I am currently confined indoors. I had to close my windows, and I think there is a tornado going by. So for now I will blog about being a housewife, in hopes that it will soon clear; I want to go to the farmers market.
While adjusting the ice in a peach smoothie, my spatula shattered. Plastic peppered the fruity goodness, and we had to spit out the bigger chunks. There was spatula delight in every sip. This adventure ended with my husband attempting to glue the pieces back together.
While lighting a candle to burn the onion fumes, I set it on our coffee pot and walk away. A while later wax had melted down and into every crevice of this coffee maker. It was temporarily unfunctional, until this morning, when I decided to bake it in the oven. This fresh baked coffee maker now makes coffee again, but the joe tastes like parafin.
In a head to head encounter with homemade pastry dough, I lost a battle. I was having friends for breakfast at 10 am sharp. When they got to the door, my hair nor my clothes were ready to be seen by the public, not even dear friends. Flour covered every inch of counter space, and the floor as well. That was a mess.
In a recent attempt to surprise my husband, I painted the bathroom a beautiful shade of charcoal. Our ceilings are an upwards of 14 feet high; they are unreachable. So I planted the ladder in the shower and held onto the curtain rod to keep my balance. Well, the rod is not as strong as I first thought, and let me just say that it is only by the grace of God that I am still alive to tell this story.
This tornado may have just turned into a hurricane. It looks like its going to be a long morning. Its time to pull out the french press, hem trousers, and read Little Women. Although childish in nature, this sweet novel teaches about the joys of mundane tasks.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Saturday, June 30, 2012
A Little Diddy on Babushkas
O sweet little Babushkas
your head scarfs are cute
but your hands are much too quick for my liking.
Exploring and sizing every angle.
If I could pronounce "you can look but don't touch" in your slovic tongue,
my life would be more blissful.
your head scarfs are cute
but your hands are much too quick for my liking.
Exploring and sizing every angle.
If I could pronounce "you can look but don't touch" in your slovic tongue,
my life would be more blissful.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Bird Friends
They lived in the vent in our bathroom. Chirped the moment the sun came up, reminding us it was morning. Sang to me all day, a happy working song. These were my bird friends.
Today I woke up and they were gone. Needless to say, this hasn't been my favorite day I've lived.
Maybe my husbands empty threats to drive them away weren't pacifist enough for them. Or because the bread crumbs I poked into their home were not organic. Or maybe the songs I was singing them were too pop, not enough folk.
Hipster birds. sheesh. I dont understand them.
Today I woke up and they were gone. Needless to say, this hasn't been my favorite day I've lived.
Maybe my husbands empty threats to drive them away weren't pacifist enough for them. Or because the bread crumbs I poked into their home were not organic. Or maybe the songs I was singing them were too pop, not enough folk.
Hipster birds. sheesh. I dont understand them.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Biketown USA
Our neighborhood is filled to the brim with bikers, all of whom are serviced by a man named Mitch.
Mitch is the owner of the local bikeshop. I dont know how to otherwise describe our experience of him and his shop, therefore I will proceed to give you tidibits of facts, in no particular order.
Mitch is a self proclaimed Acidic Jew: a Jew who has done too much acid.
He is a genius, and knows everything interesting on every topic under the sun. Literally.
He is about 5' 7", his balding hair flies everywhere, and wears his glasses on his forehead. This is, until its time for in inspection. The glasses comes down, he gets really close and says "I don't trust these petals", and continues to complain if the bike was made anywhere but Japan.
This is Mitch.
He once ran for mayor of a nearby town, due to the fact that he investigated on his own a government scandal and reported it. When asked how many votes he received in the election he answered "I dont know, I was at a bike factory in Japan".
He owns a shop that is the neighborhood sensation. Its too filled with bikes, and so he uses the front yard as his workspace. Sometimes he is fixing up to 8 or 10 bikes at a time, running to and fro, requesting help from innocent passerbys.
My husband and I were tickled when we went to get our bikes repaired. After we did business with Mitch, we then sat on his step and observed the bikeshop happenings for an hour and a half. We werent the only ones who came to see Mitch.
"Mitch fix my chain"
"Mitch pump my ball"
"Mitch pump my prosthetic leg"
The following are his responses "how many times do i have to tell you I'm not fixing your chain everyday kid? Only once a week!" he says to this redheaded boy of 4, shirtless, too skinny to keep his pants up. "tell you mama she needs to start keeping an eye on you! Hey watch for cars" he hollars to little Johnny, already halfway down the street with his working chain.
"Why would I stop what I'm doing to pump your ball" he growls at some punk kids. "dont i look busy to you". By then they're gone, with a ball as good as new.
Mitch is a grouch. But they love him, us included. We secretly hope he likes us, and that someday soon we'll be friends.
Mitch is the owner of the local bikeshop. I dont know how to otherwise describe our experience of him and his shop, therefore I will proceed to give you tidibits of facts, in no particular order.
Mitch is a self proclaimed Acidic Jew: a Jew who has done too much acid.
He is a genius, and knows everything interesting on every topic under the sun. Literally.
He is about 5' 7", his balding hair flies everywhere, and wears his glasses on his forehead. This is, until its time for in inspection. The glasses comes down, he gets really close and says "I don't trust these petals", and continues to complain if the bike was made anywhere but Japan.
This is Mitch.
He once ran for mayor of a nearby town, due to the fact that he investigated on his own a government scandal and reported it. When asked how many votes he received in the election he answered "I dont know, I was at a bike factory in Japan".
He owns a shop that is the neighborhood sensation. Its too filled with bikes, and so he uses the front yard as his workspace. Sometimes he is fixing up to 8 or 10 bikes at a time, running to and fro, requesting help from innocent passerbys.
My husband and I were tickled when we went to get our bikes repaired. After we did business with Mitch, we then sat on his step and observed the bikeshop happenings for an hour and a half. We werent the only ones who came to see Mitch.
"Mitch fix my chain"
"Mitch pump my ball"
"Mitch pump my prosthetic leg"
The following are his responses "how many times do i have to tell you I'm not fixing your chain everyday kid? Only once a week!" he says to this redheaded boy of 4, shirtless, too skinny to keep his pants up. "tell you mama she needs to start keeping an eye on you! Hey watch for cars" he hollars to little Johnny, already halfway down the street with his working chain.
"Why would I stop what I'm doing to pump your ball" he growls at some punk kids. "dont i look busy to you". By then they're gone, with a ball as good as new.
Mitch is a grouch. But they love him, us included. We secretly hope he likes us, and that someday soon we'll be friends.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Cleveland Evenings.
On Monday evening, I decided to go for a run, I'm thinking a little jog to the park and back. My husband has a different idea. Before I know it, were running through a construction site, onto a bridge, along a highway.
Theres a jogging path on the highway. People do that here.
Then were in the city. I cant breathe, so my husband tells me about his day. Then we get to Progressive Field, where the Indians play. We ran too far, way to far, I have to walk. So we stroll home, hand in hand.
My husband prays for me. Hears about my new friends. Laughs at my jokes. We stop to chat with some neighbors at the park. They will soon be our friends.
Therefore dinner's not till 9. We do that here.
Theres a jogging path on the highway. People do that here.
Then were in the city. I cant breathe, so my husband tells me about his day. Then we get to Progressive Field, where the Indians play. We ran too far, way to far, I have to walk. So we stroll home, hand in hand.
My husband prays for me. Hears about my new friends. Laughs at my jokes. We stop to chat with some neighbors at the park. They will soon be our friends.
Therefore dinner's not till 9. We do that here.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
A Lad Named Sully
We live in apartment 53. In apartment 54 lives a little lad named Sully.
He's 4, and so wonderful.
He doesnt really know I exist yet, he doesn't even give me the time of day, except when I feed him cookies and candy, then he grunts at me
He doesnt speak English, he only speaks Sully.
He's 4, and so wonderful.
He doesnt really know I exist yet, he doesn't even give me the time of day, except when I feed him cookies and candy, then he grunts at me
He doesnt speak English, he only speaks Sully.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Montezuma's Revenge
I married the man of my dreams. We ran off into the land of honeymoon bliss, on the shores of Cancoon, Mexico. We couldn't be happier, the ocean by day, beautiful candlelight dinner by night. And then it hit...dun dun dun the Montezuma's Revenge.
The legend goes, Old Man Montezuma dies on vacation. He makes the world pay.
I sleep for 2 days straight. Awake only long enough to be sick everywhere. Early Wednesday morning, while Cancoon is still sleeping, we just have to leave. At the airport, I collapse at the ticket counter, and hit my head on the way down. At the emergency room in Houston, Im given shots and drugs that numb the pain, but make me drowsy. Perfect. I sleep to friday, and wake up in Cleveland.
I fight with Montezuma in my head. Why us Montezuma? Why did you ruin such a good thing? And then I finally understand his wrath, and we come to terms. He's getting his revenge on me because of my husband.
My sweet husband who held my hair back as I lost my insides over the bathroom sink. My husband who handwashed everything I soiled. My husband who ran to the pharmacy in the middle of the night, 3 nights in a row. My husband who wheeled me through every terminal, all the while whispering sweet nothings.
Its not fair to the world that I got him.
Montezuma made me pay.
The legend goes, Old Man Montezuma dies on vacation. He makes the world pay.
I sleep for 2 days straight. Awake only long enough to be sick everywhere. Early Wednesday morning, while Cancoon is still sleeping, we just have to leave. At the airport, I collapse at the ticket counter, and hit my head on the way down. At the emergency room in Houston, Im given shots and drugs that numb the pain, but make me drowsy. Perfect. I sleep to friday, and wake up in Cleveland.
I fight with Montezuma in my head. Why us Montezuma? Why did you ruin such a good thing? And then I finally understand his wrath, and we come to terms. He's getting his revenge on me because of my husband.
My sweet husband who held my hair back as I lost my insides over the bathroom sink. My husband who handwashed everything I soiled. My husband who ran to the pharmacy in the middle of the night, 3 nights in a row. My husband who wheeled me through every terminal, all the while whispering sweet nothings.
Its not fair to the world that I got him.
Montezuma made me pay.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
to be continued
When I read the book of Colossians, I am struck with the theme of thankfulness. It comes up 7 times, in light of some heavy aspects of life:
In community (1:3)
In salvation (1:12)
In sanctification (2:6)
In freedom from anxiety (3:15)
In serving and worshippping (3:16)
In everything we say and do (3:17)
And in our prayer life (4:2)
Instead, I live my life running to experiences, situations, people, and things looking to be satisfied. And one of my biggest fears is that one day I'll wake up when I'm 80, and wonder how life has passed me so quickly by.
A while back, I heard this inner voice, quietly beckoning me to be content and thankful. It grows louder and louder as the days go by until I've finally decided to think about it. I want to learn to be peaceful and grateful for even the littlest things.
I've begun to make a list:
-My moms classical book collection
-The sound of a friend taking my needs to the Lord
- A quiet moment by the Christmas tree
-An unexpected gift
...
In community (1:3)
In salvation (1:12)
In sanctification (2:6)
In freedom from anxiety (3:15)
In serving and worshippping (3:16)
In everything we say and do (3:17)
And in our prayer life (4:2)
Instead, I live my life running to experiences, situations, people, and things looking to be satisfied. And one of my biggest fears is that one day I'll wake up when I'm 80, and wonder how life has passed me so quickly by.
A while back, I heard this inner voice, quietly beckoning me to be content and thankful. It grows louder and louder as the days go by until I've finally decided to think about it. I want to learn to be peaceful and grateful for even the littlest things.
I've begun to make a list:
-My moms classical book collection
-The sound of a friend taking my needs to the Lord
- A quiet moment by the Christmas tree
-An unexpected gift
...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Raining On My Own Parade
I picture a little boy, so excited for his little bug that he squishes it. A bubbly baby so enthralled by his cupcake, doing the only thing he knows- face plants into the mound of icing. Sweethearts holding hands so tightly, it cuts off circulation.
This is what I want to write about- loving people to the point of hurting them. Being so delighted and grateful for friendships till it gets to be too much. In much reflection lately, I see these themes echoing true for me.
It goes like this. Have you ever spoken the truth in love, at just the wrong time?
Cared to the point of meddling?
Pursued knowing till it threatening emotional safety?
I'm guilty of all these things, and if youre in my life, its not fair to you but I'm sure you see it.
Just the other day, over a hazelnut steamer, I had to warn a friend, give her a heads up before it's too late "if were going to be close, I'm going to hurt you". If youre reading this and know what I'm talking about, I'm so sorry. If you dont, consider this your own warning- soon you'll know. Its my own fault- my sin nature and my longing for relationships make a perilous combo.
The great Henri Nouwen, the profound scholar of relationship in light of the human condition, writes that until we embrace our lonliness, we cannot really welcome anyone in.
So, today I'm spending the day alone. With my homework, and coffee, and a journal- in a quiet and desperate need of Christ's mercy in navigating through these things and the security that only relationship with Him offers.
In light of this, if you're still in I'm still in.
This is what I want to write about- loving people to the point of hurting them. Being so delighted and grateful for friendships till it gets to be too much. In much reflection lately, I see these themes echoing true for me.
It goes like this. Have you ever spoken the truth in love, at just the wrong time?
Cared to the point of meddling?
Pursued knowing till it threatening emotional safety?
I'm guilty of all these things, and if youre in my life, its not fair to you but I'm sure you see it.
Just the other day, over a hazelnut steamer, I had to warn a friend, give her a heads up before it's too late "if were going to be close, I'm going to hurt you". If youre reading this and know what I'm talking about, I'm so sorry. If you dont, consider this your own warning- soon you'll know. Its my own fault- my sin nature and my longing for relationships make a perilous combo.
The great Henri Nouwen, the profound scholar of relationship in light of the human condition, writes that until we embrace our lonliness, we cannot really welcome anyone in.
So, today I'm spending the day alone. With my homework, and coffee, and a journal- in a quiet and desperate need of Christ's mercy in navigating through these things and the security that only relationship with Him offers.
In light of this, if you're still in I'm still in.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
My Job
I dont know if anyone really knows this, or much about this, but I have a job. I am a working woman. I'm a graduate assistant at my school. I was working like a second ago, and it hit me that this is my secret life. SO I thought why not blog about it?
I'm sitting in an office, with a big window that reveals the whole city. I can smell Hershey's chocolate cooking in the next building over. I'm basically a research assistant; I gather and analyse data a professor's current projects. Its not as glamorous as it even sounds. I work with charts and numbers. I was so lucky to get this job, and blown away by the Lords provision and faithfulness, as I took one of the biggest faith testing steps of my life: going to grad school.
I really like the professor I work for. Every once in a blue moon shes here in her office. We talk about Cleveland, adoption, and Africa! There's a really good coffee machine down the hall that brews fresh cups of Caribou coffee. Adele and Taylor Swift are frequently on my playlist, as well as James MacDonald's current sermons. Today I had a visit from one of my favorite friends Kim Duff, and welcome the opportunity to see Natalie Shull every chance I get. I like this job, I do. But every time I'm alone in this office I'm reminded of how much I love people and was created for relationships.
I'm sitting in an office, with a big window that reveals the whole city. I can smell Hershey's chocolate cooking in the next building over. I'm basically a research assistant; I gather and analyse data a professor's current projects. Its not as glamorous as it even sounds. I work with charts and numbers. I was so lucky to get this job, and blown away by the Lords provision and faithfulness, as I took one of the biggest faith testing steps of my life: going to grad school.
I really like the professor I work for. Every once in a blue moon shes here in her office. We talk about Cleveland, adoption, and Africa! There's a really good coffee machine down the hall that brews fresh cups of Caribou coffee. Adele and Taylor Swift are frequently on my playlist, as well as James MacDonald's current sermons. Today I had a visit from one of my favorite friends Kim Duff, and welcome the opportunity to see Natalie Shull every chance I get. I like this job, I do. But every time I'm alone in this office I'm reminded of how much I love people and was created for relationships.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
In This Moment
Sparkling water. A fireplace. Huge beautifully framed photographs. Bookshelves from floor to ceiling with all the classics. My sweet friends are arriving any minute. I'm at the Pig, and this place has almost everything I love. I'm supposed to be studying for my midterm on human behavior in social environment. Thats silly. Instead, Im going to blog about my behavior in this social environment.
This place makes me think and dream. I'm thinking about how guilty I feel for snapping at the little girls I sit for; "Im not your cleaning lady!" I said, as mean as I could muster. Im thinking about the retreat I'm going on this weekend with my mom, and how I love when I get to be close to her. I'm dreaming about a painting I'm about to create, and about how I will decorate my someday home to look a little like this coffee shop. I'm thinking about the gospel, and how it effects every aspect of our lives, in ways I've never understood before. And I cant wait for Denise and Olivia to arrive, so I can talk their ears off, like usual.
Thats it.
This place makes me think and dream. I'm thinking about how guilty I feel for snapping at the little girls I sit for; "Im not your cleaning lady!" I said, as mean as I could muster. Im thinking about the retreat I'm going on this weekend with my mom, and how I love when I get to be close to her. I'm dreaming about a painting I'm about to create, and about how I will decorate my someday home to look a little like this coffee shop. I'm thinking about the gospel, and how it effects every aspect of our lives, in ways I've never understood before. And I cant wait for Denise and Olivia to arrive, so I can talk their ears off, like usual.
Thats it.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Excerpts
The following are excerpts from my life, stated plainly.
-" I had a cow with red spots. She was small, with two horns, one of which was broken!". Then we laugh together. This is my boyfriend's mom- Mrs. Bilskiy. She shares her life with me, through the translation of her son!
- I sat in class yesterday. We were talking about object transference. The girl behind me burst into tears, sharing about how she once had a bear and lost it. My first reaction was to laugh (internally of course). And then on second thought I was ashamed. I dont know what it was like for her.
That's it.
-" I had a cow with red spots. She was small, with two horns, one of which was broken!". Then we laugh together. This is my boyfriend's mom- Mrs. Bilskiy. She shares her life with me, through the translation of her son!
- I sat in class yesterday. We were talking about object transference. The girl behind me burst into tears, sharing about how she once had a bear and lost it. My first reaction was to laugh (internally of course). And then on second thought I was ashamed. I dont know what it was like for her.
That's it.
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