For lack of other information

Well, there is little to report on our end. Joel has come down with a cold, one which I am struggling desperately to avoid but I feel like I'm losing. We made it through all the cold epidemics which ravaged our schools, but have finally succumbed to what is probably the last lap of winter colds. Tragic, I know. On the plus side, we only have about a week and a half left of school! So our lives are extremely busy trying to finish up papers and projects and study for finals. Joel's softball team has started practicing for this upcoming season, and has their first game this Thursday (Go Whammers! Wham 'Em!) While I might not make it to their first game (especially if the temperature is a balmy 45) I plan on posting many pictures over the summer from the games. Once the weather warms up they're very fun to go to. And so, since our heads are a little too congested to write anything intellectual, here are some pictures from our house as it is being slowly decorated. The very first picture is a little incorrect, since I took it before our kitchen cabinet doors were installed. Now, thankfully, our guests are not subject to the insides of my cabinets. But the rest should be correct!

Dreams

Both Joel and I dream frequently, and usually also remember them in detail. A few weeks ago Joel dreamed that he was wrestling Nephilim. Two nights ago I dreamed that I was kidnapped by a witch who forced me to watch both funny and sad movies so that when I reacted to them she could capture my emotions (sort of like Ursula taking Ariel's voice in the Little Mermaid, I think). It is understandable that a good deal of Joel's dreams involve him fighting someone or something; however, my dreams are much more varied and generally result from something I've seen or done the day before. I refused to watch the movie No Country for Old Men because I knew that if I did the serial killer would somehow end up in my dreams. So Joel watched it without me. Nevertheless, the serial killer still ended up in my dreams and terrorized Joel and I and our two children (very cute little girls, incidentally).
My mother suggested that I start writing down my dreams in the morning when I wake up. While I haven't done that yet, one of our recent Declamation assignments was to relate a dream. So here it is:

I have noticed that whatever I read before I go to bed will often have a direct influence on my dreams. Most recently, I have been working through Anna Karenina, and this particular book has definitely given me some of the most interesting dreams. Not surprisingly, they are almost always about social status.
So in my latest Karenina dream, I am shopping in a grocery store when a man in his 30s approaches me in the produce department. He politely asks if I know the population of alpacas in various portions of California. I’m taken off guard. This seems like an unusual question, so he hastens to explain. Studies have shown that areas where the alpaca population is higher have proven to also produce the best-tasting wine.
Now I’m tracking, but unfortunately so is everyone else in the grocery store who, I’ve noticed, have begun to cast rather pointed side-long glances at us. And that’s when the panic sets in. Remember how this is an obsessive social status dream? Suddenly I recall that since I am a married woman, carrying on a conversation with a man who is most obviously not my husband in the middle of a grocery store is enough to slap a scarlet A on my forehead. I start to panic, as he is rambling on about alpacas and wine country, obviously oblivious to the coals of disgrace he is heaping on my head.
But then the magic words spill out of his mouth: “My wife and I love California.” And immediately all the disapproving looks on people’s faces are replaced with smiling ones, and people go about their business without another glance at us. Because as everyone in my dream knows, it is completely acceptable to carry on a conversation with a woman in a grocery store, provided that you mention your spouse at least once in the conversation.

Enchanted by Creation

In my aesthetic gastronomy class (philosophy of cooking and eating in lay terms) we just finished reading "The Art of Eating" by M.F.K. Fisher. This book is difficult to describe in terms of genre, it is mostly autobiographical, partly historical, somewhat philosophical and completely enjoyable. Fisher's book sees the world as centered around food. She takes delight in things as simple as a loaf of bread with butter and a glass of wine. And yet at the same time her descriptions of amazing feasts can be mouth-watering.

Although Fisher is an Atheist, it seems at times that she has a higher regard for and love of Creation than many Christians do. She does not see food as mere sustenance, a means to filling the body. Her love of food lies in the nature of food itself. She shows to the reader so many layers of depth and richness in something as simple as an oyster. Fisher truly marvels at the way the world is made.
This approach of seeing the world as centered around food is a distinctly Christian outlook. Man first fell because of food, the Old Testament sacrifices presented food as an offering to God, the once and for all Sacrifice of Christ is a fulfillment of all of these previous offerings, and each week we gather to remember His death and be renewed with a meal. At the end of time the Church Triumphant will sit down to the glorious Supper of the Lamb.

So why as Christians should we cook, and in fact are called to cook well? Because in this, as in anything that we do that expresses creativity and invention, we are imitating our God and Father, the Creator and Inventor of cooking. And as His imitators, we should share His love of stuff. He was the one who gave us mushrooms and onions, wine and bread, snails and crab, milk and honey. He loved the world so much He filled it with exciting and intriguing food, and our cooking should reflect this same type of love. As we cook we are being God-like, we are reflecting His inventiveness and His creativity, and ultimately His love of excess.

This is an entirely Anti-Platonic approach to life. We are not just pilgrims on this earth, Christ came to earth to redeem not only us, but the whole world. At the end of time we will all be coming back here, and we will be sharing in the great Supper of the Lamb as the Bride of Christ. And so again, why do we cook? We are preparing our taste-buds, and refining them, so that when we sit down at the Supper of the Lamb we can enjoy the food our Bridegroom sets before us to the fullest.

Declamation Assignment

For Declamation this week I was assigned to write a speech on a family event from the eyes of our pet. So this piece is written from the eyes of our somewhat vain 8-month old kitten. Since she has not lived long, her most exciting family event is car rides.

The Car Ride

I can always tell when my servants are about to put me in that large, black, growling thing they call a car. The shorter, blonde servant rummages around with a shovel in my litter box. I have overheard her telling the bigger servant that she thinks this scratching noise will inspire me to go to the bathroom.
How base.
But, to humor her, I will go ahead and use it anyway.
I hear them discussing which one will carry me. It is obvious that they both long for the honor, but can’t remember whose turn it is. The blessed one who is chosen then walks towards me with a calming smile.
I have learned that it is useless to run and hide, I am always found. I am gently picked up and carried out doors. The world is a strange and large place outside of my palace. Sometimes a loud noise will scare me, and I take great pleasure in digging my claws into the skin of my servant. It makes me feel safer. My servants, however, react to this impulse of mine with an ever-tightening grip, which only makes it difficult for me to breathe. If only I could inform them of this discomfort, but they do not speak the language of royalty.
Once in the car I am permitted to roam freely. Cars move quickly, but by standing on my back legs and staring through the window I have a satisfactory view of the outside world. Sometimes I stand on my servant’s shoulders to get a better view, but they are overwhelmed by this honor and quickly take me down. The few times I have attempted to squish my body onto what they call the dashboard have only ended in pain for either myself or my servants. Mostly I am content to stay in one place and survey my realm.

June in April

On Sunday we had an exceptionally warm day, with the temperatures reaching into the 70s. Since this is an anomaly in Moscow, Idaho in the chilly month of April, some of us took advantage of the sunshine and had a grilling party. Although the weather today is forty degrees cooler, at least we have pictures to remind us of the warmth which so quickly vanished. It gives us hope that summer really will come this year.

Since it is April

The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot I. The Burial of the Dead APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Kicking Things Off

Well, we finally decided we would start blogging. Since this is our first blog, we make no promises of continual updates. We're not really sure how much (or how little) will be added to this blog, but since Meris has one, it seemed only fair that we get one too. :)
At first, I (the wife) didn't want to get a blog. After all, we don't have children (yet, Grandma Flo) and our lives basically follow the same routine each week. But then Meris suggested that I could blog about all the things I'm learning at New Saint Andrews, and that got me thinking. I started noticing things I would have liked to blog, comments from teachers, fascinating books, and with the recent birthday present of a fabulous pink camera, I was finally brave enough to give it a shot.

So here we go (deep breath): Our First Post.

And what will it be? A picture of our cat, of course!