Someone knows me well

Had I known what a bachelorette party involved, I would have worried about it.

Had I known I was having a bachelorette party, I would have worried about it.

Being as I knew neither, I simply had to react to things as they happened. I much prefer my embarrassment sans anticipation. It turned out to be a glorious afternoon...

Ok, so I was wrong

Over the years that my friendship with Jim was developing, I repeatedly insisted that I "don't throw things." Why? Well, who knows how it came up in the first place... how do things like that ever start?... but it duly passed into the annals. I don't throw things.

Until last night.

But only scrunchies, and only when I am provoked by heresies worthy of the great Vanaukenive in their prime.

Another shift in perspective

As an adult American female, I probably ought to begin inuring myself to a bothersome but seemingly ubiquitous custom.

Meaning makeup.

It's a little more obvious to me, having just come back from Cameroon, that this is mostly an issue of cultural competence. It's like wearing a brightly coloured kaba when I'm in Cameroon, not sitting on the ground when I'm in Russia, or learning the proper word for that thing you wipe your hands on when I'm in Britain. Makeup is part of American culture if you're a woman, so I might as well be as culturally relevant as I can.

Except-- there's more to the decision than that.

I've read about women-- and they seem to be not uncommon-- who have wrongly concluded that they aren't pretty, and therefore use makeup to try and make themselves pretty. Usually this means being afraid to appear anywhere without carefully applying it.

My reaction to makeup, in high school and university, was the opposite. I don't think it reflected any less insecurity; it was just different. Makeup terrified me. If I wasn't pretty, then I didn't want to fool anyone into thinking I was... because then I would always feel as though I were hiding behind a mask, with the potential that people liked my "makeup mask" better than they did the real me. And that was unthinkable.

Acting the role of Athena in the Oresteia, my junior year at Biola, seemed to confirm my worst fears about makeup. Of course I had to wear makeup on stage... but the attention it garnered me offstage scared me nearly witless. Why, oh, why did people have to think Athena was so much prettier than Sharon? That was the weekend, incidentally, that I remember telling myself emphatically, "Anyone I marry has to think I'm pretty WITHOUT makeup."

Enter the playwright (yes, the one to whom I am now engaged to be married-- almost four years later). He saw me at every rehearsal: grubby, exhausted, even in tears.

And the next semester, when I was wearing no makeup, he told me I was "gorgeous."

Somehow, between then and now, I have become much more willing to put up with this American cultural phenomenon... even if it is a nuisance.

My daddy

When I was very small, I thought my dad must be awake all night. When I went to sleep, he was there to pray with me and tuck me in and turn off the light. And no matter how early I woke up in the morning, the light was always on in the living room, where he was praying. I knew that whenever I had a bad dream, I could pitter-patter down the hall and bury my face on his shoulder till the monsters went away and I could go back to bed.

Happy Fathers' Day, Dad. Thanks for showing me that my heavenly Father loves me and cares about me-- and even though I know now that you need sleep, :-) He doesn't. I love you!

Why wedding planning is stressful

Opinions? No, I'll just rent some, thanks. I have so much trouble properly processing other people's that it seems very dangerous to have any of my own.

The debate continues

In the midst of scattered organising, planning, and working, I decided that a cup of tea would be a nice thing.

So I got up from the computer, stretched, and went to the kitchen in search of tea.

When I picked up our container full of many kinds of tea, I smelled something lovely. I couldn't remember which kind of tea it was-- but whatever it was, that was the kind I wanted today.

It took me a minute to realise that the lovely aroma was actually my mother's coffee, brewing in the coffeemaker next to me.

Bother.

More opinions of my illustrious brother

(probably originating in his primary source document, Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes):

"People are like Slinkies. You really can't figure out what they're for, but you still laugh when you see them tumble down the stairs."

Yes. I missed my brother. :-)

Oh, yeah... Starbucks

I guess I've been in a former British colony too long.

I really, honestly thought that tea and coffee were sort of interchangeable; that some preferred one, and some the other.

Then I suggested serving both tea and coffee at our wedding reception. Oh, that would get too complicated? Ok then, how about just tea?

Judging from the incredulous looks I received, I guess tea and coffee are NOT coequal in status here.

Second Law of Thermodynamics... well...

We beat entropy last night.

Ok, so maybe not quite. Like my dad said, "That would be a cosmic event."

But this was close. We started with stacks of invitations, stacks and stacks of two different sizes of envelopes, and lists of names and addresses. Oh, and peel-and-stick stamps.

(Not to mention cookies, which were stolen and recovered twice. Who could live without brothers?)

We ended with 154 beautifully addressed invitations, neatly stacked in a box, all facing the same way, stamped and ready to mail.

And all we had to clean up was a few coffee cups.

Honestly? It was the most fun I've had in a while, and it's still hard to believe that we mailed the invitations this morning...

Thanks, everyone!!!

Paradigm shift

"Was there a great harvest before you left?" David paused expectantly and waited for my answer.

I never know how to answer this sort of question. Talking about missions in metaphorical terms always makes me a bit nervous. After all, how do you reduce thousands of daily contacts with people, moments that are mostly very ordinary, to one sweeping metaphor? What are people looking for when they ask about "a great harvest"? The equivalent of a Billy Graham crusade? Rapid and dramatic and obvious change? That's just not how it works most of the time.

Nothing this articulate came out of my mouth, however. I stuttered a moment. Then I realised he was holding out a piece of bread that smelled lovely.

No, David. I didn't even know there existed a bread store called "Great Harvest." But thanks for the peach and pecan streusel loaf. :-)

No green cookies, please

Before making cookies, it's always a good idea to check and make sure you have all the ingredients. My mother and I were engaged in this laudable activity when I asked if we had any Crisco.

"Yes, but you might want to check it and see if it's still good," she advised. "I don't know how long it's been in there."

She pulled the can from the bottom shelf of the pantry and opened it. "Well-- looks good to me."

I looked over her shoulder. "Yup. I sure don't see any mold."

Judging from the look she gave me, I'm guessing mold doesn't grow on shortening here.

Consistency, overheard

Opinions of my illustrious brother:

"I'm an eternal optimist. People make lots of money off people like me.

"I'm just hoping that they don't."

Depleting the reserves

Cultural adjustment is a process of living off stored reserves until you figure out how to replenish them in a new environment.

At the physical level, that's what jet lag is. If you are well-nourished and well-rested before travelling, your body finds it much easier to draw on its stored resources until you adjust to getting the appropriate rest and nourishment in your new time zone.

But the same thing happens on multiple levels. I am adjusting back to my "home" culture, and I feel as though I am living off my reserves in almost all areas... spiritually, emotionally, mentally, socially, even verbally. This is chaos, and chaos never nurtured growth or provided refreshment. There is a sort of panic that goes along with this-- not knowing whether the replenishment will happen in time to prevent utter loss of functionality.

My ability to bring order out of chaos is directly related to my ability to survive culture shock (or reverse culture shock). Thanks be to God that He is the great bringer of order from chaos. Thanks be to God that He has made me in His image.

Honesty is the best policy

Conversation with a five-year-old today:

"Do you need an extra napkin, hon?"

"No. My tongue is a napkin."