What do you think?

Lori made the observation recently that the New Englander's motto is "God, family, and the Red Sox." I thought that was pretty funny and perhaps partly true. So, would you New Englanders concur with this statement?

Baklava

Anybody want a piece of baklava? I made some this morning and just wolfed down a piece with great relish. The first time I tried this Mediterranean delicacy, it was a complete disaster. But then I found this recipe last year and was most pleased with it. It's kind of finicky and time-consuming to make, but oh so worth it! And if you're trying to be conscientious about calories, then forget about it; it's stock full of butter and sugar. Here's the recipe if you want to give it a try.

Baklava

1 pound (3 cups) finely chopped walnuts
1 1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp. Cinnamon
1 cup butter (melted)
1 lb. box phyllo dough (be sure it's totally thawed!)
Preheat oven to 350. Grease 13x9 baking dish. Put 4 phyllo sheets folded in half on bottom of pan. Brush melted butter in between each layer. Spread nut mixture evenly across top sheet. Layer another six sheets, brushing with butter after each layer. Continue with another layer of nuts. Repeat process till top of pan is reached. Drip rest of butter on top and smear.
Cut squares or diamonds to make 1-inch squares. Bake 40-45 minutes. While the baklava bakes, make syrup.
Syrup:
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup honey
1/3 cup lemon juice
Pinch of ground cloves
Pour all ingredients into pot with 1 cup water. Boil 15 minutes or more until syrup thickens. Cool. Spoon over baked pastry. Let baklava stand 30 minutes to soak up syrup.

This Hope in Glory

On Monday I received a request to play at a memorial service on Wednesday. I didn't know the people, but a little extra money in my dry month is nice, so I agreed. Oddly enough, it was in a dining room of a retirement facility. I sure wasn't expecting that. Tables were set up in a horseshoe shape where the small group sat during the service, followed by a catered lunch. There were only about 25 or 30 people there, made up mostly of family as well as intimate friends of the deceased man.

The first interesting thing I noticed about the retirement village was that a large percentage of the staff were Polynesian or Indonesian or Mexican or something. Then I saw four or five staff members who were deaf. I wondered how they could communicate with the residents, but they signed quite fluently between themselves. One lady I interacted with could sort of talk, but was no comparison to Sue Thomas (DeAnn Bray)! I wish I knew sign language, but not bad enough to learn it. :-)

Anyway, back to the funeral - there is really nothing more depressing than a non-Christian funeral. The family's sorrow was understandably evident, but they didn't have the hope and inner peace that we Christians experience in times of grief. The minister was a woman with a sort of Unitarian or United Methodist flavor, but I really wasn't sure. She mainly facilitated the family's remembrances and expressions, but at the beginning she droned on and on about the psychological value of letting the grief out and expressing their feelings. I saw one teary lady whisper to someone next to her, "Would she just shut up?!" Gulp. There were some definite tensions in the group. But though they recited the 23rd Psalm and the minister said some trite prayers with God's name in them, the name of Jesus was never once mentioned. Real comfort was never offered, and their prayers to commend the man to God's mercy were without solid ground.

By the time I left I had a major stomach ache and couldn't wait to get out of there! I reflected on the way home about the wonderful joy that we Christians can experience because of the wonderful grace of Jesus. We have a future and a hope! We know the meaning of life, and we have a bond with each other that's so precious. In 2000 we went to three funerals, two of them for victims of tragic accidents (including Mindy). There was profound grief, yes, but there was a heaven-sent feeling of celebration and hope that the world cannot comprehend.

I went home with great gratitude for the great hope I have in Christ, but also with an increased burden for the millions around us who barely have a clue to what is available to them. Let's keep our lights bright and our salt salty!

Angelo

Let me tell you about Angelo. He's tall, dark, and handsome, with a voice that simply spellbinds his listeners. Women swoon over him, men are impressed with him, and children are starstruck by him. But he's all mine, ladies! This romantic Adonis and I have been together for nearly seven years. Together we have attended and participated in countless events such as weddings, receptions, funerals, parties, showers, etc. He has stood by me on the concert stage many times, humbly allowing me to accept all the applause, though he deserves half the credit. He and I survived a car crash together, he's been to Canada with me (and helped me earn a performance diploma from the Royal Conservatory of Music), and he helped me win second place in a concerto competition. In the orchestra, he's head and shoulders above anybody else there. Have you guessed who he is yet? Yup, he's my harp. :-) Pretty impressive, isn't he?

Any time I take my harp to an event, I usually get similar comments or questions. Many people have never seen a "real live harp" face to face, so there's a big element of awe there. As I wheel my 6 foot, 80 pound monstrosity into a room, eyes widen and people move aside as respectfully as if I were moving a casket. I remember back in the days when I was in the Tacoma Youth Symphony, I played in a few school tours where we'd go to elementary schools and play some pieces while introducing instruments to the kids. If they were sitting there when I moved the harp in, the level of excitement rose 10 degrees. Then when I took the cover off I'd hear "Whooooaa!!! That is so cooool!!" It was very rewarding. :-) The conductor would often point out the different instruments and ask the kids to name them. When he got to the harp there was no question that they recognized it! "A haaarp!!!" (I remember one kid calling the violin bow a stick!)

Here are some of the comments or questions commonly heard:

As I haul it up a flight of stairs: "So how much does that thing weigh?" It only weighs 80 pounds, but it looks heavier. Next time I should nonchalantly reply, "200 pounds." Gasp!

As a couple guys are moving it with great temerity: "How much is this thing worth?" I reply, "About $15,500." "Whoa! You better not drop it, John!" No, you jolly well better not, Buster.

"What does harp music look like? Is it like piano music?" No, it's like timpani music. Duh.

"How long have you been playing the harp?" Why do people always want to know that?

"Oh, I've always wanted to play the harp!" -- This always gushed by women.

"So, what kind of car do you drive?" - This usually comes from the curious males. A VW Beetle of course. Sigh. I wish. But the realistic and obvious answer is a minivan.

And the #1 most common when I'm moving it: "I bet you wished you'd learned the flute! Hahahaha!" Groan. What's comical is that probably every person who says that thinks they are so original and so funny!

Sour Face

I love this picture of Tucker after he sucked on a lemon! Poor little guy!

The Power of a Hug

Something happened this morning that I wanted to write about. At church before the service started, I headed to the bathroom. (No, that's not what the story's about!) As I was about to go in, another girl came out. This girl is about 19 years and very sweet and quaint, but as their family is new, I really don't know her very well and we seldom talk. I smiled and said hi, and then to my great surprise she leaned forward and gave me a hug! I was so shocked I just smiled and mumbled, "Thanks!" Brilliant response. I'm not sure why it astonished me so much, but I found that her simple act brightened up the morning thereafter for me! It made me just feel loved and noticed, and in turn made me want to love others. I guess I don't expect hugs except from people I'm really close to or something. The funny thing is that my primary love language is touch, so I found myself wondering afterwards why I'm not more lavish with my "language." Maybe it comes from growing up in a family of words of affirmation and time; my language was sometimes a foreign one, so I learned to not really "speak" unless I knew the recipient wanted it. But this girl's kindly deed sort of convicted me to stop being selfish and just use my language to bless others whenever possible -- maybe even people I don't really know very well. After all, who doesn't like a hug or a simple caring touch? I read somewhere that we should look at everyone as if they have a sign on them saying, "Love me. Notice me. Accept me."

I didn't mean for this to turn into a sermon! I'm sure you're all way better at showing love than I am. Some of us are just a little slower to catch on. :-)

Following Lewis and Clark

Yesterday our family went on a little adventure! My parents, my sister Lori's family, and I headed down to Oregon early in the morning for a brunch cruise on the Columbia River. My parents and I left at 8:00 for the 3 hour drive. I'm not very fond of riding along in the back seat, but I kept myself amused by drinking a Starbucks chai, reading a Kingsbury book, playing the alphabet game, and admiring all the lovely green countryside we passed. When we arrived at the river, Lori's family was already there, and we waited around about half an hour for the sternwheeler's 12:00 departure. It had been cloudy in the morning, but by noon it had cleared off and turned into a beautiful day.

The sternwheeler looked like something on the Mississippi, and I felt like Mark Twain should be somewhere around there! The captain looked like what a river captain should look like -- a big Santa Clause in a black and gold uniform. We boarded the boat and were seated at a long table near windows. The kids were all agog and were eager to be outside. Candy did serve to occupy their attention some of the time, though. After we took off, we went through the brunch buffet and were treated like royalty by the friendly staff.

After the brunch, which wasn't anything to write home about, we went up to the upper decks for a better view. It was fun to do something like this with kids, because their excitement is contagious and you end up seeing so much through their eyes! It got pretty windy out there, but the sun was warm enough to make it the perfect temperature.

The scenery we saw was absolutely breathtaking! It was almost too much for the eyes to take in. Besides the lush green hills and cliffs on either side of the river, we saw the Bonneville Dam, little islands, lots of birds, and much more. Windsurfers, kite boarders, and jet skiers kept weaving around the boat for our entertainment. The captain kept up a little commentary about the history of the area. Lewis and Clark came down the river 200 years ago, braving the challenges of dangerous rapids, savage Indians, animals, etc. It's amazing they survived, but the Pacific Northwest probably wouldn't be what it is today if a few good men hadn't risked their lives to explore the unknown.

After the ride, my explorer dad decided to take an alternative route home. A route we'd never tried before. A route we'll never try again. On the map it looked pretty straightforward and probably quicker than the usual I-5 route. Well, maybe if you're a crow. But what we actually discovered was miles and miles of little back roads, poorly marked, and as windy and rough as something I'd imagine in the Appalacian Mountains. Oh, maybe not that bad, but sitting in the back seat, it was bad enough. I kept hoping to see something exciting like a bear or cougar (to keep up with Claire), but nothing more wild than a rabbit crossed our path. What kind of wilderness is this, anyway? However, despite the poor roads, we saw some of Washington's most beautiful scenery. We skirted Mt. St. Helen and overlooked vast valleys. And all the little wildflowers on the sides of the road made me want to stop and pick a big bouquet to take home.

Eventually we made it to civilization again and had dinner at a Mexican Restaurant in the little hick town of Morton. We got home about 8:30, quite exhausted, but overall satisfied with our day's adventure. I love summer!

Late Marriage

I'm hesitant to post this because I don't want it to be taken the wrong way, but hopefully I'll communicate clearly enough to please everyone. I had a dinnertime conversation with Joe Brown a couple weeks ago about various anecdotes of his youth. Somehow, the subject of marriage come up with reference to the ages when people marry. We noticed that in his day (my parents' generation), young people married much younger than they do now. It was perfectly normal for them to marry around 21 or 22. Now that sounds SO young! Even ten years ago, I think people still married pretty young. But the trend now -- both for Christians and non-Christians -- is too wait until the later 20s. I read somewhere that the average marrying age for women is 28 or 29. That's amazing! We discussed several possible reasons for this trend. Here are some:

1. Many young people (some Christians included) don't wait until marriage to live with someone and enjoy the uh, pleasures of such a relationship. So what's the hurry to get married?
2. It costs a lot more to live, which means more education and time spent saving money.
3. Guys are scared of marriage. Commitment, money, children, whatever.
4. There are a lot more opportunities for women now in terms of career, education, and ministry, so they aren't as hasty to jump into marriage.
5. The enemy hates Godly marriage, so he wants to thwart it as much as possible.

So what do you think? I have a lot of friends that are in their mid to late 20s and even 30s and they're still single. I know some absolutely wonderful girls older than I that are waiting patiently for the right guy, but unfortunately, I know some great guys that hardly seem to be aware of the female existence! So what is it?? I am no psychologist and I'm sure I may have some things wrong, but I find it a puzzling and interesting subject.

Let me also add that I do think it is smart for a guy and even the girl to be at least 25. I've heard the divorce rate is considerably lower for couples married at 25 or older. I'm not sure it used to be that way, though. Are people less mature now than they used to be? Not as ready for marriage?

Drinking Groomsmen and Golden Summertime

I have played at, sung at, attended, or been in a bajillion weddings, so I can tell a few stories. However, I witnessed something at Saturday's wedding that I'm still shaking my head over. First of all, though the ceremony had many Christian sentiments, I don't believe the families were more than nominally Christian. I and my harp were on stage behind a row of six groomsmen, so I had a pretty good view of them, especially the two at the end of the line. I started noticing that these two--who were probably my age or older--kept making little comments and smirks at each other. A little immature, I thought. The running conversation was bad enough, but then I noticed one covertly taking a flask out of his tux and taking a quick swig! "Oh, my word," I thought, "that had better be water." But I doubt it. I was almost doubtful that I'd seen it, until he did it again. Then the guy at the very end took out his own little flask and took a sip! The other one offered his to another groomsman who laughingly refused. This is all while the ceremony is happening! And do you think they stopped talking or drinking while the minister prayed or while I played the unity candle song? NO! I glared at them when I could, but they didn't seem to take much notice. I couldn't believe the gall of such behavior in the house of God at a sacred ceremony in front of a whole host of witnesses! I should have gotten up and knocked their heads together!

In other, lighter news, summer has finally arrived in Western Washington!! The last few months have been mostly gray, cold, and wet, so we're excited to have warm, dry sunshine. It's about 100 degrees right now, but there's a little breeze and it's not unbearable if you're in the shade. This morning I went on a 7-mile bike ride to town and back, and drank in the beauty of awesome Mt. Rainier, the brilliant blue sky, the bright green foliage, and quaint farm country. I've been reading out on the patio most of the day and took a little dip in the pool. Funny how cold that pool can feel even on the hottest day. I have a strong desire for ice cream, but I'm exercising self-control because my body does not need another pound! Summertime is pretty dangerous to the waistline in our house. Fruit pies, ice cream, shakes, frappucinos...it's just terrible!

Happy Birthday, Lori!

Today is my big sis Lori's birthday! Since she is over 30, I'll delicately refrain from telling her exact age. If you feel inclined to say Happy Birthday to her, you can do it here, or on her blog - loreos.blogspot.com. Lori was my hero and my enemy when I was growing up, but now she's simply my friend and a pretty cool person. She's an amazingly talented artist, cook, gardener, and decorator. She's a devoted mom and wife who's been through a lot of challenges, but has clung to God and grown in faith and character. Happy Birthday and lots of love from your little sis!

Star Wars and the Bible

A couple weeks ago when I was visiting the Joneses, Jed and I had a little conversation up in his room. He was pointing out the various Star Wars paraphernalia around his room and rattling off the names of the characters. How does a five year-old know all this? Well, he is totally into Star Wars right now. I'm totally not into it, so it was all Greek to me, but I humored him. I can't remember how we got into the subject of Bible stories, but he confessed to me that he liked watching Star Wars more than listening to Bible stories. Something like that. Being an aunt, of course, I had to say something wise at that moment, so I asked, "Which one is more important?" He sighed in exasperation: "I know, I know!" Like, duh. I smiled and let it go. At least he's honest! Jill and I talked about it later and admitted that we sometimes find a novel more inviting than the Bible. I know when I'm plowing through some books in the Old Testament, any other book seems way more pleasant, especially first thing in the morning! I've felt a little convicted that I haven't hungered more after God's Word as life-giving manna. Reading it out of dutiful habit is one thing, but truly partaking of it with hungry delight is quite another. Something to think about.

Here are a couple good quotes I read:
"Faith must be tested, because it can be turned into a personal possession only through conflict...The final thing is confidence in Jesus. Believe steadfastly on Him and all you come up against will develop your faith...Faith is unutterable trust in God, trust which never dreams that He will not stand by us." -Oswald Chambers

"Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire." -William Butler Yeats

Friendly's

Alright, this finally worked! This picture is kind of fuzzy because it's scanned in, but as you can see, there's a huge group of us at Friendly's. Funny how Craig looks huge and the rest of us look like little midgets! Good times.

Job perks and deperks

One of the neat things about being a harpist is going places I wouldn't normally get to go. Like on Wednesday night I played at the Seattle Yacht Club for a dental college "hospitality hour" before their banquet. It was a beautiful location right on the water with tons of boats in full view from the windows and golden sunlight streaming in. The place was pretty swanky, too, but with plenty of nautical charm. Most of the people there were older male dentists with their wives, and probably a few female dentists. They all stood around wearing expensive suits and gleaming smiles while drinking disgusting smelling drinks and exchanging polite, meaningless chatter. They liked the harp music and I went home after an hour. One of the downsides of being a harpist is losing callouses (sp?) during vacation and then getting sore finger tips after playing loudly for an hour. No blisters, though, PTL. I'm playing for a wedding tomorrow evening.

Yesterday I taught some harp lessons after two weeks off. It wasn't long enough! I felt all nervy and fidgety. One student asked out of the blue if I had a headache. No...but if I teach too much longer I'll get one! It was only four students. First, a sassy 7th grader wearing flowers and jewelry she acquired on their Hawaiian vacation. She had long fingernails which I made her cut before starting. Took her about ten minutes. Meanwhile, a bagpiper was playing full blast outside the office building. Then there was the 16 year-old with ADHD and a head cold. Patience! Then there's the mid-30's woman who's still a beginner after 7 years of playing the harp. More patience. Bloodsugar is sinking. Finally, a 10 year old little girl who has to have instructions repeated several times. I came home, ate a wonderful summer dinner, and watched Walker and then a John Wayne movie most of the evening. Good thing summer's only half over; I need to get a grip before getting back to teaching all the time!

Where is everyone?

I have wandered to and fro throughout the blog world searching for new posts, but they are not to be found! I know my sister's moving, so I'll forgive her, and I know Derrick and Claire are up-to-date, but what is everyone else doing?? Don't you know blogs are for...blogging? What is this world coming to?

Northwest vs. Northeast

We are the United States, but each region definitely has its own little culture. On my flight home from New Hampshire, I had a layover in Chicago. I had a pretty quiet spot in the waiting area until this mob of people flocked into the seats next to me. I'm not sure if they were all related or not. There seemed to be several families with children and teens. They were pretty loud, boisterous, loving, and sometimes shockingly forthright in their conversation. I tried not to be annoyed. Then from their conversation I picked up that they lived in one of my neighboring towns. "That fits," I thought. I had just come from dignified New England, and I was experiencing minor culture shock at an enounter with my own culture. The Northeast and Northwest share some similiarities (like liberal politics, few churches, and sea food), but here are a few differences that I've picked up:

o Northwest people are normally very friendly and open; New Englanders are not as friendly and open, at least to strangers, but they're perhaps a little deeper in their friendships.
o Northwesterners are politer drivers than New Englanders (I'm sure somebody will try to challenge me on that one!)
o Both regions are pretty casual, but New England is more preppy. However, Northwest women are a little more into glamour, as in hair and makeup. I saw very few women in New England that had makeup on.
o New Englanders are definitely more reserved with their emotions. I went to watch fireworks on July 3rd and I felt like the only one making noise! There was hardly an ooh or aah from the crowd, while I whooped and cheered for just about every one. You'd think we were watching a funeral procession. Maybe because we were sitting in a cemetery.
o Northwesterners are more open-minded about things like alternative medicine (i.e., natural) and education, while New Englanders have a Pilgrim solidity of character and purpose that is refreshing.

Hope I didn't offend anybody; these are just my personal observations which may or may not be true. I'll leave the South and Southwest alone for now. :-)

I'm back!

I think most of my blog readers knew that I wasn't in a big blog rut, but in fact, I was on a 10 day New England sojourn. I had very little computer access, so I saved up a fair amount of blog material. I had a great time seeing many dear friends & family and attending the Fairwood Family Convention. The first weekend I was there, my sister's family, my parents, and I went to Old Sturbridge Village in Mass. It was a really neat place full of American historical buildings and atmosphere.

I experienced the infamous extremes of New England weather. Of course I expected hot humidity (which we had the first half of the time), but then came the cold front with rain storms and wind. I was not excited about having Washington weather in NH! But then on the last day, the hot temperature came back like it had never left. Weird.

One kind of funny thing happened at Fairwood. I stayed in a room that was very hot and stuffy. Everybody assured me that's the way it always was due to location. I had a fan going full blast day and night and the windows wide open, but it was still an oven. I resigned myself to my fate and spent as little time as possible in there. Then on the third morning I was doing my hair and wishing for some little cool breeze. I opened the windows even wider. Suddenly I had a grave suspicion that something was rotten in Denmark (so to speak). I tapped on the screen, and sure enough, it was quite hard. Here in Washington we don't do storm windows, but I knew just enough to realize that was what it was. The windows were supposedly wide open, but no air was coming in because the storm windows were still on! Soon after remedying that situation there was a noticeable improvement in room temperature. Moral of the story: never trust an open window.

One thing I love about the Northwest is the extremely low mosquito population. They are basically unknown here. But not so in New Hampshire, where the little bloodsuckers hunt day and night by the hordes for human nourishment. Apparently, I was a particular tasty specimen, as I amassed 23 bites on my legs! Craig asked how I had time to count between scratching, but fortunately, I wasn't too miserable.

All my flights went well, meaning I didn't get sick and I had decent seat mates. A year or two ago I had a horrible situation that has made me nervous about flying ever since. I think I was returning from NH, though I don't remember which leg of the journey I was on. I was seated in the middle seat of a row of 3. On my left was a man of normal, manly proportions. The seat on my right was still free and I was eyeing passengers coming down the aisle, hoping for someone nice and unobtrusive. Then I saw him -- a 350 pound (my estimate) hulk of flesh huffing down the aisle toward me. "Please Lord, no!" But sure enough, he eased his oversized body into the undersized seat next to me. I think he put up the armrest to fit himself in, which meant that his whole left side was resting against my shrinking frame. Of course the plane was completely full, and who would want to switch places with me? I tried to scootch a little closer to the man on my left, but he didn't appear overly sympathetic. So for three or four hours I fought the desire to scream, cry, or jump out the window as this damp, warm hunk of flesh rested against me. I really think they should have width limits for people, and if you're too wide, either get first class or an extra seat. Even better, lose some weight! How embarassing for him! I obviously survived, but ever since when I've flown, I've prayed for a skinny seatmate, and so far it's been fine. I've also gotten seatmates who are as quiet and unsociable as I am. Yes, I'm one of those people who are happiest left to themselves and not subject to the small talk of inquisitive strangers. They take out their book, I take out mine. Perfect. Good movie comes on, even better. I saw Pacifier on the way out; it was quite entertaining. I saw some of Miss Congeniality 2 on the way home; it had its moments.

So back to "normal" life after a lovely time in my second homeland with some of the best people in the world! My kitty is extremely glad to have me home and has barely left my presence since I've been here.