Lift Up Your Hearts!

We're stocking up on meals, pre-birth, and today made a double batch of our favorite stew.  The recipe calls for a hefty helping of paprika.  Spices should not necessarily be increased in direct proportion, but I like paprika, so I doubled the quantity—and then, as I usually do, threw in a bit more.

Some of Janet's spices are labelled in English, but most in the Swiss triumvirate of German, French, and Italian.  This jar had but a one-word label:  "paprica."  Perhaps paprika is the same in every language.

Or not.  The spice in that jar was decidedly not paprika as I have always known it.  Picture a pot of stew seasoned with a heaping tablespoon of red pepper....

The stew was delicious.  Even Joseph liked it.  (Then again, he asks for "spices" on almost everything.)  Hot pepper worked.  But it's a good lesson in taking care when cooking in another country.  What if "paprica" had actually meant "ginger"?

At this time last year I reflected on the results of my 2010 January resolution:  Read More Books.  It was an unqualified success:  In 2010 I had read 65 books of great variety:  print and audio, fiction and non-fiction, from children's lit to an 800-page survey of ancient history.  I felt quite good about it.

I'm not feeling so encouraged now.  For 2011, my total of 33 books was but half the previous year's.  Without doubt, even an avid bookworm like me needs to be vigilant and deliberate in making time for reading.

What happened?  I can think of a few factors, none negative in itself. (More)

So, Orlando finally gets a Wawa!  Nowhere near us yet, but there's hope.

I'm still waiting for a Trader Joe's....

Why do Jehovah's Witnesses bring out the worst in me?  They're only doing what they think is best.

I'm not good with any form of un-asked-for solicitation, be it door-to-door, phone, e-mail, blog comment, junk mail, or any other form of spam.  I don't like being rude, but I've found that a quick, "No, thank you; I'm not interested," followed immediately by hanging up the phone or closing the door, to be the solution that wastes the least amount of time—not only mine, but theirs.  Why let them go on and on when I know I'm not going to give in to whatever they're selling?  I did know someone who would, on occasion, invite them in, and let them go on and on, thinking they were about to make a sale, until the whole evening was used up.  He figured he was saving several dozen other folks from having their evenings interrupted, and he found it somewhat amusing.  (Reality TV hadn't been invented yet.)  But that's not me.

When it comes to JWs, I also know people who will invite them in, serve them coffee, and spend the evening preaching the gospel to them.  I admire those who can do that, but it's definitely not me. (More)

It's not polite to think about items you didn't get for Christmas while we're still in the Christmas season.  But hey—at least no one thinks I'm hinting for a gift as I ponder things.

Those who know me will be shocked at what I am about to reveal, almost as shocked as when I admitted that I might actually want to own a Wii.  Oops, I haven't actually confessed that here yet.  But I had such a blast with the Wii Fit over Thanksgiving....

I am a book-lover.  That is, a lover of real, paper, take-'em anywhere, you-own-it-and-Amazon (or whoever)-can't take it away kinds of books.  Books that smell like books.  I dislike reading on a computer screen.  Back in the Dark Ages of last century, I tried reading a book on my then-leading-edge Palm handheld device.  Yuck.

However, the thought of owning an e-reader (Kindle, Nook, etc.) is slowly breaching my event horizon.  For one thing, the price is coming down.  I had dismissed Kindle early on, at the mere thought of holding a $300 "book" that would likely to break if dropped.  But $100 is a little less scary.  More than 2/3 less scary, for some reason.

Then this morning I was struck by two prods in the e-book direction.  First, an e-mail from Janet inquiring about a certain book, which opened my eyes to the idea that one can give e-reader books instantly, without worrying about delivery time or overseas shipping charges.

Shortly thereafter I read Conversion Diary's 7 Quick Takes Friday, from which I quote: (More)

(Continued from Pre-Christmas Fun.)

You wouldn't think that with just the two of us it would still take all day to open presents, but it very nearly did.

We slept a little late, due to yesterday's exhaustion, but we can never sleep in much, even without the pleasure of being awakened to Christmas carols on the clarinet.  (Yes, that is a pleasure!  We missed that this year.)  I finished the few preparations that I'd negelected last night, and we sat down to open our stockings.

Mothers—sometimes fathers, but more commonly mothers—often develop the bad habit of filling their own stockings.  For one thing, and this is unavoidable, if you have a gift that everyone gets (in our house this includes Toblerone, Mentos, citrus fruit, a coin) it makes sense to drop one into each stocking.  It would look very strange for one person to be left out.  But beyond that, it's just a bad habit.  One parent takes on the role of chief stocking-filler, and the other is content to let that stand.  In our case, when we had guests, this was almost a necessity, as so many moms were contributing to stockings that they overflowed without the dads having a chance.  But this year, I resisted.  There were only two of us, and why should I deprive Porter of the joy of finally having a chance to be Santa Claus with more than his traditional dollar coin?  So when I picked up a set of combs for each of us, I wrapped Porter's but put mine in the drawer.  When I bought tape, I wrapped some for Porter's stocking, but did not put any in my own.  Etc.

What a good decision!  Porter is a great Santa Claus!  So here is a word to all moms caught in my trap:  Share the joy!  Even if it means prodding your man a bit to get him started.  Why should moms do all the work have all the fun?

On to breakfast!  As usual for Christmas day, the clementines from the toes of our stockings were the only part of breakfast we could consider healthful.  But mmmmm!  Raspberry kringle (thanks, NMKB!), Dutch banket (pastry filled with almond paste), almond raisin bread ... you get the picture.  When our children were young Christmas breakfast was primarily Lucky Charms, as Christmas and birthdays were the only occasions sugary cereals were allowed in the house.  We adults prefer our sugar in different forms, but Christmas morning at our house is traditionally overwhelmingly sweet.  Traditional for our family, that is.  Growing up in my own family, I don't remember any particular Christmas breakfast traditions besides a stocking tangerine, and an "eat faster so we can get to the Christmas tree!" attitude.  My parents graciously, but with a show of reluctance, conceded to drink their after-breakfast coffee in the living room.

Neither of us drinks coffee, but I would have brought my tea into the living room if we had had time.  But it was then time to get ready for church. (More)

This post was going to include Christmas Day, but it turned out to be pretty long, so I've divided it into two parts.

Last Sunday we enjoyed the Festival of Nine Christmas Lessons and Carols at the Cathedral Church of St. Luke, featuring the Boy Choir and Girls Choir.  I'm tired of hearing that today's kids only want to sing pop songs!  If that's all they hear, of course that's what they'll want to sing.  But these boys and girls sing excellent music from several centuries, and with beautiful, pure voices.  The singers included a couple of friends of ours:  one boy man, now a college graduate (alumni are invited to sing with the choirs), whom we knew as a very young Suzuki violinist, and a second-generation Girl's Choir singer whose mother we knew when she was in high school.  Perhaps my favorite part of the service, however, was the instructions, printed in the bulletin, to the congregation.  No slackers allowed:  "Please stand and sing the entire hymn in harmony."  (Emphasis mine.)  That and seeing several long-time friends (I've reached the age when "old friends" is not the preferred term) at the excellent reception afterwards.

Friday night we took a break and returned to the Morse Museum for our third time in a month: they showcase music as well as art during this season.  We didn't stay long, however, and spent most of the time talking to some friends we unexpectedly met.  We would like to have returned Saturday, when the Raintree Chamber Players were to be featured, but that was Christmas Eve, and we had a few other plans.... (More)

Ahem.

Our nephew is playing in the 2011 Quidditch World Cup in New York City.  He's a Seeker, and he just caught the Snitch.

I thought the world should know.  :)

The Priority Mail Large Video Box (O-1096L) may be the U.S. Postal Service's best kept secret.  It's not a very big box (9.25" x 6.25" x 2"), but it holds quite a bit more than the Small Flat-Rate Box, and if you're shipping internationally—or at least to Switzerland; I haven't had need to try any other countries recently—it's the same price. 

You can get the boxes for free from the USPS, too.  The trick is knowing what to order.  The box is O-1096L, called "Priority Mail Large Video Box."  You see, it's not flat rate domesticaly, only internationally.  But the kind USPS lady on the phone—whom I called in desperation, being unable to find a "flat rate" version among their shipping supplies— assured me that this is the right box to use, though she admitted that some local post offices haven't gotten the word yet that it's flat rate for international shipments.  I've used it successfully twice so far.

It's a real bargain over the regular Priority Mail or First Class International prices.  If you print the postage online, the cost is even less, and you can fill out and print the Customs forms at the same time.  (The form from the post office is a bit simpler, however.)

UPDATE:  Apparently most post offices don't carry these boxes.  You can get them free from USPS online, but it does take time.

UPDATE 2:  I forgot to mention that in order to get the $13.25 price you must pay for the postage online and print it yourself; if you pay at the post office, the price is $13.95.  We've found it well worthwhile to set up the ability to pay online, as the price is almost always better.

UPDATE 3:  Did I  mention that this is the Postal Services best-kept secret?  Unfortunately, they're also keeping it from many of their employees.  One person I know went to two different post offices, only to be told each time that the postage cost for her package would be over $30, because the box doesn't say "Flat Rate."  What's more, they refused to call, or look it up online, although one branch said they'd look at a printout if she brought one.

Later, when she herself called the main USPS customer service, the representative confirmed the flat rate (after sighing, "Oh, the Video Box problem again"), but added, "Good luck convincing a local post office if they don't believe it.  It's at their discretion whether to accept it or not."

WHAT???  The local post office can decide, willy-nilly, what to charge for the U.S. mail?  This is carrying privatization a bit too far, don't you think?  Actually, I don't believe it.  She's going to try a third, larger, post office (after calling ahead, and bringing printouts with her just in case).

I think the wonderful folks at our own local post office deserve a large plate of Christmas cookies this year: they're always friendly, always helpful, and they've never given me any trouble.with the Large Video International Flat Rate Box!

UPDATE 4:  I half take back my harsh words in Update 3.  The post office that said they'd consider changing their minds if they saw proof apparently decided to look it up themselves, and today gave almost no trouble:  The first clerk refused, but the one next to him overheard and said, "No, no, it's okay, she's right.  We looked it up."  It would have been nicer if they'd been willing to look it up the first time, but at least they're all educated now.

UPDATE 5:  As you can see by the comments below, people are still having trouble with this, depending which post office they use.  As I said, "Educating the world, one post office at a time."  The bad news is that, since the recent postal rate increase, the cost of the flat-rate box has risen considerably.  It is now $16.95, with no discount for paying online.  :(  But it's still better than First Class (currently the least expensive international option (at least to Switzerland, and I'm assuming to most countries) if your package weighs more than 1 pound 12 ounces.

UPDATE 6:  (12/14/13)  Well, it once was a great deal.  Now it's $23.95.  Unfortunately, I still have to call that a reasonably good deal—compared with other overseas rates.  The demise of international book rate, and then international parcel post ("boat rate") has been a sore trial for those with family overseas.

UPDATE 7:  (3/14/16)  I don't mind occasionally paying more in postage than the value of the item sent.  Otherwise I'd never send homemade cookies, or Hallowe'en candy surprises.  But the cost of this box, which is still in most cases the least expensive option, is has now risen to $33.95!

Congratulations to my brother and sister-in-law, who not only managed to get a 25-hour anniversary, but have much of the state honoring them with romantic candlelight.

'Tis better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness.  A kerosene heater helps, too.

I'd heard of FlyLady before, with her system for helping those of us who were born creative—i.e. distractible and disorganized.  But I was quickly turned off by her system.  Perhaps it was her annoying perkiness, which slaps you in the face, even in the design and colors of her website.  More likely she lost me at Beginner Baby Step #2, which requires us to put on shoes before we even begin the day.  I don't wear shoes any more than is absolutely necessary, and we have a shoes-off-at-the-door policy in our house. (Not for guests, so don't let that stop you from visiting.)  On the other hand, perhaps the requirement to wear shoes until the work is done would do wonders for my productivity, who knows?  Anyway, I filed FlyLady under "Somewhat Interesting, Maybe, Someday" and there she has remained.

But Janet has been wiser and stayed with the program long enough to find some great wheat in the chaff.  For example, the famous "Swish & Swipe" (which I mis-typed as "Swiss & Swipe" the first time) for the bathrooms.  Janet taught it to me when she was here.  I adapted it to my own use, and I LOVE IT.

Here's how I do Swish & Swipe each morning.  It's supposed to take two minutes; I'm not quite that fast, but it's not much more. (More)

What was Hallowe’en like when you were a little girl, Grandma? 

No one has as yet asked me that question, but if things run true to form for most Americans, someone will, someday, after I am past being able to respond.  So I will answer it now.

My Hallowe’en formative years were in the 1950s and early 60s, in a small village in upstate New York.  Contrary to what we’d like to believe, it was not an idyllic and crime-free time.  One of my first (and worst) Hallowe’en memories was of the teenaged thugs who thundered onto our porch, grabbed our carefully-carved jack-o-lanterns, and smashed them to bits.  I lived a sheltered life:  this was my first view of senseless, wanton destruction; my first encounter with people who get pleasure from breaking the hearts of little children.  Our tiny village did not escape teen gangs and vandalism, which seemed to be more widespread, if much less dangerous, in those days.   At least they attacked property, not people.

That was the only scary thing about our Hallowe’ens.

The most important difference between Hallowe’en then and now is that the occasion was first, last, and always for children.   A few adults dressed in costume for the neighborhood parade and party, but the purpose of the event was to entertain the children.  The only excuse for anyone over 12 going out trick-or-treating was to escort the younger ones—every once in a while a compassionate homeowner would give us a piece of candy, too.  Now, when high schoolers come to my door, I give them candy if they’ve made any attempt at a costume, but I pity them, that at their age they are begging door-to-door for candy instead of helping younger children to have a good time.

On the other hand, teenaged trick-or-treaters is a clear improvement over teenaged vandals.

The Hallowe’en season began several weeks in advance of October 31.  No, not because Hallowe’en stores began popping up all over town, and shelves everywhere sprouted candy in yellow and orange.  Because of the costumes.  Store-bought costumes were largely unavailable, and anyway, who would have wanted one?  Hallowe’en was an occasion for great creativity.  Merely deciding what to be could take a month.  (Decisiveness, I’ll admit, was never my strong suit).  Those who come to our door today are mostly beings—a cat, a princess, a Star Wars character—but we favored things:  one might be a rocket ship, a pencil, or the whole Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (no relation to the present-day Tea Party, as mad—in either sense—as they may be).  The challenge was to create a costume from whatever we could scrounge around the house without actually having to spend money.  No problem—we had not yet forgotten what any five-year-old knows:  the cardboard box is the most universally useful of all materials. (More)

So.  I just spent all afternoon creating a Hallowe'en post.  A perfectly adequate Hallowe'en post.

On the way to the grocery store, I realized that it needs to be completely re-written.  And I'm going to do it.

If Thomas Mann was correct in saying that a writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people, maybe I really am on my way to becoming one.

What's the point of having a camera that takes videos if you can't share them?  Hence my venture into the world of YouTube as something more than a bystander.  If this one works, you can expect more from time to time.  This is Joseph, two months ago, playing on our brachiation ladder.

There is no way I'm going to write this without sounding corny or superficial, but I'm doing it anyway.  I caught a glimpse of God's love (and sense of humor) today.

Let me begin by noting that the event itself was, on God's scale of things, and even on the human scale, absolutely trivial.  But any human lover knows how much love can be expressed through trivia.  More disturbingly, I've experienced having trivial victories followed quickly by tragic defeats.  But it is what it is, and worth reporting.

To simplify the story, there's a store at which we get what can amount to a very significant discount by using a particular credit card.  The catch is that we never know what the discount will be until the purchase has been made.  I've seen discounts of greater than 50%, and yet on some items it may be only a few percent, or nothing at all.  Shopping at this store is my substitute for playing the state lottery:  it's a thrill to "win big," but there's no point in buying something that you wouldn't pay full price for, because you might have to.  Of course, you can always cancel the transaction, but I hate asking the checkout clerks to do that.

So here's what happened today.  There's an item I wanted to buy, but there's no way I could justify paying full price.  Still, I wanted it badly enough to grit my teeth and face cancelling the transaction just to learn what the discount would be.  So this morning, on my way from the church where I had a commitment to sing, to the church where I had a commitment to get a flu shot, I stopped at the store.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that I was fretting, getting tense over the idea that there might be little or no discount on this item that I really wanted, and worse, over the potential embarrassment of having to tell the clerk that despite having wasted his time and that of those behind be in line, I didn't want to make the purchase after all.  The morning's excellent sermon on worry, however, was not entirely lost on me.  The featured text, Philippians 4:4-8 ("Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God") is one of my favorite Bible passages.  So, thankful for the opportunity, I made my requests and relaxed.  I know, I know.  It's trivia.  And most of you will have no idea why the thought of returning a purchase is so stressful for me.  But it is, and I know some of my readers will nod their heads with understanding.

I never did find out what the discount would have been.  But not because I wimped out at the last minute.

Having found the correct department, I pulled out my notes to ascertain the correct model number.  To my dismay I realized that I had neglected to write down that crucial piece of information.  Ah, not to worry; I was pretty sure I could figure it out.  Sure enough, I picked out what looked to be the right model, and if I'd had any doubts, they were removed when I noticed that this model, out of all the models and manufacturers on display, was the only one on sale, and the cost was just thirty percent of the regular price.  A seventy percent discount!  Our credit card at its best is never that good.  I stood there in awe for a few minutes; when I came back to earth, I bought two!

No, it wasn't anything earth-shattering, or even important.  But it was the unmistakable touch of a lover's hand that says, "I am here"; the completely unexpected, simple gift that proclaims, "I love you."  And maybe, perhaps, "You can trust me through the dark and doubtful times, also."