Lift Up Your Hearts!

Each Christmas we send out a slew of Christmas cards, and receive slew minus epsilon in return..  (By "slew" I mean about 120; and you wonder why we find postage stamps to be a good investment.)  The trouble is that these cards arrive in the mail at what is usually the busiest time of the year, where we have little time to appreciate them.  If we happen to go away for Christmas, the situation is worse:  we return not only to unpacking and laundry and neglected work, but also to a pile of cards and letters.  It's so easy to slip into a routine:  Slit envelope, check.  Open card, check.  Skim card, quickly read letter, and glance at photos, check.  Enter data (news, change of address, etc.) into our Christmas card database for next year, check.  Toss card and envelope into recycling, check.  Breathe sigh of relief, check.  But that's all wrong.  The cards are meant to be appreciated, photos admired, and newsy letters savored.

Last year I read about a family who saves all their Christmas cards until the next year, putting them in a "prayer basket."  Each day one of the children pulls a card out of the basket and the family prays for the people who sent it.  I found that an admirable idea, but my anti-clutter side couldn't bear the thought of keeping a basketful of cards sitting around all year.  I did, however, institute my own version, and I love it:

At the end of the above-mentioned data entry routine, the envelopes get recycled, but the cards go into my Tickler, spread out over the days.  Thus, each morning I have one or two cards/letters/photos to enjoy in a relaxed fashion.  I pray specifically for the people they represent, illuminated by whatever information I've just read.  Then, and only then, do the cards go into the recycle bin.

Win-win-win.  I receive much more pleasure out of our Christmas mail, people are prayed for, and I enjoy a small decluttering moment every day.

Publix, our local grocery store, often has tasting centers set up throughout the store.  Of course they are meant to encourage you to buy the product; sometimes I do, mostly I don't.  But I love the tastes, especially when it involves the sushi department.  :)

One of the stations usually involves not just a single product, but a whole meal or main dish prepared before your eyes (if you want to stick around and watch, which I usually don't).  These are almost always delicious, and every once in a while I can't resist picking up the ingredients to make it myself.  So it was one day last week.

Does Chicken over Warm Kale and Asparagus Salad sound good to you?  I can't say it did to me, but that's the advantage of these stations:  I tasted it.  I'm including the recipe below, at least as much for myself as for anyone else.  On the other hand, as far as I'm concerned recipes are merely suggestions, so here are some of the changes I made, or might make next time.  There will be a next time.  It was so good each of us ate more than the 1/4 recipe portion size recommended, and I could have eaten a lot more.

• I did use the shallots, but next time will probably just go with red onion, or any onion I have on hand; I don't think it makes that much difference.
• I didn't buy any fresh basil, because I thought we had enough on our basil plant at home.  But it turns out it still needs more growing time, so I used fresh Thai basil from our abundant supply.  (The flavor is quite different, but still great).
• I didn't add the asparagus, because what was available at the store didn't look very good.
• Instead of the raw chicken breasts, I used shredded meat from a whole chicken I had cooked earlier, adding it later in the process, because all it needed was to get hot.  I also used a lot less chicken than the recipe calls for, and mixed it in with the salad rather than placing it on top.
• I used Essex Garlic Salt (a wonderful product that was birthed about the same time Porter was; thanks, PJS!)
• The "kale salad blend" was by organicgirl ("Baby kale, tango, baby spinach, baby green chard, green romaine, baby green oakleaf lettuce. Ingredients may vary by season.")  It was on the pricy side, but absolutely delicious.  I'm trying to quell my frugal side when it comes to things that will help us eat more healthy food.
• The Parmesan cheese was fresh-grated, of course!
• I added some chopped pecans at the end, just because I had them and the idea sounded good.  It was.

Chicken Over Warm Kale and Asparagus Salad

Ingredients
1 (3-oz) package shallots, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, coarsely chopped
1/2 lb fresh asparagus spears
1 3/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 1/4 teaspoons garlic/herb seasoning, divided
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 pint grape tomatoes
3 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
1 (5-oz) container kale salad blend
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Prep

• Chop shallots and basil.
• Cut asparagus into 1-inch long pieces, removing tough root end.

Steps

1. Preheat large sauté pan on medium-high 2-3 minutes. Season chicken with 1 teaspoon garlic/herb seasoning (wash hands). Place oil in pan, then add chicken; cook 4-5 minutes on each side or until browned.
2. Reduce heat to low. Stir in tomatoes and shallots; cook and stir 2-3 minutes or until tomatoes are softened.
3. Combine vinegar and sugar, then stir into tomato mixture; cook 8-10 minutes, turning chicken occasionally, or until liquid has reduced by about one-half and chicken is 165°F. Remove chicken from pan; let stand 5 minutes to rest.
4. Stir kale, basil, asparagus, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon seasoning into tomato mixture; cook 1 minute or until salad is wilted. Transfer salad to serving plates; slice chicken and arrange on top of salad. Sprinkle with cheese; serve.

CALORIES (per 1/4 recipe) 380kcal; FAT 13g; CHOL 115mg; SODIUM 320mg; CARB 19g; FIBER 3g; PROTEIN 45g; VIT A 80%; VIT C 50%; CALC 15%; IRON 15%

Wouldn't all Kickstarter projects like to have funded $906,490 of a $50,000 goal?  And with 17 days left in the drive?  Well, not all Kickstarter projects involve both smart phones and paper airplanes!

A $40 pledge gets you the basic package.  No wonder they have so many backers; I can imagine that was many a geek's Christmas present.  (H/T Stephan)

Tired of Treasury bonds that pay nearly nothing, and bank accounts that pay less?  Frightened by the vicissitudes of the stock market?  We just made an investment with a guaranteed minimum return of six and a half percent.  Anyone else interested?

It's not a great return, but it's decent, could go much higher, and essentially risk-free.

Who's with me on this?

My sister-in-law's "books read in 2013" post has me itching to work on my own, but re-entry chores after our vacation are taking priority (with difficulty).  In the meantime, enjoy this post from the Occasional CEO.

In high school I studied the Civil War.  A few weeks later, we tackled World War I.  Those two wars seemed to me ages apart, in entirely different eons.  In one, ancient soldiers rode horses and wore funny hats.  In the other, ancient soldiers drove tanks and wore funny helmets.  The distance in time between the two events was, to me, like that between the Punic and Vietnam Wars.

As I arise on this snowy morning in the new 2014, I am reminded that the death of the Archduke is only six months away and the guns of August eight.  I realize too that I was in third grade when the Civil War ended.  Said another way, my living memory has now spanned the period between the Civil War and WWI, and it turns out they were not fought in different eons at all but in a very short, very connected period.  Brad Pitt was born the same year as Gettysburg.  We saw Google launch when the USS Maine sunk in Havana and we declared war on Spain.  Americans lost President Garfield to an assassin when Raiders of the Lost Ark premiered, and President McKinley when Apple introduced its first iPod.

Porter is always placing historical events in this kind of chronological context, which may explain why he has such a good sense of history.

There is a sense I now have of historical "connectedness" that I did not when I was young, or even when I was studying history in college.  It is something, I suppose, that truly gifted historians can create in their writing. Sometimes it comes upon us abruptly ... as it did for me last year when I watched the video of a man who witnessed Lincoln's assassination at Ford's Theater appearing on TV's I've Got a Secret.  More often than not, though, this sense of connectedness probably just comes with age.

That it comes with age makes sense—how can a ten-year-old really grasp a time span of more than a few years?  Yet it seems worth the effort, given that apparently the graduates of 13 years or more of (mostly) compulsory education are even more ignorant of history than they are of geography.  I'm not mocking the younger generations:  almost all of my own historical and geographical knowledge was gained after I graduated from college.

(On the geography side, it didn't help that what I did learn in school went rapidly out of date.  Once I could identify all the countries on a map of Africa.  I can today—but few of them are the same countries.  Learning must never cease, and knowledge always be refreshed.)

How to help young learners develop a sense of history?  Timelines, certainly.  I don't mean just memorizing dates, but a clear visual representation of the relationships between events.  Perhaps something like Hillyer's Staircase of Time, or the huge timeline my sister-in-law created that took up most of their front hall.  Not hidden away in a book, but a part of the home or school landscape that confronts us daily.  Something frequently referenced, though, so it doesn't fade into the background.

It might be possible, also, to develop Porter's self-taught habit of translating bare historical dates into personal events, e.g. "When I was your age, we were fighting in Vietnam," or "Grandpa was born exactly 18 years after the Wright Brothers made their first flight at Kitty Hawk."

What other ideas can you think of?  If you are one of those blessed with a sense of history, do you know how you developed it?

Aargh.  I thought I could get a quick post by just putting up a link to someone else's.  Apparently I'm incapable of not adding my own two cents.  Especially since my refusal to set up a Google + profile keeps me from being able to comment on the Occasional CEO itself.

Back to post-vacation chores.  (I did say it was "with difficulty.")

How to Be Idle by Tom Hodgkinson (HarperCollins, 2005)

The Idle Parent by Tom Hodgkinson (Penguin Books, 2009)

Porter recently earned his ITIL (Information Technology Infrastructure Library) certification.  Not to be outdone, I read these books to obtain my IDLE certification.  (A joke that only works if you read it out loud, I guess.)  Unlike Porter's efforts, mine required no exam, although How to Be Idle did at times test my patience.

I read the second book first, on Janet's recommendation, and I'm glad I did.  It is by far the better, as evidenced by having over 30 of my sticky notes whereas the other only has eight.  I suspect that parenthood gave Hodgkinson a little more maturity, as it does most of us.  Even though I know he's exaggerating to make a point, in How to Be Idle there's still 'way too much disdain for effort, responsibility, and moral standards, and much too much praise for smoking, excessive drinking, drug use, unlimited sex, and all-night partying.  On the plus side, he mentions Paul Verlaine twice, a poet I'd never heard of till Stephan introduced me to him.  I love to find connections like that.

From the chapter on meditation, a sentiment I can relate to:

It's hard to drift off into nowhereland when your arousal hormones are circulating wildly as a result of your rage at mobile phone users.  Fantasies of hurling their mobile phones from the train window tend to disturb the search for inner calm.

Much of what Hodgkinson praises I cannot relate to, even a "pleasure" as innocent as remaining in bed until noon.  He's not even talking about getting a good night's sleep—as one would need after another of his pleasures, staying awake till three or four in the morning—but of lolling around, simply being idle.  Even if I were a night person for whom a 4 a.m. to noon sleep felt normal, I'd be climbing the walls if I couldn't wake up, get up, and get to work!  I never did get how breakfast in bed was supposed to be a luxury.

On the other hand, this touches on one of the book's best points:  that we have—unnaturally and to our harm—separated work from life.   We focus our educational efforts too much on training our children to get a well-paying job working for someone else, when we should be teaching them how to discover what they love to do and leverage it into self-employment.  Although he quotes  G. K. Chesterton several times, Hodgkinson does not mention one of my favorite of Chesterton's ideas, though I'm sure he would agree with it:  the world does not really have too many capitalists (owners of the tools of production), but too few.

Another important point, hidden in his obsession with what I'd call slothful idleness, is how essential to the creative process are unscheduled time, daydreaming, staring into space, meandering walks to nowhere, and the like.  Yet we feel guilty for these idle times, and others feel free to interrupt them, because we're "not doing anything."

The Idle Parent retains a modicum of the prejudice against Christianity in general and Puritanism in particular (or rather, the author's misinterpretation of them), and a bit too much respect for Rousseau, Locke and others who seem to know more about theoretical children than real ones.  And he still exaggerates at times to make his point.  But there are some real gems here.

Here follows a ridiculously long list of quotations, and I won't blame you if you are put off by the quantity.  But at least half the reason for making the effort to post them here is so that I'll be able to find them again myself, so I don't apologize.  They're worth taking the time to read, really. (More)

Deer Hunting with Jesus: Dispatches from America's Class War by Joe Bageant (Crown, 2007)

It is good for me occasionally to read something written by someone I disagree with.  After all, I frequently find wisdom in unexpected places, and have been trying for five years to put my aphorism, "the wise man recognizes truth in the words of his enemies," into common usage.  (With spectacular lack of success, I might add.  A Google search nets seven results, all from my own blog.)  This book was difficult, and I haven't yet been wise enough to discern much useful truth, though by the end I was able to understand the author a bit better, I think—and to feel sorry for him.  He's ashamed of his background, he's afraid of the future, he's angry at the injustice he sees, and he thinks he knows where to assign the blame.

It was not my Christmas present.  I was only the courier, and if I don't like it, well, that's what I get for reading someone else's gift merely because it passed through my hands in the delivery.

Joe Bageant grew up in a small town in Virginia, not all that far from my own West Virginia/Western Pennsylvania ancestors.  Unlike most of his neighbors, he went off to college and, as my strongly right-leaning friend would say, became thoroughly drunk on the "Liberal Kool-Aid."  He became a hippie and a journalist and a hardline socialist.

Writing about his roots, he occasionally comes across as sympathetic to the sorrows of those who share his hometown, but mostly with a condescension that is difficult to stomach:  Surely the only reason they don't see the world the way he does is that they have been ground down by their corporate, industrialist, Republican masters who conspire to keep the serfs stupid, ignorant, poor, and sick!

By the end of the book I was convinced that his conflicted response to his own people—alternate sympathy and loathing—is due to his own self-hatred.  Sorry to go all pop-psychology on you, but he clearly has never forgiven himself for being white, and Scots-Irish at that.  To hear him tell it, all the troubles of the world are the fault of people who are white, of Scots-Irish descent, and/or Christian.  He himself is guilty of the first two, and if he managed to shed the last, to his embarrassment his own brother is a pastor—even one who admits to having cast out half a dozen demons in his time.  In an attempt to atone for these sins, Bageant indulges in what would clearly be branded "hate speech" and earn him the harshest opprobrium were the objects of his screed black, of Hispanic descent, and/or Buddhist.

The best chapter, oddly enough, is the one on guns, hunting, and the Second Amendment.  I say "oddly" because I dislike both guns and hunting, but appreciate Bageant's demolition of the standard Liberal gun-control reasoning.  Here he seems at last to understand his own people, even though he no longer has use for guns himself.  I suspect the recipient of this book will like this chapter a lot.

Although there are many places where I nearly threw the book across the room because of what I see as Bageant's ignorance and irrationality, he occasionally has some impressive insights:  as, for example, when he accurately predicted the subprime mortgage crisis well before it became obvious to the world.  On the other hand, Porter predicted that, too.  It's a lot easier to see that something is a house of cards than it is to do something constructive about it.

I'm also struck, again, by how much the far Left and the far Right have in common.  It's the Right that usually gets mocked for stockpiling food and water and otherwise preparing for the coming Doomsday, but Bageant is just as pessimistic.  He may see different causes for the impending disaster, but he's sure it's coming.  It's those of us in the middle who just keep on keeping on with life, expecting neither heaven nor hell anytime soon.

Here are a few quotes—then I have to go wrap the book.  :) (More)

December 15 was the Third Sunday of Advent, also known as Gaudete Sunday.  This day of rejoicing in the midst of the somber Advent season was fitting for our church's service of Lessons and Carols.  Christmas Eve would have been still more appropriate, but in a time when many choir members are out of town for Christmas—not to mention a time when pastors really, really don't want to give up their opportunity to preach to a packed church—compromises are made.  I love the Lessons and Carols service:  lots of Scripture readings, lots of music, no sermon.  Apologies to my pastor friends and relatives....

I know that the entire service was videotaped, but that's not available right now, so I once again resort to what I can find online.  Except for Christmastime, that is, which features our choir of two years ago—before we joined, so don't strain your eyes looking for us.  I'll modify this post if and when our own versions become available.  Hymn numbers are from the Episcopal Hymnal (1982).  We, personally, did not sing all of the works listed below; some were solos, some by youth and children's choirs.

Prelude:  Soli Deo Gloria (arr. Mark Hayes)  Our youth choir sang the non-Latin words in English, but this Russian version is cool.

How thankful we are to have been part of this service.

Gaudete!

UPDATE 11/1/19 Ugh.  This time, the problem with the automated updating of Flash videos to iframe cut out not just a little but most of this post.  :(  However, I can't deal with it now.

Here are some excerpts from Conversion Diary's 7 Quick Takes post today.

You may recall from previous years’ ravings that I love Christmas cards. LOVE. I love getting them, I love sending them out — I even love updating our address database and printing labels.

Throughout the year, [our friends] go through their Christmas cards one at a time to pray for the family who sent that card. I just love that tradition, and I think it speaks to the enduring value of Christmas cards, even in the online age. There’s something special about having a physical object that you can hold and feel, like a picture or a card, instead of pixels confined to a screen.

That said, I totally get why some people don’t send them. If I didn’t love it, I wouldn’t do it. We can’t do it all, especially during the holidays, and some activities have to go, even if they’re great in theory.

One of the things I’ve realized only recently is that I need to find as many liturgical year traditions as possible that are not work for me. Doing Christmas cards, for example, does not feel like work. Each evening I look forward to pulling up my basket filled with envelopes and pictures and our family newsletter and new pens and sharpies. I can’t wait to jot down little messages on the back of the cards and smooth labels onto envelopes, all with a favorite show playing in the background and a glass of eggnog at my side. It truly makes the holiday season more special for me.

Baking, on the other hand, makes me lose my will to live entirely. I know that it would bless my family if our counter were spread with warm cookies and pies throughout the season, but my children lost the mommy lottery on that one. I occasionally make some treats with them because they enjoy it, but you’ve seen how it tends to turn out, and then I feel like I need 10 hours in a Relaxman to recover. I have a friend who is the opposite (hates Christmas cards, loves baking) which makes me realize that the key to maintaining sanity during holiday seasons is to find activities that you genuinely enjoy.  [emphasis mine]

Wise words—easier said than implemented, but wise.

Three anthems, sung Sunday, November 24, 2013.  [Oops.  Forgot to hit "publish" before going out of town.]

Be Thou My Vision (arr. Jay Rouse, PraiseGathering Music A08367).  Our choir director cynically (though no doubt correctly) posits that arrangers always mess with the originals because that way they can make money on them.  But in this case I have to say that as much as I like the usual version, I also like this unusual arrangement.  The syncopation makes it feel more Irish—though only if you take it a bit faster, as we did.  I don't like this rendition, but the other one I could find online I liked even less.

For the Beauty of the Earth (Folliott S. Pierpoint, Conrad Kocher, setting by Joel Raney, Hope C5733)

No YouTube video that I could find, but you can hear it at the link above.

UPDATE 11/1/19 Once again, the automated updating of Flash videos to iframe cut out a chunk of the post, but I'm leaving it as-is.

Jon found this amazing furniture designed for small spaces.  This is what happens when artists and engineers collaborate!  I find it terrific!

There's only one tiny problem:  It appears that if you can afford this furniture, you can afford a larger apartment.

No prices are listed, but Jon's e-mail inquiry about the bunk beds is rather discouraging.  (I rounded the numbers, but you get the idea.)

• Beds:  $5,000 - $8,000
• Folding headboards (each):  $500
• Folding desk under lower bunk:  $1000
• Twin mattresss (each):  $500 - $1000

Minimum $6,000 for a set of bunk beds?  Add the headboards and a desk and it will set you back at least $8,000?  (Plus taxes and shipping no doubt.)  They're very clever, and I'm sure they're well-built—probably not in China, though I haven't found any evidence to back up that speculation—but yikes!

Although it's still warm in Florida, the first snow has fallen for much of our family, so I'd better post this before no one is thinking of autumn fun anymore.  I don't know if this sign was intentional or not, but when our friend RDH posted it on Facebook, I had to share it further.  I'm pretty sure it was not an attempt to give bilingual directions to the crop.

Last year for Veterans Day I posted the honor roll of all those—thus far documented—in our direct lineage who have served in the military, from the Pequot War to World War II.  (We don't go any further than that directly, though I'll tip my hat as well to some current family who married in.) Today I invite you to remember your favorite veterans and enjoy some selections from our church service yesterday, November 10, 2013.  In the Episcopal Church, at least in my experience, no secular occasion (e.g Mothers Day, Veterans Day, Independence Day) is ever the focus of the service, but we do allow ourselves a little time to remember what the rest of the country is celebrating.  After having the veterans of various branches of the service stand, we sang the part everyone knows of God Bless America, which I don't need to include here.  Below are the anthems we sang.

A Prayer for Our Time (Joseph and Pamela Martin, Harold Flammer A7600).  It took me a while to warm up to this anthem, written in response to the events of September 11, 2001, because my favorite of that genre has always been our own Robert Kerr's Prayer for Peace.  But it has definitely grown on me, and singing it yesterday was spectacular.  It's been a long time since I've been in a choir where the singing gave me goose bumps!  It's not that our choir is so spectacular, but it's good enough that sometimes everything comes together just right.  (Again, remember, that the videos below are not us.)

Happy 20th anniversary to two of our favorite people!  Belated, that is; I blinked and the week was gone.

Our family is infinitely better off because of your wise decision those many years ago.

Our anthem for today, November 3, 2013:  assisting our cherub choir with The First Song of Isaiah (Jack Noble White, Belwin CMR 2247).  (This video is not us.)

Despite the indisputable cuteness of the kids, the most amusing part of the service was one of the hymns:  Praise to God, Immortal Praise.  No, there's nothing funny about the hymn itself, but the bulletin contained a rather unfortunate typo, leaving the title short one "t."