boeuf bourguignon and burned crab rangoon.

i already made the boeuf bourguignon, and felt very much like amy adams in julie & julia as i did so...mainly because i shattered my pyrex casserole dish, causing a near meltdown. i loved that casserole. but i wasn't about to let that shattered dish keep me down! no no! a casserole dish couldn't defeat me!

so i started over. this time i used a skillet for the stove-top work. it worked much better, though i do wish i had a cast-iron casserole dish. i think i will have to search out a salvation army. at any rate, around 2 in the morning i had finally and successfully made boeuf bourguignon! i felt like such a success. and then by 1 o'clock the next afternoon, it was gone. we loved it so much that we ate nearly all of it that night. i was supposed to bring some to a friend who had helped me to shatter the pyrex dish, but i was too selfish, and decided to eat it all with my husband instead. julia child, you were an amazing woman.

now tonight, i am very content with my burned crab rangoon. i am running out the door soon to study, and somehow i feel so fulfilled by the thought. studying isn't a chore to me. i enjoy it once again, which is a great relief and a giant "a-ha!" to the last two years of my life, when i thought studying was similar in experience to dying. or at least, i was sure that it must be.

i think of my great-grandmother a lot while i'm cooking. would she have done it this way? i'm not sure. probably not. she was brilliant in the kitchen. every little thing she concocted tasted absolutely amazing.

Still You Forgive.

Today. I am already convicted.

How does a life begin and end so suddenly...how is a life taken so flippantly...how is a death the end of all things?

We take time off of work, we cancel previous engagements, we cry in corners, and hold family members until the devilish sobs that wrack their bodies slowly wear off.

"Everything I need, is You!"

We make cries like that. But so often they're not true of our hearts for very long. We go back to being calloused, hard, uninterested in each other's lives.

Ministry. A sharpened word for Christian career. Not a lifestyle so often. An on-the-clock, paid position. That's what it has turned into in America.

"Abba Father have Your way!"

What is it that makes us weep when people die? It's more than missing them...it's more than their pain...it's more than our pain.

"Let the cross draw men to You!"

I think we cry and hurt so much at funerals because it proves what is next. And we're simply not prepared to deal with it, most of the time. When I watched my Great Grandma pass away, and held her hand as she breathed for the last time, and she looked at me right be fore she died...I knew there was an afterlife. A heaven. And a hell. I knew my Great Grandma was going to be with God...I saw that her life wasn't over...her soul wasn't dead...it had simply MOVED.

"The enemy has been defeated, death couldn't hold you down, we're gonna lift our voice in victory, we're gonna make Your praises loud! Shout out to God with a voice of triumph, shout out to God with a voice of praise! Shout out to God with a voice of triumph, we lift Your name up!"

We must live as we preach...we must act as a result of His death...we must...as a result of His resurrection.

job(s)?

Thoroughly freaking out because I have two job opportunities, I need to sit and write.

Fall is knocking on my heart all day long, every day, and I long for apple-picking with friends. Cider is in my fridge, but it's not the same, and the spices stick to the sides of my kettle. Every time I boil water for tea after that, it tastes slightly of cinnamon and nutmeg...which is nice in cider, but not so much in breakfast tea, or pineapple-mango tea, or peppermint tea. (:

The trees on my street wave to me through my window, and the sunshine blinks in through the drawn shades (yes, drawn. We must keep it warm in here). Flannel sheets are keeping my toes safe from the cold that wafts around in our bedroom, and the invitation from my little sister is hilarious. "Let's Go Shopping!" (: Adorable.

I want to work for Gymboree Play & Learn, a wonderful mainly pre-school and kindergarten program that teaches a number of skills, though there are classes for infants as well! Music, art, crafts, practical school skills, and other such classes are typical of the things that they offer, and I adore that age group. Tomorrow I will be forwarding them my resume, and hopefully I will receive one of the three positions that they are currently offering.

On top of this, I have an opportunity to babysit for a Christian family in Chicago. They sound wonderful, but I am not sure if it will work...an hour one-way commute. :( Hopefully the map is wrong.

Dinner needs to be made, and I need a shower. Stinky me. (:

Au Revoir.

Father's Love.

Listening to a new discovery, The Kaleidoscope, Brighter; I think I like them. Sort of raw, need a little work, but honest.

I'll shiver and pull on my sweater. Still waiting for Nicholas to text me to tell me when to leave for the train. Comfy in the sweater and new purple scarf he's given me. It looks sunny outside, but I know it will bit me in the nose when I walk out my door.

Ad Vivum shows soon...last week's show was a bit of a disaster. One of our skits has a sort of domino-effect-feel to it, starting with one short phrase, another person continuing immediately after, almost overlapping, with a short phrase of their own, over and over again with a long row of about nine or so people. It's supposed to be a good domino effect. Last week it was a bad one, with everyone forgetting and changing their lines, so even if you knew your line, you were screwed anyway, because the person before you didn't give you your cue. Disaster. But still, even, one of our better performances, considering last year's. Sad, I know. (:

Painting has become a lovely activity for me, happening almost every day. I was surprised the other day to think that I only paint when I have some kind of inspiration in my head, and then to think that it happens almost every day, and then humbled and honored to think that God puts those inspirations into my head nearly every day.

Sent out well over ten resumes yesterday. Have thirteen or so left over. Maybe a job will come along? I hope so. I'll keep sending them out daily, I think. Who knows.

Soon to leave, I'm sure, though no text from Nicholas yet, I'm off.

Au Revoir.

meatloaf.

I am making it for dinner, hoping that it will be savoury and special, not at all bland, and holding even just a tiny candle to Nicholas' mom's meatloaf. My feet are sore from the city sidewalks, but I know that they are not really all that sore compared to Nicholas'. I also know that this laundry has to find its way to the washer, then to the dryer, and then back home again where it will sprout arms and legs and chins and fold itself, for that is really all it needs in order to be folded and clean.

Laundry. It has become the bane of my existence. I used to love doing laundry. I found it relaxing, and comforting, you know, in that warm, wrap-itself-around-you sort of feel. But now. NOW. Now I have to leave my apartment. Lug two loads of laundry up two flights of stairs. Put a ridiculous amount of quarters in the two machines that exist in our building, if they're not already full. Then put the two loads of laundry in. Carry the basket back down to the apartment, where I fumble for my keys, unlock the door, and finally set down my detergent and downy and basket. Doesn't sound like much of a chore, but when you have to do that every half-hour, call me, and we'll talk about what a "pain in a certain part of the anatomy" it is. Words of Dr. Park right there.

Looking into a ceramics class. Contacted a few different people, to find out about prices. They're not all bad. Pretty alright prices, I'd say. But not until next semester.

I think about our new house all the time. Not that we have one. :) Quite the opposite, in fact. I wish we had one, always, and I'm always daydreaming about how spacious and white and clean with wooden floors and cupboards with wide-open windows and sheer curtains flopping about in the breeze it will be. My kitchen will be huge, and I will have counters low enough for me to reach properly. (I do believe that if a meal doesn't turn out for the best, it is all due to the current countertops. Very high ones, they are.)

Our little window-unit heater (poor thing) is pumping out hot air, trying to reach the entire apartment, but the kitchen and the living room are the extent of its abilities. We will find a space-heater for the bedroom. It will be too cold in December and January to not have one, we think.

I feel special to have all these lovely quirks in my home. This has all been very nice, but I have to go check my meatloaf, and wash some dishes, maybe take care of a little laundry.

Au Revoir.

buzz buzz buzz

Arrested Development has been playing in the background all day, and I'm suddenly realizing that I have missed the Farmer's Market this morning (it ends at 12 noon). Sad day.

It's understandable and acceptable, though, as it is the first day in weeks that Nicholas and I have had a chance to sleep in on the same day. I never thought it would be so wonderful to wake up at the same time as my husband, not because of an alarm, but simply because we're not all that tired anymore.

"More touching!" Michael Bluth, the main character, yells on the screen. Hilarious.

I'm trying to learn how to customize my blog's looks, as my look rambles over to the ever-increasing laundry pile in the hamper...

Today will be full of resumes and laundry.