The Scent of Trees

This morning, on the way to school, I was singing in my car - as I do, loudly - when I drove through the orange groves on either side of the road. The scent of springtime orange blossoms is enough for you to stop your car in the street, but all I did was stop mid-verse to breathe in. Later, on the way home, passing the trees again, the stirred-up atmosphere made for more fleeting fragrance - far less intense than the heavy velvet of scent hanging in the still and dark air. But just enough of a flirtation to remind you of its presence. However long it lasts each year.

I am reasonably certain heaven must smell like an orange grove in blossom on a warm spring evening.

Or else like a eucalyptus grove.

The scent of central-coast eucalyptus was even more pervasive, in that it is fragrant year-round, not just for a season. Always present. The cool, humid air forever thick with it. It reminds you where you are. It reminds you of where you used to be.

Category 2

Several of my current favorite songs all have the word "hurricane" in the lyrics. I like to think it's not because of my meteorological background (after all, it's my husband with the tropical experience), and that it's all a mere coincidence, but, really, who am I kidding...

How He Loves, Jeremy Riddle

Listen

Winter Snow, Audrey Assad

Watch

Crashing Down, Mat Kearney

Listen

and just for good measure, even though it's not currently in my On-The-Go:

Hurricane Eye, Paul Simon

Listen

I also think Jars of Clay's latest album The Long Fall Back To Earth is brilliant and that you should listen to it. Repeatedly. And also mewithoutYou's latest, particularly The Fox, The Crow, and The Cookie.

NYC, Day 1

Had a mixed-bag kind of day today.

It started rather inauspiciously when I discovered that I had lost my favorite rhinestone airplane brooch from my winter coat. I halfway recall having it catch on something last night, but I can't remember whether it was at MCO or EWR or anywhere in between, but I don't suppose it matters. And a quick scan of the internets shows no duplicate on offer anywhere. I wish I didn't attach such significance to stuff and things, but I really miss that pin.

Anyhow, I had been looking forward to my day out on my own in the city all week. I hadn't done much in the way of trip-planning, so I was mostly planning to re-visit places from previous trips. It has been just about three years since I was last here (Spring Break 2007), which is by far the longest I'd gone between visits in the last ten years or so. Previously, I'd managed to make trips here at least once a year. Anyhow, my point is that I didn't have much on my to-go list that were new. Which is perhaps what set me up for the day I had.

I planned quite an ambitious schedule. I knew that once Mr. Jenspin arrived, we likely wouldn't go at quite a breakneck speed, nor would he be terrifically interested in endless thrift-shop shopping or art museums. So, I crammed my solo day in the city full of those very things. I decided to get an early start, because I didn't know how long it would take to get into the city from New Jersey - this being the first time ever I wouldn't be staying with my Manhattan friend. I stayed up relatively last night, researching opening hours and directions and addresses and filling in my new fancypants city book. Plus I'm operating on a significant sleep deficit, so I knew it was going to be an exhausting day.

At some point, I took out my camera to take a picture. I had "charged" my camera battery the night before leaving so I wouldn't have to tote my charger with me. Well, when I pulled my camera out to take a picture at some point in the morning, I discovered that my charger had effectively DIScharged my battery. So now I had no camera, instead, I now had a couple useless pounds to tote around all day, taking up space in my bag. I had to resort to my phone camera, which meant no creative control and, thus, no artsy shots of Grand Central like I was planning. :( It did, however, offer instant uploads. At least it has that going for it. At one point, I popped into a camera shop and explained my predicament, and asked them their price on a charger. Admittedly, I was hoping the guy would offer to just charge it for 10 minutes or so and send me on my way, but no. Silly midwestern altruism, sure, but it certainly would have been appreciated. Because I had no intention of spending $50 on a charger.

Across the street from the curmudgeonly photography shopkeeper was a delightful little Belgian cafe that had packaged Liege waffles in the window. I ducked in and bought one as my afternoon snack. I probably would have enjoyed lunch there, but I was on the move!

I discovered last night that the Strand bookstore had closed their Annex location downtown, and I didn't think Century 21 alone was a sufficient draw downtown, so I aimed for their 12th and Broadway location. I liked the Annex better because it just seemed like there was a better selection, reminiscent of the stacks at university - endless numbers of rows of musty old books and utterly delightful. Anyhow, I asked them about an obscure author, and they have never had any of his books in stock, ever. Wow. That's impressive! Anyhow, I had been hoping for that (again, high expectations) , so it was a bit of a bust when they didn't have any. I looked around a bit, bought a Paulo Coelho novel for $4.95, and saw a book that looked terrifically interesting, but I didn't know that a) it's very recently published and b) it was a pretty good price until I got back to the hotel and looked it up on amazon. So I will go back and get it later this weekend.

I continued on my long loop around the east and west village, stopping at a couple shops, but again, either finding them shuttered and moved (Broadway Panhandler), or without what I was seeking (Pearl River Mart). As I walked around, I just chose a route based mostly on the direction of the Walk sign at an intersection, and I found myself on streets I knew, seeing shops and restaurants in which I'd been before. Pleased at the familiarity, I pressed onward towards a Housing Works thrift shop. I had been in one of their stores (and bookstores) before, and they have a really well-edited collection of items in lovely condition. I didn't recall that they commanded such a high price, however. I love to look for neckties at thrift shops - they're always so cheap. Here, though, I found some lovely items, but at $25 or $40, it was hardly thrift! Another frustration.

Popped into a fountain pen store - the likes of which I wish we had at home. Everything from Pilot Varsity to Montblanc. Bought myself inks and pencil lead: a bottle of Private Reserve in Sonic Blue, a pretty tin of J. Herbin cartridges in Rouge Bourgogne, and some red and blue Pentel mechanical-pencil lead!

Down the street from the pen place was Grand Central Terminal. I had had grand designs of getting artful shots in the station, but alas, I had to settle for camera-phone pictures. Did pop into Penzey's, the Official Spice Supplier to our household for some curry powder, garlic powder, cinnamon, and whole nutmeg.

I really treasure days of solo travel. It's very likely a function of my only-child-ness. Since I travel (or, rather, used to travel) a fair amount for work, I often have occasion to explore new places on my own. Even when my husband and I travel together, our interests are sufficiently different that we'll usually take a day to have separate adventures and then enjoy telling each other about them over dinner. Anyhow, I also don't mind going to a movie on my own, though eating out solo is always a little awkward (even with a book). Nevertheless, I do travel well by myself. Somewhere south of Abingdon Square, heading uptown towards the library (in which I want to live one day), I realized that even if I'm by myself, I'm never truly alone. I tote around with me the people whom I love. I see something and think, "Oh, she'd really love this." "I can't wait to tell him all about that." I also love presents (mostly giving them), and so I'm constantly on the lookout for treats to take back home. Some kind of token to show them that I was thinking of them while absent from them. Postcards often fill the same role - particularly with how much I love mail. Another benefit of solo travel is the freedom to not compromise. I can indulge myself in ridiculous itineraries without having the pressure of a companion to whom I feel I owe a well-crafted experience.

Anyhow.

It was getting on to afternoon, so I had a decision to make. The Met or The Guggenheim. I had been to the former about a decade earlier, shortly after taking my first art-history course as a freshman in college. I have never been to the latter. I wound up at the Met. I figured I wanted to see "Big" art. The instantly-recognizable pieces.

London's National Gallery is incredible for its collection of recognizable artworks. It's also has a more friendly layout, with a map and labeled rooms. The European Paintings rooms were not well-outlined, and very difficult to navigate. Well, after plundering around European Masters, I popped into the shop, where I was reminded of their American art, which includes Madame X by John Singer Sargent, one of my favorite paintings. So I tried to find my way over to the American Wing. Once I finally found my way there (no easy task), I learned that the American Wing would be closed for renovations until 2011. Grrr. So, though I saw some fantastic art (including a phenomenal collection of drawings by Bronzino), I still had a swing-and-a-miss at the museum.

Earlier, my husband had messaged me to tell me that he had jumped an earlier flight, so I had to cut short my dinner plans. Well, cut my dinner plans, period. And to pick him up at the airport, I would need to get back to the hotel, grab a friend's car, and drive to EWR. This was the second-most intimidating drive of my entire life! (First was driving a manual transmission overnight in the wee hours of the morning through the hills of Missouri and into Kansas, as we moved to California. #3 was a pre-dawn drive on the opposite side (Between Melbourne and Adelaide) to take pictures in sunrise light. Eeep - the NJ Turnpike and toll booths without easypass and the very real likelihood of making a wrong turn and ending up in a tunnel into the city... I realized how dependent I am on my own car's navigation system. I looked up directions to the airport, but neglected to figure out how to get back to the hotel. All's well that ends well, certainly. It just took a phone call to a friend with a laptop and Google Maps to make sure we stayed in New Jersey and didn't wind up in Pennsylvania or Manhattan.

Today's soundtrack: an eclectic mix of club/dance tracks to which I would never have listened, had someone not given them to me.

In the Kitchen

Spent a ton of money at Whole Foods tonight, but the company and subsequent dinner was totally worth it.

So far tonight, what's come out of my kitchen:

Saveur Lamb Burgers

A riff on these, sans mustard and sauteed onions. Amazingly good on toasted wheat buns with feta, cucumber, and a sprinkle of lemon juice. Served with Israeli couscous and a steamed artichoke.

Roasted-Banana Browned-Butter Banana Bread

I have a hard time thinking any banana bread is going to be better than my mom's, but I'm willing to give this one a go.

And some organic whole-milk yogurt is inoculating as I type.

Tomorrow, I will make a week's worth of scones to go with my double cream and apricot jam. Probably grill a teriyaki pork tenderloin and some fresh pineapple spears. And some felafel in pita that I've been craving for a few days now.

As much as I adore computing in the kitchen, I figure it's just a matter of time before I have to explain the cake flour in my laptop to my sysadmin...

Long Weekend

Even though (because?) I have tons of work to do this weekend, I'm really glad for the holiday weekend. This morning, I worked against some of my sleep deficit, which grew significantly this week and left me vulnerable to an opportunistic cold virus. I slept until 930a, which was perfect - long enough for good rest, but not too long that I felt I squandered the morning.

Yesterday's grey all-day rain gave way to clear-and-cool today, and I spent far too much of it indoors. As the sun sank, I decided to follow the very advice I gave to someone earlier this afternoon. I took a 45-minute walk around the neighborhood and down to the lake. Meanwhile, I got to see/hear some of the early-evening international arrivals and departures on 35R.

Unfinished

Three weeks ago, I stumbled into a conversation with my last-period philosophers about the nature of teaching and why I choose to teach when I could make (and have made) way more money doing something else. One student asked me how much money it would take for me to leave teaching and return to research, and I told him honestly that it would take a lot - if not an infinite amount. Because I certainly don't teach for the money. I left it at that, that afternoon, and we got onto another topic, but I felt like I was hardly scratching the surface. Then, that very evening, not 3h later, I'm reading Colossians 3 in a discussion about work as worship (avad in Hebrew), and there it is. The fundamental underpinnings of my teaching philosophy.

23 Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24 since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Exactly one week later, as I'm driving in my car, something reminded me of another conversation I've always felt was left unfinished.

Three years ago, someone very dear to me asked why, as a Christian, I would want to be bound by rules, to be subservient to God, when I could be free to do as I please. And I don't feel I gave him a sufficient answer. I said something about the importance of the relationship, and to honor that relationship, to please our Creator, I do as He asks. Because a faith in God isn't about restrictions and rules - He gives us some because He's a loving Father who cares for His children and wants the best for them (the same way our parents would tell us not to touch the hot stove) - it's about Love. Following the rules doesn't achieve salvation, after all. Our mutual love with God does. And our response to His overwhelming love is our obedience to His commands - the greatest of which is love.

I choose to live within boundaries and there, paradoxically, is where I find my greatest freedom. Because living according to God's will and commands, I find, increasingly, affords us freedom from the broken trappings of this world. Instead of freedom to do whatever I like, I am free from so much more - and spared the heartache and want and separation and regret and ramifications that come with the freedom to do whatever I please. Sure, I can do anything I want. I choose not to. Sin enslaves us, not God's commands. God could have easily designed humans to be mindless drones that worship and serve Him at His control, but He instead gave us the freedom to choose Him and His ways, contrary to our very flesh and nature. Even if we are sloppy with it, how much more meaningful is our decision to love Him, then, when the option not to is on the table?

1 Peter 2:16: Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God.

In Exodus 21:5-6, the slave is given the choice between "freedom" or remaining in the service of a loving master. And in doing so, he is adopted into the family as an heir. Galatians 4:3-9 puts it into the context of Jesus.

So also, when we were children, we were in slavery under the basic principles of the world. But when the time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, to redeem those under law, that we might receive the full rights of sons. Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, "Abba, Father." So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir. Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods. But now what you know God - or rather are known by God - how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable principles? Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again?

And thus, my choice gives me an eternal inheritance far beyond worldly wealth.

Well. As time goes on, I feel strangely shy about trying to resume these conversations. I don't know why - it's admittedly silly for someone so prone to non sequitur! Instead, I feel some strange need to throw it all out into the universe, on a blog - I don't even know who reads it - partly for my own closure, partly to atone for having left them unfinished in the first place. But mostly, I suspect, for reasons I may never know.

Sponge-o-Rama!

Today, I took my parents on a Gulf-Coast Adventure. We drove 2+ hours to Tarpon Springs, a touristy community north of Tampa, known for its Greek-immigrant population, drawn originally for its sponge industry. The spongebeds are mostly depleted, but the old-Florida tacky-fabulous "museums" and sponge shops remain amidst Greek restaurants and bakeries.

We arrived late in the morning, and scored free parking (under a wire popular with local fowl, who proceeded to foul my car). We went first to get tickets for a boat tour of the Anclote River and out to the Gulf, stopping at a barrier island (Anclote Key) for seashelling.

From there, we went to lunch at Mykonos, where we had potato patties (patatekeftedes or something similar), flavored with lemon, parsley, and feta, followed by souvlaki, Greek salad, and pan-fried shrimp. Too stuffed for dessert, we wandered the main strip, in and out of shops, wishing I had any desire for a natural sponge. They just look gross. It's a textural thing, but they just look icky. I'll take my hot pink synthetic bath poof over a natural sponge any day, sorry Tarpon Springs.

Anyhow, we puttered around until boarding time. Off we went! It was a slow tour out of the river in the no-wake zone, but we got to see several large birds and some dolphin frolicking (and later, fishing).

We motored on out to the key, were we went ashore and collected seashells. I don't know why, exactly, I collected so many, but I will find something to do with them. There were so many, everywhere! Way more than the east coast beaches. We were warned against taking any with live critters in them, partly because we should leave living creatures go about their business, and partly because of the dreadful funk they would create. I noticed a bit of funk coming from my trunk (the whole island emanated that scent). Later, at home, when rinsing, I discovered that I brought a couple of the wee beasties home. :-/

Anyhow, following our return to the dock, we drove out to Sunset Beach, but sunset was obscured by some high clouds, so we took some pictures, watched an engagement-photo session, and were entertained by a trio of high-schoolers who lost a football in a palm tree and subsequently lost about eight large rocks in futile attempts to knock it loose. Watch your heads under palm trees in the middle of Sunset Beach, Tarpon Springs, everyone. Anyhow, we took off towards downtown Tampa, where I knew of a Taco Bell with Chili Cheese Burritos. We navigated there, only to find the Taco Bell... well, no Taco Bell. It is now some pizza place. The up side was the car wash next door, where for 5 bucks, I got my car cleaned (including bird-poop-pressure-wash and hand dry.

Not a bad way to spend a day.

Kitsch Tally:

Pressed Penny Count: 2 (well, okay, 3 because the first one didn't turn out well)

Wacky Wavy Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tube Man Count: 4

O-Rama Count: 1

Shameless Commerce

What I'm telling those that ask:

13 weeks of pottery studio time! Who knew this existed?? Would be so fun for summer.

Rain boots! I like these and these.

New Dansko clogs. Mine were a Christmas gift several years ago, and I keep leaving sole fragments wherever I walk. At this point, re-soling is likely out of the question. These are what I have. I don't understand how these are different. But these are really cool!

ipod headphones

New David Gray album

Old Brandon Heath album

Le Creuset Enameled Cast Iron 5-qt Oval French Oven. Like my stand mixer, this is destined to be on my "why didn't I own this sooner" list, I suspect. Or maybe 6.75-qt. I don't know. Not picky on color, but I don't love the orange/red. I should probably haunt LC outlets, Tuesday Mornings, or Marshalls.

Levenger Empyrean Ink

10x10x3-inch and 6x6x3-inch square cake pans. A turntable too.

HK socks!

Lush Snow Fairy shower gel and solid perfume. Also Candy Fluff perfume.

The wide-angle lens I rented this past summer.

Once Upon a Time...

...I had a blog.

It's Thanksgiving Break. And with this prolonged sabbath, I intend to rest. And read. And write. Though I need to read lab reports and write grades on papers, a friend has convinced me to feel little guilt about taking a deserved time of rest.

Tomorrow's Destination: Tarpon Springs.

Peace of Wild Things

The Peace of Wild Things

Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me

and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water,

and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

No Audience

...the world requires no audience, no witnesses...

(Conor Oberst, I Must Belong Somewhere)

At sundown, I often think it strange that the waves continue crashing, the mountains keep on standing, even after they dissolve into inky black. All the beauty on earth is routinely hidden.

The mere fact that I can't see it doesn't keep it from happening. Which immediately feels extraordinarily self-absorbed; I know that these things don't exist exclusively for my pleasure. (Sure, they do, to some extent.^{1 ,2})

Hearing the ocean - but not seeing it - always reminds me of my size in the universe. And the beauty in the promise of a sunrise.

Science Scouts

I'll admit I really only wanted to be in Girl Scouts for the badges.  Okay, and maybe the cookies.  Because you could get a badge for selling cookies!

So, much delight to come across this!

Here's my sash!

Commencement

Graduation is today.  I adore graduations, as I do most ceremony.  (Okay, partly because there is costuming involved!)  The symbolism of academic regalia.  The families and the accomplishment and the transition.  The pomp.  The circumstance.  

The tears I shed are from an overflow of feelings, not exclusively sadness.  I never fail to find myself swept up in a tempest of emotion.  Sure, there is sadness for the loss of the everyday presence of some very special individuals.  But it's tempered.  By excitement for students concluding this chapter and outlining the next.  Pride in some students' extraordinary stories and the joy of participation in them.  Love.  

In the words of Dr. Seuss, which will inevitably be used in commencement addresses worldwide: do not cry because it's over - smile because it happened.

Congratulations, Class of 2009.  Go, and take flight.  Travel lightly, but keep some souvenirs of these four years tucked in your suitcase hearts.

Birthday Month!

It's already nine days into my birthday month, and I'm finally now alerting everyone.

It's nice to have a birthday at the very end of the month - once the calendar page changes, I get several weeks of anticipation.

Here's my list of what I want for my birthday, for which I know you've all been waiting.

Remove Before Flight keychain

Hinge Wallet - because Jess says I need a new wallet

Stila Twinset in Demi Claret (two, please!)

OPI Polish in Underwater Fantasy

Gap dress - black; size TBD

Extension tubes so I can fake some macro shots

Wide-angle lens (hey, it's a wishlist)

Phineas; Six Stories by John Knowles

Levenger ink - Empyrean

10-lb Adjustable Ankle Weights

Bike Helmet - Size M/L, not picky on color, probably black.

A jacaranda tree

A Meyer lemon tree

Music:

Brandon Heath (both albums)

The new U2

The new Jars of Clay

Missed Marks

What I ordered for my mom for Mother's Day:

What was delivered:

The hell?! 

Okay, okay, to be entirely fair, the florist did tell me that they were out of the dahlias, and I told them to substitute a chrysanthemum or lily or something else big.

But come on.

First, with the colors of those roses in there, I'd have probably gone with a dark pink or red gerbera, not orange.  Or yellow spray roses instead of ivory.  I dig the pittosporum, but greenery alone cannot redeem this.

Second, that vase is all wrong. The arrangement's shape is all wrong. I ordered it for the subtle asymmetry in a modern vase, but I got off-kilter bud-vase arranging in a ginger-gar vase.

Third, I know flowers open as they age, but it just looks scrawny.

I guess that's what I get for trying a new florist... >:(

Holy Week

It's been an interesting and busy week, but, outside of my Monday-night small group's discussion of Passover, I haven't paid much attention to the upcoming Easter celebration, much beyond buying Peeps1 for my chemistry classes' gas-laws demonstrations.   I have foregone many of the typical Eastertime traditions - nothing given up for Lent, the extent of my fasting was for a blood test one afternoon, reading things other than scripture.

In what can only be characterized as a half-assed attempt at remembrance, I started collecting some songs in a Holy Week playlist, of sorts.  I've been listening to it in the car most of the week.  A mix of praise, darkness, reinvented hymns, redemption, and, ultimately, love.

Jesus Paid It All, Mosaic Worship

...o praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead...

The Eleventh Hour, Jars of Clay

...I'll find you when I think I'm out of time...

The Wonderful Cross, Chris Tomlin (and maybe Matt Redman?)

...bids me come and die and find that I may truly live...

What Wondrous Love, Jars of Clay

...while millions join the theme...

Beautiful, Scandalous Night, Smalltown Poets

...at the wonderful, tragic, mysterious tree/ on that beautiful scandalous night you and me/ were atoned by His blood and forever washed white...

 

O Come and Mourn With Me Awhile, Jars of Clay

...and victory remains with love...

Martyrs and Thieves, Jennifer Knapp

...where there is peace and love in the light...

Everything, Lifehouse

not particularly Eastery, but it's just one of my favorites

Love Song, Third Day

This song provokes a physical response in me like none other. 

...and I know that you don't understand the fullness of my love/how I died upon the cross for your sins/and I know that you don't realize how much that I give you/ and I promise you I would do it all again...

Marvelous Light, Charlie Hall

Another one I included just because I like it.

...see the light that I have found...

Bread and Wine, Campus House

I don't even know what the real name of this song is or how to attribute it - it's ripped from a 11-year-old CD from a campus ministry - but it's lovely.  I can't quite make out all the lyrics, but here are some of them:

Eat my bread 

Drink my wine

Bitterness yields to the sweet

[? ?]

I watch you lie upon your bed 

of reminiscent regret

and I would simply like to say 

that I will not let go

Drink my wine

Eat my bread

Raise your glass of tears and laugh instead

It's funny you should pray, I must say

I was just thinking about you

thinking about the day 

when you said you will not let go

One death [debt?]

One breath [bread?]

One blood

One Father's little baby boy

One truth

One man

And [?] passion

One night

Flesh is bread

Blood is wine

Give and take if you are 

so inclined

Lose yourself in me 

and I will be the whole of you

Take your brother's hand and say 

that you will not let go

1 Side note on Easter candy: When I was growing up, my grandmother (who lived with us), always bought me a hollow chocolate bunny.  They're always dreadfully cheap and waxy chocolate, but I always looked forward to receiving that bunny!  I'd eat the ears first, and leave the sugar eyes for last.  It's been a dozen years since she passed away, and even more since she last bought me a hollow bunny, but every year since, I have bought myself one.  This year, though, I went upmarket with Lindt.  Only because Target didn't have much of the bunny species for which I was looking by the end of the week - only solid chocolate, or else abominations like Butterfinger-Bunnies.