewhere. I think I’ll always wonder.
Spending my lunches at daycare (theoretically nursing Thane, but in reality just giving both of my boys big hugs and playing with them) has reminded me of Grey’s first year, when I did the same thing. There was a little boy at daycare name Gabriel. (Long “a”, like “Gah-briel” not “Gay-briel”)
Gabriel was about three at the time. The age Grey is now. He had big, dark eyes and curly dark hair. He also had behavior problems and didn’t talk. He would throw violent, inarticulate fits. He grew to really like me, and I to like him. He would stand next to me when I nursed Grey, and I would talk to him. I would ask him questions and, unfamiliar with child development, be contented with the few words he gave back to me. His face lit up when he saw me. I was afraid for him. Rubertina does her…
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A passionate call from a 19th century-turned-tongue to lovingly call for Evangelicals to repent from their error.
Rather distressed of Heart, I have been reading of the travails of that redoubtable Charitie, World-Vision. I will admit to a Confusion of Feeling engendered by these Trials. I know World-Vision of old, having served there as a Volunteer, and knowing that my Father’s Employment was for some Years centered there. Too, there is good Work that is done in the Name of the Christ by these Agents of the Gospel. Much of Povertie, Strife, and Sickness is eased by their Care and Wealth, and their Dedication to the Cause of the Betterment of Humanitie cannot be doubted. This, of course, provided that, by Humanitie, you mean those Persons whose carnal Desires fit neatly into the Box provided by the Moralitie of my era, and none of your own.
I write, however, not for World-Vision – I am, past my own Historie, indifferent to the Rise or Fall of one…
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There were plums and prunes and cherries,
There were citrons and raisins and cinnamon, too
There was nutmeg, cloves and berries
And a crust that was nailed on with glue
There were caraway seeds in abundance
Such that work up a fine stomach ache
That could kill a man twice after eating a slice
Of Miss Fogarty’s Christmas cake.
At the last two Family Meetings, when the subject of Christmas planning came up, Grey has adamantly insisted that any Christmas plans must, MUST, include a Christmas pudding. I confess that this rather unexpected demand warmed the cockles of my heart. “Just what I need this Christmas!” I figured. “A ridiculously elaborate and archaic baked good that needs-must be served flaming!”
So I googled around a bit. I was somewhat dismayed by some of the ingredients. Suet? Citron? What are the odds my local Stop & Shop has those? Plus, all the recipes I read were in metric units. Although we have a scale for just this exigency, I prefer my teaspoons and ounces. Happily, I thought to check my never-used “Joy of Cooking”, and there it was:
I dragged my eldest on a grocery store scavenger hunt with me. He found the dates. I found the citron. A helpful butcher’s assistant helped us find the suet. (Pro tip: it’s in with the steaks and beef – you’ll check the tiny “British” section fruitlessly.) I did use sultanas (golden raisins) instead of boring ol’ American Raisins. And we emerged victorious, with the fruits of our labors.
By the way, in case you’re as curious as I was, a citron is a completely new fruit to me. I’v never seen one before, but apparently it’s a nearly inedible fruit. I presume the Brits heard about that and took it as a personal challenge. I was truly shocked that they were available for purchase in my little Stop and Shop. I tasted one and they were, um, interesting.
Last night, I figured I’d make the pudding. I got the raisins and currants going, and discovered that step took two hours. Then this afternoon after church, I figured it was high time to make the pudding. I chopped the suet, mixed with my hands, and had several bowls of ingredients.
It was at that point that I discovered the steaming of the pudding takes at least three hours (and I have somewhere to be this afternoon) so I think that will be this evening’s activity.
My Christmas gift from my Mother-in-law was some of her wedding silverware. I’ve secretly always wanted real silver silverware, but it’s the sort of thing I could never justify actually purchasing, so I’m thrilled. I have plans for a fancy-shmancy Christmas dinner, totally from the Joy of Cooking, with my best dishes and linens. My intention is:
Roast lamb shoulder with roast vegetables
Yorkshire pudding
Gravy
Roast asparagus (a family favorite)
To which my son would like to add “Grey-joulais” which is rice with nuked veggies on top. Of course, I think this will be lovely.
And I’ll finish the whole thing off with a flaming (likely inedible – let’s be honest) Christmas pudding!
It’s pretty easy to find people who hate Facebook. There’s the “Internet Privacy” people, the “I only have an account to see pictures of my grandkids” contingent, the “It’s stupid and I don’t know why anyone does it” group and several others. I understand all these perspectives. There are studies showing Facebook makes people sad and unresolved etiquette questions about when you unfriend an ex of a friend. And of course, Facebook can definitely be a time suck. These are all real things, and downsides of social media.
But I find in my life that there’s way more upside to social media than down.
I left for college in New England in 1996, when the internet was new and social media undreampt. (I remember one college I visited telling me I would have to use a “motor” to connect to the internet.) I had been married four years before Facebook was invented down the street. When I returned to my hometown four years later to get married, I only invited two high school friends. My class president is MIA, so there was no 5th or 10th year reunions. By the time the 5th would have happened, I was out of touch with everyone from my home town to whom I was not related.
Then Facebook happened. And in those heady early days we just friended everyone we’d ever met. The algorithms matched us to our high school classmates, and for the first time in a decade I heard the news from Morton again. Very gradually, over time, the shared experience of a tiny town began to fight back against time and distance. We began to learn about each other’s grown lives.
In my case, I was often surprised and pleased to see how happy and interesting my high school classmates had become. The kids who sat with me during Pep Band in the “rooting section”, whose portraits are next to mine on the single long hallway of the high school, have become really neat people. A Knowledge Bowl team member is a PhD biologist. My fellow D&D player is an English professor (who still loves Tolkien as much as I do!). A guy whom I remember in a school play – wearing my father’s sweater vest – is on the sidelines of a make-or-break playoff football game right now. There’s a decorated war veteran and gay right’s activist. I’ve spoken before of fellow-basketball-player Brandy Clark. There are many others besides them.
Tonight a whole bunch of us are huddled around our computers, listening to the Morton/White Pass Timberwolves playing in the Tacoma Dome. (It’s in progress, and a real nail biter!) I’m hearing places I remember from childhood, and names I once knew well rolling off the tongue of the announcer. I am feeling connected to East Lewis County right now – from my 110 year old colonial in a three hundred year old New England town.
So does Facebook paint pretty pictures of the life of others? (Absolutely – for the record, my life is not nearly as photogenic as you might think from reading this blog/following me on Facebook.) Can it be a time waster? Sure. Are there people who are either unrelentingly negative or saccharinely obnoxious? Of course. But I’m grateful for this moment of shared community: brought to me by social media.
Edited to add: Morton White Pass won!
My Truant Pen 