Joshie & Jill, or, When Little Brother Grows Up

When Joshie's hair first started really growing, he had these amazing luxurious golden curls. We were enamored with them--my two sisters and I had long brown hair that our mom wrapped in pink sponge curlers every Saturday night to get that kind of boing. And then little Ben had scraggly brownish-blond hair. Joshie was a novelty.

And then Josh grew up. He seemed to have a fascination with his hair. He caused extreme panic in my mother's heart when he decided to bleach his hair platinum the night before Lisa's wedding. Mom marched him down to Kelli's Kuttin' Korner and pled with Kelli to work hair magic. The wedding pictures show him with this odd reddish-brown cut.

There were a few other experiments with color and skater afros as Joshie skied and skated through the adventures of his life. Then there was the bungie-cord accident that nearly blinded him at age 16. Mom is convinced that that's when his hair started turning gray. I think Josh has had a lot of those kinds of experiences--for a while there it seemed like he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong friends.Then something happened: Josh met Jill at physical therapy, back in April. There was something about her in her quiet, unassuming yet confident way. Josh really wanted to date her, but she insisted that she would only date a clean, honest, active Mormon boy. That's when Josh began to clean up his life and turn things around. One thing led to another and next thing you know, Josh and Jill are officially engaged. They're getting married in May in Montana.
I'm delighted. I have been amazed at the person Josh has become. I loved watching him take Jill to meet Grandad before he died, and ended up staying for a week to help out (and that Jill went along with it so cheerfully!). I love that Josh is taking into account the responsibilities of life--that he is anxiously trying to clean up and grow up. I love having conversations with him on the phone and feeling his concern and love for me and for our brother and sisters. I love his jokes and his passion for climbing and river running and now for church. I love Jill for her patience and ability to see Josh's potential. I'm delighted that she will be a part of our family. She is an angel.Josh's hair is still a little wild--that's how I know it's really Joshie in this adult body. I love growing up.

Country Dancing in Sweet Home Alexandria

That's right, friends. Those of you who know me may know that I'm not a huge country music fan. Well, not really at all. But in preparation for an event with people from the Chilean embassy at Nick's, the local country dancing establishment here in Alexandria, Kendall and I went for a practice run last night. And I have to admit: it was GREAT. I loved the live band--Taylor Made from West Virginia--who sang songs of their own creation, like "Sweet Home Alexandria." I loved watching the most random couples in their cowboy get-up--one woman was outfitted in a crazy red dress like a bar lady. It was great. I loved the women in their cowboy boots and spurs, jangling on the floor, and the men with their western shirts. And I loved swinging around the floor in the two-step. I'd love to learn the West Coast Swing--that looks like a lot of fun times. But only if your partner knows what he's doing and he doesn't swing you off into the middle of the room. Not that that happened, but it's just a bad idea.

Roy Rosenzweig, 1950-2007

My professor and the Director of the Center for History and New Media where I have a fellowship, Roy Rosenzweig, passed away yesterday due to lung cancer. He was a wonderful man--brilliant at his specialty. He led the vanguard of digital history and opened to the world countless possibilities for public history in accessing the masses. His scholarship was sound and his efforts were astounding. He has probably impacted the way every historian has become involved with the Internet.

And he was also kind-hearted. He was a quiet man but he smiled often and his eyes twinkled. He made such conscientious decisions in our assignments at the Center, and he was supportive of our ideas and our efforts. He was eager to hear our opinions and to use our talents. I loved that in his effort to teach our PhD colloquium this semester, he wanted to know what we as students wanted to learn. His sincere desire was to help us. I remember walking with him from the last class he attended back to the Center. His steps were slow and his breath was labored. And yet he wanted to know how my semester was going and where my research was taking me. I'll never forget the last concern that he had with my life: that I not take a job that would improve my financial situation because it would hamper my studies and my scholarship. He believed in me and for that I honor him.

The Beauty of Eating

I was just scolded kindly by my Russian friend Nastya for eating a sandwich while we walked to the library. I explained that I don't seem to have time to sit down and just EAT, and she told me that it was bad for my stomach. It reminded me of living in Italy, where people constantly chided us for eating on the run, whether it was a slice of piping hot pizza or a fresh calzone or an impromptu sandwich of prosciutto and formaggio on a bun from the market. Italians couldn't understand our rush to get to appointments.

I do miss the eating culture of Italy. I love that offices and schools and stores close for two hours during pranzo, and that this becomes a sort of sacred time for family and friends to gather and eat. It's not just eating really great food, though. It's partaking of each other's company and time--of being together. It's sitting through several courses and talking and laughing and singing together.

I have so many memories--drunk Italians singing "So This is Christmas," the only English song they knew to sing to two young Americans in Sicily on Christmas day. Or the time we peeked into the kitchen before dinner and saw a live octopus in a tub of water, caught just an hour before. I think we escaped before being tortured. Or the evening with Mario's family--this huge family living out in the country, with all kinds of food and my first try of calamari and laughing and people. Or what about the Gerentano family and the basketball size bowl of spaghetti that made me cry when we left--although hearing their 2-year-old sing along to Pavaroti on TV to perfect pitch certainly made me laugh. Or eating pears and cheese after Sunday dinner on the patio overlooking the mountains of Cosenza. So many great memories...

On Sunday we had a lovely evening. We grilled shishkebabs and ate out on the patio--coconut rice, homemade bread, and salad with gorgonzola cheese, pears, and craisins. We sat out there with the citronella candle burning and talked and laughed for quite a while. I loved being with my friends--enjoying their company, listening to their perspectives, and feeling a part of something. It was a beautiful tender mercy.

You just never know what you're going to find when you walk around the corner...

So I've felt just a tad bit anxious as of late... part of it has to do with papers due, an unexpected job opportunity that just might change my entire career trajectory, recent undertakings of an old colleague, blooming social opportunities, and the cusp of a changing season.

That said, I loved coming in to work and school just now. I usually circle around trying to find a spot in the parking lot closest to my class that gets out at 10:00 pm, and I usually end up driving all the way around campus. Well today I stumbled upon someone leaving right away, so I got a very close spot. There's nothing like good parma (ME-ese for parking karma).

Then walking onto campus, I saw the funniest thing: a very sharply-dressed guy was wearing a nice navy blue double-breasted blazer with gold buttons. He carried a leather briefcase and was holding hands with a beautiful woman. Here's the kicker: he was wearing salmon pink pants that were an inch too short. It was great. Classic. I thought I was back in Italy. I loved it. It made me smile.

Then as I rounded the corner past the library, I heard some suspicious shouts and found a crowd of onlookers gathered around Fenwick. There were 3 army guys repelling off the building. It was great. It looked like fun until the one on the ropes lost his balance and bounced into the wall back first. He did make it down safely.

Who knows what will be around my next corner?

Shoot the Moon

It's been a full moon lately, and I have LOVED watching it move across the sky and change light and color. There's something about the moon... I think its cool and sometimes uneven surface is comforting in a strange sort of way. I love how the clouds can cast both an ominous and a warm shadow over the moon. Sometimes the moon looks angry--it casts an orange color. Sometimes it looks cold and slightly sad. And sometimes it's warm and inviting--like you want to do something crazy in the light of the moon.

I remember living in Arizona, where the moon can loom so much larger over the horizon than it does in other places. I would want to follow the moon out into the desert where it looked like I could drive right up to it.

My grandmother told me the other night that when she was young, when it was a full moon, they used to climb to the top of the haystacks on the farm and sing to their hearts' content. I can just picture it. I love that. I want to find a haystack in Virginia and sing to my heart's content.

Baby steps... making bread and entertaining dignitaries

So I've always joked that the reason why I'm not married is because I can't bake bread. Ask any of my former roommates. I have tried and tried. I have ruined Rhodes Frozen Rolls and I've messed up bread maker bread. I have even had problems with those stupid Pillsbury biscuits in a can in the refrigerated section. I do not know what is wrong with me. I am a strict follower of instructions. I go by the rules precisely. And yet nothing seems to work out. I can bake cookies and desserts and I can grill. I can crock pot and I can make ice cream. I can also quilt and clean. So I've decided that I'm not married because I can't bake bread. And that may or may not be a problem with my secret desire to entertain dignitaries (but that's an entirely different story...) There's always a reason, right?!?

On Friday my dear roommate Jessica walked me through making some crescent rolls for our book group. She literally watched me do everything from the yeast to the rolling to the baking. And, friends, I have some wonderful news: the rolls turned out incredibly! They were flaky and melted in my mouth. They were even good two days later!

So last night I felt a little more confident when my roommate Janae planned a big pizza dinner. She had invited 14 people and made plans for all these gourmet pizzas--goat cheese and spinach, BBQ chicken, mozzarella/tomato/basil, and pepperoni. But then something came up and she didn't make it home to prepare. I gathered all the courage I have and rolled out the dough as people started arriving. I assigned one person to be my souez chef and another person to be my facilities manager. Someone else was the table arranger and someone else became the head pizza chef. Another person started the ice cream maker. Despite problems of pizzas cooking slightly unevenly, we had success.

So bring it on, baby. I need MUCH more practice when it comes to really entertaining dignitaries, and while I did make some good crescent rolls, I still need to perfect the actual bread experience. But baby steps... baby steps...

"I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing"

I love that sense of confirmation. Yesterday on my way to class I ran into my friend Patrice who used to work at the Center for History and New Media with me. She got a job teaching second grade and is working on a master's degree. I haven't seen her since school started. She was absolutely glowing last night as she left campus. I asked her how things are going with her class and she beamed as she told me how she wakes up excited every day because she loves what she's doing. She even got her first love letter from a second grade boy yesterday:

"Mrs. Mortson, you're the best teacher ever!" with hearts all over. How great is that?!?

When I worked at BYU I had the same feeling. Most days I couldn't wait to get to work because I loved what I was doing. That excitement has worn off a little bit as I've marched through graduate school--the late nights and long readings sometimes take their toll. But the sense of confirmation--of being at the right place at the right time makes all the difference. I'm in the middle of the process right now, but I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing.

I love what Mother Theresa said once when she was asked if things were better in Calcutta as a result of her efforts: "It doesn't matter that we're successful as long as we're faithful." Therein lies the contentment.

These are a few of my favorite things...

I admit it. Yesterday I was feeling a little grouchy (yes... it happens... especially when I get pulled over because my windows are tinted too dark. What, you might ask? Yes, it's true. The cop even told me my car wasn't registered in my name, but then it turns out he punched in the wrong number. Hmmmmmm....). So on the way home from class last night I turned on my Sound of Music soundtrack and blasted "My Favorite Things" with my windows down and my sunroof open. Then I sang as loud as I dared. I decided I didn't care what other people thought of me.

It sort of reminded me of one of my favorite JB things--her depression sunglasses. She had this totally old school HUGE 1970s sunglasses that she kept in her car and when she was feeling a little depressed, she would whip out those babies and put them on, then smile and wave at all the folks. I love it. Wreckless abandon of fashion sense and what other people think, singing at the top of your lungs... these are a few of my favorite things...

What are YOURS?

OBX and the End of the Summer

I know, I know, it's been a little while since I've blogged, but since school started last week I've been reading like a wild banshee (I hope they read--they should). So how great was Labor Day weekend at the Outer Banks? It was my first experience at Duck Beach and it was almost magical. I loved it. LOVED it. And yes, I was a total nerd and toted a bag full of books to read on the beach.

If you've never been to the beach in North Carolina, I think you should make it a point in your lifetime to go. I've been often to the beach in California and even a couple of times in New York (I'm not sure Coney Island counts--but it's an experience all its own--and Fire Island was grand). But nothing compares to the Outer Banks, where the water is warm, the body surfing is exhilerating, the sun is pleasant and the sea breeze is invigorating. We experienced the beach at all its finest hours: early in the morning for a quick run, throughout the day, biking in the afternoon, in the evening at sunset, and at night scrambling from sand crabs and ocean foam. Oh--and the lighthouse!We rented a big beach house with about 20 people--complete with a pool and a hot tub, across the street from the beach. It was all about cards and food and BBQs and talking and lounging and ME dancing. It was the perfect end of the summer, and now it's time to really buckle down and hit the books.

Tonight, tonight... Boy, boy, pretty boy... and other such showtunes excitement

Last night we had a perfectly delightful evening at Wolf Trap with the Boston Pops and Keith Lockhart. I would even go so far as to say it was magical in that I had a whole host of memories and emotions reawakened from deep within me.

Such as "Rhapsody in Blue." I love the free and easy melody that tightens and expands across the keyboard and up and down the scale and the convergence of instruments--brass, winds, strings, percussion. Ah, the good old days of the Timpview High School Orchestra and Terry Hill. We rehearsed and rehearsed to play this for state orchestra in Logan, Utah, sometime in the spring of 1991. Of course we took state (who wouldn't have with Sam Peery on the piano?), but I mostly remember studying madly for the AP US history test on the bus all the way up and all the way back with my nerdy orchestra friends, and laughing our heads off.

Then there were our various performances of "Rhapsody in Blue" while on our Eastern European tour. We performed it in Wencelas Square in Prague to a crowd of Czechs. We also performed it in the piazza of a small town somewhere in Slovakia--the streets were not flat there, and we had to figure out how to keep our music stand up and the piano from rolling. In the middle of his first solo piece, Sam discovered that the keyboard was 8 keys short and he had to improvise.

Then Keith Lockhart pulled out West Side Story... let's just say I couldn't sit still. My sisters and I used to dance and sing to the old record my mom had. I think Lisa even tried to write down all the words so she could memorize them (there were a few phrases in "America" that we could never figure out).

I took a Cinematic Adaptations of Literature class my last semester at BYU, and we studied Romeo and Juliet. We read the play, then watched both Zefferelli's film and West Side Story, and I became enamored with the choreographic adaptation of Shakespearean emotion.

When I lived in Arizona, Jennifer and I had a friend, Mikey, who would upon request do the "Boy, boy, pretty boy" snap song for us. We loved it!

When I lived in New York City, I was amazed to find out that the movie had been filmed where the Lincoln Center is today, and the neighborhood used to house thousands of lower class ethnic groups, who heavily protested the demolition for an upper class performing arts center that I had grown to love.

So last night was magical... from "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to "Bring Him Home." I love show tunes!

My new passion: homemade ice cream

I don't know how it happened... ever since I experimented with that peach gelato recipe, I've become addicted. I can't stop thinking about new recipes or checking Craig's List for a good, cheap ice cream maker. Until then I'm borrowing my friend's amazing Cusinart ice cream maker and fantasizing about all sorts of Ben & Jerry's flavors. This weekend it was Milky Way, with chunks of the candy bar swirled in. Next week I've already decided: mint oreo. I even have the ingredients. There's just something about the texture and quick melting of homemade ice cream. It's rich and smooth and pure flavor. I'm dying to try fresh blueberry, since it is the season.

I think my love for ice cream comes from my grandmother. I love hearing stories of ice cream on the farm--they would each get a half a cantelope and fill it with homemade ice cream, then eat to their heart's content. I can just imagine the lazy summer days in Duncan on the Gila River, staying up late to talk and play games and sing. When I was little whenever any of us were sick, Grandad would bring over a McDonald's milkshake, saying it was the doctor's orders. I think those milkshakes were always the best medicine. On my mission we used to stop for gelato every day in the summer, and sometimes even in the winter. In Palermo they eat ice cream in a brioche--like a roll. So good! Maybe we can try that this weekend, too.

Ice cream just makes everything ok. One day I'm going to figure out how to make my favorite Italian gelato: nocciola (hazelnut). Or then there's frutta di bosca (a wonderful medley of berries). Oh--and nutella ice cream! Or a cone with nutella AND nocciola... oh the possibilities are endless!

A Bountiful Harvest

Yesterday morning I went to the farmer's market in Old Town Alexandria for the first time--and it immediately became one of my favorite events that I want to go to every Saturday. There were all sorts of stands from farms mostly in West Virginia, with all sorts of fruits and vegetables--tomatoes the size of my face, peaches, corn, cantelope, apples, cucumbers, berries, watermelons--and baked goods, jams, jellies, breads, rolls, cinnamon rolls. And then the flowers--sunflowers, daisies, herbs. I was overwhelmed with the colors, the smells, and the tastes--every stand had samples. It was amazing.

So of course I bought a bunch of stuff--I was so excited for garden tomatoes that I almost cried. I have been afraid to plant anything around here because of the darn squirrels. I had to take a picture of our purchases.

I told my friend about my outing, and she told me about her favorite thing about living in Omaha a few years ago. Every Sunday during the summer harvest season, people would bring their excess to the church kitchen and it was a free-for-all. Every week, she picked up tomatoes and corn, and she dropped off her offering--usually brownies or cookies. What a great system.

This morning I found a new favorite passage in the Old Testament, Leviticus 26:
3 ¶ If ye ^awalk in my statutes, and ^bkeep my commandments, and do them;

4 Then I will ^agive you ^brain in due season, and the land shall yield her increase, and the trees of the field shall yield their fruit.

5 And your threshing shall reach unto the vintage, and the vintage shall reach unto the sowing time: and ye shall eat your bread to the full, and dwell in your land safely.

6 And I will ^agive ^bpeace in the land, and ye shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid: and I will rid evil beasts out of the land, neither shall the sword go through your land.

7 And ye shall chase your ^aenemies, and they shall fall before you by the sword.

8 And five of you shall chase an hundred, and an hundred of you shall put ten thousand to flight: and your enemies shall fall before you by the sword.

9 For I will ^ahave respect unto you, and make you fruitful, and multiply you, and establish my covenant with you.

10 And ye shall eat old store, and ^abring forth the old because of the new.

11 And I will set my tabernacle among you: and my soul shall not abhor you.

12 And I will ^awalk ^bamong you, and will be your ^cGod, and ye shall be my ^dpeople.

13 I am the LORD your God, which brought you forth out of the land of Egypt, that ye should not be their bondmen; and I have broken the bands of your ^ayoke, and made you go upright.

Oh, Bean!

Ben outside the Supreme Court

When my brother Ben was little, he was playing one day with a little neighbor girl, Rachel Harrison. Who knows what kind of monkey business the two were up to when for some strange reason, a dresser fell on Ben. Little Rachel was so worried that she shrieked, "Oh, Bean, are you ok? Bean?" She was a little confused--but we like to repeat the phrase.

Ben stopped by for a quick visit this weekend. He had just finished a 6-week internship in Vermont with an outdoor magazine, where he camped in his truck the whole time. I was quite impressed with his resourcefulness and ability to save money--he showed me his whole set-up with a big tank of propane for his stove, his mountain bike, his bed--it all fit nicely. He made friends with the old man who ran the campground and offered to do work in exchange for a free stay and use of their showers--he actually built a huge fire ring after his day job. One week it rained for almost a week straight. Ben would finish his day's work, then go sit in his cab until he rigged up a tarp so he could at least fire up his stove in the back of the truck. I have to hand it to him--he certainly knows how to make things work.

We had a great time--seeing the monuments at night, touring the Capitol, the Museum of the American Indian, and the Air and Space Museum, and wandering around Georgetown. I love this kid.

La Festa di Pesca

It just sounds so much better in Italian than in English--The Peach Fest. But that's what we had last night. 'Tis the season, and I'm a believer! Jessica grilled pork chops with a peach glaze and made this amazing peach salsa with avocado and tomatoes. We added a green salad and grilled green and yellow squash for color and vitamins. For dessert, Suzanne made this amazing peach crisp with blueberries, and I found a recipe for peach gelato (no ice cream maker necessary) that I of course had to try. It turned out delightful! The perfect texture--oh the Italian memories--and great flavor. And it was so easy... now I want to try it with other fruits. Do you think it would work with watermelon?!?

3 pounds peaches, peeled and pitted
1/4 cup fine sugar
1/2 cup yogurt (the recipe called for mascarpone or yogurt. I just used vanilla yogurt).

Cut up the fruit--the smaller chunks the better. Place on a cookie sheet and freeze until frozen solid (about 2 hours). Grind in blender with sugar, then add yogurt. Blend until smooth. Place in a container and return to freezer for 20 to 30 minutes before serving. If the ice cream freezes all the way through, put it through the blender before serving.

So my tender mercy is this: Enjoy the season!

Rain, rain, and more rain

How do I get myself into the most random, precarious situations? Last Friday I was at work and it started pouring rain. I laughed when my friend mentioned that she hates the rain and she wished it would stop soon. I told her that we really needed the water... grass is dying all over the place around here and they've declared a drought emergency in Maryland.

Those words came back to haunt me. I was supposed to meet my co-workers at Happy Hour at Artie's in Fairfax. They all left a little early, when the rain cleared up a bit, but I wanted to put in a full 8 hours of work. I thought if it was still raining I would grab the old CHNM extra umbrellas in the storage closet and be fine.

Unfortunately, we have a new admin who actually locks the storage closet. And it was raining hard--like crazy--small rivers forming everywhere. I had parked far far away in the student parking lot. And I was wearing a cute little summer skirt and white blouse. I sat in the lobby waiting for the rain to slow down, thinking I didn't really want to go to Happy Hour and pretend like I was having fun with a bunch of tech geeks who were drinking up a storm. Then I got into a conversation with a random lady, who offered me a ride to my car... and yes, friends, I accepted a ride with a stranger. Her name was Tippi, but her real name was Elthenia, because her mother loves names that start with E. She drove a minivan with a bunch of really great shoes sitting in the front seat. And just when I thought she was going to kidnap me and sell me to the gypsies, she actually drove me as close to my car as possible and I jumped out without getting too wet...

It's true... I'm official... I'm a Virginian

I did it... I got a Virginia driver's license and registered my car here. No more Utah Delicate Arch plates. I have to admit, I have mixed feelings about this. I embrace my East Coast identity, but I did like my Utah past. For those of you who ride in my car, you'll often hear me exclaim, "I'm from Utah!" when I am not entirely graceful in my driving or when I'm obviously lost. No more excuses now. I'm actually super excited. And the best part is that I thought I'd have to pay upwards near of a million dollars to register here in Arlington County, but I was pleasantly surprised. Virginia isn't so bad after all...

Art for Art's Sake

Sometimes I think we forget to take advantage of the things surrounding us. I am completely embarrassed to admit that in the 11 months that I have been here, the only Smithsonian museum I've visited is the National Portrait Gallery. Hello! For some reason the Potomac River has became an impassable barrier... at least for art. I go into the District all the time to meet friends for dinner, or for a movie, or to eat pizza behind the Lincoln Monument, or to go running along the tidal basin or the National Mall. But for some unexplainable reason I haven't embraced the Smithsonian.

Yesterday I met a friend in the District. We had hoped to see the exhibit at the Ripley Center on the French and Indian War, but alas, neither one of us had looked at the fine print (it closed 15 July). Instead we wandered through two museums that otherwise I probably would have never visited. First stop was the Freer Gallery--Asian Art. I loved the soothing calm of the Buddhas and the tranquil scenes on Japanese silk screens. And the James Whistler Peacock Room was incredibly rich and ornate.

Then we headed over to the Hirshorn Museum. Josh told me I'd probably hate it because it's contemporary art. Some of it, it's true, I didn't really understand. But there were some fascinating photographs and invigorating art--the kind that inspires conversation and questions and intrigue with color and texture. My favorite was this giant canvas of stripes--the colors were great and I loved the different shades and varying widths. There wasn't any more than that--but I was completely drawn in by the colors playing off of each other in very straight, linear ways.

So I really do need to take more advantage of everything around me...

Overdue Library Books and Tender Mercies

So this is a really great story... and somehow a really great tender mercy. Last semester I had a run-in with the Mason Library. I have come to depend greatly upon book-due notices in my email. At Mason, they hand you a slip of paper in the book with the due date, which I always either use as a bookmark or use as a bookmark in another book or just lose. Fall semester (and at every other program I've been in) they sent out overdue notices BEFORE the book was due. I always managed to stay on top of things. Last semester, though, there was a glitch in the computer and I had an overdue book. I tried to talk myself out of the exorbitant fine and was squashed in the face by a really mean (though young and male) librarian.

One of the great parts of the Mason Library system is that although they have a somewhat poor collection, they are part of the Washington Research Library Consortium and you can check out books from any university around, which they'll deliver to the Mason Library.

Well as you may know, it's been a crazy couple of months for me with the end of the semester and all the family stuff going on. Sunday night I was digging through a pile and found a WRLC library book due 13 June. Yikes! If you're overdue on WRLC books, they'll give you a fine and revoke your borrowing privileges, something not too appealing while I'm still in the beginning of my program.

And here's where the tender mercies come in. The power went out at work yesterday, so I took the opportunity to run over to the library. I saw Mean Librarian guy outside smoking, so I ran in like a flash to return the book before he unleashed his fury. I apologized from the bottom of my heart to the guy in there, who told me he was not the Spanish Inquisition, and then reminded me that it had been due 13 June. He checked the computer, and there was magically no fine! And no repercussions! I like to think of it as Grandad looking out for me since I was looking out for him...

I love Experts

So this may be a bit random, but I love friends who are experts. My grad school colleague Misha used to do lighting for community theater and college theater in Washington and northern California. On Wednesday she and I went to Wolf Trap to see Camelot, a delightful experience. Not only was it a beautiful summer evening (not hot or humid! and it's July! and it only rained for 10 minutes during the intermission!), and the music and plot were great (so sad! and yet so hopeful!). I loved hearing Misha explain all the lighting and sets and back stage activity. It was like my own private tour from my grass seat without even moving. I learned all about scrims and screens and heard all sorts of stories about some very creative ways she rigged together special effects. Very cool.

Yesterday, a whole bunch of us gathered at our friend Carrie's house. She has experienced some horrible grief over the past couple of weeks, and she's now at of town at a funeral. We cleaned and repaired and planted flowers. While I think Brad was the only real expert there (he actually knows how to fix anything--and I love that I can call him for the most random repair work), the rest of us were experts in doing whatever we could to express our love and concern for Carrie. It was incredible to watch--so many trips to Lowe's to buy Magic Erasers and flowers and mulch and weed killer--scrubbing walls and the fridge and every window around. People even went the extra mile and mowed the back lawn and trimmed the neighbors' edges. The place looked incredible.

I have a good friend who is an expert at computer security, and she is coming over sometime this week to help me configure my laptop. Another friend is an amazing scriptorian, and she always seems to have the perfect scripture for my Sunday School lesson. I also draw upon amazing cooks, people with impeccable fashion sense (i.e. flashy red shoes for my birthday), quilters, web developers, and historians. I LOVE watching people in their own element and drawing from their talents.