It's fall, what can I say?
It's been a crazy hectic week. I went back to teaching, Miss Chef's schedule has changed from crazy early morning classes to crazy late night classes, and a cook was fired at the restaurant, so she's got more shifts to cover. Plus she recently started an online MBA course. Tonight is the first time I've clapped eyes on her since a brief meeting in an office Tuesday night, and she's over there --> on her laptop doing homework.
And I'm ok with that. She's home, she's healthy, and Rosie is lying right behind me. Things could be worse.
I'll try to post something this weekend, to keep the blog alive. In the meantime, TGIF baby!
My new profile picture was taken almost exactly a year ago, during our 10-year anniversary trip to Brevard.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Some Random Pictures
As I got each of these photos, I thought I might write an interesting post…but for each one, it turned out there weren't enough to really illustrate a whole story. So I guess this is kind of a non-Friday photo fragments!
The weekend of the 17th, Miss Chef and I did a slightly different kind of kayaking. It was through the Charlotte Parks system; they do 2-hour guided kayak tours of Lake Wylie. As you can see, these kayaks are different than the sit-on-top ones we’re used to at the Whitewater center. These are closed cockpit kayaks. They’re slightly more tippy than the others, but they stay a lot drier—the sit-on-tops have drainage holes all along the bottom, so your butt and thighs are immediately wet. I was glad for these, because as you can see, it was a bit chilly that day. And neither of us tipped--though Miss Chef got a wave that sloshed into her lap!
Miss Chef at work!
Me: Can I put this picture on my blog?
Miss Chef: I guess. I look all dirty.
Me: That’s what happens when you work in a kitchen! You should know that!
The salmon dish at the restaurant. Served with coconut rice and mango salsa. You know I have to make you hungry when you come visit, right?
This is for Bossy Betty. She gives us flower pictures every Monday, and I thought she could use a little flower of her own. Here ya go, hon!
And finally, a silly, fuzzy little video of Rosie at dinner time. She dances for her dinner every night!
The weekend of the 17th, Miss Chef and I did a slightly different kind of kayaking. It was through the Charlotte Parks system; they do 2-hour guided kayak tours of Lake Wylie. As you can see, these kayaks are different than the sit-on-top ones we’re used to at the Whitewater center. These are closed cockpit kayaks. They’re slightly more tippy than the others, but they stay a lot drier—the sit-on-tops have drainage holes all along the bottom, so your butt and thighs are immediately wet. I was glad for these, because as you can see, it was a bit chilly that day. And neither of us tipped--though Miss Chef got a wave that sloshed into her lap!
Miss Chef at work!
Me: Can I put this picture on my blog?
Miss Chef: I guess. I look all dirty.
Me: That’s what happens when you work in a kitchen! You should know that!
The salmon dish at the restaurant. Served with coconut rice and mango salsa. You know I have to make you hungry when you come visit, right?
This is for Bossy Betty. She gives us flower pictures every Monday, and I thought she could use a little flower of her own. Here ya go, hon!
And finally, a silly, fuzzy little video of Rosie at dinner time. She dances for her dinner every night!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Thoughts Without Borders
I wasn’t sure what to write about today; there have been different themes running through my brain lately. I thought this might become a Friday Fragment, but my first fragment has grown to full-post size. See for yourself…warning: serious thoughts ahead!
Always in search of another book to devour read, I settled this week on Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. This will be the second time through for me. I don’t think I got much out of it the first time, as I don’t seem to remember any of the last third of the book! It’s about the family of a white Southern Baptist preacher who go to the Congo on a mission in 1959. Not to spoil the book for you, but…things don’t go well. Still, even after the mission falls apart, the remainder of the family spends the next three decades processing what happened and how it changed them (or didn’t). The book highlights the themes of the western (white) world imposing its ways on a “primitive” culture and geography, without examining them first to understand how the system already works.
This is not a book review; just an introduction to my own thoughts. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been aware of those who have less—much less—than we do. When I moved into my first apartment alone in my twenties, I was a bit embarrassed by the overwhelming number of material possessions I had to move with me. Clothes, bathroom supplies, kitchen gadgets and gewgaws, curtains, framed pictures, stereo and cds, computer and furniture… And I kept thinking about truly poor people in Central America or Africa, who have nothing but a tin cup and the clothes on their backs. How can I possibly need so much when they survive with so little?
My mind cannot wrap itself around the wide separation in our fortunes, those of us who fret over matching napkins and those who pray for enough extra harvest to sell for meat. Those of us who scour the shops for the perfect shoes to match a bridesmaid’s dress, or argue over whether probiotic yogurt is really effective, versus those who cross a river hoping the crocodiles are downstream, or watch their children wither with dysentery. How can I seriously be expected to care whether my pants are properly ironed when I know across the globe others are going hungry?
But honestly…what can I do? What am I supposed to do? I’ve never mentioned here that I do sponsor a girl in Sénégal—Fatou. I’m not a great sponsor; my letters to her have been ridiculously spotty. Still, because of my paltry but regular $24 a month, I know one girl has stayed in school rather than go to work to supplement her mother’s $800 annual income. One girl has learned enough math to keep a budget and enough French to speak her mind. One girl has gotten information about basic hygiene which will hopefully protect her from malaria, dysentery, AIDS… One girl out of millions.
I could do more, though. Besides writing Fatou more often, I could send her more money. Or sponsor another Fatou, or maybe a Maria in El Salvador, and a Chan in Cambodia. Why is it ok for me to not sell all my worldly possessions and join Doctors Without Borders or the Red Cross; to dig wells or teach French and English to a classroom of Fatous?
Because we can’t all do it, I guess. Because there’s no point in going if you’re not called to it, otherwise you become a bigger liability than a help. I know myself well enough to imagine I’d be pretty dang distracted by missing air conditioning and my big king-sized bed at home. Teaching is hard enough for me with AC and all the comforts of home. So much for the shirt off my back.
That’s what gets me: as a Christian, I am supposed to give up everything, all my worldly attachments, to serve God. But does God really want me to wander naked and possession-less in the wilderness? No, I don’t think that’s the point; I can’t serve if I can’t survive. So where’s the dividing line; at what point is it ok to stop giving away and keep some to live on? In the States, “enough to survive on” has a very different meaning than in the Congo. We have to keep up appearances here: to keep our jobs, to keep a roof over our heads and to have enough extra to sponsor a child in Africa.
This post is full of questions, but not so many answers. I suppose what’s most frustrating is knowing that this is the way it’s always been…and for the foreseeable future, this is the way it will always be. No matter how many sponsor children or run off to join nonprofits in the hinterlands, there will always be those who have more than they recognize, and those who have less than they need. You and I, we were blessed to be born into parts of the globe that have a great variety and depth of resources. I just wonder if somewhere, a thousand years in the future, the reverse may be true.
Deep thoughts for the end of a week, huh? I’d love to hear yours!
Friday, September 16, 2011
Bye Bye, Big Trip
It’s been kind of a yucky week for me. The somberness of 9/11 led into the depressing political shenanigans in my adopted home state, and then I got a case of the Yucks. One of those not quite bad enough to cancel things, not quite good enough to plan things.
Somehow, though, I magically started to feel normal again this afternoon. I forgot how good normal can feel! In celebration, I’m going to finish up the last day’s worth of photos from our trip. It’s only been two months since we got home; it’s about time I wrapped this up, dontcha think?
Our last day with my brother’s family was a Saturday, and Miss Chef and I wanted to spend one final day in London. This time we brought along our 12-year old nephew Alex. During our time in Paris, he and Miss Chef had decided they were going to cook dinner that night, and he wanted to join us in our search for potential ingredients.
Although we were headed to a market of sorts, we had a very specific product in mind: a toasted cheese from Kappacasein. My obsessive research on TripAdvisor had revealed that these were worth hunting down, even though the vendor had been asked to leave the major Borough Market. They’ve joined a small group of vendors clustered around warehouse-like areas created under railroad trestles known as the Maltby Street market. It took a bit of hunting to find the market area, and then Kappacasein was even harder to find! But find them we did—after Alex started wondering aloud what the heck we were doing wandering around a semi-industrial area that looked kind of sketchy to him.
Until lo, there appeared unto them a vendor of cheeses!
How’s that for simple, non-industrial food, huh? Three products available today, and not a centimeter of plastic wrap in sight.
As you can see, it was quite the informal operation. While the young assistant toasted our sandwiches—two kinds of Kappacasein cheese, with soft leeks for punctuation—the owner invited us back into the cavernous rooms with curved cement ceilings, to show us how the new space was going to be used. He’s got big plans. And it’s a great place for his business; the cave-like concrete space will maintain a fairly even temperature and humidity year-round.
Once back up front, we also managed to buy an illicitly-supplied local brew to go with our toasted cheese. What’s vacation for, if not enjoying a grilled-cheese sandwich and illegal beer before noon!
Doesn’t that greasy, gooey goodness make you want to break out the frying pan right now? Alex was not interested in grilled cheese for breakfast…until he saw this. Then he was happy to ask for seconds. Unfortunately, even this shared sandwich was too filling for us to attempt to eat their other offering of raclettes. That’s a specialty from northern France, which involves pouring melted cheese over small steamed potatoes, with some kind of cured pork (bacon, lardons, whatever the local specialty may be). What’s not to like?
Oh, and for those of you who “complain” about my making you hungry…looking at this picture has made me hungry!
The sandwich gone, Miss Chef and I finished our rapidly-warming beer, while Alex enthusiastically trotted to the neighboring stall to buy some cherries for dinner. So serious!
Our last food goal accomplished, we then proceeded on foot back toward central London. In hindsight, we should have taken a bus or something…but we had walked nearly as far, I thought, earlier in the week. Well, no, we hadn't; my estimation of distances was rather optimistic. Fortunately, as we trudged along, Miss Chef and Alex discovered a shared interest in fantasy novels and movies, so they chatted happily while I tried to figure out which of five intersecting roads was the one I was looking for.
But you know of course, this kind of wandering can be rewarding, too. We stumbled upon Potters Fields Park, with great views of Tower Bridge.
Once we finally reached the Thames, we headed west along the Millennium Walk. Our search for a public toilet led us to another, completely different view of the bridge.
I was beginning to find my photographic feet here in London, so to speak.
We also ran across this moving sculpture in a galleria off the Walk. Miss Chef and Alex were particularly drawn to it.
Front view:
Side view:
That trumpet-like extension at the upper right was a sort of shower head that sprayed water down onto the two sou’wester-clad figures on the er…poop deck? Once we figured out the whole thing, it was a rather whimsical sculpture.
Here's a tiny video of the thing in action:
As it turned out, my ultimate goal for our long, long walk was frustrated. I still wanted to try climbing the dome of St. Paul’s to see the fantastic views of London. At least…I thought I might still want to climb it. My feet had taken quite a beating over the previous two weeks, and after climbing the Arc de Triomphe, about a third the height, I wasn’t so sure I was up to this monument.
So, truth be told, I may have been a little relieved when, after an hour of walking, it turned out that St. Paul's was unexpectedly closed, due to an off-schedule service.
Not all was lost however; as we made our way back toward the train station, we happened upon a cool little candy shop, which Alex deemed worthy of crossing the street to visit. And right outside the door, I noticed this view:
So that was it, our last day on the town. The day wasn’t quite over yet, as we still had dinner to put together. Duck was on the menu, but we hadn’t happened across any stores upscale enough to carry it. So once on the train for home, we called the house to ask about driving to the local store. They were hosting neighbor kids for the afternoon, so in order to get to the store, we were going to have to drive!
On the left side of the road. Hey-oh!
Since Miss Chef isn’t comfortable driving in strange areas even on the usual side of the road, it fell to me. I’d been to the store once with my sister-in-law, and with the help of directions programmed into the GPS, I felt reasonably sure we could make it. Amazingly, both Miss Chef and Alex were willing to let me drive them!
I was feeling surprisingly confident as we headed out, and other than missing a turn, I did pretty well. However, on the way back, I wasn't at all comfortable on those narrow, twisty roads! Don’t worry, we made it back in once piece, but trying to “feel” where the left side of this strange car was, all the way over there…well, I may have popped over a curb or two when approached by large vehicles. Still, I never pulled into the wrong lane when making a turn, so I call it a successful foray.
No, I do not have pictures.
Oh, well, of dinner, yes, I may have a picture of that…
So that was it; the grande finale of our stay. The rest of the family had eaten early, since kids' stomachs don't understand "late dinner." However, the duck was good enough to lure my brother back to the table for another plate.
We wrapped up our evening by packing four suitcases, and deciding to just pay the extra fees to check everything through. Amazingly, we had plenty of room for all of our food, wine, souvenirs, gifts and memorabilia. I even McGuyvered a poster tube to protect the poster Miss Chefhad made me carry all the way from bought at Giverny.
The next morning we said our goodbyes in the driveway, wondering when we might see each other again. It was hard to believe it was all over, that there weren’t more adventures awaiting us. Well, unless you count the sprint from customs to luggage transfer to gate at JFK…but we don’t want to talk about that.
No, I’d prefer to leave this post with my head in the clouds.
If you ever want to revisit this trip, just click on the “Big Trip” label, and they’ll be lined up for your reading pleasure. I know I’ll be doing that quite a bit this winter.
Update: Thanks to Garret's pointing out of one small flaw in that delicious picture of dinner, here's a 'shopped version for anyone who may have been offended by Alex' attempt to be responsible with his retainer:
Somehow, though, I magically started to feel normal again this afternoon. I forgot how good normal can feel! In celebration, I’m going to finish up the last day’s worth of photos from our trip. It’s only been two months since we got home; it’s about time I wrapped this up, dontcha think?
Our last day with my brother’s family was a Saturday, and Miss Chef and I wanted to spend one final day in London. This time we brought along our 12-year old nephew Alex. During our time in Paris, he and Miss Chef had decided they were going to cook dinner that night, and he wanted to join us in our search for potential ingredients.
Although we were headed to a market of sorts, we had a very specific product in mind: a toasted cheese from Kappacasein. My obsessive research on TripAdvisor had revealed that these were worth hunting down, even though the vendor had been asked to leave the major Borough Market. They’ve joined a small group of vendors clustered around warehouse-like areas created under railroad trestles known as the Maltby Street market. It took a bit of hunting to find the market area, and then Kappacasein was even harder to find! But find them we did—after Alex started wondering aloud what the heck we were doing wandering around a semi-industrial area that looked kind of sketchy to him.
Until lo, there appeared unto them a vendor of cheeses!
How’s that for simple, non-industrial food, huh? Three products available today, and not a centimeter of plastic wrap in sight.
As you can see, it was quite the informal operation. While the young assistant toasted our sandwiches—two kinds of Kappacasein cheese, with soft leeks for punctuation—the owner invited us back into the cavernous rooms with curved cement ceilings, to show us how the new space was going to be used. He’s got big plans. And it’s a great place for his business; the cave-like concrete space will maintain a fairly even temperature and humidity year-round.
Once back up front, we also managed to buy an illicitly-supplied local brew to go with our toasted cheese. What’s vacation for, if not enjoying a grilled-cheese sandwich and illegal beer before noon!
Doesn’t that greasy, gooey goodness make you want to break out the frying pan right now? Alex was not interested in grilled cheese for breakfast…until he saw this. Then he was happy to ask for seconds. Unfortunately, even this shared sandwich was too filling for us to attempt to eat their other offering of raclettes. That’s a specialty from northern France, which involves pouring melted cheese over small steamed potatoes, with some kind of cured pork (bacon, lardons, whatever the local specialty may be). What’s not to like?
Oh, and for those of you who “complain” about my making you hungry…looking at this picture has made me hungry!
The sandwich gone, Miss Chef and I finished our rapidly-warming beer, while Alex enthusiastically trotted to the neighboring stall to buy some cherries for dinner. So serious!
Our last food goal accomplished, we then proceeded on foot back toward central London. In hindsight, we should have taken a bus or something…but we had walked nearly as far, I thought, earlier in the week. Well, no, we hadn't; my estimation of distances was rather optimistic. Fortunately, as we trudged along, Miss Chef and Alex discovered a shared interest in fantasy novels and movies, so they chatted happily while I tried to figure out which of five intersecting roads was the one I was looking for.
But you know of course, this kind of wandering can be rewarding, too. We stumbled upon Potters Fields Park, with great views of Tower Bridge.
Once we finally reached the Thames, we headed west along the Millennium Walk. Our search for a public toilet led us to another, completely different view of the bridge.
I was beginning to find my photographic feet here in London, so to speak.
We also ran across this moving sculpture in a galleria off the Walk. Miss Chef and Alex were particularly drawn to it.
Front view:
Side view:
That trumpet-like extension at the upper right was a sort of shower head that sprayed water down onto the two sou’wester-clad figures on the er…poop deck? Once we figured out the whole thing, it was a rather whimsical sculpture.
Here's a tiny video of the thing in action:
As it turned out, my ultimate goal for our long, long walk was frustrated. I still wanted to try climbing the dome of St. Paul’s to see the fantastic views of London. At least…I thought I might still want to climb it. My feet had taken quite a beating over the previous two weeks, and after climbing the Arc de Triomphe, about a third the height, I wasn’t so sure I was up to this monument.
So, truth be told, I may have been a little relieved when, after an hour of walking, it turned out that St. Paul's was unexpectedly closed, due to an off-schedule service.
Not all was lost however; as we made our way back toward the train station, we happened upon a cool little candy shop, which Alex deemed worthy of crossing the street to visit. And right outside the door, I noticed this view:
So that was it, our last day on the town. The day wasn’t quite over yet, as we still had dinner to put together. Duck was on the menu, but we hadn’t happened across any stores upscale enough to carry it. So once on the train for home, we called the house to ask about driving to the local store. They were hosting neighbor kids for the afternoon, so in order to get to the store, we were going to have to drive!
On the left side of the road. Hey-oh!
Since Miss Chef isn’t comfortable driving in strange areas even on the usual side of the road, it fell to me. I’d been to the store once with my sister-in-law, and with the help of directions programmed into the GPS, I felt reasonably sure we could make it. Amazingly, both Miss Chef and Alex were willing to let me drive them!
I was feeling surprisingly confident as we headed out, and other than missing a turn, I did pretty well. However, on the way back, I wasn't at all comfortable on those narrow, twisty roads! Don’t worry, we made it back in once piece, but trying to “feel” where the left side of this strange car was, all the way over there…well, I may have popped over a curb or two when approached by large vehicles. Still, I never pulled into the wrong lane when making a turn, so I call it a successful foray.
No, I do not have pictures.
Oh, well, of dinner, yes, I may have a picture of that…
 |
| Duck breast w/cherry sauce, broccoli rabe, sautéed zucchini and risotto |
So that was it; the grande finale of our stay. The rest of the family had eaten early, since kids' stomachs don't understand "late dinner." However, the duck was good enough to lure my brother back to the table for another plate.
We wrapped up our evening by packing four suitcases, and deciding to just pay the extra fees to check everything through. Amazingly, we had plenty of room for all of our food, wine, souvenirs, gifts and memorabilia. I even McGuyvered a poster tube to protect the poster Miss Chef
The next morning we said our goodbyes in the driveway, wondering when we might see each other again. It was hard to believe it was all over, that there weren’t more adventures awaiting us. Well, unless you count the sprint from customs to luggage transfer to gate at JFK…but we don’t want to talk about that.
No, I’d prefer to leave this post with my head in the clouds.
If you ever want to revisit this trip, just click on the “Big Trip” label, and they’ll be lined up for your reading pleasure. I know I’ll be doing that quite a bit this winter.
Update: Thanks to Garret's pointing out of one small flaw in that delicious picture of dinner, here's a 'shopped version for anyone who may have been offended by Alex' attempt to be responsible with his retainer:
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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