Self-Knowledge

If you have known me for a while, you may have heard the story about the time I discovered that my eyes were blue. I was looking through pictures and for some reason, I was noticing other people's blue eyes. So I went to a few pictures of myself, and, lo and behold, my eyes were blue! I had known I had blue eyes, of course, but I hadn't quite realized that this fact meant that in every moment and every photograph, there were two blue things staring out from my face.

If you are laughing now, you are in good company. I made this discovery my junior year of college, and I'm pretty sure Wendy still has not gotten over the occasion.

I tell you this story, because I recently had a similar discovery. I started parting my hair on the side about nine months ago. As I observed other people's hair, I realized that I prefer a part on the left-hand side better than one on the right. And then I realized that I have my hair parted on the right. I just had never noticed because I always see my head in a mirror. And the rest of the world sees me backwards.

In Which I Reassure My Mother

While I blogged about my epic weekend with Ana, I found myself torn. On one hand, I really wanted to play up the sketchiness/absurdity of some of the situations. On the other hand, I know my mother reads my blog. And as I thought over the weekend, as well as other past adventures, I realized that the stories that might make my mother worry tend to have one common factor : Percy.

So this is a story to reassure my mother. Also, to let my female readership know that there is hope

Percy and I went out to CW to get free cider. If you are in the 'burg and don't know, you can buy a mug for $11 and receive free refills of hot cider/tea/hot chocolate/coffee/soda/lemonade/ice cream for the rest of the calendar year. We got cider and walked and people-watched, a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday afternoon. As we walked, Percy noticed a couple punk-guys making comments. I missed them.

Later, as we were about to part ways, Percy noticed the same couple of guys up the street, headed down the street towards us. He proceeded to walk me all the way back to CCM, so that I wouldn't have to encounter then. Be assured, ladies, there are still a few gentlemen out there. Be assured, Mom, even if I have ridiculous adventures, I do choose my friends wisely.

What the World Saw

If you were in Washington, DC a week ago this afternoon, you saw hundreds of thousands of people, of different ages, religions, and political views coming together from across the nation with one common factor : they recognize abortion as murder and want that murder to be legal no more. The crowd flooded the Mall, traveled together through the streets of the capital, and slowly dispersed in after pausing in front of the Supreme Court building. It was full of an energy and vibrancy created by a group of people who are finding mutual hope and encouragement in one another.

If you were not in Washington, DC a week ago this afternoon, you might not have even realized that the March for Life was happening. Or happened. As usual, it made barely a blip in the news media. As usual, those blips gave their readership no idea as to the size of the event. NPR, for example, gave it a brief shout-out -- before it really even happened. The Washington Post, our good hometown paper, made it out to be a religious and political event, interesting Catholics and conservatives. And while many people there had religious and/or political motivations (including your faithful writer, on the religious side), to take that view narrows the meaning and the strength of the pro-life movement. Not all pro-life people are Catholic -- the president of the College's Students for Life group, for example. Not all pro-life people are conservative -- myself, for example.

By far the most frustrating angle I found came from this photoblog on MSNBC, which demeans the March in so many ways that I can't articulate them -- my words get messed up as they all try to come out at once. None of these pictures capture the essence of the March for Life... until you get to the last one. A young man, staring at the Supreme Court building, silently. His sunglasses reflect a police officer on the steps of the building. The word "LIFE," written on red duct tape, covers his mouth. He is standing in solemn witness for the unborn, silently accusing our nation of the wrongs it has done.

If you find a Catholic or a pro-life news source, it will provide more comprehensive coverage of the March for Life. But most of the world sees through the eyes of NPR, the Washington Post, MSNBC, or similar sources of news. We shouldn't be surprised then, when people catch a glimpse of the true pro-life world and are surprised.

I AM the Pro-Life Generation

I wanted one of those signs to bring home, but I ran into the same problem I always have -- it's just not worth taking it back on the bus. In case you didn't know, January 22nd is the anniversary of the Supreme Court decision that legalized the taking of innocent life. Every January, pro-life people take to the streets of DC to commemorate the date and demand change. This year, since the 22nd fell on a weekend, the March for Life happened Monday, January 24th.

I took a group of students from CCM up to DC for the occasion. We stopped at my home parish and bussed in with them, to avoid the cost and trouble of Metroing or driving into the city. The bus dropped us at the Mall in time for the rally beforehand. As usual, the rally consisted mostly of politicians who all said the same thing and pro-life leaders who spoke the same rhetoric that we've all been hearing. Of course, some of it was occasion-specific, referring to the pro-life House, the passage (and hopeful repeal) of the healthcare bill, and the prominence of young people in the crowd.

We met up with a few people in the crowd -- I got to see a friend from Catholics on Call and a W&M alum who is currently in seminary. For the March itself, we joined the W&M SFL group and a good friend from undergrad who now studies at UVA. My most surprising encounter occurred as the crowds were starting to move. I saw a good looking guy (he gets the flattery because he said he reads this blog) waving at someone, I thought behind me. Two seconds later, I saw a friend from undergrad retreats heading my way, and he greeted me with the words, "I guess you didn't recognize me with the hat." True story!

It doesn't sound right to say that the March was "good," but it was. In reality, it doesn't function as much as a protest as a coming together for mutual encouragement and motivation. I'll post later about the media attention, but really the March allows for pro-life people to come together and see each other, hear each other, and remember that we're none of us working alone, even as we're working scattered throughout the country. And when hundreds of thousands of people flood the streets each year, it does say, "We will not forget. We will not go away. We will not stop."

My favorite sign made the title of this post. Students for Life of America was handing them out, and they truly give me hope. Abortion is becoming less linked to other issues and young people are finding was to be "pro-life and." Pro-life and liberal, pro-life and feminist, pro-life and punk, pro-life and cool. While, as one of my CCMers rightly pointed out, we will only end abortion with prayer and continual living out of Christian lives, this awareness that being pro-life is not a narrow, conservative category also points in a positive direction.

Introducing Connor

Once, Percy sent an email to Wendy, which she forwarded to me and to another friend, so that the email read "From: Wendy" in my inbox, but was signed, "Percy." Percy was excited because the Parish Center, which had been pink, was now painted white. I hastily hit "reply-all" and sent an excited response, signed the first initial of "Beth, which does not match up with the name that appears on the sender line.

As it turns out, the other email Wendy entered was not our friend's email address. Instead, she reached someone with the same first two initials and last name. Who was very confused by the email. And the people who did not sign their names. But he sent an odd and spirited reply, signing not-his-name, Fred. He also cc'ed a friend, who did the same.

This is a long story to explain how Connor got his pseudonym (Connor being "Fred"'s actual name).

And now, a story about Connor. He spent the night on my couch this past Saturday night. Sunday morning, when I got out of the shower, I thought he was in my downstairs. And so I was surprised when I got a text from him. "So i'm actually chasing after your cat outside. Sorry." Grace Kelly likes to escape a lot, so I wasn't worried about her, and I was entertained by the though of Connor chasing her around outside. I made myself decent enough to go outside and hurried to rescue Connor.

I found Grace Kelly perched eight feet in the air in a small tree and Connor (who is not a small guy) standing on the ground below, reaching upwards. He was looking up helplessly and she was looking down unperturbedly. I came over and laughed, before deciding to be helpful. I shook the tree -- probably not good for the tree, but definitely not to the liking of the cat. She eventually came down lower. I shook the tree more. She climbed higher.

At last, she decided that she didn't like the tree anymore, but couldn't figure out how to get out. Connor and I kept shaking the tree until she was low enough for me to grab and him to prise loose.

Day-Maker #21

Watching our Hospitality chairperson chase a small child through the Parish Center after Mass. She and he were running as fast as they could.

Epic, Part Eight

Monday morning came all too soon. Ana and I had coffee. We walked to the ATM and the bookstore for a card. And then we realized that, like it or not, our time together was almost over. We both find good-byes hard and sitting still was not easy, so we went shopping for my upcoming board retreat. Then I took her to Percy's house -- I was going to CCM and Percy was taking Ana back to the airport.

Percy had a new roommate, and after introductions, we sat on top of each other for five minutes. Then I went to CCM and they went away. And I started considering how to get to STL and how to bring Ana back.

Mine (Taylor Swift)

If you've heard the new Taylor Swift CD, you might know "Better Than Revenge." That song kind of made me not like the album, because someone wrote poetry like that about me in high school. It's okay; I was equally as mature about it. However, the epic weekend redeemed the album!

After bumming around campus for a bit Sunday afternoon, Ana, Percy, and I took to a local park. Percy won the spitting contest and I almost knocked Ana off an overlook. We got some excellent photos and Percy told us about the time the ducks flew away with the lake. Being by the water obviously made him want to be on the water (or I might just be projecting) because he suggested, "There's this guy that we can call... and he'll take us across the river in his boat... and there's this restaurant..." With plans like that, the evening can't but end well.

So we hopped into my car and drove to "the river" -- which meant following darkening country roads to a sketchy-looking boat launch. I, at least, knew that Percy's family has their boat there; I think Ana was considerably more sketched out. We left the car there and walked up the road to another dock, where we awaited the arrival of the boatman. He was supposed to meet us at 5:45, but "he's not always on time," according to Percy.

It was freezing, and I am always cold, so we had grabbed my Snuggie (courtesy of Wendy!) to keep us warm on the dock. In case you are wondering, yes, three people can fit in one Snuggie, even when one person wears both sleeves. If you aren't creating a mental picture yet, please do : three 20-odd year olds, wrapped arms wrapped around each other, under a Snuggie, on a dark dock, down an empty street, staring out at the water.

Rest assured, loyal readers, that my adventures with Percy always end well.

Eventually, the boatman arrived, in a covered pontoon boat with space heaters and Jimmy Buffet playing on the radio. The boat smelled warm and clean and the boatman was a gentleman. And when we arrived across the river, I recognized the marina where I had stopped with Percy's family before. The restaurant was empty, but a nice place. As we walked in, Taylor Swift's "Mine" came on : "Do you remember we were sitting there by the water? You put your arms around me, for the first time... You are the best thing that's ever been mine!" And we acquired a new song.

After a delicious dinner of shrimp and clams (Ana split every meal she had that weekend with someone, so that she ended up trying at least 2 menu items from everywhere, and I don't think she did it on purpose), I was fairly certain that life couldn't get better. The only thing that made my night better was that we dropped off 2 other sets of people on the boat ride back, so that our time on the water got extended.

If you are waiting for a disaster, you can stop. I told you, such a night can't help but end well.

Try to Fit That on a Cake

Sunday morning means Mass. Father Dude was celebrating his first anniversary as a priest on the Sunday when Ana was here, so we went to his Mass of Thanksgiving and the parish's reception afterward. I had a commission to purchase a cake for our leadership board that read, "Happy One Year Anniversary of Your Priestly Ordination, Father John David." On a 1/4 sheet cake, since it was going to feed 13 people. The parish had similar words. On a full sheet cake. And it still looked crowded. (Ours ended up reading, "Happy Anniversary, Father John David.")

Ana got to meet a few CCMers at the reception and I got to watch our "foreign exchange priest" play with a small child. Between the two, it was a beautiful reception. We finished off the "morning" with lunch with the CCM crowd.

Epic, Part Five

As you might imagine, Ana and I were (just a little) exhausted after our Friday night adventures. Which means we slept much later than either of us ever sleeps, and Ana did not perk up until after the 2nd cup of coffee. We started the day with lunch and remained confused about time for a long, long while. In fact, we started the day with burgoo, a Kentucky specialty that Ana had brought specially for me. Then we hit up the colonial part of town.

We started with coffee and ended up with hot cider. In between we wandered though the streets of 1776. Then I took Ana on a quick and dirty tour of the College. After that, worn out too easily by our hours of walking and with internal clocks awry, we returned home for a snack. From there, we joined with Percy again, this time to head out to Yankee Candle.

Way back when I was a little sophomore in college and Percy was just learning not to be afraid of me and I thought he was crazy (not much has changed), he told me, "Yankee Candle is better than Disney!"

While I could easily contest that assertion, I freely admit to, and admire, its awesomeness. We visited the candy store. We looked for Santa. We found strange kitchen items, such as milk glasses shaped like udders, a fork shaped like an airplane, and stacking-doll measuring cups. We went to Christmas land, where it snows every 4 minutes. And we visited the vast room where they keep all their candles and made friends with a sales girl who enjoyed sharing all her favorite scents with us. On recommendation of Percy's friend from the night before, we found the leather scented candle. It smelled... like leather.

We ate dinner with some alum who were in town and then played Scattegories until bedtime. Saturday was much fun but, by far, the least epic of the days.

How We Ended Up in the Emergency Room

Well, how else would expect a day to end, if it started with an exploding hair dryer?

After work, Percy, Ana, and I reunited. We had dinner with some quality folk, and then Percy suggested we go hang out with one of his friends from church. We meandered to his house. The kid knew how to get girls to like him -- he fed us chocolate. Then he got a call from another friend, Guy, who wanted him to come hang out. Upon finding out that this kid had people over, Guy invited us all.

So we pile into this kid's car and head over to Guy's house. [No, you did not see an incorrect verb-tense-shift. It is a rhetorical device used in epics.] As we get there, a bunch of people are leaving, so it looks like Guy is trading one party for another. And he is super-psyched about it too -- jumping up and down and gesturing dramatically for us to be quiet. I suppose he doesn't want to wake his parents, but it looks a little sketchy. Guy darts ahead of us down the stairs. Somehow I end up at the front of the parade, directly behind Guy. So I hear the tumble and see only Guy's feet, at the bottom of the stairs. The rest of his body is around the corner. I run down to see what's going on, calling, "Are you okay?" He doesn't answer, but by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, he is on his feet, on his way up, hand and head covered in blood. It drips down the hallway as he returns to the front of the house. Percy and friend take one look at him and declare: "We need to get you to the emergency room!"

Percy goes off in search of a towel to staunch the blood pouring from Guy's head, while his friend helps him to the car. It's all he can do not to pass out. We wanted to get him into the front seat -- it seems easiest, and then Percy, Ana, and I can sit in the back. Instead, we have to lay him across the backseat. Percy returns, and he rides in the back with Guy. Ana and I sit up front, on top of each other, talking to Guy all the way to the hospital to make sure he doesn't pass out.

Fun fact : The speed limit on the hospital grounds is 23 1/2.

Percy and his friend help Guy into the emergency room, and Ana parks the car. Eventually, the nurse shoos Percy, his friend, and me away from Guy. They take him into a back room to clean him up. By the time he makes it out, Ana is back. Guy comes out in a wheel chair, bandages wrapped around his head and under his chin, like something out of a movie. He sits and chats with us (apparently, feeling better, i.e. not fainting) until the hospital has a bed ready. Percy's friend goes back with him when a nurse finally comes for him; he is allowed only one guest.

The three of us left sit and chat and watch natural disasters on the Weather Channel -- a poor choice for the emergency room. Eventually, the kid comes back out and tells us that Guy is getting examined and stapled and that he wants to see each of us. Ana and I both have the same thought : That situation would awkward beyond words. But we'll go see him together. So Percy attempts to brave the second visitor shift. We're told that Guy can't have visitors right now.

By now, it's all we can do to stay awake. Also, it's hard to ignore the other people who come into the emergency room. So I occupy myself with praying for the people who come in the door. Percy's friend takes a nap. Luckily, before it gets too bad, a nurse comes out with good news: Guy is all stapled up. He tells us that he is asking for Percy and "one of the girls." Ana elects me, and Percy and I follow the nurse to Guy's room (which is really three walls and a curtain).

Guy is laying on the bed. He has seven shiny staples on the side of his head, and a halo of blood in various stages of soaking in and drying on the pillow around his head. Percy and I admire the staples, since Guy seems to want that reaction. I also describe his halo of blood, which he enjoys. We chat as nurses run a few last tests. Then, in the crowning moment of the night, a nurse comes in to tell Guy how to care for his wound. She talks to Percy and me as if we were going to be looking after Guy and his injured head. I'm sure Guy takes it all in too, but we don't mention that we just met him not thirty seconds before he bust his head open.

At last -- at last! -- Guy is released. We pile back into the car, this time with Guy properly situated in the front seat. It's after one, and we have all been struggling for the past hour at least to stay awake. So no one jumps up when Guy suggests, "What are we going to do now? We have the whole night before us!"

Percy's friend explains to him that it's bedtime. We left them there and Percy brought Ana and me back to my house, where I discovered that I was way too wound up from the adventure to approach sleep. Ana and I put on a movie, thinking we would fall asleep during it.

We stayed up through all of When in Rome, as incapable of taking our eyes away from that train-wreck as I was from the shiny stitches in Guy's head.

Epic, Part Three

Yes, the last post was Part Two. It just had a natural title.

Friday morning I went out running. When I came back, Ana was on the couch, staring at me. "Your hairdryer exploded," she told me. Turns out, that was the perfect start to the day.

I had to work, so I traded Ana for a pancake. Back story : When Percy came to St. Louis last year, he and Ana became pals. Hence, he was part of the voyage to the airport and hence he hung out with her while I was working.

Another back story : Ana likes bacon. Percy likes pancakes, though I think not quite at the same level. At a local pancake house, they offer "bacon yummies," which combines those two foods. Percy decided to make bacon yummies for Ana. I just got a yummy, since I'm not so much about the bacon. I told him I wanted it in the shape of my name. So he wrote in batter on the cooked side of the pancake. Ana drew a picture. Then Percy flipped over the pancake so that the batter cooked and you could still see the writing.

This small story became relevant later that day when Percy and Ana were trying to figure out how they both had pancake batter on their clothing.

In Which There Is Wawa

Ana came! We found her coming down the escalator, beautifully sick. (As was Percy. As am I, after spending an epic weekend with them.) Hugs and general excitement ensued until we got her luggage -- which she had checked just so that she could bring me burgoo!

On the way home, we discovered that Ana had not eaten dinner yet. Requisite on any trip to the 'burg is a Wawa trip. Ana especially had to go. She and Triss (and maybe Byrd and Em, or they may just have been part of the ensuing discussion) had all read a book series in which the main character eats TastyKakes. Until the house discussion last year, she had not realized that TastyKakes actually existed. I told her that she could find them at Wawa when she came to visit.

Percy and I talked about Wawa a good deal during the trip home, and Ana was thoroughly confused. Until we pulled into the parking lot and she read the sign. "Oh! It's Wawa! I thought it was short for something!"

Because classes hadn't started, the Wawa was empty. Ana did well for herself, grabbing every kind of TastyKake, save for one with coconut. I made myself memorable by asking if the counter was new. Apparently it had been there since November. Who knew?

Epic, Part One

Ana came to visit this past weekend, and it.was.epic. Like any epic, it will be told in sequence and in multiple parts. One day, perhaps, it will even be in verse. But that day is still a long way off.

The epic begins on Thursday, when Father Dude told us that he was coaching the first game for the parish's men's indoor soccer club. Brigit, Marianne, and I decided to tag along as cheerleaders. Percy joined us, though I don't think he was going for the role of male cheerleader.

The game ended around 9:30. Ana arrived at the airport at 11:30. It takes around 45 minutes to get to the airport. Percy and I decided against going home -- we set off down the road, intent upon making it to the airport on time. As in, not early.

First, we attempted to find a cut-through for Percy's commute home. Which means that after I got thoroughly lost, I got to see the school where he teaches. Then we hopped on the highway... and went.

I've always wanted to take a road trip by turning down roads and exits that sound interesting. Now I (kind of) have. Percy and I made it a few miles down the highway before we saw signs for a small county airport. Why not go to an airport on our way to the airport? We cut through some twistings of dark country roads. Percy (I hope) had his eyes peeled for deer. I was too busy finding constellations.

The airport was a small building and a few fences. We touched it, like a child tagging base, and headed back to the highway. Before we made it to the interstate, however, we found another road that Percy though went all the way to the city. We weren't sure if we should take it; a sign for "Toe Ink Wayside" down that road made our decision.

Sadly, we missed Toe Ink Wayside : it was a left exit and Percy was busy trying to get into the right lane so that we wouldn't miss it. On the plus side, we realized that the road was taking us where we wanted to go. And we found a fire tower. So we stopped to climb and look at stars.

Fun fact : When you get to a certain height in a fire tower, a sign lets you know that radio waves, at that height, may cause cancer.

The climb inspired our final stop. We passed the airport in search of a McDonalds for some hot chocolate. We passed a Waffle House, and Percy regretted not stopping. Luckily, thirty yards down the road, we found another one. We got some hot chocolate (with whipped cream) and finished it off right in time to get to the airport. In fact, we pulled in as Ana texted to say that she'd landed.

"We Sings Into a Kettle"

When I came back to the 'burg, Percy had a story from his break. He had gone to the historic part of town and met an amazing reenactor (they call them "interpreters"), playing the part of a slave. This man, Wil (according to Percy "one W, one I, one L") so impressed Percy that he took me to meet him the next day.

We went to the area of town where Percy had met Wil the day before and asked another interpreter where we could find him. The colonial man gave us directions to a building where we could find his office -- he was probably doing research. We followed the (rather convoluted) directions to find ourselves near the blacksmith, where we asked yet another interpreter for aid. She went inside and a few minutes later, Wil emerged.

It didn't take me long at all to figure out why Percy had been blown away. The man introduced himself as "Wil -- one dubbya, one eye, one el." His words and mannerism seemed to come straight from the 1700s, from his accent to his habit of looking over his shoulder to make sure "Mister Anderson" wasn't coming around. He told me he was an hostler and explain that he took care of horses -- but I got to feel smart a moment, because I had known that from "The Highway Man."

Then, at Percy's prompting, we got into the really fun material. Wil told us about the activities that slaves did together. Among other things, they sang songs. And he burst into a few lines of song before us. Apparently, slaves would gather around huge kettles and sing into them to absorb the sound! He told these stories furtively, pausing every now and then to ask Percy if he could trust me. I gained his trust after he told us that the Irish came to some of these gathering; I knew then to tell him I was Irish. (Which is something like 12.5% true.)

One of Wil's talents is putting everything into the context of 1776. So Irish meant Irish in a day and place where Irish weren't the most popular. And when I mentioned that I had just moved down here, Wil asked if my father had driven me down. He assumed that since I had come from far away, I was gentry, and he asked if my family owned slaves.

Best of all, when Percy asked Wil about his research, he paused to think for a few seconds, then launched into an explanation without breaking character. He was looking into the case of a slave whose master had taken him to Britain. While there, the slave sued for his freedom -- Dred Scott, anyone? Amazingly, the judge sided with the slave, and he was a free man! In the reading of the newspaper articles about this event, Wil came across something else amazing. One paper reported a ball that was held afterward. The paper referred to the attendees as "Negro men and ladies." At that point in time, only white women were ever called "ladies"!

After chatting for a little while, Percy and I let Wil get back to his research. He gave us an elaborate and protracted bow. Percy asked ("besides Mister Anderson") where he could direct compliments. He got one name and address, but as we were leaving Wil called us back to introduce us to someone in charge of something in CW. I don't remember his title, but he seemed to have something to do with the diversity element -- i.e. how to portray a slave society for tourists looking to be happy. We chatted with him for a few minutes about the challenges of this task and the progress CW has made over the past few years.

As we kept walking, now in search of hot cider, Percy and I ran across the building to which Wil had originally directed. We stepped inside and Percy began telling the receptionist: "I've been coming here for... a while now. And the past few times I've been here, there is this one interpreter, I ran across him yesterday, and then I came back today..." And after that he got into how awesome Wil was. (I assumed Percy knew he was setting it up like he had a major complaint. Apparently he hadn't.)

The receptionist directed us to her boss who "loves compliments." We then got to talk for a few seconds with a CW big-wig who was glad to hear compliments and heard Percy's introduction the exact same way the receptionist had.

Homecoming

When I walked through the door Thursday night, my first thought was, "It's COLD!" My first actions were to drop everything in my arms and make a mad dash to the thermostat... barely six feet from my front door. By the time I made it to bed that night, six hours later, the thought had drifted across my mind, "I guess I'm home."

It was a very different homecoming to the one I experienced three weeks ago when my sister was attacking me with hugs before I had a chance to drop my bags and packages and my aunt and mother were in the kitchen by a warm dinner. I knew then within seconds that I had come home.

When living life as a migrant got emotionally challenging during college (I wouldn't be surprised if Wendy still has nightmares about my end-of-semester packing) I reassured myself that it would last only these four years. Then I would have one "home." Nineteen months later, and I have not only a variety of places that are home, but a greater number of people whose presence says "home" to me. And, with grad school on the horizon, the next two years are not looking any more promising as far as finding a home.

I found, on my return, a unexpected switch. Catholic churches, by virtue of the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle, always feel "home" to me, no matter where or when. However, some (the CCM chapel, for example, or my home parish) have had special meaning to me. This year, my home parish is experiencing some turbulence, and it didn't have the same "welcome back" feel that I was expecting. Yet when I walked into the parish in the 'burg on Friday morning, I discovered that it was saying, "Welcome home!"

Day-Maker #20

My roommate rearranged her room. Now, if our doors are open, our mirrors face each other across the hallway and reflect each other.

Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne

More of an Idiot: Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne: "Let's ignore the amount of time, over the last three weeks, it took me to learn how to spell "irresistible," and go straight on to the book. This book is one enthusiastic Christian's rallying cry to return Christianity to his idea of its roots : the simple, self-supporting communities of Acts that lived simply and reached out both materially and spiritually. Claiborne organized his book half around ideas related to his vision of Christianity -- or the revolution, as he calls it -- and half around his own story, how he came to where he is now (or in 2007).

I'm having a hard time writing this review as a book review, because the book spoke to my heart as a Christian. Claiborne essential advocates for the idea that Christianity doesn't merely mean living morally as we pursue the American Dream -- it means dreaming a different driving and clinging to an alternative way of life and an alternative way of being. He describes a peaceful, joyful, Christ-centered, others-oriented, down-to-earth, idealistic, relationship-infused, communal, complete way of being that marks the irresistible revolution. Christians, he maintains, should start this revolution, and it will catch.

Unlike most of my favorite spiritual writers, Claiborne does not come with credentials -- not degrees from Catholic institutions (um, he's not Catholic) nor seals of approval from the Church. He writes playfully, yet seriously, with great emotional appeal, yet grounded. I don't know if he would have convinced me if I had strongly disagreed with his ideas. However, since I was already convinced that as a Christian I should be seeking another way to live my life, I found the book inspiring (hey, I'm not alone) and challenging (but I have a long way to go)."

Day-Maker #19

I went to Starbucks with a friend last night and asked for a half-caf cup of coffee. The barista (By the way, does anyone know the masculine form of this word? A barrister is a lawyer in England.) told me that they didn't brew decaf after noon. However, since they didn't have what I asked, she gave me a half-caf Americano on the house. Free Starbucks? Yes, please!

2011?! When Did This Happen?!

I said good-bye to 2010 and hello to 2011 in Pennsylvania this year. One of my friends from high school youth group studies and works there, so three of us piled into a car and went up north to celebrate with her. The city has an annual "Strawberry Drop" and I couldn't wait to see it. On the way north, and then over dinner, we speculated as to what a "Strawberry Drop" might look like. We assumed that it would mean more than simply dropping a strawberry onto the ground (or, I hoped, into a bowl of chocolate). Probably, a giant light-up strawberry would mimic the Times Square ball.

We decided against driving into town because no one wanted to navigate the traffic or the parking. Thinking ahead, we called a cab company, asking them to send someone to pick us up in almost an hour, around 10:30. That would get us to town around 10:50, give us time to grab something warm to drink, and find a place to watch the strawberry.

At 10:45, we called again and were told they were "on their way." At 11:00 we called again and were advised to call someone else. But really, who can send you a cab at 11 to drive you into the city by midnight on New Year's Eve? No one, that's who. After calling five or six companies, we gave up. We had a choice : have our own strawberry drop, involving strawberries, chocolate, and a balcony; or go out the a nearby sports bar. We decided that we had no need to choose -- we could do both!

We greeted 2011 with free champagne in plastic glasses with 20 other people who hadn't made it downtown. Much to my chagrin, Fox News brought in the new year for us.

Then we rose to our next challenge : Where do you find strawberries at midnight-thirty at New Year's? Not at the 24-7 Weis -- it's closed. Not at the Giant -- it's closed. However, at the repeated insistence of one member of the group, we at last tried Sheetz -- where we discovered strawberries and chocolate. We brought them home and melted the chocolate.

We kicked off our strawberry drop with Shakespeare : "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!" -- and proceeded to drop strawberries into the bowl of chocolate, with varying degrees of success. We may have missed the real one, but I am fairly certain we had the best strawberry drop in all of Pennsylvania.

Day-Maker #18

The signs along I-270 S in Maryland mark the miles, not to the state line, but to "Northern Virginia." No wonder people think we're our own state.

Day-Maker #17

Buying I Am American (And So Can You) for $1.87. Thanks, Dad!