In the Bleak Midwinter

Ok, it's not quite "midwinter" yet.  Is it even winter yet?  God, please, say it is.  Because I'm already cold and grumpy.  In a loving, happy sort of way, of course.

Things have been really crazy lately, due to my role in the Breakthrough Christmas Store (it's not too late to donate new toys and gifts for parents to purchase at a discounted rate!) and M's finals (which he ROCKED by the way!  Or at least has rocked the two he's taken at this point- one law class and one policy class).  But we've still made an effort to get out of the apartment and enjoy the beauty of the season.

First stop, the University of Chicago Harper Library (please note: there are not actually any books here.  Apparently there were at some point.)  I like to sit here and just stare.  Come to think of it, that might freak people out who are there studying...especially since I usually have a goofy grin on my face as I'm sitting.

M's enthusiasm is somewhat less than mine.  And by "somewhat less" I mean that he doesn't bat an eye.  Chalk it up to being surrounded by the beauty of the campus on a daily basis.  I, however, just FEEL smarter sitting here.  Smrtuhr.  That's me.

Also, it sort of reminds me of Harry Potter and/or Oxford, which both make me happy.  Sigh.

Then, since you know M is German and all, we have to stop by the Christkindlmarket.

It's the largest German Christmas market outside of Germany apparently.  And they sell authentic German Christmas stuff at authentic (read: outrageous) European prices!  Yesss!!  It's also a great place to have a reindeer propose to you, as one of our Breakthrough interns, Rae, found out.  (They're writing about them all over the world, y'all! Seriously, google it.  Oh and watch the video on YouTube.  I like the homeless lady at the end.)

And when we're tired of walking around, it's always nice to come back to the apartment and relax.

This afternoon, I made some wonderful granola (healthy) and some of my favorite cookies covered in sprinkles (not so healthy).  Does anyone else remember eating these cookies as a child?  They always remind me of being a kid.  Later, as the next winter storm hits tonight, we'll have homemade vegetable soup with bread and prosciutto on the side.  Ah, the life.

So maybe it's not such a bleak time of the year after all.  Beautiful buildings, yummy food and fun markets make the snow much more bearable.  Oh, and then of course there's moments, as you sit in the holiday traffic, when you see gems like this...

Merry Midwinter!

It's a Pierce, Buchanan, Lincoln, Johnson Christmas

When I was in high school, I took AP American History where, in an all-night study session for the big test, I memorized the names of all the presidents to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

Many times since then, I've impressed people with this stupid human trick and thoroughly amazed and enlightened them, no doubt.  And if this isn't a reason to invite me to your holiday party- I can do Festivus, Christmas, Kwanzaa or Hanakkuh/Chanukkah/Hawnickuh- I don't know what is.  Granted, I've had to add another Bush and an Obama, but it's relatively easy if you just smash everyone past Carter into one breath.  (Please don't shoot me for that comment, presidential historians.) And come on, it IS pretty cool when you think about it.

That is, until "Christmas music on the radio" season comes along.  And oh, friends, it's already come along.  In fact, it came along about a day or two after Halloween.

And when it does, all of a sudden, when the beautiful Christmas song Hark the Herald Angels Sing begins to play, I can't help but think about Millard Fillmore and Rutherford B Hayes.  And let's be honest.  They don't exactly inspire a lot of holiday cheer.

This face doesn't exactly say, 'Merry Christmas'...

Santa's younger cousin, perhaps?

Washington, Adams, Jef-fer-son, glory to the new born king!

Thankfully I didn't memorize all the members of the Supreme Court to Frosty the Snowman.

So that's what they mean when they say "quilted"

I just don't even know what to say, except, every time I enter the bathroom at our church here in Hyde Park, this is what I see.  And so I'm finally sharing it with you.  (Yes, this is now the second time I've taken a picture in a bathroom.)

Marvel at its beauty, friends.

And without further ado, I bring you "Quilted Midwestern"

(Not to be picky or anything, but for some reason it annoys me that it's out of order.  I'm just saying.  Unless the person between square one and two used a lot of...well...you know...)

A Holy Disappointment

It's an odd phrase, that's for sure.

And yet I believe it is a "holy disappointment" that God is cultivating in me- a disappointment that I have no doubt Christ felt concerning His followers during His own life here on earth.  (And I dare say we have plenty of evidence to assume that God had a bit of that same feeling toward Israel.)  

It's a disappointment that we, the (American, middle/upper class) church, are so often more focused on our own personal development than on the spreading of the Gospel through love and good deeds.  A disappointment that we care more about talking about romantic relationships than talking about God's concern and command to love and serve others.  (God does care about romantic relationships and personal development.  I'm sure of it.  But from what I can tell from His Word, He's got a lot more He wants to do in us and through us than that.)  It's a holy disappointment that so many of us are missing out on the Spirit-filled life- one that produces great fruit- because we are too consumed by the rest of the stuff around us.  It's a disappointment that while many churches are doing the good works that give life to faith, so many more are not.

It's a disappointment that Satan sometimes uses to paralyze me, to make me cynical and sarcastic.  And yet it is a disappointment that- when I allow God to really use it- drags me to my knees as I beg God to make us- ME- better followers of Him.

And ultimately, it is a disappointment that reminds me of what's so great about the cross.  That God would allow His Son to die for people like you and me who- by ourselves- are pretty darn disappointing, even on our best days.  This disappointment reminds me that things are not as they should be- and yet there is a way that things can be made right.  There will be a day when things are made right.

And while I long for the day when there is no longer a need for holy disappointment, I will allow God to cultivate this holy disappointment in me today, that I- and we- might better serve Him.

 

They've Probably Got Something for That

Last night, M and I ventured once again to Chinatown. And let me here pause and rail against the Chinatown of DC. DC, you know I love ya. But really? Writing "Starbucks" in Chinese does NOT a Chinatown make. Or Urban Outfitters for that matter. And certainly not Ann Taylor Loft.

The thing about Chicago's Chinatown that is so thrilling is that one, it actually appears (to someone who has never been to China) to be somewhat authentic to at least a small piece of daily life in China (minus the millions of people, but, whatev.) Secondly, nearly every other store is some sort of weird "pickled or dried stuff in a jar" sort of store. Doesn't that just make it feel more real? I submit that it does.

And so, of course, we went into a few of the stores. And we saw items such as this.

Those are dragon balls. Giggle, giggle.

Sorry, I can't help it.

But. Wouldn't you think they would be...

Ahem.

Anyway.

These, according to the looked-slightly-out-of-it-but-probably-a-very-nice woman, are good for weight loss. Thanks for pointing that out, ma'am. In fact, she said, this tea squeezes the fat out of you. Well in that case, please, give me a couple pounds of this magical treatment. Only problem...one ounce of this stuff costs $7.50. For those of you who aren't math majors, that's a whopping $120 per pound. Um....one ounce will suffice, thanks. I'll ration.

The crazy part is that these beautiful balls (sorry, I'm still giggling) aren't even close to the weirdest or most expensive things in the store. There were, of course, dried shark fins that cost over $400 a pound. And according to the internets, shark fins do all sorts of things from lowering your cholesterol, to making you happier to giving you mercury poisoning. Fun stuff! And there was ginseng everywhere, which is good for, well, I'll let Wikipedia tell you (and why did they have so much of this stuff?!). Or maybe you would be interested in the dried oysters or scallops, and their, shall we say, pungent aroma. Then there were the HUGE mushrooms- I'm not kidding when I say they were at least a foot in diameter- or the whale flipper in the glass case. God only knows what else was in that crazy store. (Because many of the signs were only written in Chinese, and I'm assuming God knows Chinese, so He would know.)

But my favorite? Oh my favorite. By far. And crap, why didn't I get a picture of it?

Sea cucumber.

I will spare you the details of what this lovely little thing looks like (because seriously, it's worse than the Washington Monument). But, like ginseng, these bad boys were everywhere. And coming in at about $50 a pound for the small, dried ones, quite a good buy. Apparently sea cucumbers are not only a delicacy in some Mediterranean countries, it's also good for lowering high blood pressure, treating disorders of the kidneys and reproductive organs, reducing arthritis pain, possibly HIV therapy and a whole host of other things. It's a miracle underwater plant/animal thingy, people! A miracle drug! Patent it now!

So whatever ails you, it's good to know that Chinatown is the place to go. (That should be their public television ad!) Because, let's face it, our medicine might as well be made in China.

Everything else already is.

Things I Wish it was Still Appropriate for Me to Do

Sidenote: I think I've been into lists lately.

Confession: I'm now 28. And at 28, some things just aren't appropriate to do anymore. I know, I know, "fight the man," "do what you want to do" blah blah blah. But let's be honest. If you saw me doing some of these things, you would totally judge me. Totally.

Here's a partial list I've come up with of things that I would love to still do but feel like I probably shouldn't because I'm supposed to be an adult now.

1. Take naps in the middle of the day.

2. Blow huge bubbles with my bubble gum (which, OF COURSE would be the really fruity, sugary type)

3. Watch cartoons on Saturday morning (though I HAVE watched them while working out)

4. Skip.

5. Wear adorably cute, frilly dresses. (Hey mom, maybe you could smock another one for me!)

6. Eat gummy fruit snacks with my lunch every day.

7. Stick my tongue out at people when I'm mad at them.

8. Throw myself on the floor when I'm mad (I'm not sure I ever did this, but it appeals to an emotional person such as myself)

9. Wear one of those really cute blow-up inner-tubes that has an animal's head on it. When I go to the pool and the beach. Not just around.

10. G0 to the local pool and go down the water slide.

11. Play in the sprinklers.

12. Have an Easter egg hunt.

13. Finger paint.

14. Sleep with my Tigger stuffed animal.

15. Sell lemonade and rice krispy treats and cookies outside for a profit. Without a license.

The good news is that, one day when we have children, many of these things will suddenly become appropriate for me to do again (maybe not #8, but I'll let you know). I think I will SO be that mom who is more into playing in the sprinklers than her children are.

And I'm ok with that.

Eastern Comfort?

This past weekend, M and I finally took the plunge and paid the majillion dollars to go to the world-famous Chicago Art Institute.

It was worth the majillion dollars.

First of all, you can come in and out all day. That means that you aren't held captive to eat their ridiculously expensive and probably bland food. Instead, you can go to Five Guys. (Yes, it exists here. Believe me.) That also means that you can park in the metered "2 Hour Parking" and just feed the meter every, you guessed it, two hours. And save yourself the majillion and one dollars you would pay to park in a garage.

The Art Institute is phenomenal. Check out my pictures on Facebook for an idea of all the amazing art. But there's one thing in particular I want to bring your attention to.

Chinese pillows.

Yes, Chinese pillows.

"Those aren't pillows!" you're thinking. Well, you're thinking wrong. They might look like big lumps of stone (which they probably are). But they're not. They're pillows. Don't believe me? Here's my proof:

The little description claims that these "supported the neck while sleeping and allowed an often elaborate hairstyle to remain intact during the night." Hmm. Two points to make here: one, how freaking long is your neck that one of these things fits comfortably underneath it?? And two, I'm from the south. Don't tell me about "elaborate hairstyles". Have you seen Steel Magnolias? Or any Dolly Parton video? I'm just sayin'.

I mean surely they didn't find these things comfortable, did they? A hard stone under your head? I can imagine they were as comfortable as getting your hair shampooed in a salon every night. For eight hours. Didn't they have feathers they could stuff in cotton and call it a real pillow? Or use their arm? Or a rolled up floor pad or something? Anything softer than...a stone?

Eastern Comfort. Nothin' like it.

The Rules

Because we live in an orderly society, their are certain rules that we all must abide by (unless you think you're above them--I'm lookin' at you Maryland drivers--in which case you ignore them and totally annoy the crap out of everyone else). These rules are a little different depending on where you live...for instance, did you know that in the country of England they DRIVE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD??! I know! Oh! Oh! And in the Czech Republic PEOPLE YIELD TO BICYCLES. Mind-blowing!

Apparently, like these other exotic locales, Chicago has its own set of rules. Here are five that I've observed so far. Let's call them "Chicago Winter Rules."

1. If you park in front of my sidewalk, it's totally ok for me to shovel my sidewalk ONTO your car.

2. Lawn chairs and orange cones really do save a parking spot. And if you take it, your tires will be slashed. (I wish I were kidding. I'm not.)

3. It is not my problem if a huge piece of snow flies off the top of my car and smacks your windshield, making it impossible for you to see for a terrorizing 30 seconds.

4. It's so much more fun to yell instructions from across the street at the "foreigners" (ie not from Chicago) who don't particularly know how to get their car out of the 2 foot wall of snow (see rule number 1) that is around their car. You wouldn't want to actually cross the street and HELP.

5. It's really fun to scare these same "foreigners" by telling them that it will still be snowing in mid-June. And the reason it's fun is because it's true.

Oh, Chicago...

Uh, what?

Two "Uh, What?" moments today (sidenote, this is a new series on my blog. As of right now):

1. Ok, so like 94% of America, I'm watching Lost right now.

Uh, what?

I mean...huh? I get the whole Locke's body thing. And I understand that somehow they're not there but they are there, without being there. Right? And Miles still talks to dead people and Sawyer is still a bad actor and, man, I wish I had Kate's arms.

Other than that...um, what? Who are these new hippie people?? What's the deal with crazy Jacob? Is Locke the bad guy in the dark vest who is Jacob's arch nemesis? This is just getting ridiculous. And there's still 30 minutes to go...

2. One of my little kindergarten kids that I tutor on Tuesdays through Breakthrough said today, "Miss Liz, you have big eyes. Like a hamster."

Uh, what? And...thanks?