I heard the bells....

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

(one of my faves... hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas!)

1. I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

2. I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

3. And in despair I bowed my head
'There is no peace on earth,' I said,
'For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

4. Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.'

5. Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Christmas concerts

Friday night I got to go see Leeland, Sixpence None the Richer, Sarah Groves, and Jars of Clay in concert, courtesy of a family from school. It was GREAT, but also highlighted to me some of my pet peeves about Christian concerts and about performers in general.

Ever since the Newsboys started charging $30 to get into their "Worship" tour, I've been really ticked at the idea of Christian concerts as worship services. Yes, in one sense, all Christian acts should be those of worship, but in another sense, formal worship only takes place on Sunday, in church, led by a pastor, with other believers. Yeah, I'm a Presbyterian. Sue me. Actually don't... I have no money. But the good thing about that is: worship is free. Only one of the acts got on a big kick about how we were there to worship, but it was enough to annoy me. If it were a worship service, they shouldn't have charged admission. And, that guy isn't my pastor, my spiritual leader, or anybody in the position to lead me in worship anyway. Besides the deep-seeded theological problem I have with that, there were other moments that were just funny.

The pastor of the host church was praying to open the show, and I was watching him on the big telescreen. I was totally okay until he prayed, "help us to, as the old song says, love thee more dearly..." and I started laughing so hard I was crying. The song he quoted from was "Day by Day" from Godspell. After the prayer, I promptly burst into song. I know the guy meant it sincerely, but it just tickled me to no end that for his serious, heartfelt prayer, he prayed words from a bad 70's musical about Jesus. Of course, it was one of those things made funnier by the fact that it was a totally inappropriate time for me to bust out laughing.

The guy from Leeland provided some amusement for me with his worship pose. He would squat slightly with his arms akimbo, elbows bent, fists clenched, like he was getting ready to take off on his very own jet pack. Leigh from Sixpence was obviously nervous and couldn't stop swinging her free arm around. The bass player for Sarah Groves, as my friend pointed out to me, looked like Gollum the way he was hunching over his instrument.

All this just added to the fun, though. It was, in all, a fantastic show. My favorite moment was probably Jars of Clay, when they played Little Drummer Boy, and the band members starting rocking out with Dan going to town on the bass drum. I'm all ready for Christmas now.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Last night, for the first time in the history of being an Eggleston, I ate all my dinner at a restaurant and then finished half of William's. And then ate ice cream. Pregnancy has officially turned my universe upside down and inside out.

Things I am thankful for right now, in no particular order:

*My husband devoting hours of our week off to trying to fix my iPod. 

*Sleeping in, in theory. I've woken up at 5 AM every morning this week, groaned at the clock, and slept for another couple hours. 

*Powerschool not working so I have a reason to keep putting off spending my vacation working. 

*The technological advances that let me see my baby's face yesterday, even though little Egglet is about 2 inches long. 

*My wise, loving, fun friends. 

*My parents, brothers, sister in law, nieces, and nephews. 

*Music in general, old hymns in particular. 

*My goofy dog.

*My students who make me a better teacher by asking great questions. 

*Parents of my students who love and encourage me. Your smiles help me make it through the day. 

*My superiors at work: all fantastic. 

*My co-workers. I work with the best middle school team on the planet. 

*Cheetos.

*The new peppermint shake at Chick Fil A.

*Game time with my family.

*Free gifts with purchase

*Bonding over books.

*Living in the same town as my family.

*My morning sickness seems to be over for good

*I get to eat turkey and ham in a matter of hours, surrounded by family, extended family, and friends. 

Those Cullen kids...

Warning: This post contains massive Twilight movie spoilers as well as plot spoilers from the book series. If your name is Joy Baker, stop reading immediately. 

***************************************************************************************

Friday night I went to see the movie production of Twilight, the crazily successful first novel in the series centered around the relationship between a vampire boy and a mortal girl. Along with my sister in law and a good friend, I got in the queue to wait for optimum seating. We got there close to an hour early and just in time. There were maybe 30 to 40 people ahead of us, and 5 minutes later, the line was out the door and around the building. I'd had a slight fear of being one of only 3 adults in the whole theater, but there were actually many other grown-ups there unaccompanied by adolescents. I've been looking forward to this movie ever since I read the book series, tearing through each one til the wee hours of the morning, as I read them over the summer. In preparation for the movie, I re-read the book and also scoured the movie reviews I found online. The mostly negative reviews gave me hope for the movie. 

I was afraid the movie makers would totally screw up the plot and sacrifice the intensity and the sweetness of Edward and Bella's relationship in an attempt to sex it up. The reviews I read almost universally criticized one of the elements I like most in the story: the restraint between the 2 characters. One review said something along the lines of "the pre-feminist morality is scarier than anything else in the movie" and another criticized Bella's character for being willing to give up everything to be with Edward. The local newspaper critic wondered if people could take 3 more movies of the self-control between the teenagers. All these reviews overlook many factors. One of them is that not all teenagers have the self control of rabbits. Another is that in the books, Edward is concerned that he will kill Bella if they get too close. He wants her blood as intensely as he wants to be with her, and he's so strong he might accidentally crush her. Also, he wants to protect her from sinning because she still has a soul. Bella and Edward get married before they do the deed, and those scenes are very much "curtain drawn... you know what they're up to." Though that mostly happens later in the series, the movie did a good job of expressing Edward's torment over desiring to kill Bella from the moment he smells her with his desire to keep her safe. 

One of the themes in the series is sacrificing everything for family. In the first book, the Cullen family puts aside their disagreements on whether Bella should know about them because of their love for Edward. The rest of them have soul mates, and now that Edward has found his, they will do what they can to protect Edward and Bella. This all leads up to a climactic battle in which the family members, usually peaceful, dismember and burn an evil vampire who tried to kill Bella. In the second book, Edward sacrifices himself by leaving Bella when he thinks that he can't keep her safe from his own family (one of the characters loses control when she gives herself a paper cut.) He breaks her heart, and his, to save her life, and near the end of the book, she ends up saving his life. I'll stop with the plot summaries there, but I just wanted to point out that self-sacrificial love is a much better focal point than rabid teenage hormones. There's definitely an "ohhh when is he going to kiss her!" factor to the stories, but it's not the POINT of the story. 

Now back to the movie. From a practical standpoint, the movie suffered from a low budget and lack of effects. They also messed up some pivotal scenes, in my opinion. The meadow scene, which is the turning point in their relationship, got short shrift. None of the characters growled menacingly like they are described in the book (I was really looking forward to hearing how Edward would growl when Bella is threatened during their baseball game...) I also thought that the other high school students were not at all how I pictured them in the book. They were all a little too stereotypical. However, the rest of the casting was brilliant and definitely threw a bone to the fans of the books. The actor who played Jasper was absolutely the best. The look on his face when he walks through the cafeteria at the school totally reflects what only readers would know, that he is the newest to the Cullen's lifestyle of not eating humans, and therefore it is a constant temptation for him. His slightly dazed, slightly sick expression was perfect. Alice, one of the best-written characters in the story, was also spot-on. The books always hint at how dangerously strong she is when fighting but we never see it. In the movie, while Jasper and Emmett are holding James, the evil vampire, Alice lightly runs over, alights on James, and snaps his neck. The juxtaposition between her graceful movements and the violence she is capable of was one of the best visual elements in the movie (which lacked many of those, to be honest. This movie was all about the acting.) It reinforced the constant danger Bella is in, even with vampires who honestly love her and don't want to hurt her. The guy playing Edward did an excellent job too, in his physical mannerisms and the way he spoke. The random rudeness he exhibits, to Bella's bewilderment, was well-portrayed in how he would deliver his lines and walk off, sometimes mid thought, or just after giving a cryptic insult. He was perfectly creepy when he makes Bella say what he really is, and he's perfectly goofy and silly when they show up at school as a couple. He may be over 100 years old, but he's still only 17. 

I always feel a little silly for loving these books so much because they are targeted toward teenage girls, but all the other adults I've recommended them to became equally addicted. It's a strange phenomenon that I'm still not sure I can explain. I've always loved vampire stories... I own many seasons of Buffy and Angel... but it's not just that. The story is so compelling and gripping. I'm totally buying the movie when it comes out, even if I have to elbow adolescents out of the way to do so... 

Vent.

It's been almost a whole month since I last blogged... and now I'm reappearing, but not to say anything terribly important. Just needed to get off some steam.

Here is how my day started: I woke up and began the search for my E-Zone shirt. William kindly emptied the clean-laundry pile AND dirty-laundry pile in the laundry room, but couldn't find it. It wasn't in my drawers, not in the clean laundry basket that's been sitting in my room for a couple weeks now while I ignore it, it's not anywhere. I decided to look on the floor by the bookshelf on which I keep my shoes. I looked down and see my Puma bag, one of my cute pairs of shoes, and my favorite sweater covered in some kind of brown substance. A little afraid of the answer, I summoned William and asked for confirmation of what it was. My dog, Sirius, sweet pet that he is, had gone DIARRHEA all over it. It was dried, which I guess is good... it didn't smell, which I guess is why we didn't notice it before... My gallant husband threw away my shoes for me, cleaned my bag, and put my sweater (which just had a few splatters on it... the bag and shoes got most of it) in the wash. Now I know my poor dog couldn't help it; he must have had to go while we were at work, but did he have to do it on my PUMA BAG? 

Then, most of this morning at school I couldn't talk. My voice came back for the classes I had my students doing a worksheet in. After arriving home, I fiddled around checking my email and whatnot, then decided to take a nap. I'm exhausted, and we have a family dinner tonight that it would be nice if I was semi-coherent for. So, I went to lie down, and no sooner do I curl up under the covers than the ICE CREAM TRUCK comes down my street, blasting stupid "Do Your Ears Hang Low" for several minutes. The truck went away, and I started to relax, thinking I could get at least a few minutes of shut-eye... and lo and behold, some kid decided to walk around outside blowing a flippin' boatswain whistle or something. It sounded like the ones in Sound of Music. Apparently I am destined to be tired, irritable, and annoyed. Either that or there is some divine lesson I am supposed to be learning but I AM TOO TIRED TO COMPREHEND IT! 

I wanted to blog today on something I've been mulling over, that's actually quite serious, about how Christians have given up their most vital weapons in the spiritual war we are in, but that will have to wait until my brain comes back. That could be awhile. 

High school at The Cheesecake Factory

This weekend William and I went out to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. There were several teenagers in the lobby area, waiting for their table. All dressed up in their fancy dresses and suits, waiting, talking... after a few minutes of observing, they all began to fit into stereotypes. There was the thin, impatient girl who pulled her boyfriend's attention away any time he started to converse with his other friends. There was the jock who was kind of handsy with his date. There was one girl, who, along with her date, seemed like a nice person caught between being popular and being friendly. Most of the time, these 6 were standing in a circle talking. On the outside of the circle were 2 girls who obviously didn't fit the mold that the first 6 had conformed to. Neither were gussied up to the hilt. They were the ones that got the pity invite, only to be snubbed while there. The one nice girl and her date seemed genuinely torn for awhile, trying to include them in the conversation, but eventually almost all of the teens that were in couples sat on the available benches. The outsider girls were left standing. Not one of those guys offered their seat to those girls. I was whispering my observations to William, and he agreed with me. One of the outsider girls had a tattoo in Latin on her foot, which caught William's attention. I bet she is smart, witty, and interested in much more than wearing sparkly dresses and deserves better company than the people she was with. I don't know how those girls felt about being the 7th and 8th wheel in that group, but I know how I felt when that was me, all throughout high school. It's miserable. People tell you you are better than them, but you don't believe it at the time. You can put on a front and pretend you don't care, but you do. Everyone wants to be liked and accepted. What I wanted to tell the 6, and then the 2, is that this is all going to change when they become adults. The social game still exists in college, to some extent, but once you grow up... oh how those tables turn. You realize that you really wouldn't have wanted to be friends with those people. You realize your identity hinges on much more than what you wear, if you are in the "in" crowd, if you have a date to homecoming... but it takes time to realize that. It's easier to let go of those days, because you weren't caught up in it in the first place. It stinks, and you're glad to leave it behind. Those 6 are going to have to learn harder lessons because they've had it easy. As we walked away when our buzzer went off, my final thought was "Thank God those days are over!" I wouldn't go back for a million dollars, but I wouldn't trade what I learned for anything. 

Childhood trauma, deflated.

One of my earliest memories is of my oldest brother getting bitten by a dog. I'm not sure how old I was, but we were living in College Park at the time, and we moved to Dr. Phillips when I was 6. So, I was pretty little. I vividly recall Chris walking into the house, saying he'd been bitten by the dog across the street, Mr. Bill. His entire calf was encircled in jaw marks. I never actually saw Mr. Bill in my few years of cognizance in College Park, but I have an extremely specific vision of him. The Mr. Bill of my memory, that bit my brother and made him go to the hospital for shots, was a huge, yellow, pit-bullish monster with giant teeth. I even wrote a poem in a college class about this memory (I got an A!) For most of my life, I have been scared of dogs because of this event. I was the kid that people had to put their dogs away for when I came over, even fluffy harmless Goldens. I was SERIOUSLY traumatized. (I still am kind of scared of big dogs, even though my own giant dog is a marshmallow.) 

I had my parents over for dinner this weekend and we got to talking about how big dogs are better than little dogs, and my mom said, "Yeah, little dogs always would bite Chris, like that beagle or whatever it was that lived across the street from us in College Park." 

Here is my inner monologue upon hearing that: "A BEAGLE? I was traumatized by a BEAGLE? I feel so cheated! Mr. Bill was a giant, menacing, venomous behemoth! NOT A BEAGLE!!!" 

It has been more than 20 years since that happened, and I am just now finding out that my fears were based on my imagination. I actually feel disappointed that Mr. Bill wasn't the evil giant I made him out to be in my head. Is that weird?

The ordinary, yet no less miraculous.

This has been a hard week. I feel like I am barely skating by in all aspects of my life, and I hate feeling like I am not doing my best. I can't keep my house clean. My lectures at school are nowhere near as thorough as they were last year. My grading turn-around is not as quick. (I did double my hours this year, but I can't convince myself that that is an excuse.) I feel like I'm on edge all the time, and this weekend, William's computer crashed, with all my lesson plans, handouts, worksheets, etc. from last year on it. We had to replace it, and we just had to get our AC fixed for a large amount of money, compared to our educator salary.  Me ---> thin thread, I'm telling you. 

Yesterday we got home from work and opened the door and my first thought was "What happened to all my stuff? Did someone rob... oh, it's just CLEAN!" 

My wonderful, amazing, superb gem of a sister in law had come over while I was at work and cleaned my house. Full-on scrubbed the bathroom, folded laundry, organized the clutter. I have space on my kitchen table. I don't have guilt about the grime in the sink. I feel like Christian in Pilgrim's Progress when his burden is cut of. 

My parent partner today told me, out of nowhere, that she was a certified teacher and if I ever got overloaded and wanted to send papers home to her, she would grade them for me and send them back. 

Today we got home from work and got the mail. I opened one envelope from some company I didn't recognize, and it was a check. I showed it to William and he realized it was from the AC company.  For whatever reason, they sent us some of that money back. 

All of these things have "ordinary", logical explanations. Yet to me, they are miracles. Each area of my life that I feel is beyond my control, God has shown me, really is beyond my control. God is bigger than my stress. God is bigger than my stubborn self-reliance. God has shown me systematically in just 24 hours that He will provide. 

"And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his lifespan?... Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." Matthew 6:27, 34

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow." James 1:17

Challenge du jour.

We started reading Romeo and Juliet today in my 8th grade class. Explaining why, in Shakespeare's day, biting one's thumb at someone else was cause for offense is a little tricky. Getting them to understand without actually demonstrating the modern day equivalent is interesting, to say the least. Someone asked me how Sampson could bite his thumb without it being obvious to Abraham. The example I offered was someone rubbing their eye with their index finger, but not with their index finger. There was a lot of "ohhhhhh yeah!"s in the room. Then, I had to explain to both classes that in reading the text out loud, they were putting the wrong inflection on the line, "Bring me my sword, ho!" That does change the meaning a bit. I had the same problem last year. It's hard not to laugh while I'm reining them back in. This should be a fun few weeks. 

Heavy-handed metaphor alert!

This evening, after dinner and after a long day of work, I made myself go to the gym. I hadn't been all week, and I knew I needed to get some stress out. On a good day,  I'll go a couple miles on the treadmill and then several miles on the bike, with weights intermixed. I love working out. It's the only time I listen to certain songs, many from my younger years. Blink182, NSync, Bon Jovi... with some Relient K and other bands sprinkled in. I blast my ipod in my ears so loudly that it forces my brain to stop whirling and I can't think about anything. Usually. Today, I was on my last mile on the bike, adding up my total miles, when a thought struck me. I had "gone" about 8 miles, all told, without actually going anywhere. Now, I am not one of those ladies who gets a gentle sheen and a nicely pink face when they work out. My whole face and neck turns red and I sweat like a horse. That's a lot of effort and temporary discomfort to have not actually gone anywhere, visibly. Then I started thinking about why I work out. For those of you that haven't known me very long, here's something you may not know about me: about 3 years ago I was 8 sizes bigger than I am now. It was a combination of busy-ness, laziness, and depression that got me those extra pounds. Zoom forward to now, where I run on a treadmill going nowhere fast. Now that I've lost weight and am back in shape, my new goal is to start participating in 5ks, and then in a sprint triathlon that my dear friend and co-worker Joy did last year. When I get home from the gym, there are no noticeable differences in my exterior except that I'm smelly and red-faced. However, I am moving towards that goal. (Here comes the metaphor...)

Since school started, I have been overwhelmed with busy-ness. I do a lot of work, spend a lot of time exhausted, with nothing immediate to show for it. I'm sure a lot of you can relate. Life sneaks up on you and then next thing you know, you're drowning in a pile of papers, the dishes are dirty in the sink, the laundry is piling up,  you're running with nothing to show for it. You haven't gone anywhere noticeable. I was thinking about where I've been... directionless, then working, then laid off 4 months into being a newlywed (along with my husband, by the same employer, but that's another story...), then not knowing how we were going to get by, then having a job dropped into my lap, which I ended up hating but was grateful for employment. Zoom forward to now... I love the school I teach at now. All those steps along the way, some very difficult, just like getting back into exercising was, have brought me to this level of intensity. At the end of the school day today I felt red-faced and smelly on the inside. It's a hard job. I don't often get to see immediate results in my students. But I have a goal. I want for them to be able to navigate their future: high school, college, life... with a firm foundation. I got to see some of that when a student emailed me to thank me because when she arrived at her new high school and went through her first day, she felt prepared. 

It took me a few years to see results from getting back into physical fitness. It might take weeks, months... even years for things to really "click" in students.  But that doesn't mean I get to hop off the treadmill because after running for 30 minutes, I still have some flab. It just means I have to be ok with being faithful to do the steady work. 

I'm Jesus barJoseph, and I approve this message.

Political season is reaching its frenzied peak. I used to be super-into politics. I was a product of the environment in which I was raised, essentially equating the Republican Party with my faith. I have since come to see that you can be a registered Democrat and love Jesus. I guess I should explain my blog title before some of you dismiss me for being heretical. The intent of this post is to explore the audacity of trying to claim Jesus for political purposes.

Both parties know that Evangelical Christians, a broad category to be sure, play a large part in choosing the next president. 

Barack's followers in general follow him with cult-like devotion. His non-followers think he's acting like the next messiah and and that it will be the worst thing ever to happen in the history of the world if he is elected president. Now, where have I heard that before? The idea that a Democratic president will bring about the destruction of civilization as we know it? It's coming back to me..... OH! I know! It's when Clinton was running for his first term. He was elected... society did not come crashing down around us. And I heard it some other time.... that's right, when he was elected for his second term. And... again when Al Gore, and then John Kerry, was running, but those men didn't win and thus society was preserved in the person of George W. Bush! After all, we are a Christian nation. The next Israel. God loves America more than anybody. We have to have a CHRISTIAN PRESIDENT because otherwise God can't possibly accomplish what He has in store for the US. Ahem. Sorry, that was getting off topic.

So, not only are the Democrats trying to get in on the evangelical Christian action, evangelicals are trying to get in bed with whomever they think will have power next. I read an article in World magazine with a quote from the pastor of a large Orlando church will shall remain unnamed, saying that now Christians can feel unhindered to vote for a pro-abortion candidate (I refuse to use the word pro-choice. That terminology is, to wax eloquent and mildly profane, BS.) The reason is because Democrats have changed their wording to say that their stance is that women should feel freedom to have their babies. Really? What the ****? This same pastor is doing his darndest to get on board with the global warming movement. This pastor and others have had the audacity  (the bad kind, not the "hope" kind) to put recycling your plastic grocery bags on the same moral voter-decision-making level of importance with abortion. Gag me with a (expletive deleted) shovel. I'm all for doing what I can to recycle, conserve water, etc. (I'm very earth-crunchy, especially for a registered Republican, though I do feel rather ironic every time I pull up to Whole Foods in my SUV with a W sticker on it.) But it is not as important as stopping the daily murder of the unborn. 

Back to the Republican party. Every 4 years, the Christian members become Chicken Little clones, praying against the Democratic party. Not necessarily in a specific way, against the morally degraded parts of their party platform, but against the idea of having a Democratic president. Here's the thing. America is not God's special nation. The founding fathers were not miniature Jerry Falwells and Pat Robertsons. In fact, many were Deists. Yes, our moral foundation is based on Judeo-Christian ethics. But we are not, and were not meant to be, by the Founding Fathers OR God, to be the New Jerusalem. Putting our faith in earthly kings is a sure way to be disappointed. If Barack wins the presidency, does that mean God's favor is no longer with us? We might pay more taxes and not be able to purchase guns. It may be harder for Christians to speak out in public places. Does that mean we aren't God's favorite anymore? Speaking of audacity, how dare these types of Christian Republicans equate economic and political comfort with God's favor. Does God not love the persecuted Christians in China, who have to hide their worship and face torture, imprisonment, and death on a daily basis? Does God not love African Christians who face the same? What about Christians in Muslim countries? Are those places not God's favorite? Does He not love those followers as much, because, poor them, they aren't Americans?

Throughout the history of the world, God's people have faced public scorn, physical and spiritual warfare, torture, imprisonment, death. God's people have been ruled by insane tyrannical dictators who covered them in pitch and used them as torches to light a garden party. God's people have been mutilated  by the government. God's people have been thrown in dank prisons with no kind of amenities by the government. God is sovereign. God not only allowed those things to happen, He was ultimately glorified in that. God doesn't do anything that ultimately isn't good for His people and glorifying to Himself. We are called unequivocally in Scripture to submit to our government because God Himself puts those leaders into place. Any political party that starts to claim Jesus as being on their side might want to take a closer look at what happened. The Jews were expecting a political, earthly revolutionary to free them from their physical bondage to Rome, Instead, He paid his taxes and told His followers to do the same. He told Peter to put up his sword and then healed the damage done. He told His people to not only do what the Roman soldiers made them, but do it well and do it fully. (Go the extra mile, anyone?)

Whoever wins in November will not be supreme dictator for life. They will serve their 4 year term, with Congress and the Supreme Court presumably checking and balancing as is their job. I think it is important to vote and be informed. As long as God is allowing us to live in a free political country, we should gratefully take advantage. But no matter who wins, be it Obama or McCain, we should remember that neither one has Jesus in their pocket. No matter who wins, our future is not bound up with them. Our future, our faith, our hope, is secure in the blood of Christ. He is our King, and that should give us confidence no matter what. 

Fact:

Almost all the clothes I own are in a pile in the laundry room. I thought it was suspicious that I could actually open and close my drawers with ease... at least I'm almost caught up on entering grades. Sigh.

recipes

Quick recipes for the week:

First 2 are meals I make for the purpose of having leftovers to take for lunch all week. The 3rd is a salad dressing. 

1. Couscous fruit salad

Bring 1 and a half cups limeade and 1 cup water, plus 1 TB honey, to a boil.

Stir in 1 cup plain couscous. Stir. Put lid on pot, remove from heat, let sit 5 minutes.

In the meantime, hull and quarter strawberries, wash blueberries, and whatever kind of berry you want to throw in. Nectarines are good in this too. When 5 minutes are up, take lid off couscous and stir. Let cool, then toss in fruit. Stir again. This makes several meals. 

2. Easy Cheesy Spaghetti Bake

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Bring large pot of salted water to boil. Add 1 package spaghetti. While that's cooking, slice 5 ounces Genoa Salami into small pieces. When pasta is done, drain, stir in 1 jar of your favorite red sauce and the salami. Dump the whole thing into a greased rectangular baking dish. Cover with one 8 oz. package Italian blend cheese. Bake for 10 minutes/until cheese is melty and starting to brown. This also makes several meals. 

3. Sesame Peanut Salad Dressing. Side note: I read the backs of salad dressings in the grocery store, remember what's in them, then make my own. It's cheaper, healthier and tastes better.

Whisk together 1 TB each toasted sesame oil, Bragg's Amino Acids (or soy sauce), rice vinegar, and peanut butter. I make something like this for pasta and meat, but I use more peanut butter for thickness and stir in red pepper flakes. 

mid-week ramble

Today is the last day I will see my M/W crew for a week because of Labor Day.

I was reminding my 6th grade class of this fact, wishing them a happy vacation. Upon hearing that it would be a week before they were back at school, one boy threw his hands triumphantly into the air and shouted "YE-", then, realizing I was raising an eyebrow at him, he changed mid-word to "Oh man! Bummer!" Or something to that effect. Someday he will realize that the teachers prize their time off just as much, if not more, than they do. God bless 'em. 

Some of my 7th grade boys are learning the fine art of kissing up. Yesterday in an effort to stall class, some of the gents in the front row starting complimenting my hair and how fun my class was and asking if I'd lost weight recently. They totally have the right compliments down; too bad I know they were being self-serving in giving them. It was funny though. 

One of my 6th graders said I was mean because I expect them to participate in class, and if they don't, they will lose points off their grade. This is a family I am close to; I was at their house for New Year's, William and I go over for dinner every so often, etc. Her definition of mean amuses me. From someone I didn't know so well I might be offended. It did provoke me to think about how I run my class though. I think the 6th graders don't know what I mean by "participate" and "answer questions" and "tell me something you learned yesterday." (I get blank stares, for the most part, when I ask them a question.) It means I have to tinker with my lesson plans, but I think the end result will mean less frustration for everybody. 

relief

One down, 35 to go!

Today, I

*Did not have my first day of school for Tue/Th. track because of the non-event of the Tropical Storm humorously named Fay.

*Ate breakfast at Le Peep and saw a rabid possum running through the parking lot. 

*Realized my Shurley grammar lesson plans make approximately 0 sense, but I at least understand what they were supposed to say so I can fix them and not appear like a bumbling moron to my parents.  

*Forgot to buy candy at Target.

*Felt skinny. 

*Typed things for work. 

*Almost smashed my computer with a sledgehammer, before I thought better of it and just used William's to get what I needed done.

*Walked to get the mail in my raincoat even though it was barely drizzling. I wanted to put my rainboots on as well but it was too much effort. 

*Remembered that the weight of the world is not on my shoulders. 

Fresh perspective

Last night our new pastor was installed. An official act of Presbytery, both he and the congregation take vows and listen to charges by other members of the Presbytery. The charge given to our pastor actually gave me something to consider as I prep to teach.
The past couple days I've been feeling really overwhelmed and inadequate, though, as my husband reminded me, that's ridiculous because I've done almost all of this all before, and I've spent several hours a day outside of the parent orientation getting prepared. I think the root of my being upset is pressure I'm putting on myself: to not falter, to keep up my good reputation at the school, and I realized those things are all about ME, what I can do on my own.
A phrase that stood out to me during the charge to the pastor was from the Bible... it's actually a question, and a thought-provoking one at that. "What is your life?" This is based on Paul speaking of how he doesn't regard his own life worth holding on to. The man speaking told a story from Band of Brothers about a soldier paralyzed by fear. Another soldier told him he had to stop worrying about being killed, and in fact expect it, so he could then do his job. Now hopefully my job won't kill me, but the point was to let go of anything that is holding us back. All fears, ties to the world, and in my case, pride mixed with insecurity with a dash of wanting people to like me. What is my life? What is my reputation? I will have succeeded at teaching if I can impact my students for Christ. To do that, I have to get myself out of the way. God in His infinite goodness let me hear exactly what I needed to hear... which is to get over myself, and give it to Him.

What have I gotten myself into?

A year in 55 minutes or less

Today was the last day of orientation at school. One part of my duties today was to teach a class teaching the parents of the students I have how to teach them at home in writing.

(Confused yet?) 

I have some neuroses when it comes to teaching that I need to get over, and every year that goes by I get better at this. A large one is the fact that most of these moms have been homeschooling their kids all along, and their kids are middle schoolers, so they have been schooling longer than I have been teaching. Many of these moms are also old enough to be MY mom. It has been so ingrained in me to respect my elders and be deferential that my first year teaching at ICS I found it difficult to tell these homeschool moms what to do with their kids. It's gotten better. I'm entering my 3rd year teaching at ICS and I only sometimes doubt myself as the "expert" in the classroom. I know I know the material, and I know I know how to teach, but occasionally I feel really young and inexperienced when I am talking to the parents... mostly because I am, in fact, young and inexperienced. 

So this class I taught today, geared at helping parents help their kids at home when doing my writing assignments, felt a little tricky. I was trying to equip them in 55 minutes or less with the tools they will need all year. I found myself frequently reminding the parents that everything I said was about where we are GOING to be eventually, not where I expect everyone to be on Day 1. It was hard to boil down the highlights of what I teach in a school year into one class. I was also a little worried about how the transitional families were going to take what I was saying. I kept praying this week that they would just be open to hearing me and not be stuck in the routine of what has been done all along. They were that and then some. The parents made it easy to talk to them. The only hiccup was that many parents wanted to take my class but had another one conflicting. I was going to record and podcast it, but I couldn't get the recorder turned on. Tomorrow I'm going to try to recreate what I said, based on the handout I gave, and post it for those families. 

After that I had 6th grade parent orientation with the parents and my co-teacher. Now, I have some neuroses, but I don't get nervous talking in front of people anymore. For some reason, when I got up in front of the parents, I was attacked by nerves. It has literally been years since I was nervous speaking in front of people. The families almost all know who I am because they had William last year. There were just a couple newbies, so I don't know what my problem was. I probably shouldn't worry about it but I came away feeling like I made a poor impression. 

Starting today, I was mostly concerned with my writing class and not at all worried about my orientation... my writing class went really smoothly and then I bombed. I'm sure this is one of those times where I'm supposed to be learning an important lesson about life, but I sure don't know what it is.  

weekend of glee

This has been one of the most fun weekends in recent Egg history. Last night we went out for Benita's birthday with her, Sam, Bill and Careth. Benita did my hair and makeup for me, and then we went to eat at El Bodegon, a Spanish tapas place in Winter Park. The food was good, but our waiter was inept and inadvertently provided us with our entertainment for the evening. We knew we were in trouble when we had to ASK him to bring us menus. Then he came back to the table and informed us he didn't speak Spanish. Apparently a table full of pale British Isles-looking people and a Korean need to be warned not to speak Spanish to the waiter. Sam and Benita ordered sangria and the convo went something like this.

Sam: "We would like a 1/2 pitcher of sangria."
Waiter: "A half carafe?"
Sam: "No, a 1/2 pitcher."
Waiter: "So you want a pitcher of sangria."
Sam: "A 1/2 pitcher."
Waiter: "You can get it by the glass too"
Sam: "A 1/2 pitcher please."

The waiter.... brings out an entire pitcher.

Then we order. All the menu options are in Spanish. Now, I can not actually speak Spanish very well (My range in foreign languages is limited to "Excuse me. Hello. How are you? My name is Jessica. Where is the bathroom? Thank you." ) BUT I know how to pronounce the words. I ordered the tapa de la casa and some other thing, but the waiter didn't know what it was and I had to point at the menu. Everyone else did the same thing. I understand not necessarily having to speak Spanish to work at a Spanish restaurant, but if you are going to be a server in Winter Park, you should probably KNOW THE MENU.

"I would like the chorizo."
"The what?"
"The chorizo."
"What?"
"The sausage."
"Ok!"

We got our food... it was delicious. I had octopus, until the waiter decided I'd had enough and cleared my plate. Then he brought out the check and it wasn't split, so we had to wait for him to get back from wherever he was to ask him to split it. He asked, "You want it split according to what you ordered?" We all burst out laughing. I did feel mildly bad because it's kind of a reasonable question but he was so awful throughout the night that it just piled on. If he hadn't ADDED GRATUITY to our bill he wasn't going to get much of a tip.

We ladies went outside while the guys took care of the bill and proceeded to take silly pictures by a statue and climbing up a fake trellis wall outside the restaurant. Benita was taking a picture of me and Careth when a waiter from Rocco's, the restaurant next door, came out and asked if we wanted him to take the picture so we could all be in it. That made us laugh some more as we wondered how many people could actually see us. Then Sam comes bursting through the door of the restaurant: "What are you DOING? Flirting with this guy?" Of course we weren't, and Sam was kidding, but the waiter sheepishly gave back the camera and scooted back inside Rocco's.

After that we went to ABC in the middle of a thunderstorm, then back to Sam and Benita's for margaritas and the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Good times! Pics are on my facebook.

Then this morning, I met my dad at the mall. We did our tradition back to school shopping so I can look nice at work. Benita and Careth joined up, and my dad had to go home, so then it turned into an epic girls' day. I am now the proud owner of a fantastic seersucker suit.

To top off this most awesome weekend, I just ate popcorn and chocolate milk for dinner.

I don't really have a deep point in relating the details of this, just that I love my friends and family! This weekend I have laughed to the point of crying, gotten some cute new clothes, eaten good food... it's been a nice reprieve.

Cookin'

I've started compiling a cookbook. I'm not sure how it's going to go, or how long it's going to take me, because I don't measure when I cook. I throw things in a pan 'til it looks and smells good and then I eat it. My ultimate goal is to get published, but also I want to provide easy, yummy recipes for people that don't have time to mess around in the kitchen all day. To meet both those goals, I'm going to start putting some of those recipes on my blog as I cook them. Writing them out as I make them will help me remember about how much of whatever I threw in the pan. The first installment is right now:

FARFALLE WITH BACON, OLIVES AND GARLIC

Ingredients:

1/2 box Farfalle pasta

4-5 slices Bacon

12 Kalamata Olives

4 cloves Garlic

A swirl of Olive Oil (Purists would fuss at me, but I use Extra Virgin for everything.) 

approx. 1 TB Lemon Juice

Set water over high heat in a large saucepan.

While the water is heating, set 4 or 5 pieces of bacon to crisp in a pan. (Remember to flip it every so often.)

While that is going on, mince 4 cloves of garlic. (I've read that letting the garlic air after you've chopped it releases whatever healthy thing is in them. Who knows if that's true. It certainly can't hurt.)

Water should be at boiling by the time the bacon is done. 

Pour half a box of farfalle in the water.

Set the bacon on paper towel-lined plate to drain. Pour off most of the fat from the pan into a heat-proof container. (Dispose when it's cooled, or save it for greasing a cornbread pan. Trust me; it's delicious.) Set pan aside. 

Boil the pasta to desired consistency. I like mine chewy and tend to cook it for a few minutes less than the recommended time on the box. 

When bacon is cooled slightly, chop into small pieces. 

When the pasta is done, drain it.

Heat the bacon pan just over medium heat. Add enough olive oil to coat bottom of pan and also add about 1 tablespoon of lemon juice. This will de-glaze the pan. (In other words, you get those delicious brown bits from the bacon cooking to come off the pan and into your pasta dish.) 

Add the garlic to the pan. Saute for 30 seconds or so, just 'til the garlic softens. 

Add the pasta to the pan. Give it a good stir so bacon and garlic are mixed through pasta. 

Let everything sit in the pan while you rough-chop a dozen or so kalamata olives. 

Add the olives to the pan, saute everything again 'til well mixed. 

Serve!

***a few notes on this recipe***

1. Kalamatas are really salty and strong. Regular black olives make a fine substitute if kalamatas plus bacon = too much salt for your taste. 

2. Freshly grated parmigiano reggiano adds a touch of pizzazz to the taste and presentation. 

3. This basic recipe works with whatever pasta you have on hand.

4. This makes enough for me and my husband to eat, plus leftovers for lunch the next day. 

4. This is great on its own, or as a base for other ingredients: stir in cooked chicken, steamed broccoli, sauteed mushrooms... whatever strikes your fancy. 

Vestis Virum Reddit

My fashionista friend Benita came over today and gave me a new perspective on my wardrobe by creating a look-book for me. It was fun; like playing dress-up. She went through my closets, pulling pieces together in combinations I never would have thought of but I loved. It was like getting a whole new wardrobe for free. I'll be posting said outfits on here eventually. And you can check out her blog at fashioncheese.blogspot.com

My brain is fried...

But at least I don't have to worry about lesson plans for awhile. For the 4 different grade sections I'm teaching I just finished the first 4 weeks of lesson plans. Some of it is recycled from last year; some of it is brand new; some I'm appropriating from other teachers. This is the part of teaching that makes my head hurt, but it's obviously necessary to be successful in the classroom. I'm not gifted with the minutiae part of life. I'm all about the broad, sweeping themes, the symbolism, the significance, etc. I wish I could fast-forward through the building blocks part. Doing this part of it is always a good reminder of what it is like to be a student. There are unpleasant but necessary parts of learning in order to get to what might be the most enjoyable. 

Also a good reminder of what being a student is like is teacher training, which consumed the majority of last week. We undergo reminders of procedure, go over the handbook, policies, etc., and have grade level team meetings. The fight to pay attention when your noggin has hit critical mass was a prominent part toward the end of every day, and worse towards the end of the week. Two of my non-finer moments of last week, but that were good reminders, came from 2 "everything's funnier when it's inappropriate to laugh" events. While taking notes one morning on my laptop, something funny popped into my head and I typed it out so my husband, who was reading over my shoulder, could see it. He found it hilarious and had to stifle a loud laugh, and his reaction was so funny to me that I then had to squelch the rising laughter and proceeded to shake for the next several minutes. Another time I was struck by something a speaker said and I snorted because I was trying not to laugh. Immediately the people on either side of me smacked me in the leg, which only made it worse. This is how I get when I'm under pressure. I find things hilarious that I wouldn't ordinarily, and it's usually when it's not a great time for me to be laughing. 

Moments like that remind me to be sympathetic to my students. Yes, I expect them to behave. Yes, I expect them to take me seriously when I'm being serious. But sometimes, it just gets to be all too much. There is a place for laughter in education. There is a time to throw solemnity out the window and blow off steam. But it needs to be appropriate. I need to learn to manage stress more effectively so people don't wonder who the nutjob is laughing in the corner when nothing funny is happening. I need to remember that my students are going to occasionally need a break from the essays, the deep discussions, the life lessons. God created humor, and it is good. It's easy to forget that. 

Vanity, thy name is...

not getting carded at Total Wine. I've always been told I look really young for my age (I'm 27.) When I don't get carded buying wine I feel like I must be looking really haggard. The employees at Total Wine are hardcore about checking IDs. William and I were browsing around and sipping samples at the promo table when the man behind the counter carded a girl that I thought looked older than me. On the way out, I told William I must look really awful today. Trying to be helpful, he told me that the man was just trying to flirt with the girl. So to me that meant, I looked positively over 30 and not nice enough to flirt with! William, rolling his eyes, told me I was obviously with him, so why would the man bother? True enough, but still... a small blow to the old pride.

So I am sitting here, sipping the chardonnay we bought, wondering why I'm so concerned about how old people think I am. It used to annoy the crud out of me when, in my young 20's, people mistook me for a teenager. My students' parents still often tell me I blend in with my students when I'm out in the hall with them before school. Now I find it kind of flattering even though sometimes I don't mind when I look my age. But other times, like today, it ticks me right off. As with most conundrums, I have to ask myself, why in the world does it bother me when people recognize me as being definitely over 21?

Our assistant pastor has been praying almost every Sunday from the pulpit that we would not be a people who worship and seek after youthfulness and health as an end in itself. Our culture idolizes youth and health. Ads in magazines tout various creams and potions to fight aging, or the appearance thereof. Fitness is hawked as another way to live longer and look younger. Why is aging looked upon so badly, and why does the world hate it so much? I think a large part of it is the worldview that this is all there is, so you might as well look your best, feel your best, do your best, you you you. It always comes back to the individual experience, the life you "deserve." Someone once said that this world is the closest to heaven the lost will ever get, and the closest to hell that Christians will ever get. Perhaps it's a sense, and a fear, of eternity that makes the world want to hold on to whatever ties them to this earth and prolong their days. It's the best they're going to get. The truth, for Christians, is that each day that goes by is one less we have to wait to see our Savior. To be remade perfectly, to never age, to have no capacity to sin, to be able to love Jesus perfectly. WHY would I want to slow that down?

Everything old is new again.

When I was going through my purses yesterday I had to sort through a lot of junk I had never taken out of them. (It was like a little micro-cosm of my grander purpose.) There were lots of old papers, receipts, notes to myself, shopping lists, lip gloss, pens, pencils, and even a spoon. (Yeah... I don't know either.) I also found my earrings from my wedding day, my ICS office key, and an old journal from when I was on a women's retreat with my old church. In the journal, I found a poem I had written, inspired by a statue of Jesus the retreat grounds had. Here it is, in its unrevised state.

A Violent Love

Christ the Lord lifts up His face
Father, Father, why dost thou forsake?
No sin have I committed
Yet You have permitted
my pierced flesh, my bloody brow,
this circle of thorns to make my crown.
Satan scoffs, the crowd mocks.
And as I reach my final hour
the cup of judgment begins to pour.
Bitter, shameful agony, but oh, my sheep!
This is the extent I love thee.
Your sins are written above my head.
You were doomed without my blood.
Lord, is Thy wrath now satisfied?
My work here is done.
I raise My hands to You, My Father.
Make My enemies a footstool for My feet.
Redeem Your loved ones, their sins
with My wounds wipe clean.
Into Your hands My spirit
I commit. Death cannot hold Me,
its power is forfeit. Place the iron
scepter in My nail-scarred hand.
(It is finished.)

Rubber meets road; or; death to my inner hypocrite.

This morning I was tagging along with my sister-in-law Emily while she ran some errands, and I was filling her in on my latest musings. We talked about how hard it is to get rid of "stuff", and how hard it can be not to buy it in the first place. I told her how I was feeling about the magazine articles, and how I want to be someone who practices what they preach. She very wisely reminded me that it's when we have these epiphanies about life that God asks us, "what are you doing to do about it?"

For someone who does not believe, philosophically or whatever you want to call it, in holding onto a lot of "stuff", I sure I have a lot of junk crammed into my closets. It's been my summer project to clean out my closets, pass on some clothes that are still in fashion and serviceable to my friends, and I've been figuring out what else to do with the ever-growing pile of clothes/bags/shoes that I didn't want/need anymore. I'd been holding on to a lot of it with vague ideas of having a garage sale or taking it to a consignment shop to try to get some money back from it. Every time I had that idea, there came that still small voice asking me "why?" If I really was worried about money I wouldn't be buying this much in the first place. I should just drop it off at a charity organization. But there came my fleshly inner struggle. I could make some money, but why? To buy more stuff? To fill that space right back up with things I don't really need, and that I know in my heart of hearts don't matter? It might sound kind of odd but the eternal perspective we are supposed to have as Christians was being tested with my decision about what to do with my stuff. I know that God has been nudging me to just let it go; drop it off so people who need it more can have it without a second glance or thought from me. But, like with so many things, I wanted to hold on to it.

God gives us small things to be obedient and faithful with as practice for when we are faced with larger things. I told one of my classes last year that being a student, being faithful to work hard and do your best on homework even when you don't want to, is both doable and required by God. We all need to practice now being faithful with "every-day" things so that when God brings bigger challenges into our lives, we are used to listening to His voice and following His path. Like everybody, I've had both successes and miserable failures in this area, and here I was today, this week, this summer... not doing what I've been telling my students to do.

Now, to make my struggle a little more clear, I don't think there is anything wrong with selling your old stuff to make some cash. My struggle was with my ugly heart and what I knew God was asking me to do. It was knowing that God was asking me to be faithful to Him in this very small issue and I have been dragging my feet, instead of plunging right in with an enthusiastic, "Yes Lord, whatever you want me to do, I'll do it!"

When I got back from running around with Emily, and talking to her about these issues, I thought about what she had said. She had reminded me that my options were simple: Do something, or do nothing. I decided to put to death, for today anyway, my inner hypocrite. Now, not to be exceedingly corny, but this process of putting to death the old nature can be very much like a dramatic death scene from the Twilight books. If you've read these, you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't... please don't dismiss me for being silly. One of the heroes kills an evil vampire, and the only way to do that is to pull it apart limb by limb, burning all the pieces, because until it is nothing but ash, the vampire still has strength to do evil. My inner hypocrite is like the vampire. I need to pull that sucker limb from limb and burn the pieces. I started that today by pulling even more articles of clothing from my closet, pulling all my purses down onto the floor, and then ruthlessly tossing things I rarely use and didn't even know I still had in some cases into the give-away pile. Then I did it a second and third time. I piled it all into garbage bags, and William helped me load it in his car. We dropped it off at the Salvation Army today. It's gone.

Jeremiah 17:9-12 says "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? 'I the LORD search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.' Like the partridge that gathers a brood that she did not hatch, so is he who gets riches but not by justice; in the midst of his days they will leave him, and at his end he will be a fool. A glorious throne set on high from the beginning is the place of our sanctuary."


The LORD searched my heart today. My sick and deceitful heart. Why would I hold on to these earthly things when our real sanctuary, our comfort and hope, has been set since before the beginning of time? Thank HIM that in another passage, He tells us, "I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them... " (Ezekiel 11:19b,ff.)

Today, there was obedience. But it wasn't from me, it was only because God has enabled my heart to love and follow Him. It's still able not to, though. That's the danger. For today, the battle is over. Tomorrow though... I might have to put that hypocrite to death. Again.

Magazines and their unrealistic view of the world.

This evening I was indulging in what I consider giving my brain a break and reading some magazines. Over the past couple weeks my reading material has been comprised of all the books I will be teaching this school year that I hadn't read recently, which includes The Screwtape Letters, a rather oddly cleaned-up version of the King Arthur tales, a collection of various poems and short stories, and also the not as fun textbooks I need to be familiar with before August 18. I also, over the past few days, read the first 3 books of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. After the heady few thousand pages, I needed some brain fluff.

The first magazine was a fashion mag, and it was a title I don't usually buy. (I don't expect fashion magazines to do anything other than make me chuckle or give me ideas about how to combine clothes I already own. Any actual usefulness they give me is bonus. If I'm actually looking for fashion advice I talk to Benita.) I actually thought the cover story/interview might be interesting. Well that didn't work out so well, but what did make my noggin start whirling was a photo spread on the new "weekend" look. (For full disclosure: to me that means pajamas, unless I'm going to a friends' house. Then, jeans and t-shirt.) Instead of whatever people were wearing before as their weekend clothes, this new idea was some rigmarole about hanging tough in hardworking denim. Being a jeans girl, it's not like that doesn't appeal to me. What I found hard to swallow, though, was their idea of what that looks like. The photos are of models so skinny I am sure I could snap them in half, but that's nothing new. It's that whoever designed the shoot had it set in a factory/workshop/car shop setting and these ridiculous looking women dressed up in everything from socks that cost $14 to a jacket that cost $1155. One of the girls looks like she is sitting at my mechanic's desk, with his car parts reference book open. She's holding a phone and a mug, presumably of coffee to keep her going through her hard, hard day. One is standing on a small ledge with a wrench in her hands, holding it straight above her eyes on a pipe that looks like it would blast something horrible into her face if she actually had the strength to move the bolt. The models all have something shiny smoothed down their arms to approximate sweat. I'm not sure who these ads are trying to appeal to. Actual people who need hardworking jeans can't afford to spend $1155 jackets to get dirty in. Actual people who work hard with their hands get sweat rings around their necks and armpits. People who can afford those kinds of get-ups don't do those kinds of sweaty jobs. I'm actually still not sure why this spread annoys me so much. I think it's because I found it unusually condescending. As if these people have any idea what it means to work hard at something, rather than get made up to look as if they were working.

The other magazine I was looking through is one that promises to make my life easier. (Again, I have no expectations for anything other than amusement, and surprise at actual help.) They had a section on how to arrange bookshelves, whether you have a few books, a moderate amount, or a large collection. I flipped to the "large" collection picture, curious for some home-beautifying ideas. Their concept of a large collection of books made me wonder if they think their audience is illiterate. They promise help in arranging "a university's worth of reading material." The coinciding picture has maybe 75 books on the shelf, with mostly empty space and knick-knacks. A UNIVERSITY'S WORTH? If my mom wasn't probably reading this (hi mom) I'd write what is actually in my head in reaction to that. Those people should come look at my bookshelves. Or maybe go look at an actual university's collection before making such a stupid description.

Now that I have ranted, I think I'm figuring out what is annoying me. It relates to why I liked the Twilight books so much (which will be in a different post, eventually), past the cursory inner fangirl in me, and why I love to teach. Everything I've read over that past couple weeks up until this evening had some kind of significance, eternal and/or personal. I'm gearing up to teach around 120 young people this school year, hoping to impart knowledge and life skills all the while demonstrating the transformative power of Christ in my life. No biggie, right? And the Twilight books, which I'll elaborate on later, actually gave me some epiphanies/insights into my past character (it wasn't pretty.) All that made me want a break from reality for a bit. Well I got that, and more. It made me angry. Angry that people who don't know better will read these magazines and look at the pictures and think that is what real life looks like and hold themselves to a standard that is meant to tell them that they don't measure up and they need to buy things to make themselves matter. Angry that the young men and women who God gives me for a time, to try and influence them, might fall into that trap. I think I have a new vision for the school year. I want my kids to know that real life is messy. You get sweat stains. You cram all your books into whatever space you have. You make do with what is given you. You hold on dearly to what is real: Jesus, family, friends. Relationships are the only thing that are going to last. We take ourselves into the next world; nothing else. Nothing else matters.