Thankful

This is the first Thanksgiving I've had with my family in two years and though absence makes the heart grow fonder, I found that this year I was even more aware of how much I have to be thankful for. I am thankful for:
1) My parents laughing together, just the two of them
2) The fabulous cinnamon cucumber pickles it took the neighbor two whole days to make and seconds to enjoy (she's in her eighties too--we bought six jars from her this year and she nearly burst with pride)
3) The fact that the English language is ever increasingly accepting of the sentence that ends in a preposition "I have a lot to be thankful for."
4) Spontaneous home manicures with my little cousins
5) That cars provide a tropical microclimate against the single-digit temps outside as we go over the hills and through the woods
6) Not finding any spiders bigger than a dime in my room all year long
7) Family members who zone out the conversation because the pie is so good
8) Overhearing my aunt trying to make a legitimate case for "team Edward" to another adult
9) Memories of last year's urban family thanksgiving in Cali where the mixed group of bohemians shared tofurky, gluten-free rolls, and home-brewed beer
10) Family and friends who love me better than I deserve, mean more to me than they can possibly know, and the great God who supplies them

Something in Commune

After living alone for almost two years now (is it possible it's been that long?), I think I'd be amiable to the idea of living the kind of life style the folks in the video below have created. I absolutely love people, but it's not always easy to get along with those individuals who aren't my particular cup of tea. But I'm learning to look for the good things in them rather than the bad (thanks, Lindsey—you make me a better woman).

My pastor did a sermon not long ago saying that community wasn't real community unless it had people who were off beat, annoying, or even volitile; these people bring things out in others that wouldn't otherwise be seen/known.
He told the story of The Inklings, a literary discussion society in the 1940s that included famous Christian thinkers three of whom included C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams. When Charles died, Jack (C.S. Lewis' nickname) mourned his friend sincerely but confessed to be privately pleased to finally have Tollers (J.R.R. Tolkien's nickname) all to himself and not have to share him. However, after a few visits with his friend, Jack discovered that rather than having more of Tollers, he had, he was surprised to learn, less of him. For only Charles could tell a Charles joke and make Tollers laugh a certain way, Jack couldn't wring out certain convictions from Tollers the way Charles could, nor could Jack inspire the same sort of discussions Charles may have conjured up provoking a one-of-a-kind response from Tollers. Life wasn't the same without "the extra."

So I've been trying to appreciate the "extras" in my life and not despise their strange habits, loose tongues, careless comments, and idiosyncracies...besides, who knows? More than likely I'm someone's extra, and if I am, I must say that I am admirably tolerated.

I liked this video exemplifying communal living taken to an extreme but beautifully, I think. For a place this gorgeous, I think I could pretty much put up with anyone though!

Five Great Things Friday

I'm never as homesick as I am in the autumn here in San Diego. The mornings are brisk but toast up to the 70s or 80s by noon, no cloudy days, no wind, few changing trees, and San Diegans generally revel in their still-constant fair weather (go figure).
I miss wind too. Big gusty, stingy wind that makes you grateful to be indoors with a hot cuppa.
So, today, I celebrate five great things about San Diego to remind me why everyone and their boyfriend wants to live here:
1) I love the military presence, although it is a grim reminder that we are a nation at war whether we act like it or not, I feel safe when helicopters hover, indestructable ships float in our harbor, and men in uniform guard the city.


2) The big blue bridge to Coronado is a beautiful feat of architecture and I almost can't keep my eyes on the road whenever I'm driving by it.


3) I love the Mexican influence in the city, only thrity short minutes from Tijuana, and I've never had better Mexican food in my life. Here's Alison from her visit last year, we were in a traditional tin shop where you find these glorious stars so indicative of Mexican decor.

4) I drive by the San Diego Mormon Tabernacle every day (it's simultaneously creepy and beautiful...doesn't it look like it's made of paper or foam board?), ironically, I don't have my own photo of it—I had to go to a mormon Website to get one and the site wouldn't let me go "back," "forward" or click out of it which I thought was pretty funny. Yikes!

This thing looks BUCK when it's foggy, it's absolutely haunting.
5) The sunsets here aren't too shabby. They're as beautiful as those in NE, but they're just totally different.



Home is where the heart is, and I left mine in Nebraska, but I guess I can stand San Diego a little longer.

A Folky Farewell

My friend Katie is moving to the East coast tomorrow (Katie if you read this, I send you with lots of blessings and I know you'll be great!), but before she'd gone, she went out in style.


At the sweetest house in San Diego, a organic-food, folky, family event took place Sunday night where all-natural, organic foods adorned the table as the meal and the decorations and we wore rosemary in our pockets and wildflowers in our hair.


Lots of thanks to Lindsey and Sarah for opening their home to us, it's one of my favorite places in all San Diego to be.

Katie did some work on La Milpa farm outside of Escondido, CA and learned all about organic farming, canning, and beekeeping. I'm super jealous of her experience but plan to attend one of their potluck dinners they hold every third Saturday of the month. If you're reading this and in S.D., let's head out there September 19 for a community dinner and an al fresco movie under the stars!




This adorable couple and I had the best conversation about why organic food growing is advantageous; thanks Beth and Shannon for being amazing and teaching me so much!


My girls, Lindsey and Tina are the best!

NOTE: The two large, centered photos aren't mine, a guy at the party did 'em.

Kiva Diva

What do you mean you don't know what Kiva is? Okay, I admit. I didn't either. Not until Blake, tech-o extraordinaire from work and bringer of all things philanthropic, brought the Web site's existence to my attention.

Kiva = loans that change lives

Instead of simply donating money to a cause, you invest a certain dollar amount (can be $5 or $500) in an entrepreneur somewhere in the world as a loan. The entrepreneur makes good on the loan, paying it back so you can then reinvest in a different entrepreneur to help him/her until they can pay it back, and so on.
Get it?

For further clarification, here's their shpiel: Kiva's mission is to connect people through lending for the sake of alleviating poverty.
Kiva is the world's first person-to-person micro-lending website, empowering individuals to lend directly to unique entrepreneurs around the globe.

I'm off to empower the people; happy lending, tell a friend!!

These are the women with whom I rang in the new year, WHAT a blessing!

My mother made an observation about our generation the other day; "You know, between the Facebook, blogs, Myspace business, your generation is extremely self-involved." Naturally, I was at first defensive but couldn't muster any response that could prove the contrary. This got me thinking, "What do I get from this blog, but more importantly, what can I possibly say that would make it worth reading and advantageous to others?" I don't have the answer to this yet, but I would love to hear your thoughts. Would you like editing tips? More stories about strangers? Book lists? Recipes? I can only offer what I know, but I'm open to suggestions!

If you're here for an update, I can help with that:

What I'm reading: The Book Thief (it is AMAZING, I can't believe I'm not through it yet, but it is wonderful and I'm at least happy to not be rushing this story)

What I'm cooking: One terribly gone-wrong turkey chili recipe (threw it out), one successful souffle, one "dump cake" which was so good I had to ruin it before I ate the whole pan (so, after eating too much of it, threw it away too), a curry-coconut pumpkin soup that was divine with a few tweaks to the recipe, and a couple dozen pre-made Trader Joe's choc. chip cookies for some friends.

What I've been doing for fun: Watching The Happening with friends (we laughed through the whole thing), basking in the fabulousness of Lindsey, Annie, and Courtny's new home, and trying new coffee shops (wi-fi nomad that I am). Driving with the windows down in our 80-degree weather, I'm completely in awe of this climate. Enjoying restaurant week with a hot date (thanks Jenni!)

Happys: Reading the Bible again, being back in my bed, reading while sipping tea I got for Christmas using water from the tea kettle I was gifted with too, seeing the ocean, the fact that my workplace brews Starbucks coffee everyday, my new vests I got for Christmas, early spring cleaning. Sharing Sarah's excitement as she continues to expand her circle of friends and community, Alison's excitement as she moves to Rochester and actually having the experience to back up my advice to her on moving.

Crappys: Work is really hectic right now and I'm nervously taking on my biggest editing project yet, I miss my people in NE even though I love being here in CA and can't imagine being anywhere else, my resistance to getting into a workout routine--why do I make this so hard?

I'll think of something enlightening and hopefully useful for my next post, but for now this is my update for 2009 and I hope all of you are having a good start to the new year!

I Am the Church, You Are the Church...

Three personal pet peeves of Christian culture:
1) The word "just" as used in public prayer. "Lord I just, I just thank you for just all your goodness and just all the thing's you've made and that you're just always vigilant in caring for our needs and we just..."
AHHHHHHH, I JUST want to scream "You must stop! My ears are bleeding!" Is satan using these syntax faux pas to ruin public prayer for me? Probably. Does that mean we can't all try harder to exercise our right to employ well-thought-out sentences, even in prayer without using "just" to the same effect as one would use the word "duh"? Nay, I say! I hear "Lord I duhhhhh, I duhhhh thank you for duhhhhhh..." I really do know God doesn't care what our prayers sound like on whit, and no, I'm not asking public pray-ers to wax poetic and deliver these "perfect" prayers but I pray of you, just leave out the "justs."

2) The title of this entry refers to the most putrid song I have ever been forced to sing, memorize, and repeat in my life. This song is first on my list of songs I cannot stomach. Second place? "What the World Needs Now...Is Love Sweet Love," "It's a Small World," and "Puppy Love."

3) When people ask for prayer about something and never get back to you on how the whole shebang worked out for them! Which leads me to my point: I practiced my own dang pet peeve. I enlisted almost everyone who reads this blog to pray that I find a good church in San Diego. Well, I found one...about a month ago. And I forgot to tell you. I am so sorry.

It's called "Flood Church" and it is amazing. It was one of the first of 15 I tried here in San Diego during my church shopping and I liked it when I first attended it. It had mixed races, mostly my age attendees and the sermon was rock solid. I'm really embarrassed to say that the most off-putting issue was the music. Even as late as 10 A.M., the band's precussion reverberating through the room so my cheastbone pulsed along was just too much. I couldn't hear myself sing and I didn't like it. Period. So I kept shopping.
Well, a little over a month ago, two new girls entered my life. Lindsey and Annie are from NE too and, like I was, they were all over the church scene right away. Unlike me, they alighted on Flood Church by chance, attended, and loved it. And for reasons of morning-intolerance, they decided that night church would be best so we started attending at 7:00 P.M., now 8:00 P.M. What a difference! I was much more awake, relaxed from having the entire morning and day all to myself to get things done and this way the music wasn't nearly so jarring, the sermon sunk in a little bit more, and it's pretty much church, off to bed, rise Monday morning spiritually charged for my week. I have no doubt in my mind that it wasn't pure coincidence that these girls just happened to choose Flood as their church, I think God wants me there and there are lots of service opportunities, bible studies, and community things for me to get involved in. Thanks Lindsey and Annie for reinvigorating my appreciation for this great church and for being someone I can pal around with.
(Bonus: check out their videos sometime, they're of the church's work in Malawi and some skits done at church, I like The Exorcism by the hip hop group http://diveintoflood.com/videos/)

All it all, it's exactly the answer to prayer I've been looking for. Thank you all for talking to God about this on my behalf and again, I'm sorry that some of you had to ask before I updated you on this.
Also, I'm a TERRIBLE prayer warrior (I am, I usually start praying and then without warning, my thoughts turn into a grocery list) but practice makes perfect, and I would love to try to pray for any of you if you have any sort of prayer request or even a praise. Big or small, seemingly silly or pretty serious. Leave it as a comment to this post or e-mail me at mschude2@bigred.unl.edu God'll take your requests and I'd be happy to be the courier.

Someone(s) to Watch over Me

Last week, I did my laundry at the on-premises facility in my apartment complex, I'd neglected to switch out my clothes from the dryer and remembered only long after they were done. I returned to the machines to find my clothes in a neatly stacked, folded pile in my basket.

Yesterday, I stood in line behind a man with more groceries than reasonably fit into a single cart, also in tow was his son in a carrier. The toddler eyed me suspiciously, so I decided to prove I wasn't a threat by helping him take off his socks and find his piggies. The dad watched, amused at the farce of "lost toe-kies" and the three of us shared a chuckle.

I collapsed, exhausted on some grass by Mission Bay after a long walk/jog and had begun to snooze under the sun when a woman—also apparently worn out from a jog—hovered over me to inform me that I was "looking a little pink," and to head indoors before I got a sunburn. I really was looking quite rosy and I don't think I would've been very content with what would've been the outcome of that nap; a lobsteresque exterior.

My fruit-stand guys are endlessly patient with my comical Spanish. I haven't practiced conversation for some time and I find that the flow is good, but the terms are off. "¿Cuantos libres?," I ask "How many freedoms?" instead of "How many pounds" of fruit I'm looking to purchase. I had to ask about four times before I remembered how to say "plums," (ciruelas, if anyone's interested), and hilarity ensues as I answer "Yes." to either/or questions I thought were yes/no. The guys promise me fresh produce and Spanish lessons whenever I stop by and that they don't mind my practicing with them as it always results in a good laugh.
My library lady insists I come over for lunch sometime to chat, share a cup of tea, and look at her scrapbooks. Though I had some more youthful activities in mind for my social calendar, my 60-something friend is too sweet to resist.
.

Flustered after being the cause of a not-so-smallish snafu at work, I ran to put some gas in my car, distractedly grabbed the pump and prepared to fill up when a man comes running up to me. Being in lone-woman-in-the-city-fending-for-herself mode, I prepared to key or claw in case the man intended to accost me in some manner. He puts his hand over mine on the pump and swiftly pulls it out of my tank. "What are you doing?," I asked, not so kindly. "Well," he responded, "unless your car takes diesel, I'd highly discourage using the green pump." I shudder to think what would have become of my darling little Honda if it weren't for this man, I told him he was a stud and thanked him profusely.

This is why she has joy:

Because God saw fit to stock this world with a surplus of delights even though He's already swamped with getting heaven ready for us. Here are some of the things that remind me that our God is good (not as in He does pretty nice things and generally behaves Himself, I'm referring to the fact that He and 'good' are synonymous).

I like huddling different kinds of produce around a big cutting board, sharpening my knife and one by one processing the fruits and vegetables. Tomato skins yield under the serrated blade of my knife and its acidic juices bleed out and sting where I have hangnails. Avocados, also technically a fruit, are halved and pitted and heal my skin with its rich buttery pulp. Peeling onions, quartering strawberries, seeding peppers, scalding peaches, chopping cilantro, shaving carrots, skinning potatos... I deposit each chopped-up fruit and vegetable in its own bowl and I survey the array of smells, colors, even tastes either wafted up through their pungent aromas or recalled by memory.

Warmth. Everything about this word is comforting to me, it conjures up images of: Fluffy towels just out of the dryer, sunlight seeping into your pores, butter melting on a hot piece of toast, a heartfelt embrace, an aromatic cup of steaming coffee and having just finished writing a paper and collecting each sheet hot out of the printer with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Touch. Tracing someone's veins, sustaining life just under the surface of his skin, and lightly following their paths with your finger as you would a road map. Holding the hand of an old woman and feeling the paper thinness of her skin which is, metaphorically speaking, thicker than a rhino's. Petting a middle-aged man's arm befitting of Esau, smoothing the thick, unruly hair so that it all lays in the same direction. Kneading a friend's muscles as she discloses her latest woes to you and feeling the stress leave her voice tight from tears as well as her body as knots give way. Being close enough to feel body heat coming off of him and inhale the myriad of scents only he gives off and, finally, closing the gap between the two of you with a touch that is prude by the world's standards yet infinitely intimate to the two of you.

She is most herself in the summertime

I stealthily sneak past my parent's bedroom, down the hall and into the family room where I switch on a lamp in one corner and cross to the other to the patio door. I deftly and quietly unlatch it, casting a glance over my shoulder to ensure I'm alone. I cautiously step down onto the patio and a leaf crunches under my bare foot. I'm always paranoid, as I cross the threshold, that I'll feel the loathsome silk of a spider web against my bare skin as arachnids possess a certain affinity for building across doorframes; you'd think they'd cotton on after having them ruined so often and build their fragile homes on better real estate. However, tonight I am met only by the balmy night air which varies from my own body temperature by a degree or two. I ease the door shut behind me and turn to our old set of patio furniture we've owned since I can remember. I settle into a chair whose chrome and plastic thatching belie the comfort it affords.
I light a clove cigarette - a vice I rarely indulge in but nevertheless relish - close my eyes and lean my head back as I exhale. I open my eyes and they alight on the stars, my old and eternal friends. The Big Dipper, suspended high above seems to scoop up the lush branches of a tall beech tree that looms overhead. I follow Ursa Major's points of light to Draco's winding body and connect his bright dots with my finger that seems too clumsy and substantial an implement for such a task.
I close my eyes again and try to count all the sounds that fill my ears: crickets stringing, living leaves rustling in the trees and dead ones skittering dryly on the pavement, a far off motor rumbles, a few rogue firecrackers pop and water trickles from the neighbor's artificial pond.
In the process of collecting sounds, my head has lolled back down, automatically panning my view back to earth. Upon opening my eyes I observe fireflies socializing in the yard. I focus my attention on one pair in particular who are flitting around at a distance of a few yards, now they flirtatiously wink at one another from a couple of feet away from one another, now they've brought their frenzied coquetting within inches of one another circling round in elegant figure-eight motions. I look away and feel a certain prude embarrassment for having voyeuristically spied on their courtship.
After having watched the insects, paranoia sets in once more and I fancy that my skin is crawling with unwelcome six- or eight-legged guests. To counter this, I let my wet hair down out of its haphazard bun and let damp, unruly waves of it graze my shoulders and back so that now I'll only think it is my own hair I feel. The smell of my shampoo now overtakes the sweet, green smells that filled my nostrils - combining with the sickly sweet tobacco smell of my cloves while a gentle breeze playfully untucks a strand of hair I'd smoothed behind my ear.
A great many things threaten to crowd my mind but for now I am sharing a discourse with God and asking him to help me redouble my efforts to see things the way He does. It helps for me to look into the sky as I do this and I notice that a lone cloud is obscuring the big dipper. I make a silent promise to my constellation that I won't go back inside until the cloud dissippates, because I know it would be rude to take my leave without saying good night.