Since Erika bought me Michigan by Sufjan Stevens in 2003, I've been a big fan of his. My best friend used to listen to Danielson Famile a long time ago, but I never connected Sufjan with Daniel Smith and his family.
We listen to Sufjan a lot. Yesterday, while reading through a few blogs, I came across the most amazing early Christmas present. Not one, but three Sufjan Christmas albums. These aren't released records, that I know of. If someone knows different, let me know.
Sufjan Stevens Christmas Albums
In case you missed it, here is Sufjan's NPR special.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
NO MORE TV TRAYS
After searching all over for a table to break bread on, Erika and I have finally made the big purchase. I'm very pleased with it's construction. The next time you come over to our apartment for food, we won't be sitting on the couches.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
PET PEEVES
Is it fun to read about another person's pet peeves, or does it just bring you down and make you grumpy? Let's find out. Here are mine.
1. When someone says, "I'm bad with names."
If you say this, shame on you. Have you ever noticed that EVERYONE says this? Did God place a genetic defect in 99 percent of the human race that makes people psychologically unable to remember a person's name? No. He didn't. People are bad with names because either they are not really listening when someone tells them their name, or they are not intentionally trying to remember the name. To anyone who claims this lame untruth, when someone tells you his name, say to yourself (silently of course), "His name is John. John is his name. People call him John." Notice something unique about John. Associate John with another John you know. You will be amazed that suddenly you are not so bad with names anymore.
2. When a friend has a blog or any new contact information, and they don't tell me.
How am I supposed to get ahold of this person? How am I supposed to read their thoughts and share in their virtual ponderings? When someone does this to me, I feel unloved. That's the bottom line.
3. Usage of the (not really a) word, "irregardless."
This is my number one pet peeve of all time. "Irregardless" is not a word. It does not appear in the dictionary. When I spell checked this blog entry, the spell checker highlighted all occurrences of it. The word is just "regardless." I had an English teacher who used this supposed word all the time. An English teacher! It was too disheartening for words. I judge anyone who utters this word.
But of course, kind reader, you do none of these things. Thank you for being so considerate.
1. When someone says, "I'm bad with names."
If you say this, shame on you. Have you ever noticed that EVERYONE says this? Did God place a genetic defect in 99 percent of the human race that makes people psychologically unable to remember a person's name? No. He didn't. People are bad with names because either they are not really listening when someone tells them their name, or they are not intentionally trying to remember the name. To anyone who claims this lame untruth, when someone tells you his name, say to yourself (silently of course), "His name is John. John is his name. People call him John." Notice something unique about John. Associate John with another John you know. You will be amazed that suddenly you are not so bad with names anymore.
2. When a friend has a blog or any new contact information, and they don't tell me.
How am I supposed to get ahold of this person? How am I supposed to read their thoughts and share in their virtual ponderings? When someone does this to me, I feel unloved. That's the bottom line.
3. Usage of the (not really a) word, "irregardless."
This is my number one pet peeve of all time. "Irregardless" is not a word. It does not appear in the dictionary. When I spell checked this blog entry, the spell checker highlighted all occurrences of it. The word is just "regardless." I had an English teacher who used this supposed word all the time. An English teacher! It was too disheartening for words. I judge anyone who utters this word.
But of course, kind reader, you do none of these things. Thank you for being so considerate.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
INTERFAITH HOSPITALITY
This week our church is hosting Interfaith Hospitality, which is a program that helps families that have lost their homes get back on their feet. Twelve different area churches of all denominations take turns hosting the families - preparing meals for them and providing them with a place to sleep for a week at a time. Volunteers from the church cook dinner and stay the night to be available for the families if anything comes up.
Interfaith is something Philip is incredibly passionate about. I am talking passionate. He was involved in the program long before he met me, and dating him meant helping out with him whenever it was our church's week to host, regardless of how uncomfortable it made me.
And it definitely made me uncomfortable. Interfaith was the first event at which I met friends of Philip's from his church. First, we had to cook dinner, which was something that I had no clue how to do back then. (I actually can cook now, which, for my college friends, may come as a major shock. But it's true. Come to Florida and I'll prove it.) So everyone was in the kitchen preparing food, and by "everyone," I mean all these people who I was meeting for the first time. I remember kind of hovering around nervously wondering what to do with myself, wishing that the kitchen was a place where I felt confident and capable, rather than awkward and retarded.
Then we had to meet and talk with the families. I was so terrified that I would say something horribly offensive or not be able to think of anything to say at all.
That night, the families didn't end up eating with us. They just kind of got their food and bolted. So the rest of us ended up having a lovely conversation over our spaghetti in which I became acquainted with a number of people who are now my good friends.
But it didn't stop there. Philip and I stayed the night in these rickety cots, and the classroom we slept in was F.R.I.G.I.D. I had never been so cold in my life. And I could hear all these noises outside, like sirens and cars speeding down the highway. I was jumpy as hell and don't think I had one hour of sound sleep that night. Then we had to get up at 6:30 in the morning to move the families out and load the cots up into the trailer. It was a lot of physical work, hauling bags and bags of belongings as well as around 25 beds downstairs, not to mention vacuuming, emptying the trash cans, and dividing up the linens for laundering.
It was all so uncomfortable and draining that I just balled when I got home. I was sure I couldn't do it, that I was the wrong woman for Philip, because he needed someone a lot braver and tougher. I both admired and resented Philip for being so tireless, for being so comfortable talking with the families, for being so capable.
Now, after two years, I can handle Interfaith. I can cook, I can interact with the families (to an extent; Philip is still way better at this), and I can sleep in the church without freaking out (though at times it's still a little spooky). I have the energy it takes to get the job done. I know the ropes. It just took a compassionate guide and a willingness on my part to keep trying, even though it was exhausting and intimidating.
As I left the church yesterday morning after volunteering for the night with my husband, I watched the families load up into the Interfaith van to go to their various destinations for the day. One mother had to walk to the bus station to get to her job so she'd be on time. And Philip and I left in our two separate cars. These families with three and four kids don't have one vehicle, and we have two. I drove in my car to our apartment, where there are two comfortable queen-size beds - one that never even gets used - while these families have zero beds.
So I just have to feel like, so what if I am uncomfortable and stretched for one or two nights out of a two-month period? So what?
Interfaith is something Philip is incredibly passionate about. I am talking passionate. He was involved in the program long before he met me, and dating him meant helping out with him whenever it was our church's week to host, regardless of how uncomfortable it made me.
And it definitely made me uncomfortable. Interfaith was the first event at which I met friends of Philip's from his church. First, we had to cook dinner, which was something that I had no clue how to do back then. (I actually can cook now, which, for my college friends, may come as a major shock. But it's true. Come to Florida and I'll prove it.) So everyone was in the kitchen preparing food, and by "everyone," I mean all these people who I was meeting for the first time. I remember kind of hovering around nervously wondering what to do with myself, wishing that the kitchen was a place where I felt confident and capable, rather than awkward and retarded.
Then we had to meet and talk with the families. I was so terrified that I would say something horribly offensive or not be able to think of anything to say at all.
That night, the families didn't end up eating with us. They just kind of got their food and bolted. So the rest of us ended up having a lovely conversation over our spaghetti in which I became acquainted with a number of people who are now my good friends.
But it didn't stop there. Philip and I stayed the night in these rickety cots, and the classroom we slept in was F.R.I.G.I.D. I had never been so cold in my life. And I could hear all these noises outside, like sirens and cars speeding down the highway. I was jumpy as hell and don't think I had one hour of sound sleep that night. Then we had to get up at 6:30 in the morning to move the families out and load the cots up into the trailer. It was a lot of physical work, hauling bags and bags of belongings as well as around 25 beds downstairs, not to mention vacuuming, emptying the trash cans, and dividing up the linens for laundering.
It was all so uncomfortable and draining that I just balled when I got home. I was sure I couldn't do it, that I was the wrong woman for Philip, because he needed someone a lot braver and tougher. I both admired and resented Philip for being so tireless, for being so comfortable talking with the families, for being so capable.
Now, after two years, I can handle Interfaith. I can cook, I can interact with the families (to an extent; Philip is still way better at this), and I can sleep in the church without freaking out (though at times it's still a little spooky). I have the energy it takes to get the job done. I know the ropes. It just took a compassionate guide and a willingness on my part to keep trying, even though it was exhausting and intimidating.
As I left the church yesterday morning after volunteering for the night with my husband, I watched the families load up into the Interfaith van to go to their various destinations for the day. One mother had to walk to the bus station to get to her job so she'd be on time. And Philip and I left in our two separate cars. These families with three and four kids don't have one vehicle, and we have two. I drove in my car to our apartment, where there are two comfortable queen-size beds - one that never even gets used - while these families have zero beds.
So I just have to feel like, so what if I am uncomfortable and stretched for one or two nights out of a two-month period? So what?
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