Joy to the Kitchen

Wow, it's been a long time since I've been here. I am pleased to announce that my semester is officially over. It was a whirlwind, but all is done and there is a calm after the storm. The papers are done, the practicum is done, and my Christmas shopping is actually all done too! Hopefully I'm feeling this good when grades come in in a few weeks, but I think everything will be alright.

Today is actually my One Year Anniversary! Without getting too sentimental or saccharine, I can say that this year has really been just the greatest. I positively love being married. People told us a variety of things about what to expect for the first year, some saying that it would be great and others saying that it would be a hard transition. Joy and I both agree that our transition has been pretty simple and really, quite enjoyable. I think what I like the most is that it's just so much stinkin fun. We laugh all the time, usually at ourselves and each other. For our anniversary, we're going out for lunch with Joy's family today and then we're gonna make dinner together (with meat from the HBB: Horner's Butcher Block!), open a bottle of champagne, and watch our wedding video. On Tuesday, we're celebrating our anniversary by going into Chicago to go ice skating, go out to dinner, and go the opera. Romeo e Juliette by Gounod at the Chicago Lyric. It will be great. We're staying downtown and then plan on spending some time in the city shopping and stuff on Wednesday. We're pretty excited. Perhaps I'll get back to my blog a little more often and put up some pics from the week sometime soon.

Well, the point of this post was to let you know that Joy and I met a celebrity cook last night: Rachael Ray. In our first months of marriage, Joy and I quickly discovered the Foot Network and attached on like leeches to blood. We cooked, we wrote down recipes, and we even began planning for our own cooking shows. We've got some good ideas going. So Joy immediately loved Rachael Ray, and actually, became a master of some of her 30-minute meals. My wife is a dang good cook, largely thanks to Rachael, bless her. When I heard on the radio of Friday afternoon that Rachael was going to be doing a signing at a nearby Barnes and Noble the next day, you better believe I called Joy immediately and our Saturday night plans changed.

We arrived at the B&N at about 5:30; Rachael was scheduled from 6-8. There were already hundreds of people standing around in a line on both levels of the store. We got in line and got our number: 257. They stopped giving out numbers at 300, but we got ours. Once you had a number, though, you could leave and then come back, so Joy and I watched Rachael come out to her masses and then we went to do some shopping. We jumped back in line an hour or so later and only had to wait about 20 minutes before we were able to meet Ms. Ray. Well, you may remember my disaster when meeting Ms. Renee Fleming, but I was much more cool about meeting Rachael. Joy, on the other hand, was not. At one point, she was shaking and jumping and when I grabbed her hands to get her to calm down, they were sopping wet and sickingly fish-like. I laughed and laughed.

Rachael herself was perfectly pleasant, laughing and chatting with the peeps. I was hoping she would comment on my Williams & Sonoma bag (with my pasta roller since Joy and I are working on making our own raviolis!), but she didn't. We did get a picture, which is quite good. We left in a frenzy and Joy smiled as if she had just run in to her long-lost best friend (which is how she often describes her relationship, or lack there-of, with Rachael Ray). As we left the Barnes & Noble, we opened the book she had signed, and there it was; Rachael had signed "Joy to the Kitchen." Joy smiled even bigger. Perhaps I'll tell you someday about the time I met Ryan Seacrest.

Rachael Ray and the Beckers

12-pagers

Apparently 12-page papers is what we do here in school this semester. Between now and a month from now when the semester ends, I have four 12-page papers due. YEAH BABY!

October Update

It has been so long since I've been here. Only those halfway around the world seem to notice, but that's ok. Life has been crazy busy. And it has actually been one of those rare times where it's been a really really good crazy busy. Not a stressed out and overwhelmed and "I hate my life" crazy busy, but a intriguing, challenging, "I am so blessed to get to do all this and learn all this" crazy busy. I am enjoying my classes a ton this semester, so much more than I was envisioning. I'm enjoying doing some research, learning about the research and testing side of psychology, and find myself newly awakened to all sorts of things I'm really enjoying.

My actual clinical experiences are also going well. My clients are challenging and enjoyable and I am especially challenged and motivated by my practicum site where I work in a residential addictions facility. There is just so much to learn and so little time. And in all of this, I really feel like God has been all-so-present. I have been challenged as I think about grace and mercy, forgiveness and acceptance, culture and class. It's a lot, but I'm loving it and trying to soak in it as the questions fly. The questions will probably get less time in the next month: I've got several books to read and three 12-page papers to write. The fun never stops!

Joy is enjoying teaching 2nd great immensly. And honestly, I think she's an awesome teacher, a Master Teacher in learning. She has so many creative ideas, thinks about individualizing her lesson plans for each student, and has even made some suggestions that are being incorporated into the entire 2nd grade literacy section. I'm ridiculously proud of her. We've been enjoying our fall together, have gone on some nice walks and light our autumn-spice candle every night as we settle in for some schoolwork. It's funny...a great date for us is to simply go to Barnes and Noble and read and get some coffee. We have busy things we need to do for school, but we make it as enjoyable as we can. Plus, we have The Office and Law and Order (Olivia comes back next week on SVU!), so what more do we need?

Joy and I also had a great Homecoming weekend at Taylor University this month. Lots of fun, food, and fellowship. My three favorite things in the world.

Also, in regards to my last update, I should probably let you all know that a week after my credit card limit was mysteriously raised to $25,000, it was just as mysteriously and quickly taken away. I should've bought my new car while I could.

Money, Money

I'm not sure what happened over the weekend, but when I logged onto my bank account on Monday, I discovered that my credit card limit had been raised from $5,000 to $25,000. In other words, come on over and we'll go on a spree. Or perhaps the thief of Joy's debit card raised the limit and plans on stealing this card too. Then they're going on a spree. Oh no. I suppose I'll just have to reach the limit before they do. Mwah ha ha.

Gasoline and Italian Food

This past weekend, Joy and I discovered something quite nice: Joy's debit card had been stolen and was making purchases. I noticed a few days prior that there were some purchases at gas stations, but I just didn't think much about it. Looking back, if I had looked closely, I would have seen that there had been about $150 worth of gas, which, as high as prices may be, is still a lot more than it takes to fill the Jetta. Anyway, I didn't look closely, and then two days later I was online at our account again (doing what Joy and I call a "drive-by," where we drive by Panera in order to have internet access) and noticed that someone had been to Go Roma and spent $33.10. Well, I was dang sure that I hadn't had any chicken marsala any time recently, and I was pretty sure Joy hadn't either. So I asked her, and indeed, that is when we realized that Joy's debit card was missing and being used.

All in all, we don't think it should be a big deal. We've already talked to our bank (who shall remain anonymous, just in case others out there have pertinent account information) and we should get reimbursed for everything. The total amount charged was about $275, all of it gasoline and the one Italian meal.

We did call the police to report it and we were immediately told to call 9-1-1. This was when Joy started freaking out. Yes, freaking. She kept going on about how she's never called 9-1-1, she just couldn't call 9-1-1, etc., etc. It really was amusing. Well she pressed the buttons, hung up before she hit send, and then tried again. This time she allowed herself to make the call, and Joy's first words to the operator were, "This is not an emergency." Well, Joy explained why we were calling and the operator then confirmed our address (also undisclosed at this moment to the general public) and said she was sending over a police officer. You better believe Joy freaked out this time. I did a little bit too. We ran around the apartment cleaning up, trying to put away baskets of clean clothes, making the bed (I said we had to make the bed just in case there was a routine check under the bed for bodies), and I even changed out of the old t-shirt I was wearing to a respectable polo. Appearance is everything, right?

The officer came and got the information, wrote a report, and pretty much said it wasn't worth their leg-work to try to catch the culprits. We figured as much, but we were bummed, because let's just say, we had worked out some pretty dang good plans and strategies and even had a wall of suspects made. We are so Law & Order. Perhaps our favorite part of our entire time with the cop was when he said, "So, how do you like living here?" (For those of you who don't know, our apartment area is...well...just a little sketchy.) Joy and I both kinda laughed, rolled our eyes, and said that it was fine. Then the cop said, "Yeah, whenever I meet normal people living here I wonder what they must think." We took that as a compliment.

So it could be the world is out to get us. In two weeks we've taken on both TB and banking fraud. But we are not down. Oh no. If anything, we are ready for battle. Well, I should say that we'll be ready for battle just as soon as they refund our money and we're ready to open up.

TB and Me: An Update

I must thank all of those who have been concerned for my health. Basically, that's my mom (she has to worry about me), Joy's mom (she has to because if I go, then her daughter will be a widow), and Mrs. Wightman (who is pretty much my other mom). So yeah, it seems only moms worry about my health. Others seem to just laugh at me and threaten to un-invite me to events and weekends and such. I guess I can't blame them. But for those of you who need an update, here it is.

If you'll remember, I went to have my chest X-ray. Well, I have since found out that not only was it unnecessary for the woman to have me take off my shirt to do the x-ray, but apparently they don't normal rub oil on your chest beforehand either. Oh well. I went in to see the doctor and she said my x-ray was completely normal. (I thought she might say something about my great usage of lung space after years of singing in the Chorale, but she didn't...) She said I am not contagious and do not need to worry. As a preventative measure, I will be on medication that I will take every day for nine months. So far, I've remembered for six straight days. I am sorry, but I don't know the name of the medication. My mom asked me, but I still don't know. Call for details. Also, since I was cleared, I was finally able to start my practicum, which is definitely a good thing. Also very good is the fact that there is a TB clinic nearby so all of my medication and everything will be completely free. Yeah, take that, all of you people who freaked out when I lived for 6 months will no health insurance! (Mrs. Wightman, I probably shouldn't mention that those months without insurance were while I was living at your house, should I?)

TB and Me

It's been a while since I've been here. School started last week and it quickly jumped into full force. Six classes, working part-time at the agency, and I was also scheduled to start my practicum last week. You may notice I said "scheduled." That's right...I haven't actually started yet. You see, before I could begin, I had to have a TB test. Well, I got the little shot on my arm, and then I got a little red bump and rash. They said it was negative but that I should have another one a week later. I had the test on Friday and went back on Monday to have it read. Just a red bump this time. And yep...it was positive. It was confirmed that Stephen had tuberculosis.

Now, it's actually not nearly as scary as you might think. There is a different between latent TB and the TB disease, and thankfully, I have the former and not the latter. If I had actual TB disease, I'd be sick and coughing up blood and such, and none of that is happening. According to a variety of sources, lots and lots of people have the TB virus, but it just stays there quietly, one day planning an attack. Well, not this time, because I'm on the attack now.

I found out on Monday that I had the virus. Joy and I found a TB clinic nearby where I could get the next step done: a chest x-ray. I went on Tuesday for the x-ray, and the nurse even had me take off my shirt. I guess I thought if an x-ray could go through bones and body, why not a shirt, but nonetheless, I found myself standing there sans shirt. Actually, I do have a theory that you don't actually have to take off your shirt for the x-ray but the nurse just said that to me because she wanted to see my chest, but that theory is still up for debate. Joy thinks I'm a fool.

The next step is for me to go next Thursday to talk with the doctor and go over my x-ray. If all goes as they say it should, the x-ray will confirm that I have the infection and not the disease. I'll then start taking medication, which I'll have to take for nine months to a year. Crazy.

Several people have asked similar questions, so I'll cover those now:

1. Does Joy or anyone else who's been around you need tested? No. As long as it's just the infection, there is no need to be tested since you can only get the infection from someone who has the disease.
2. Where did you get TB? I have no idea. Nepal? TB is only transmitted through the air, so at some point I must have been around someone for a decent amount of time who had the disease. You'd think I would know if anyone around me had TB or was coughing blood, but apparently not. I figured a few of you would try to say that I got it from eating those strangers' dessert in Seattle, but that's just not possible, so don't even try it.
3. Are you scared? Not really. At this point, I just keep laughing. It seems so weird and surreal and like it's from the 17th century. And really, there is very good medication and as far as we know at this point, I'll be just fine.

There are benefits to finding out you have TB. First of all, I am not allowed to start my practicum until I am on medication. Sure, I was supposed to start two weeks ago and now won't start for two more weeks, but hey, at least it gives me more time during my week. The best benefit is that Joy is taking very good care of me. I lay on the couch, start to moan and cough and ask her to make me some tea, massage my back, do my homework. Okay, the truth is that it never works, but we still laugh and then she gets back to wondering what life was like before TB. It'll never be the same again.

Star Struck

Last Saturday I went with my dear friend Loralee to Ravinia, the outdoor venue for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Now, this was not just an average symphony concert, because Renee Fleming was there to sing with the orchestra. To most people, the mention of Renee Fleming in concert probably doesn't do too much because there's a good chance they just don't know who she is. But for classical singers, Renee Fleming is pretty much the top. Ms. Fleming is arguably the world's greatest soprano and most famous opera singer. Needless to say, Loralee and I were thrilled with jubilation as we sat in our seats, and left at intermission with joy and glee. The glee had only begun, however, because at intermission they announced that Ms. Fleming had agreed to do a CD signing following the concert. Loralee and I knew there was really no other choice: we had to meet Renee.

Neither of us had any of her CD's with us, so we went to the Borders tent and each got a CD. We then realized that neither of us had a camera either. I know...a disaster! I had thought about bringing my camera, but Joy and I are facing camera troubles these days and neither of our cameras are working. Loralee just plain forgot, so I'll give her the blame for this one. I then ran over to the gift shop to buy a disposable camera, and of course they only sell cameras with no flash. Why on earth an outdoor music festival that has concerts that go well into the evening wouldn't sell cameras with a flash is beyond me, but they don't. I now pass the blame on to the Ravinia gift shop. Regardless, I bought this cheap-yet-expensive disposable camera, hoping for the best. Indeed, the best was yet to come.

The second half of the program was amazing. There is something found in music that hits a place where words just don't go, and I love that. Renee nailed some big arias, milking them for all they were worth. After the last piece, I lept to my feet with the rest of the audience, and we cheered and cheered. We then sat through FOUR (yes, four) encore pieces, which I actually think were the highlight of the concert for me. After the third encore, a lot of the crowd began to leave, so you better believe Loralee and I made ourselves up to some pretty good seats. In short, it was a glorious evening.

After talking to some other friends who were at the concert, Loralee and I went to the line for the signing, which at this point was quite long. We waited for half an hour before Renee even came out and then waited another hour before it was our turn. I distinctly remember asking Loralee if she was nervous, and she said she was; after all, Renee Fleming is her hero. I said I wasn't nervous and even reminded Loralee that just because Renee was a famous opera singer, she was still just another human. Yeah, I should have kept that in mind later. As we approached and saw our turn getting closer, we debated on if I should even as for a picture. No one else was doing it, and security people kept telling the line to make it quick, to not talk, to just move along.

All of a sudden, before I even had time to realize it was happening, I found that Loralee and I were standing in front of the soprano. Here is what our conversation looked like:

LORALEE: Hello.
RENEE (looking up and seeing Loralee): Wow, you look like Annette Bening.
Stephen is thinking, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness."
LORALEE: Well thank you.
RENEE: Has anyone ever told you that before?
Stephen is thinking, "Think of something to say, think of something to say, think of something to say."
LORALEE: No, but people have actually told me that I looked like you.
RENEE: Oh really? That's means I look like Annette Bening!
Stephen is thinking, "Say something you fool, you fool, you fool."
LORALEE: We are both music students and we really loved your concert.
RENEE: Thank you.
Stephen is thinking, "Why is this happening? I am a distaster! You fool, say something!"
STEPHEN (finally!): I don't suppose there's any way we could get a picture is there?
RENEE: Of course, just arrange it so I don't have to stop signing.
LORALEE (we're getting pretty excited at this point): Oh, we are efficient!!!
STEPHEN: Efficiency is what we do! Stephen then immediately thinks, "What on earth was that? Could you even say anything more stupid than that?! Efficiency is what we do?!?! You gotta be kidding me!"
I then turned to have the security guard take the picture, and without saying a word, he shook his head no. He wasn't helping our efficiency I had so stupidly proclaimed. So I handed the lady behind us the camera and as we ran around the table something possibly worse came out of my mouth:
STEPHEN: When our friends find out about this, they're gonna kill us!
Of course I didn't say they might be jealous or not be able to believe it. Nope, they're gonna KILL US. Why oh why oh why?!

We then smiled for the camera, and we all know that with a disosable camera with no flash, there's probably not even a picture there. Loralee and I thanked Renee and then ran off, laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't believe the way I had acted. I mean, I've even met Ryan Seacrest before and acted fine then! I honestly could not get words to come out of my mouth, and then when they did, let's be honest, they left much to be desired. I was in fact 100 percent star struck, and I think I still am a little bit. It was so worth it and who knows, maybe I'll even survive. That is as long as I can hide long enough from my friends who are apparently after me.

The Kite Runner

I haven't been here for a few weeks, so I thought I should stop by. I haven't been here no so much because I don't have any thoughts, but because I seem to have too many thoughts and don't really know what to say or where to start. If I could pinpoint my thinking over the last few weeks, I guess it would come down to words like injustice, grief, sadness. I've been newly reminded (and overwhelmed) by the grief that others are forced to bear, the aching sadnesses from events that just don't make sense, the injustices that just shouldn't happen. My heart is continually being broken, and sometimes I'm not so sure that I always like that. I get to feeling overwhelmed and can only pray for mercy and redemption, for grace and love, for justice and peace. And each one of those beautiful things can be found and are happening, but sometimes it's just easier to see the dirt and the horrific and the hell instead.

I recently finished what quickly became a favourite book of mine: The Kite Runner. It is a novel about friendship and betrayal as well as war and, ultimately, forgiveness, redemption, and again, friendship. I'm not going to get too much into the book here, but let's just say I strongly recommend it. It might be the best book I've read in a long time.

It seems there is pain all around. And that overwhelms me. But it seems as I grow, I am not only more aware of pain, but I am also more attuned to beauty. I find it around me in strikingly simple situations, in moments of passing, in a glimpse or a moment that seems to stand still long enough for me to notice. That's really important to me: I want to notice. I want to notice the pain, but also notice the good and the beauty, because there is hope and I trust He who is in control. And while it is important to notice, I find that it can't stop there. I want to then live a life that is not only aware, but is also seeking to promote hope and beauty and grace in my life and in the relationships around me. I want to change my way of being and then change my way of doing. I want to continually grow in learning what it means to continually be aware of God's presence.

Viva Italia!

I have never cared about a single sporting event like I did during the World Cup Final. I rushed home after church to catch the pre-game show. I put on an Italia shirt and hung my giant Italy flag from our balcony. I got out my small Italy flag and waved it around our apartment. I wished our Italian neighbors were still around and thought that we could all have a party together. Oh well. The excitement had begun. I was devastated when France got an early goal, from a penalty kick that may not have even been deserved. I lost hope early on, knowing that the first goal so often determines who will win, but Italy didn't make me sad for too long. With the game tied at 1-1 early on, I watched every play with excitement and nervousness and wondered how people do this on a day-to-day basis. I mean, I barely could do March Madness this year without taking some Valium before each game. I thought Italy was looking good after the first half, but the French certainly came back and dominated the second half. Italy's defense refused to surrender, however, and the game went into overtime. My heart was racing and I sat on the edge of the couch. Italy had a couple of very close shots, but nothing. I can't say I like it when a game ends with penalty kicks, but you gotta get a winner I suppose. I screamed and hollered and yelled to Joy in the other room to announce each penalty kick. And yes! Italy was on fire baby!!! When Italy won, I screamed and lept to my feet, running around the apartment yelling "Azzurri! Azzurri!" I then left the confines of our aparment (a little too small for a true celebration) and ran around the apartment complex with my flag, yelling up to people on the balconies that Italy had won the World Cup! Dreams were realized. Life was good. Joy and I then got in our car to go to Ravinia, the outdoor picnic-like setting of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. On the way, Joy waved the Italy flag out the window. Most people probably had no idea what we were doing, but there was this dear old lady who was driving next to us, who waved and started pumping her fist in excitement. We even took the Italy flag into the park with us and were able to tell many more about Italy's victory. I apologized to a German woman about their loss to the Italians, but I wove the flag proudly and with great honor. I thought about the night ahead for Rome and Milan and the rest of the nation. I actaully think for a few hours I became Italian. The World Cup was back in the hands of those people on the boot, not having won since the year of my birth, 1982. VIVA ITALIA!!! VIVA ITALIA!!! AZZURRI!!! AZZURRI!!! AZZURRI!!!

PICTURE: Crab Dinner

This is our dinner sprawled across our table. This picture is, of course, before we took the leftover desert from the table next to us...

Tuesday, July 4

After some great sleep on Tuesday night, we woke up and spent some time in the hot-tub outside. What a great feeling for our weary bodies. I sensed that this whole trip was shaping up to be quite good. We then put in some loads of laundry and prepared to watch the World Cup game: Italy vs. Germany. Needless to say, there was excitement in the air as the game began, and I was nervous as I'll get out. Blom and I both put on some Italia shirts and we sat down for the game. As everyone knows by now, it was a great game, and it was a great game to watch in some stranger's living room, chilling out with two fantastic dogs. Blom did snooze off for a little while during overtime, but claims he was awake when Italy came in for the goal. If he wasn't, my screaming certainly woke him and we quickly began our celebration. Ah yes, life out West is good.

After the game was over and our spirits were high, we then decided it was time to put our bodies back to work. We borrowed Blom's roommate's two kayaks, strapped them to the top of the Subaru (they are all over the place out there), and drove the short distance to Puget Sound. We looked totally cool as we carried our kayaks to the water, the picnickers and crowds there for the 4th watching in jealousy and intrigue. Okay, that might not be accurate at all, and once they saw our paddling skills, those looks may have turned to skepticism and mockery, but hey, I'm gonna stick to my theory. We kayaked for a while during the mid-afternoon and it was again a perfect day outside. We were a little scared of waves at first, and also scared of the speedboats and ferries, but we soon relaxed to enjoy the views of the Olympic Mountains in the distance and the houses on the shore nearby. To make everything so much better, there were jumping fish all over the place. Blom thought I was lying at first until one practically jumped into his kayak. There are these little fish that just jump out of the water. I have no idea why, but maybe it's because they want to catch an insect or maybe it's because God was being really playful when He created the little fellas, and yes, they are totally cool.

After quick showers back at the house, we then headed into the city of Seattle for the night. We did find the very first Starbucks store by Pike Place Market (the market itself was closed), grabbed some coffee, and then found a nice table to sit at at one of the many seaside parks in Seattle. It was here that I was again reminded of the awesomeness of my friendship with Blom. We sat and talked for quite awhile about God, heaven, marriage, our dreams, our fears, our weaknesses. I love it when you are in a friendship and you don't have to worry about how the facade is holding up. It's okay to show that the paint might be a little chipped or that you sometimes just don't feel like you're doing the best you could be at this thing called life. It's okay to talk about dreams and ideas that realistically just might not happen, but someone is there to understand that we just can't stop dreaming. It's okay if I'm not the best husband in the world after six months, because, heck, he says he's not the best husband after a year, and that means he's had a whole six months more than me to be the best. It's weird, because I probably keep the facade so much of the time thinking it will make my life easier, make me more likeable or cooler or stronger. But I know that's not true, because I know the moments of great friendship where I am overwhelmed at its beauty and life, is found when I take away the facade. (Yes, Mr. Horner, this is yet another call to V&O, Vulner&Op.)

After our chat by the Sound, we realized we were quite hungry and headed off for some dinner. We found a place called The Crab Pot and dined on sausage and potatoes and clams and mussels and crab. They even gave us hammers to help us break the crab legs open. Tremendous fun. Towards the end of our meal, we saw another waitress bring another table a giant cake version of strawberry shortcake. We weren't very hungry, but we thought we could manage a few bites. Well, as I said, it was a giant version, so instead of ordering our own, we simply watched the other table, knowing there was no way they were going to finish it. And we were right. And I walked over to their table after they left. And I picked up the desert. And Blom and I ate it. And we were happy.

We left our dinner a little after 10, and as soon as we walked outside we saw lots of people walking to the pier. The fireworks had just begun. Watching the fireworks over Puget Sound was the perfect was to end my weekend. I love fireworks. I love the oohs and the awes and the people and the surprises. I remember watching the fireworks remembering just how crazy good God is. It was a moment when I was so aware of life and it's too often that I lose this awareness in the monotonous living of every day. I was aware of friendship and brokenness, of beauty and community, of nature and God.

It was one of those moments you wanted to last for so much longer than it did. But the moment came and the moment left and I boarded a plane early Wednesday morning and came back to Chicago. And you know what, life can be lived here too. Friendship and brokenness and beauty and community and nature and God are in Chicago just like in Portland and Seattle. (Alright, "nature" might not quite be here like it is there, but I bet if I take off my glasses and make everything a little hazy I could find a flower or something.) That's what I was reminded of as I flew home. I was then quickly reminded that I hadn't gone to the bathroom since my big seafood dinner the night before and had never been so thankful for the moment when they took the seatbelt sign off. That's a moment I'd rather not remember so much.

PICTURE: Blues Festival

This is another picture from the Blues Festival down at the riverfront. The reason I love this one so much is solely because of the man standing over Blom's right shoulder. Quite the character, no? I love Portland.

Monday, July 3

We woke up on Monday a lot less sore than we were anticipating. Because we had been anticipating feeling miserable, we decided on Sunday night to cancel our planned surfing for Monday. We did drive Sunday night to Corvallis to stay at one of Blom's friends' apartment. We woke up, went to grab some coffee at one of the numerous coffee stands all over the place, and then went with one of Blom's friends to go play a round of frisbee golf. Now, the first time I ever heard of frisbee golf was when I was in college in Indiana, and truthfully, I never realized that it's an actual sport with courses and unique discs and everything. I just assumed it was something bored college guys in Indiana did when they couldn't find a date. Well, apparently that's not the case and there are frisbee golf courses all over the place. The three of us had a nice round of 18 holes, and yes, Blom and I were competing against each other, and again yes, I won. For my first time, let's just say my short game was pretty hard to beat.

It was about noon when we left Corvallis and headed up I-5 for Portland. Blom and I then spent the afternoon in Portland, doing what we called a "Donald Miller Tour" of the park and roundabout where D.M. lived and even had some Fat Tire beer, which I believe Donald also mentions in his books. We checked out Hawthorne Street, which is rather unique in its shops and its patrons, and then headed to Northwest 23rd Avenue to go to Powell's on the other side of the river. Powell's is indeed the largest bookstore in the United States and both times I've been there, I've been a little overwhelmed and overstimulated. It's a grand time. On this visit, I bought a book that has come highly recommended to me by a few people: "The Kite Runner."

Dinner was with some great friends I went to Nepal with in 2003: Dawnette and Taylor, as well as Taylor's parents. We had dinner at a great little restaurant and had lots of laughter and talk of moving to Oregon. After dinner we headed to the waterfront by the river, where the annual Portland Blues Festival was going on. We stood happily with the families and hippies, going crazy with the masses. In essence, it was amazing. Blom, Dawnette, and I then headed away for the night, but not before we took a dip in what quickly became one of my favorite Portland landmarks: the People Fountain. (It's real name turned out to be the Ira Keller Fountain, but I think People Fountain still sounds so much better.) It's true...a fountain in Portland where you can actually get in little people pool at the fountain and play. And this wasn't some little pool-type fountain. It was more of a "play in the little pool at the top and look over and watch the water fall down the about 50 feet" type founatin with 13,000 gallons of water falling per minute. It was splendid.

Dawnette dropped us off at our car, and then it was time to change out of wet clothes. As we were changing, we remembered seeing Papa Haydn's just down the street, this nice restaraunt known for their deserts. Well, we postponed our leaving of Portland for another hour and decided a little desert couldn't hurt. The deserts at this place are beautiful and big and tasty beyond all description. We then got in the car and drove back up into Washington, wondering just how long it would be before we moved to the Portland area. Hopefully not too long.

PICTURE: Summit 3

Happily resting on the very tippy-top. 10,358 feet, baby.

PICTURE: Summit 2

Smiles are back.

PICTURE: Summit 1

PICTURE: Still Optimistic

Sunday, July 2

We woke early on Sunday (around 6 am) for what ended up being the hardest day of physical activity of my life. (Yeah, it even beat that marathon I ran when I was 12 or so, for those of you who are willing to believe the truth that it actually happened.) It also turned out to be one of the most rewarding days of my life. Here's the short version...

The South Sister is among Three Sisters in Central Oregon. The South Sister is the tallest of the three and stands at a proud 10,358 feet. And yes, I felt each and every one of those feet. The trail to the summit is about 6 miles long and gains a ridiculous 4,900 feet in elevation. Yeah, that basically means that it's long and steep.

We began by reading Psalm 121: "I lift up my eyes to the hills --where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip..." We found those verses to be true as we began our journey.

The first 1 1/2 miles took about 1 1/2 hours and was straight through the woods. We were on the trail by 6:30 but had pretty much lost the trail by 6:45. You see, we weren't expecting the snow to be so far south in the woods. Yet snow there was and trail there was no longer. We tried to find our way for a while, but then we heard someone coming up behind us. It was an older gentlemen who we promply named Captain Red Coat. Captain for his age and seeming knowledge of what he was doing and Red Coat because, well, he wore a red coat. We began to follow him, but a minute later some young climber came flying by. Literally flying. He was jolly and pleasant and moving at an alarming pace, quickly going by not only already-winded Blom and I, but also sailing past the Captain.

After this first section, we came to the top of the tree-line and found that there were not only beautiful views of the mountains around us (including the one we wanted to claim), but that there was also a nice stretch of pretty-much flat ground for us to cross. It was glorious. The sun shone and the mountains rose and Blom and I skipped with glee. (Well, you might not have called it skipping, but there was certainly a new spring in our step.) Our goal was to keep Captain Red Coat in view just so we could get an idea of where we were supposed to go next.

After this nice middle section, we again began an uphill battle that would continue for several more hours. First there was snow that we were climbing, and we thought it was pretty difficult. Yeah, we were wrong, because we discovered that the real difficulty began once we were done with the snow. Once we had been going for a total of about 4 hours, we climbed another little hill that had been blocking our view of the summit and saw that the remaining part would be done on dirt and rock. We thought the summit didn't look all that far away. Yeah, wrong again. We began the trek, and let's just say that these were 2 hours of misery. This was where the climb was no longer fun and I began to loathe the Sister. I wanted to kill her or wanted her to kill me. Either way would have been fine, but it seemed the latter was likely to win over. We would move for thirty seconds and then stop for fifteen. Over and over and over again. Meanwhile, that seemingly close summit seemed further away than ever. I wondered if this could be worth it, and figured there was no way it was, but for some reason, I kept going anyway. And through the pain, there were moments of great laugher. For example:

STEPHEN: I think I have a hernia.
BLOM: I think I'm having a heart-attack.

Maybe it was the lack of oxygen, but I couldn't stop laughing. When making a hike like this one, a good hiking partner makes all the difference in the world, and I can say that I had the best. On top of the agony and the falling rocks, it was during this final stretch that the young jolly guy came literally running back down the mountain. When he passed, it was all I could do to keep myself from reaching out my foot to trip that jolly little I-bet-he-has-no-friends-otherwise-why-would-he-be-doing-this-alone and take him to the ground.

Finally, after about 6.5 hours, we were at the summit. And yes, it immediately was clear that it was all worth it. The skies were clear and the views ridiculously beautiful. I smiled, Blom smiled, and I think God smiled too. Right at the top, we were also accompanied by a few hundred butterflies which were apparently in some sort of migration at the time. Yeah, it was pretty amazing. We rested and took pics and stayed up there for a half hour before we began the climb down.

Thankfully, hiking down is nothing like hiking up, and it was rather enjoyable. Plus, we were getting more and more oxygen as we went. I was elated. Once we got to the snow, we could slide on our butts down the steep sections, which was of course delightful. Every once in a while, I would look back at the beast I had conquered and let out a scream of pure joy. Once we got back to the woods and another steep downhill climb, my feet began to cry out against me. They say that one of the greatest blessings in nature is to get away from the sound of humanity. For me, I think I may have rejoiced more when we began to hear cars and knew that we were so close to being done. All in all, it took us TEN hours. And yeah, others do it so much quicker, but I don't care. Let them. We had an agonizing, yet surprisingly joyful, day out on the Mountain and came back heroes. We hugged at the bottom, removed our socks and shoes, and then dreamed of the rest that was to come that evening.

South Sister, you and I have met. And there were moments when I hated her. She wouldn't allow me to give up, because she simply kept calling me to take one more step. And each step was worth it. Perhaps she knew more than I how it would feel to accomplish the climb in its entirety. I know there's a song that says "you can reach the peak but that's not the point," basically saying it's more about the climb than the actual finish. Yeah, while I see the truth in that, I also say that the peak is pretty dang good.

PICTURE: Camping at the Base

Here we are enjoying what we called "The Possible Last Supper."

PICTURE: The Three Sisters

Here are the Three Sisters as seen from the drive in to the campsite. (The one on the far left is the South Sister, the one we climbed.) As we looked at these mountains, we couldn't help but comment on the fact that these are the kind of mountains you see and wonder, "Who actually climbs those?!" Yeah, that's right, we do.

PICTURE: Shirtless Skiing

Need I say more?

PICTURE: Skiing Mount Hood

Nothing like skiing in July.

Saturday, July 1

Well, I'm back in Illinois (sadly) and back at work (even more sadly), but feel refreshed and excited about the weekend I had out west. Since there is so much to say, I'm going to blog each day on its own and then post it under that day to make things a little less confusing. So here we go....

I arrived in Seattle at 10pm on Friday night. Of course, the airport was madness, but Blom found me and we took off for Oregon. We drove for about three hours until we reached our campsite near Mt. Hood. It was 2am by the time we arrived (4am Chicago-time), so we quickly set up our tent near some giant trees and a rippling stream. The smell was one of the first things I noticed. We were nicely in the woods, and after spending the day in an office and then an airport and airplane, the fresh Oregon air was heaven to my nostrils. We quickly went to sleep, excited about the days ahead.

We woke around 6:30 on Saturday, had a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and yogurt and then packed our bags for a day of skiing. We drove about half an hour up the side of Mt. Hood until we got to Timberline Lodge. The day was positively beautiful (this will be a theme throughout each of my days out west) with blue skies, no clouds, and views that pretty much made me wonder why it is people live in the Midwest. We rented skis and then headed for the snow. It really was quite an experience to be so warm while skiing. The bunnies were in spaghetti-strap tops, guys were skiing without their shirts, and shorts and t-shirts were commonplace. Most of Timberline in the summer is devoted to camps for skiers and snowboarders, but we still had great fun. I've said it before and I'll say it again now: skiing is my favorite athletic activity. It's physically challenging and most definitely a sport, but it is also very much an art and it appeals to the artistic side of me. I love the motion of skiing, gliding in half moons down the hill, and when I'm skiing, I also love the sound, the rhythmic pulsing of snow and ski. Of course, I had many good falls, and instead of watching for trees as one would expect, when you ski in the summer, you watch out for piles of dirt and rock that have lost their cover. And yes, I did meet with one of these dirt piles. Did it hurt? Yep. Was it worth it? Absolutely. You see, I'm not an expert skier, and the snow was more akin to, well, a long steep sheet of ice. Needless to say, it took me a while to adjust, and there were plenty of falls. As the day warmed up even more, it felt like we were skiing in a giant snowcone. For our one final run down the mountain, Blom and I decided we wanted to be as cool as everyone around us and took off our shirts. I was afraid I'd have one last wipe-out, but I made it down without a fall. Ah...it was fantastic, and not even the least bit chilly.

We then got rid of our skis, jumped in the car, went back to our campsite to pack up the tent, and then drove south for a few hours. We went through the forests, went through some desert (Oregon has just about everything when it comes to geology), and saw some marvelolus views of the mountain we were going to attempt to climb the next day. We finally entered the Three Sisters Wilderness in the Willamette National Forest and found a campsite right next to a little lake. We set up camp, built a fire, and had a nice little campers dinner. We were then exhausted from an evening of little sleep the night before and a day of skiing and knew we would be up early the next day, so I'm pretty sure we went to sleep around 8:30. No one said being rugged meant staying up past bedtime.

Go West, Young Man

Here I am on a beautiful Friday morning in Illinois. I am filled with anticipation as I work away in the office all day. Because at 2:30 this afternoon, Joy is picking me up and we're heading off to the airport. I shall arrive in Seattle, Washington around 10pm and then the adventures will begin.

You see, Blom is out there for the summer doing his law internship. And I happened to have a free ticket with Southwest that was set to expire on July 15. I couldn't let it go to waste, and so I'm heading out to Washington and Oregon to spend some time with him over the big 4th 'O July weekend. We have set some high goals and expectations for ourselves, wanting to become the adventurous and rugged men we talk about. Here's the run-down:

FRIDAY NIGHT:
I will get in around 10 and then we'll head straight south and find our way to a campsite near Mt. Hood, about an hour east of Portland, Oregon. We will set up my never-been-used-except-for-in-the-guest-bedroom North Face tent and try to get some sleep.

SATURDAY:
We'll be up bright and early to go and rent some skis. Then we're going to go up to Timberline on Mt. Hood to do some skiing in July. Now, if you are a close blog follower, you will recall that my first experience skiing was last year in Colorado, and it quickly became just about my favorite thing in the world. So I'm excited to get on some slopes again and hopefully won't have to start all over. We'll finish up in the afternoon and then drive a couple more hours south. We'll set up camp near the Three Sisters, three mountains that are part of the Cascade Range.

SUNDAY:
Once again, we'll be up early. This is our long day of hiking, for indeed, we are planning to climb the South Sister, which is the tallest at 10,300 feet. And hopefully, my dear buddy Taylor Skiles will be joining us for the climb (someone has to carry me back down). Taylor went with me to Nepal in 2003. We'll be exhausted when we get to the top, but who knows, maybe we'll throw some snowballs as we look out over Oregon. Then it's back down. Our bodies will have nothing left to give, but they won't have much time to recoup. After we get a little rest and some dinner, Blom and I will drive west towards the coast. We'll camp on the beach and think about the two days that have already gone by and the two that are still to come.

MONDAY:
Blom and I are both gonna try something we've never tried before, and I'll be honest, I'm a little nervous. We're gonna try to surf. Whenever I think about the cool-people sports of the world, I think of surfing and lacrosse. Whenever I think about people being swept out to sea, I think of surfing. I am neither cool nor sea-literate, but I'm going to do my best. And I can't decide if I want Blom to be better or worse than me. I'd like him to be worse so I don't feel like such an idiot trying to doggie-paddle while he rides the big waves, but I figure if he's worse, then goodness, he must be pretty bad, and I sure don't want him to get swept out to sea either. Monday night will be relaxing and going out to dinner with my good friend Dawnette, who I also know from my summer in Nepal. After a dinner of great company and conversation, Blom and I will load ourselves back into the car and drive up to Washington, where we'll spend the night at his place, and where, it is rumored, there is a hot tub. My muscles will be crying out.

TUESDAY:
We'll sleep in a little later on the 4th and then borrow Blom's roommates two kayaks. Then we'll have a relaxing few hours working our way around Puget Sound. After that, all the phsysical activities will come to a close. We will then relax, have a nice dinner, and watch some fireworks by the coast. I will fly home Wednesday with memories for a lifetime and aching muscles for probably just as long.

I think it's just about the best itinerary I've ever seen. It certainly is different from the itinerary I had for my trip to NYC six years ago with Blom and Drew and wanted to fit in as many Broadway shows as possible. Oh how things change. This weekend, I'm not actually sure if we'll be able to do all this stuff, but we're gonna try and hopefully weather will be wonderfully cooperative. Regardless, there are few things better (is there anything better?!) than good company and some time in some marvelous nature. You can be sure to expect an update. That is, of course, assuming that I don't get swept away to sea.

Azzurri!!!

I just want to say I have never been so thankful for ESPN and ESPN2. You see, it's the World Cup, and although I am by no means an expert, I have been loving keeping track of as much as I can this summer. I remember being in Italy during the 2002 World Cup. Sadly, theAzzurri didn't do all that great, but it was just an awesome experience to be in the country during the World Cup. Needless to say, the entire nation shuts down. Ridiculously huge screens are set up in the piazzas and there are riots if they win and riots if they lose. I absolutely love it.

The game yesterday between Australia and Italy was big, and Italy pulled out the victory with Totti's pentalty kick. Let the Aussies be mad...Italy won and is moving on to face the Ukraine, and I believe, to move on again in their pursuit of ultimate victory. Here are my predictions for the final eight teams:

Germany and Argentina will be a good game, and I think Germany is going to pull out the victory in their homeland. As I mentioned, Italy will win over the Ukraine, hopefully grabbing and early lead. When Germany plays Italy, I of course think Italy will win, as long as tempers are controlled and all the players are playing as they should. That game is on July 4, and what I wouldn't do to be in Germany for this Independence Day.

On the other side of the bracket, I think England will take Portugal, but I'm saying it goes into overtime. Beckham will continue to be an athletic/pop icon and we'll all wonder how his sports center in California is going to turn out. As for Brazil and France, well, I'm saying Brazil. They are the returning champs and nicely defeated Ghana's valient efforts. I wanted Spain to win over France, but the Frenchmen proved tougher than expected. Brazil and England will meet and the I am going to predict England over Brazil, although I could easily be wrong with that prediction.

If all goes as planned (and I can pretty much guarantee it won't), Italy and England will meet for the final match in Berlin on July 9. The entire world will be watching as Italy claims the title. There will be madness in that country I love and I will weep with joy and open a riserve bottle of Chianti. I will then take my Italian flag off of the wall and hang it from the balcony, proclaiming my love and my devotion.

Dang, maybe I should work for ESPN. This is good stuff.

Piano Success!

I will make this short, but I wanted all of you to know that my wedding piano playing was a completely success. I even stalled appropriately when the flower girls just wouldn't come down the aisle or when the ushers just couldn't get the aisle runner to unroll. I think I kinda saved the day. So if any of you out there need a wedding pianist, just let me know. Get me while the fingers are still hot.

Wedding Pianist

One week from today, I will be making my debut (and perhaps my finale) as a wedding pianist. Dear friends of Joy and I, Julie (Joy's maid-o'-honor) and Daniel, are getting married, and I shall be the one tickling those ivories as the ladies (Joy and Julie and moms and all those other no-name bridesmaids) walk down the aisle. And here's the truth: I'm nervous as I'll get out. To put this all in perspective, I need you to know that yes, I was a music major, but piano wasn't exactly my strength. In fact, I failed my scales the first time I took my piano proficiency and then had to have intensive coachings with Dr. Rediger to ensure my passing and graduation. So when Julie asked me if I thought I was up for the job of playing at her wedding, I had a feeling of terrified optimism. I wanted to say yes, but realized my talents were limited.

I did accompany Master Loralee Songer in the Blomgren wedding last summer (Happy One Year Anniversary Blom and Kelly!) and played well until that near-end chord with complete and inappropriate dissonance. And yes, I then tried to fix that dissonance and found the wrong key again. For the last weeks, I have been reliving that horror. For this wedding, I am in charge of playing the prelude, mothers' entrance, bridesmaids processional, and of course, the all-important entrance of the bride. There are moments when I'm practicing that I wonder what in the world I've gotten myself into. But hey, I'm gonna try my best and pray that the noticeable mistakes happen early and that the nerves get gone long before anything important happens.

There is one key benefit to this job: since I'm the pianist I can veto playing Pachabel's "Canon in D." Maybe being at a wedding where that song isn't played makes all those wrong notes well worth it.

Happy June

It's been a little while since I've been here at my blog, so I thought I'd drop in even though I don't have a whole lot to say. First, I shall answer those two wonderful people who've responded and read my blog. Firstly, no, DeMario, I haven't stopped reading. I'm a little slowed by reading Brothers Karamazov. Not only is it 750 pages, but it's a little slow. So I've set that side for now and have actualy started reading, even though it's not on the list, The DaVinci Code. Yep, I've joined the masses. And so far, it is rather intriguing.

Dawnette, I'm so distressed: the Italians are gone for good. I can barely believe it myself.

Over these last few weeks, I've been working quite a bit more at the agency. I'm picking up several new clients, so getting to know them and reading their files has been taking up some time. I don't actually know if I'm good at my job or not, but I'm trying, and overall, I'm enjoying it.

Also, on June 3 I did turn 24. I'm saying my age because during the week Joy actually thought I was turning 25. Yeah, I know. Well, I had an awesome birthday (Nate, Holly, and LaBianca...it was so great to see you!), and Joy gave me an awesome homecooked meal AND an iPod! You see, I've wanted one for a while now, but it's just not in the budget, but sneaky little Joy has been picking up extra lunch duties at school to pay for it. Yeah, sweet, huh?

Let it be know that on Memorial Day I was at Wrigley with Jen and Vince (as well as Kevin and the Cosgroves) and...shock of shockers...the Cubs won! Joy and I are also going to the T.U. alumni game next Wednesday, so maybe they'll pul out a victory again for us. Sadly, Jen and Vince won't be there this time.

So that's my life these days. Thanks for staying tuned. Much love and peace.

Oh Mona

At the start of my summer vacation, I am already checking books of my list. The first I completed was: Becoming Mona Lisa. Overall, I really enjoyed the book. Very educational in the world of renaissance art, Leo da Vinci, and of course, the most famous painting in the world. It was rather interesting to read about how the painting actually got to such a state, and although some chapters were a little heavy and in-depth for my purposes, you really get an inside look into the world's most famous painting and the many different factors that all helped contribute to its fame. Of course, Mona and da Vinci are everwhere these days with the Code out and all, and this was a good reading that I actually used in a discussion last night with one of the bartenders at my restaurant. I mean, the fascination with Mona Lisa's smile and da Vinci's claim as the "ultimate renaissance man" really didn't even start till the 18th century. And as for the Last Supper painting in Rome, well, I guess it's too bad that da Vinci didn't even know how to properly mix his paints and hence, the painting pretty much began wasting away the day after it was completed. Perhaps that's what made the code easier to find.

Return to Shelby

This past weekend, Joy and I made a very quick trip to the town of my high school and parents: Shelby, Ohio. Now, most of you know that if I was to pick one place to live for the rest of my life, Shelby probably wouldn't be it, but nonetheless, it's a pleasant little town, characteristic of small-town middle-America. In short, it's completely different from Chicago.

Of course, this past weekend was Mother's Day, but one of the main reasons we decided to make the quick journey was because my grandparents were going to be in town, which is a rarity since they don't do much traveling anymore. For those of you who don't know, I absolutely LOVE my grandparents. They are straight up the best, heroes in my life, and although they may be aging, they are most definitely still witty and funny and loving and all the things that a grandparent should be.

Joy and I left Chicago at 5:15 in the morning on Saturday (yeah, I can't believe it either) and arrived in the metropolis of Shelby just in time for a little lunch. After lunch, it was time for one of the great traditions in my family: Pinochle. (In case you don't know, Pinochle is somewhat similar to Euchre. In case you don't know Euchre either, well, get out more I suppose.) We officially brought Joy into the Maynard (these are my mom's parents)-Becker tradition, and I can say she did quite nicely indeed, first being partners with my mom and then my grandpa, who is the all-time authority on all things Pinochle.

After a couple of games, Joy and I just had to take a nap. Then it was time for the evening festivities: dinner at my sister and brother-in-law's house. It was quite a party with all sorts of laughter and even a lively discussion related to...well...hell and liberal theology. I find a type of pleasure in being able to bring out some "shocking" views into my family and it always ends up that they wonder if I am going down the wrong path and wonder what the big city has done to me. Needless to say, it was tremendous fun. We then had a little time of mother and grandmother gifts and then the real fun began when my grandparents started sharing some stories from their youth. And wow were they crazy kids. Stealing and killing chickens for a prom dinner, running away to elope in Michigan but then having to call home because my grandma forgot her birth certificate, and stories of their time living in China. There's not too much out there that's better than sitting around listening to your grandparents tell stories, watching them laugh and enjoy remembering, seeing them interrupt each other and hold hands. Yep, it was a nice evening.

After we all returned to Shelby, Joy and I went to Chris and Jen's house for a quick game of Settlers. Congratulations to Jen, both on a nice victory and also on some fantastic almond bars. (Jen, if you ever read this, Joy wants the recipe.) Then it was off to some deep deep sleep because we were straight up exhausted.

Sunday was pretty low-key. We went to church and then sat around for a while showing pictures and what-not, and then sat down for a fantastic lunch. Then it was time to head home, so Joy and I packed up the Jetta and gave some hugs. On the way out the door, I saw a really nice hanging plant my mom had so I picked that up and we took that with us too. It is now hanging beautifully from our balcony at Country Glenn. Thanks mom.

So there you have it...a quick Mother's Day trip to Shelby, Ohio. I can honestly say that while I immensely enjoyed my time with my family, I can also say that a highlight of the trip was the actual driving to and fro. Joy and I realized that it had been a while since we've had a road-trip together, and it was so much fun to sit in the car with our snacks and coffee, talking and laughing and making lists, which is one of the things we always love to do while driving. Yeah, we both love lists. I know...we're not cool. There was also that one highlight where Joy told me she desperately had to go the bathroom (why do they never give you any warning time?!) and then literally began crying when the next sign said that the next stop was 38 miles away. She didn't make it that long, and so there we were, car on the side of the road, Joy sitting on the edge hoping cars flying by weren't laughing at her as much as I was. Another highlight had to have been the Michael Jackson dance party sing-along we had on the way home. Nothing makes a road-trip good like a lot of choreographed moves to "Black and White," done especially foolishly when passing other cars.

"The Last Word..."

Last night I finished reading the third and final book in the "New Kind of Christian" series by Brian McLaren. The third one, titled The Last Word and The Word After That, is pretty much about hell. I know, good spring reading, right? Now, I know that there are a lot of people out there who are against all things McLaren. I can understand that, because I think there's a fear that goes into the idea of someone completely changing the stuff that you thought was unchangeable. There are plenty of moments when I'm reading this stuff that I think, "Wow...this is so different from what I grew up being taught, what I've believed, what I thought was staple to the Christian faith." And yeah, that's scary. But I also love it at the same time.

I actually think this book was maybe my favorite of the three. McLaren proposes a theology of hell that is way outside the traditional (McLaren would say "modern" or "fundamental") view of what actually happens after we leave this earth. And while I am not sure in the end if I agree with the viewpoint that McLaren is proposing, there were many things I really liked about this book, so let's point out a few of those....

Above all, McLaren has challenged the way I view hell. Now, this does not mean that I actually believe what he does (as I mentioned), but that's okay. You see, regardless of where each reader personally falls down on the theology of hell, there are still lessons to be learned. Any careful reader of the text will certainly finish the book evaluating not just their doctine of hell, but also their approach to hell. Do I think hell is largely used to scare others into some kind of "faith" in Christ? Yeah. Do I think hell is also used as a device to make followers of Christ feel safe and excluded from all the others? Yeah. Do I think hell builds barriors between "us" and "them," making "us" feel a whole lot better about not being "them?" Yeah, I do. Not always, but I really think it has that tendency.

So tied into all of this is the fact that the Kingdom of God is here. This is something I've thought about off and on for the last several years (thanks to C.S. Lewis for some of that...) and McLaren delves into this as well. As Christ-followers, we are to be agents of change. This doesn't mean I sit back, go to church, get involved in some ministry, give my 10%, and then wait for heaven. To be a follower of Christ, to me, has to be something so much more rich and complex and difficult and beautiful. It is, as my dad has often said and McLaren also says here, that the Christian life is indeed a life.

Towards the end of McLaren's book (which is self-described as creative non-fiction), we are introduced to a type of communtiy that I would say is entirely too rare. In this community, they regularly ask each other five questons, five questions I think anyone interested in spiritual formation or accountability would find wonderfully helpful. Bring that in with some of the challenges regarding social justice, politics and religion, and thoughts regarding what church is, and there is certainly a lot more here than just thoughts regarding hell.

As a type of narrative fictional genre, McLaren's writing is easy and enjoyable to read and his characters (though sometimes a little too characterized) are unique and memorable. McLaren himself notes that he doesn't give enough attention to the traditional doctrine of hell, but that can certainly be found in many other books. Also, in one section, McLaren quotes sources, and I, hoping to look up a few of these sources for future reading, found them to be totally imaginatory, which was somewhat frustrating to say the least. McLaren does call for reconciliation, outside and inside the Church, and perhaps is a little idealistic in how this plays out in contemporary life, but that's okay, since he's often concerned with what could be, not what actually is. But I think that comes back to one of the overarching themes, that "Jesus wants us not just to avoid being bad; more, he wants us to avoid being fruitless" (p. 78).

Italians and Mangoes

Alright, there are a few random things that just need to be said.

First of all, remember our Italian neighbors who lived across the hall from us in our apartment building?! Well...THEY'RE GONE!!! Joy and I really are still in shock, and it's been over a week now. You see, we thought they were our friends, but we think they moved and didn't even tell us. I mean, just the week before they disappeared, I had shared with them my very own homemade tiramisu. Now, you better believe I was nervous to share with Italians my humble rendition of the Italian classic, but in an effort to reach out and build a bridge, I did indeed share. (And I don't want to brag here, but let's just say the reviews were quite good. I am still holding onto the possibility that the Italians haven't moved but have simply gone to Europe. About a week before they disappeared, they did ask us to use our internet to check on flights to Europe, but we had to say no since we don't have the internet. But the more and more I think about it, I think they are just plain gone. They did leave at the end of the month and there is no sign of life anywhere. It kinda makes me a little sad. Those kids were adorable. (For the record, Joy, with absolutely no evidence, is telling people that our neighbors were illegal immigrants who got scared because of all the immigration hype that is going on...)

In other sad news, I think I have discovered that I am allergic to mango. Now, I am a fruit fanatic. To me, it doesn't get any better than fresh fruit, preferably with a little bread and cheese. MMM. Well, in the last month or so, Joy and I have purchased lots and lots of mangoes, because, quite frankly, they are amazing. But for the last month or so, I have also had some weird lip rash type thing. It's hard to describe, and I just couldn't figure it out. Well, the last of the rash was just going away yesterday, and on a nice Sunday afternoon I thought I would make ourselves a mango smoothie. As I was cutting the fruit, I of course began to eat a few slices, and as soon as the mango touched my lip, I felt that same weird rash-like sensation come back. Joy and I began to process my rashes over the last month and they seem to line up with our mango consumption. Crazy, huh? Well, I'm not sure what to do about this new-found information, because the mango really is one of my favorite fruits. To be honest, I think it might just be worth the rash. Or perhaps I can get the mango into my mouth without the fruit actually touching my skin and then maybe I'll be fine? I'm not sure yet, but I really need to figure this out.

A Good Thing

I stumbled across this quote the other day and it reminded me why I love quotes...because others say things so much more beautifully and poingently than I. I know that I can use a good reminder regarding what's under my feet, and sweet Maddy says it well:

"It's a good thing to have all the props pulled out from under us occasionally. It gives us some sense of what is rock under our feet, and what is sand."
--Madeleine L'Engle

Beej

For the last week, I've had this feeling like I've wanted to write, but everytime I thought about it, I realized I just didn't have words. The vast majority of you who read my blog surely know about the accident that happened a week ago today. For those of you who do not know, a Taylor University van carrying students and staff were involved in a collision with a semitrailer. Four Taylor students and one staff were killed in the crash. Needless to say, families and friends have been devastated. One of the students who was killed was Brad Larson, a senior who was set to graduate in a few weeks and then start law school in the fall. Brad was a friend of mine, and I was able to live on the same wing as Brad during my senior year of college.

As I mentioned, during this last week I've been without words, and largely, I still am. A numbing sense of pain and sorrow have been overwhelming, especially as I have thought about his family and seen his closest friends try to grapple with something that simply cannot be understood.

Yesterday some words were given to me by one of my clients. I was at my new job where I get to work one-on-one with kids and teens and while we were driving, one of my kids asked me what I did over the weekend. I thought for a second about giving a simple "oh, not much" kinda answer, but I just couldn't do it. So I told him about the accident and how I went to the funeral on Sunday. I told him about how Brad was a friend of mine and we had just been in Boston together less than two weeks before he died. Then my kid, who is still in the single digits, asked me how old my friend was. I told him 22. I know that I'm the counselor and the kid's the client, but the response made me get teary eyed all over again: "You're really lucky you got to know him since he didn't live that long." I had no response. After a minute, I simply said, "Yeah, I am."

I can honestly say that I looked up to Beej, as we all called him. He had qualities that would normally make you envious, but he was just too likable to be envied. He was intelligent, witty, considerate, sensible, wise, funny, down to earth, athletic, sincere, godly, and even good-looking. One of the things I admired most about Beej was that he was okay with who he was. Sure, he had areas in his life he wanted to improve and grow, but he was okay being the person that he was, not trying to form to fit some mold or change himself when around different groups of people. I always thought that was admirable and always wanted more of that for myself.

Beej will certainly be missed. And who knows, perhaps he now knows if there is more sand in a mile or gallons of water in the ocean.

Summer Reading

I have been looking forward to summer this year for many reasons. For one, it means I'm done with another year of school. In fact, as I looked over my last week of classes a few minutes ago, I realized that all I have left for the semester is one short paper. Then a few finals and I'm set free until another year kicks up in August. I will of course be working this summer, but nothing extreme. Hopefully I will have time for some bike rides, maybe a few nights of camping, some tennis, some summer fun in the city, lots of Ravinia, and of course, nights of relaxation on our patio in Country Glen. Also, I always look forward to summers so that I can finally read some books that have caught my interest but just have not had time for during the school year. So in anticipation of lots of reading, here is my list of ten books that I will start, and hopefully finish, in these next few months...

1. The Chronicles of Narnia--Every summer should probably have some C.S. Lewis, and I have been meaning to re-read these books for several years now. I am determined to at least get through a few of the set this summer in my return to the adventures of those crazy British kids. I love these books.
2. The World is Flat--I rarely read something on the current bestseller lists, but this one has provoked my interest. I'm actually quite looking forward to exploring the way technology is shrinking our world.
3. A Generous Orthodoxy--I am compelled to read this book simply because of the vastly different reviews I read and hear. I have thoroughly enjoyed the New Kind of Christian books by Brian McLaren (I am currently reading the third one) so am excited to see how he continues to challenge and provoke my understanding of Christianity.
4. No Man is an Island--It's true, this is the book that inspired the name of my blog, but I have never actually finished reading the book. I truly enjoy Thomas Merton and have loved what I've read so far so figure it's high time I get down to finishing the book.
5. Traveling Mercies--Many people have recommended this book to me and I have owned it since I bought it at Powell's in Portland a year ago. It's time to experience the writing of Anne Lamott because some people say I will just love her. We'll see.
6. Will in the World--This is a highly acclaimed book by Stephen Greenblatt, and quite frankly, I've had too little of Shakespeare in my life in recent times for my liking. I am going to dive into this acclaimed study of the man and his work, and who knows, maybe even read some of the chapters in my best British accent that I can muster.
7. The Brothers Karamazov--Last year I began a long-desired adventure into the Russian classics by reading Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. Well, that book did not satisfy the desire, but in fact added more fuel to the flame. These books with their thousand pages and thousand characters are certainly intimidating, but I want to make myself up for the challenge. And let's face it--this book is a literary classic on all the lists...Let's go Dostoevsky!
8. Spiritual Direction and the Care of Souls--This book was required reading for a class I had this semester. Yet although it was required, it didn't quite get read. I did get to read the first few chapters and wanted to read the rest, but alas, papers and projects and Curb Your Enthusiasm called my name louder. So hopefully this summer I will be able to finish reading about various traditions and faiths as they explore and experience spiritual direction and the disciplines.
9. Becoming Mona Lisa: The Making of a Global Icon--I was first intrigued by this book by Donald Sassoon many months ago while wandering the clearance section of Barnes and Noble. I am intrigued to look at the painting that really has become a cultural icon. Who knows, maybe a little contemporary society with art and DaVinci...sounds pretty interesting to me.
10. Still Open--You see, I realized I had several titles I wanted to put in this #10 slot. But I know that I am not the type of reader that can really formalize my reading agenda. I know there will be some book that I stumble across or find on my shelves that will grab my attention and become my primary literary focus for the time being. And you know what, that's part of the joy in reading for me, so I'm not too eager to remove that and become all mechanical and what not. So if you have a specific recommendation, that's allowed too. I do want to read some more sociology, always love international journalism, and also want to find a good book that addresses the issue of First Peoples here in America. Plus there are many authors that I love and know I can always pick up something new or old of theirs to sink my mind into. Oh, I love books!

Needless to say, I'm excited about this list. My goal is to read the entire list, but let's face it, I'll be delighted if I finish five or so of these titles. There are indeed more pages than there is time.

Bed Fights

A weird thing happened last week. You see, I went to Boston, as you already know, and Joy came too, but Joy didn't get there until a day after I did and came home two days before me. So she had three nights alone in our apartment while I was gone. Well, when I came back I realized something had happened: Joy's glasses, alarm clock, and book were all on MY side of the bed. Hmm. Now, I am a creature of habit like everyone else, and I've grown quite accustomed to my side of the bed. When I gently confronted Joy about what I saw, she plainly tod me that she liked to sleep on my side of the bed because it reminded her of me. Fair enough I suppose. But the odd thing was that even when I was home, she still wanted to sleep on my side of the bed. For the first night I allowed it, but on the next night, I put up a fight. And yep, she fought back. She kept saying that she wanted to sleep on my side because it reminded her of me, and then I would remind her that I was here so I could sleep on my side of the bed and that could be a good reminder of me. She didn't like that idea. In essence, she didn't want my actual being to remind her of me, she'd rather just sleep on my side of the bed. I know, it makes no sense. Finally the fights have ceased and her alarm clock is back to her nightstand. I just don't get how I'm not a good enough reminder for myself. Some things are beyond me.

Boston Recap

I thought I should probably write a little something about my time in Boston. I was there for almost an entire week, and as I like to remind people, Boston is in fact one of my favourite cities. Not just in the United States even--Boston is one of those cities in the U.S. for me that leaves national standards and enters into my list of favourite cities in the world. Yeah, I know.

Well, the trip was amazing. There were a ton of people there, and one might think it would be overwhelming, but it was actually perfect, a good blend of old college wingmates, old music majors, new Boston friends of Tay-Tay, and of course, the ever-growing Horner family. It was really a beautiful blending joyfully lacking in any tension or anxiety.

On Wednesday I didn't get in till kinda late, and when I got to Taylor's apartment, he should have been sleeping since his recital was the next day, but instead he was working (of course) on his program notes. We all talked for a while, and then had a HORRIBLE night of sleep. Here are the words you need to know in order to understand my night of no slumber: no blankets, dirty futon, constant cold, snoring futon-sharer, ticking clock. But I didn't let it get me down, and Thursday turned out to be wonderful. We lounged around for a while, and then went to the conservatory to make copies and such. Then Preston, Kevie-Kev-Kev, Loralee, and myself headed off the Shaw's where we did in fact save more than we spent. What were we buying you ask? Cereal and milk of course. Taylor, you see, was having a cereal-themed recital reception, because we all know that cereal is one of the greatest foods ever created and sorely misunderstood. Then it was time for a late lunch, where I had some great sub, and then off to shower and get ready for the recital.

The recital was nothing short of fantastic. Joy got there soon after it started, and it's a good thing, because it was not something to be missed. You see, Taylor is a great singer. Loads of natural ability that he is just pruning and developing like a madman. It's kinda remarkable the amount of growth and progress he's made in two short years. In essence, I'm extremely proud of him and certainly was that evening when he sang. It doesn't get much better than Poulenc and cereal within five minutes of each other, that's the truth.

Friday was our educational day and we all decided to conquer the Freedom Trail. It was a roudy and wild time as we walked our way to many of the sites relevant to those early revolutionary days. A stop at Mike's for cannolis in the North End was especially necessary. We of course tired ourselves silly walking the Freedom Trail, so on Friday night we just played it pretty cool. On Saturday I woke up and wasn't feeling my best, but certainly wasn't down enough to take it easy, and off we went for a day of great seafood (I love mussels!) and shopping (I bought a tent!). I even threw a dance party at the opening of H&M.

It was on Saturday night that I realized I wasn't feeling better, but in fact was getting much worse. In a few hours time, I had a bad fever, horrible aches, had chills, and wanted to do nothing but lay down and fall asleep. We even went to this piano bar where people would sing Broadway...a place that I would normally love and find my element....but I was too sick to really enjoy it and left early. I was a mess, and was no better come Easter morning, so did not get out of bed for about 15 straight hours, much to my sadness. So those next two days weren't the greatest, but I made the best of them and Taylor and Kevin and I still had a good time, and now I'm home still trying to get my throat and cough under control.

So there you have it...a brief version of my time in Boston. It will go down in my memory as one of the finest weeks in recent memory. I was reminded again at just how cool different places can be, and of course, just how cool friendships are. I laughed so much all week, and that is just about the best thing on a beautiful spring weekend. And hey, a dance party in H&M is pretty cool too.

Finally

So Ace and Bucky are finally both off of American Idol. Thank goodness.

Baciami, Part 2

Remember in February when I wrote about how I want the kiss on the cheek greeting/farewell to come into my life more? Well, I apparently am ahead of the news. Today Katie Courie and sweet Al did a special on how popular the cheek-kissing is getting.

This evening I am flying to one of my absolute favourite cities--Boston, Massachusetts. Of course, Boston is where Joy and I got engaged, and actually, it was in Boston during that visit that I started this blog. It seems we've come full circle. Tomorrow night I will be celebrating with many a Taylor grad as we go to the graduate recital of Mr. Taylor Horner, bass. Yeah, it will be fantastic. And you better believe that when I see all of these friends, a friendly kiss will be in order.

John Wesley Prayer

One of the classes I am in this semester involves the integration of psychology and theology. I have a big paper for the class due on Wednesday (rough draft finished today baby!) and in my reading on spiritual direction, I came across this prayer by John Wesley:

O Lord Jesus,
I give thee my body,
my soul,
my substance,
my fame,
my friends,
my liberty, and my life:
dispose of me and all that is mine
as it seems best to thee.
I am now not mine, but thine:
therefore claim me as thy right,
keep me as thy charge, and love me as thy child.
Fight for me when I am assaulted,
heal me when I am wounded,
and revive me when I am destroyed.
Amen.

I don’t know about you, but I find that strikingly beautiful. I have been continually reminded that Christ calls us to transformation and that transformation involves the whole person. This journey of surrender to the will of God (to borrow from Thomas Merton) continually reminds me that God desires and demands my all, and so often, I barely give Him anything.

Mandisa

There is indeed injustice in the world. Tonight Mandisa left American Idol and people such as Bucky stayed. I almost cannot take it in. I guess it helps when I remember that most voters are probably a decade younger than me, but still, there is no excuse. There are several contestants I still like, but Mandisa reguarly ranked at the top of the list for me. Because quite frankly, when it came down to pure vocals, I don't think she could really be beat. And heck, she had a pretty poised stage presence too. Alas, she is now off of the show and I regularly wait to see just how far Bucky can go as he leads our nation further and further into disgrace. Am I upset and biased? Absolutely. But hey, that's part of the show.

Doober's Diner

I have recently become an addict of the Food Network. Now, I’ve never been too much of a TV watcher, but it’s begun, and it really is quickly becoming a full-blown addiction. I realized this the other day when I got up, and as I was brushing my teeth, went out to turn on the Food Network to see what was on. Then there was that night where I watched four hours in a row. You see, I’ve always loved cooking, and recently, Joy and I have decided that we want to have a show on the Food Network. Now, I’m not sure it will ever happen, but we now regularly find ourselves talking about our show, what we’ll call it, what our signature stuff will be, etc. We are in fact planning on beginning to video tape each other cooking meals in our kitchen as we pretend we’re on TV. Yes, we know we’re odd and we’re working through that.

Now, you must not think that this food and cooking through is new. I mean, most of you have probably never heard of Doober’s Diner. Well, Doober was the name of my late three-legged dog that I got during my freshman year of high school. (Actually, for the record, when Doober’s Diner began, he probably still had four legs. After he lost one during that rough winter, he became known as Tripod.) But back to the Diner. You see, omelets were always my specialty, so I decided I was going to open up a restaurant right in my home where we would make the best breakfasts known to Shelby. So I made up a menu, listed the ingredients, thought of some prices, and printed them off. And for those of you who think this may be joke, let me assure you that it is not—I was dead serious about this diner. I would regularly tell people at our church about it and ask them when they were coming. For some reason, they never did. And then I would try to get my family to come to Doober’s Diner, but for some reason my parents didn’t want to pay to have their breakfast made at the Diner in their kitchen when they had paid for all the ingredients stored in the fridge. So needless to say, Doober’s Diner did not last long, but the dream has lived on.

So I’ve got some ideas for my show for the TV network. Joy and I have thought about doing a show where we show how cooking in the kitchen can be fun when done with someone else. We can teach some basic and easy meals to young couples or friends. If I had a show by myself, I would work on showing guys a good time in the kitchen, showing them how to cook for the ladies, have a good time, and enjoy their time amidst veggies and pots and cutting boards and a freezer without frozen pizzas.

Maybe someday I’ll have my own restaurant. Fine food, cheese, and wine…it doesn’t get much better than that, right? But that may never happen it seems, but if anyone is in town and wants a good omelet or a lamb rack in a red wine reduction glaze served over asparagus, you just let me know.

Bachelor Again

Joy is in Florida for her spring break. No, she didn't go to try to get on MTV or Girls Gone Wild or anything like that. Our church youth group goes to Florida for spring break, and since Joy's spring break lines up, she's there with them. As for me? Well, I'm at home in Chicago wondering why I am not eating meals at the dining room table and wondering why my lunches aren't packed when I get up for school. Yeah, she takes good care of me. I'm finding that you really get used to living with someone very quickly. I suppose I've always lived with someone, but marriage is different, and the apartment is just a little lonely this week. Hopefully (yet doubtfully), I'll get a significant amount of school work done, because it certainly is building up entirely too fast.

In other news, I pulled out to grey hairs this morning. I think it has something to do with
1) taxes still not being done,
2) trying to figure out my class schedule/work schedule/practicum schedule for next fall,
3) none of my teams are in the final four.

Taxes

I've just about had enough. I always heard about taxes in negative terms while growing up, but I never really understood. I mean, from my end, I didn't do a thing AND I would get a surprise check in the mail. Well, those fairy-tale thoughts of the IRS have ended. I am officially an adult, and with that comes the obligation to hate tax season. You see, I don't know a thing about taxes. And my parents don't either, which is why they've always just taken all of our W-2's to some man in the city who would fix us up all nice, tell us where to sign, and then send them out. It was pure bliss. Well, as I looked to doing taxes for the first time, I decided that, by golly, I was going to learn how to do them myself. I mean, it should be easy this early in life, right? It's not like we have a house, any property, any investments, or any of that stuff that's supposed to make it really hard, but it still has been a challenge and I'm beginning to wonder if it's been worth it.

First of all, I got married last year, so Joy and I are filing jointly. Sounds good so far, right? Well, it gets complicated when the states get involved. I was a part-time resident of Ohio and a part-time resident of Illinois. So I've been on the phone several times with each of those states, trying to figure out what to check, where to sign, what form to fill out, and really, what numbers to put on that form once I find it. Although we are federally joint, we are filing "married but separate" in Illinois, putting all of Joy's stuff on her's and all of mine on mine with an added form for part-time residency. I thought that would work for Ohio too, but alas, they are different from Illinois and if you file your federal jointly, then you have no choice but to file Ohio jointly as well. And yes, you better believe there is another form for my part-time residency stuff. I'm actually getting to the point where I think I understand what's happening and am not too afraid that the IRS is going to track me down. At least I can prove that I took the effort to do everything right. Now I have just two small hurdles left: Indiana and Local Tax. Joy got a tiny check for doing something at Taylor, so we haven't figured what to do with that W-2 yet and Ohio does local tax and no one has a clue as to what to do with that. I think I might just ignore them both and hope it doesn't catch up with me at some point.

I will be pleased when this is all over. And yes, when that check comes (or more accurately, that direct deposit comes...), I will be glad of the work, but still, it just plain aint very fun. But this is grown-up land and I don't want to go to any man in the city.

Spring Break

My spring break is officially over. After ten wonderful days without classes, I was back at school for class at 7:30 on this foggy Monday morning. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about it.

Jack & Pocahontas

This week has been Theatre Week for Joy and me. On Thursday night we went to see "Jack and the Giant," the 3rd and 4th grade musical at Joy's school. Joy helped be in charge of set design, and yes, the set was fantastic. You should have seen that beanstalk. Before the show started, we found some seats that were right behind two mothers of children in Joy's class. We chatted for a while and then settled in for the show. Well, after one particularly strugglesome number, I said, I thought quitely to Joy, "Oh gracious that was out of tune." Well, thankfully the mothers in front had a sense of humour (and their kids weren't in the show) and laughed with me, but for a second I felt like a rude and unappreciative critic. I mean, most of the people on American Idol can't sing on tune, I certainly can't have too high of expectations for 4th grade harmony.

Tonight Joy and I went to see "Pocahontas." And no, it wasn't the Disney version. No "colors of the wind" here. We went to support two of the best young performers around: Ellen and Khalia Wightman, the two girls of the family I lived with for the six months I lived in Chicago before getting married. And I am gonna brag here and I'm unashamed. These girls are THE BEST. I mean, they both have got loads and loads of talent. Ellen had some fantastic solos, and let's just say, a commanding attention and poise far beyond her years. And both Khalia and Ellen certainly know how to dance. They've got moves.If either of them go to Taylor (and it may be years away, but the interest just may be there...), they will most definitely be living it up in Airband and the Chorale.

As the show started, Joy and I realized we felt just like proud parents. I was so proud of them both, and honestly, am so thankfully for their consistent humility and down-to-earthness. Yup, they inspire me. I really think I'd like to get back to the theatre. I loved performing and these girls helped me remind me of just how fun it can be. It's a ton of work, but everyone who's been in a community show knows there's a sense of ache (and often some relief) when the final curtain goes down. Ladies, you both rocked it tonight. Enjoy your final show tomorrow and know that our love for you goes far beyond those quickly-dying flowers we stepped on during intermission.