"Your sister may have all the looks, but personality-wise, you two are about equal."
Yes. This is my brutally honest grandmother speaking. I gave her the link to this blog, so I'm just hoping for the best. I don't think she knows how to navigate her Facebook yet, much less mine, so we'll see if she can navigate her way here. (bites fingernails)
She said this during a long car ride to New Mexico, and with so much thinking time, I of course thought about family things...about how I always thought Kearsen was so gorgeous, and freckles just didn't cut it when people saw the two of us together. Kearsen is shorter, she has beautiful thick dark hair (which she complains about often, but I don't see what's so bad), has a good style, and you wouldn't guess it, but she rarely goes shopping. Her dark skin. She would give me the stink-eye at my mentioning that she looked Venezuelan. I said so because of a South American foreign exchange students my aunt and uncle hosted when I was little. I thought they looked more like sisters than me and her. I have no idea how she does half the things she does. But it is apparent we all adore her to pieces in our family. She'd probably blush or defend herself if she read this, which she probably will, so I should bite my tongue a little harder...
Anyway, like I was saying, I was thinking particularly about the two of us--so different, yet sisters, best friends. Wherever one lacks in persona(or "swag" as my students in Rehoboth would say) the other picks it up. For some reason, I craved Grandma's input on this one. I wanted her to affirm what I always believed--Kearsen and I are two different puzzle pieces, shaped nothing alike, but fit together perfectly with an equal weight.
"Grandma, I once read this story about how two sisters traveled to Morocco with their family. A man offered to marry the older daughter in exchange for 10,000 camels. When the father said no, the man looked at the younger daughter..." The narrator is the younger daughter who obviously has the same complex as me... "and offered 100 camels for her." I turned to her.
"I'm pretty sure the younger daughter is me."
"Listen," Grandma said, "..." and you know the rest.
So, let it be?
Grandma's brutal honesty to be continued...
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Casey's Aristotle
Tomorrow morning at 3:30 am, I make my first original batch of Casey's doughnuts. Bet you're jealous of my summer line of work. I'll wake up at 3:00, fumble around for my khaki pants and some kind of red collared shirt, tie my tennis shoes, put my hair up, grab my keys, and run through the darkness of the night to my car.
While America sleeps, I will be making them doughnuts. Hot and fresh, ones I'll never try because I made a bet with Kearsen I wouldn't eat one while I worked there. I'll fry them and cool them and ice them and sprinkle them and box them and date them and rack them.
Wish me luck....rather, pray for God's providence.
I'm following some of the greatest doughnut makers Casey's has ever seen.
Like the Plato and Aristotle of doughnut making.
While America sleeps, I will be making them doughnuts. Hot and fresh, ones I'll never try because I made a bet with Kearsen I wouldn't eat one while I worked there. I'll fry them and cool them and ice them and sprinkle them and box them and date them and rack them.
Wish me luck....rather, pray for God's providence.
I'm following some of the greatest doughnut makers Casey's has ever seen.
Like the Plato and Aristotle of doughnut making.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Doughnuts
I now know how to make doughnuts.
The lady who taught me is named J. She doesn't wear a bra, but she does wear a hair net and a collared shirt in either red, white, or black.
"People depend on these doughnuts." She was wiping down the pizza counter. "Marcia comes in on Thursdays and gets six white cake doughnuts with cream cheese. Brad comes with his kids every day, and he gets glazed ones."
I was listening really close because her smoker's voice was quiet, and I think she was intentionally mumbling a little bit.
And when we moved on to frosting the doughunuts:
"Did you put glaze on those apple ones?"
"Yes."
"Those get caramel!"
"Well should I make other ones?"
"No, Bill is just going to have to be disappointed today."
To be continued...
The lady who taught me is named J. She doesn't wear a bra, but she does wear a hair net and a collared shirt in either red, white, or black.
"People depend on these doughnuts." She was wiping down the pizza counter. "Marcia comes in on Thursdays and gets six white cake doughnuts with cream cheese. Brad comes with his kids every day, and he gets glazed ones."
I was listening really close because her smoker's voice was quiet, and I think she was intentionally mumbling a little bit.
And when we moved on to frosting the doughunuts:
"Did you put glaze on those apple ones?"
"Yes."
"Those get caramel!"
"Well should I make other ones?"
"No, Bill is just going to have to be disappointed today."
To be continued...
Friday, May 14, 2010
Black fingernail polish. The Great Gatsby. My new bike. A table at an outdoor diner on Phillips St. That was in the mix today.
I was sitting comfortably and cozy, sipping on an iced caramel latte, reading, and every so often I'd look up to see people minding their own business. A young man in a suit coat with his colleagues, one older guy leaning over to say a few words to him. An intern, for sure. A napkin flew by them, and none of them bothered to pick it up. Ladies dressed in black, colorful scarves tied neatly around their necks. Three girls in dresses crossing the street, arms linked.
But mostly I had my face buried in The Great Gatsby. I was up to the part where Daisy says, "'And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,'" and I was thinking about it for a minute, searching for all its meaning in a blank gaze through the passing cars and the people around me, when a young woman came up to me.
"Excuse me." She was dressed nicely, had a little identification card pinned to her jacket. "I am a reporter for the Argus Leader, the newspaper here in town. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about outdoor dining here in downtown Sioux Falls?"
"Okay."
She looked at my salad (the cheapest thing on the menu) and said, "Healthy eater."
"You bet."
"What is your name?"
I proceeded to tell her my name and how to spell it.
"Well that is just unique!"
"Thank you."
Then in shorthand, she started writing down everything I said as she asked me questions. "What is your favorite thing about eating outside on Phillips Street? Do you come around often? How old are you? Do you meet up with friends here? Do you notice any differences here this year?"
For some reason I couldn't help but be distracted by her shorthand. Oh no, I thought, what if she actually writes that phrase down. I wanted to tell her to erase it, to wait for me to say what I wanted to say perfectly.
Soon she was finished and before she left she said, "This article will appear in the Life section on the Sunday Argus Leader. Have a nice day."
This was a fascinating moment for a couple reasons. #1 I was a little paranoid still about the shorthand. It's like the time I videoed myself teaching a lesson. My actions (and in this case my words) could not be erased. #2 They must target people who watch other people.
Okay, no epiphanies here, but certainly a day filled with the interesting world of simply noticing people, things, and places. We'll see how that article turns out.
I was sitting comfortably and cozy, sipping on an iced caramel latte, reading, and every so often I'd look up to see people minding their own business. A young man in a suit coat with his colleagues, one older guy leaning over to say a few words to him. An intern, for sure. A napkin flew by them, and none of them bothered to pick it up. Ladies dressed in black, colorful scarves tied neatly around their necks. Three girls in dresses crossing the street, arms linked.
But mostly I had my face buried in The Great Gatsby. I was up to the part where Daisy says, "'And I hope she'll be a fool--that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,'" and I was thinking about it for a minute, searching for all its meaning in a blank gaze through the passing cars and the people around me, when a young woman came up to me.
"Excuse me." She was dressed nicely, had a little identification card pinned to her jacket. "I am a reporter for the Argus Leader, the newspaper here in town. Would you be willing to answer a few questions about outdoor dining here in downtown Sioux Falls?"
"Okay."
She looked at my salad (the cheapest thing on the menu) and said, "Healthy eater."
"You bet."
"What is your name?"
I proceeded to tell her my name and how to spell it.
"Well that is just unique!"
"Thank you."
Then in shorthand, she started writing down everything I said as she asked me questions. "What is your favorite thing about eating outside on Phillips Street? Do you come around often? How old are you? Do you meet up with friends here? Do you notice any differences here this year?"
For some reason I couldn't help but be distracted by her shorthand. Oh no, I thought, what if she actually writes that phrase down. I wanted to tell her to erase it, to wait for me to say what I wanted to say perfectly.
Soon she was finished and before she left she said, "This article will appear in the Life section on the Sunday Argus Leader. Have a nice day."
This was a fascinating moment for a couple reasons. #1 I was a little paranoid still about the shorthand. It's like the time I videoed myself teaching a lesson. My actions (and in this case my words) could not be erased. #2 They must target people who watch other people.
Okay, no epiphanies here, but certainly a day filled with the interesting world of simply noticing people, things, and places. We'll see how that article turns out.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Turn Turn Turn
I strongly encourage you to love this song, if you don't already. Because there is a time for everything. So, listen, relax, enjoy.
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/forrestgump/turnturnturntoeverythingthereisaseason.htm
Turn.
My room is spotless clean, as clean as the furniture my brothers, sister and I dusted before Grandma would come over for Sunday dinner. Tidy like Grandma Ham's closet, which you better believe has thirteen hangers for eight shirts and five pairs of slacks. And that's just my room. For some reason, the soma of getting things done makes me feel like I should smile like Mr. Clean, chest out, arms folded, bald headed. That's right
Turn.
I'm going to be an aunt! I knew from the time we were kids that Kearsen would always be the mother, and I would be the cool aunt who travels and sends pictures from Europe and brings back exotic gifts. I've resorted to calling her baby "the little duffer" and the name will stick. I'll call that baby "duffer" until the time he/she graduates high school.
Duffer, I cried when your mother told me about you. I'll cry when I see you around December 25, and you bet I'll cry at your kindergarten graduation. How about a trip with me to Yellowstone sometime?
Turn.
A real job. Teaching English. Teaching English at a small Christian high school. That's right, I got the job. And God is faithful, just so you know. And as of now I am reading just about anything and everything about teaching English you can imagine. Penny Kittle anything. Kylene Beers anything. I'm taking suggestions.
And of course, I am researching some of the greatest English teachers in history and on TV. (Mr. Coolson, Mrs. Freedom Writers, Mr. Dead Poet's Society, Hogwarts teachers, etc...)
Turn.
Graduation. I didn't cry at all, but my sister did. I hugged my friends goodbye and even patted one of Dordt's red brick walls. "Atta Dordt." I'll miss my professors and aspire to be like them, poised and collected, hunched over and ponderous, quicker with brilliant thoughts than brilliant speeches (except you, of course, Dr. James Schaap), and joyful...joyful because of what Christ has done. And Education professors, I'm going to keep bugging you for resources. I'm not completely gone.
I'll miss my best friends from Dordt because you always wanted to play volleyball and you read books and you're easygoing and funny. That's why you're my friends. But you know the party has just begun.
If anyone wants to go backpacking in the summers, I'll be there in an instant.
Turn.
Moving. On my own. Uncle Milt gave me all his old furniture and kitchen stuff. SCORE! Plus, I have a few things of my own: a bookshelf, two dressers, a twin size bed, a purple chair, a few DVDs, a LOT of books, some mixing spoons and a can opener. All set. I'll update you on the apartment when we figure out the living situation.
Turn.
I'm attending a church on my own. A small one with some big personalities. Thank the Lord for his goodness.
Turn.
Finances are my new topic of inquiry. Here's the book I'm reading: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Personal Finance in Tour 20s & 30s (Fourth Edition) by Sarah Young Fischer and Susan Shelley.
I find it all so amazing that just a couple weeks ago, none of this was on my mind. Life can change in an instant, but God, as the rock we all know him to be, will always stay the same.
http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/forrestgump/turnturnturntoeverythingthereisaseason.htm
Turn.
My room is spotless clean, as clean as the furniture my brothers, sister and I dusted before Grandma would come over for Sunday dinner. Tidy like Grandma Ham's closet, which you better believe has thirteen hangers for eight shirts and five pairs of slacks. And that's just my room. For some reason, the soma of getting things done makes me feel like I should smile like Mr. Clean, chest out, arms folded, bald headed. That's right
Turn.
I'm going to be an aunt! I knew from the time we were kids that Kearsen would always be the mother, and I would be the cool aunt who travels and sends pictures from Europe and brings back exotic gifts. I've resorted to calling her baby "the little duffer" and the name will stick. I'll call that baby "duffer" until the time he/she graduates high school.
Duffer, I cried when your mother told me about you. I'll cry when I see you around December 25, and you bet I'll cry at your kindergarten graduation. How about a trip with me to Yellowstone sometime?
Turn.
A real job. Teaching English. Teaching English at a small Christian high school. That's right, I got the job. And God is faithful, just so you know. And as of now I am reading just about anything and everything about teaching English you can imagine. Penny Kittle anything. Kylene Beers anything. I'm taking suggestions.
And of course, I am researching some of the greatest English teachers in history and on TV. (Mr. Coolson, Mrs. Freedom Writers, Mr. Dead Poet's Society, Hogwarts teachers, etc...)
Turn.
Graduation. I didn't cry at all, but my sister did. I hugged my friends goodbye and even patted one of Dordt's red brick walls. "Atta Dordt." I'll miss my professors and aspire to be like them, poised and collected, hunched over and ponderous, quicker with brilliant thoughts than brilliant speeches (except you, of course, Dr. James Schaap), and joyful...joyful because of what Christ has done. And Education professors, I'm going to keep bugging you for resources. I'm not completely gone.
I'll miss my best friends from Dordt because you always wanted to play volleyball and you read books and you're easygoing and funny. That's why you're my friends. But you know the party has just begun.
If anyone wants to go backpacking in the summers, I'll be there in an instant.
Turn.
Moving. On my own. Uncle Milt gave me all his old furniture and kitchen stuff. SCORE! Plus, I have a few things of my own: a bookshelf, two dressers, a twin size bed, a purple chair, a few DVDs, a LOT of books, some mixing spoons and a can opener. All set. I'll update you on the apartment when we figure out the living situation.
Turn.
I'm attending a church on my own. A small one with some big personalities. Thank the Lord for his goodness.
Turn.
Finances are my new topic of inquiry. Here's the book I'm reading: The Complete Idiot's Guide to Personal Finance in Tour 20s & 30s (Fourth Edition) by Sarah Young Fischer and Susan Shelley.
I find it all so amazing that just a couple weeks ago, none of this was on my mind. Life can change in an instant, but God, as the rock we all know him to be, will always stay the same.
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