"People speak of humility and meekness as something that would rob us of what is noble and bold. Oh, that all would realize that this is the nobility of the kingdom of heaven, that this the royal spirit that the King of heaven displayed, that this is godlike, to humble oneself and to become the servant of all! This is the path to gladness and the glory of Christ's presence in us, of His power resting upon us."
--from Andrew Murray's Humility: The Journey Toward Holiness
There's nothing quite like realizing for the first time that you've spent your whole life bearing an ugly sense of entitlement to all that is good in certain areas of your life. Praise God that He reveals our sins to us gradually.
I was checking the spelling of "syncretism" on dictionary.com when I noticed that an ad for Olivet Nazarene University had appeared in the sidebar. Wondering whether it had something to do with the word I was searching for, I tried searching for a few other words, including Buddha. The ad remained, but the mini biography that the dictionary had for Buddha almost made me laugh out loud:
"Indian mystic and founder of Buddhism. He began preaching after achieving supreme enlightenment at the age of 35."
The whole idea of a 35-year-old achieving supreme enlightenment on his own just struck me anew as being completely absurd. I know very few people that age who could be considered "wise" let alone enlightened. I probably know more 35-year-olds who are still casting around trying to find the career of their dreams, who still live with their parents, or who haven't gotten past the idea that the world revolves around them.
Today my hubby turns 27! Aside from making me feel old, his birthday reminds me of how grateful I am that God decided to make him in the first place. "What makes this guy so great, anyway?" you ask. I could provide you with a litany of things that anyone who is in love with someone would probably say, but I'll tell you one thing about him that would make any girl swoon. Last week, we went to my favorite store, Ann Taylor Loft, and the moment we stepped in, he said, with indignation in his voice "Hey, they sold that skirt last season!" *sigh*
Seriously, I couldn't ask for a better husband or friend. Happy birthday, Josh!
I was practicing the violin today, and I decided to take a stab at Bruch's Concert No. 1 in G minor. I started working on it during the few remaining weeks of school after my final college recital, and, needless to say, I never got very far. Anyway, the Bruch is, um, what you might call "difficult", and I thought it would be nice to find a recording of someone who knows what he's doing playing it. I hopped on iTunes, and within 2 minutes, I'd chosen between about 5 different violinists' recordings, downloaded Jascha Heifetz playing all three movements for only $2.97, and started broadcasting it through my stereo directly from my laptop.
"That's no big deal," you may think. And it's not a big deal any more, really. But it reminded me of a time in high school when my teacher told me I needed a recording of Bach's sonatas and partitas for unaccompanied violin, since I was working on a few of them myself. I have trouble imagining Bach's own mother kicking back and enjoying a good performance of all of the sonatas and partitas, let alone your typical American plebeian. They're the kinds of tidbits that violinists play to impress other violinists--not exactly something you'd go grab at Borders. My mom and I had to drive all the way to Columbus to even begin our search. Columbus is an hour's drive from Mt. Vernon. I don't remember how many stores we looked in, but we finally found the CD set for something like $25. Think of all the time and money spent finding what I can now get at the touch of a button, and with an unheard of smorgasboard of options--there are at least four different violinists' recordings of the sonatas and partitas available on iTunes! I wouldn't even have to buy all of the stupid sonatas and partitas at this point. If I wanted, I could even buy all of them but the Gavotte en Rondo from Partita No. 3. Take that Bach's mom. I never liked that movement anyway. HaHA!
Last night, Josh and I attended the School for Politics & Economics' annual Soup Night. It's one of those events where all the students bring their significant others and schmooze with the faculty over tasty vittles. Pretty much all of the professors know me by now. It always pays to groom a good reputation, though, so I found myself carefully eating my BBQ pork ribs with a fork and knife (and still managing to make a mess of things). I had set down my food for a moment to relate an exciting story to my friends, when all of a sudden I saw my fork fly right past my eyes to land in a neighboring coiffure. It fell to the ground without leaving much of a saucy trail, but that was not the end of the matter. When I explained to the unfortunate woman why I had inadvertently flipped a greasy fork at her head, instead of saying that I had been "wildly gesticulating" while I talked, as I'd meant to, I told her I had been "wildly ejaculating", to the utter bewilderment of everyone who could hear me. Everyone was polite, and it wasn't until five minutes later that it ocurred to me that I had not said the word I'd meant to say.
Needless to say, I'm glad Josh did not marry me for my ability to impress people with my slick wit and social graces.
When I went on a business trip to the San Francisco Bay area a few weeks ago, my boss and I took the opportunity to eat at world-renowned restaurant Chez Panisse. The service was horrendous--unfortunately were not allowed to choose whether or not to leave a 15% tip since it was included in the bill--but the food was delicious. And, as with many of the recipes Alice Waters comes up with, my salad seemed like it would not be too hard to make at home, assuming one has access to spectacular organic produce. I gave it a whirl, and came up with a decent salad:
Mix slices and cubes from a variety of tomatoes (plum, cherry, etc.), slices of cucumber, whole mint leaves, salt and a little olive oil. The salad at the restaurant seemed to have a touch of vinegar on it, too, but I am not sure what kind. It was not very strong. I tried some red wine vinegar, because that's the only thing I had besides rice vinegar, and it was too strong. It's just fine sans vinaigre.
Anybody want a gmail account? Anyone? Please?
I have some invites to give away, so if you want one, just post a comment to this entry. First come, first serve.
Had a yard sale the other day with some friends. There were lots of Spanish-speaking people there, of course. Consider the following coversation:
Woman looking at some placemats I'm selling says, in Spanish: "These are very lovely, but they're not the same color as my dishes."
Me--without thinking that she had no idea I had understood what she said--in English: "I have the same problem. My dishes are green and gray."
[Insert awkward pause here]
Woman, in English this time: "I said that these are very nice, but they don't match my dishes."
Me: "I know."
[Woman leaves without buying anything.]
Un aplauso for the gringa for making a fool out of herself. I could have at least responded in Spanish. Not that it would have been intelligible.
Embarrassment aside, this made me think a bit. I've been known to speak a particular language because I know no one around me will understand it. Heck, I spoke French with another American when we were at Versailles because everyone around us was speaking English. Which brings me to my question. Which is more rude? 1. Speaking a language when you are comfortably certain that the person standing directly in front of you won't understand it. 2. Making it obvious that you understood something said in another language that was definitely not meant for you to hear.