Archive | May, 2011

ten things I do instead of final papers:

9 May
1.  blog.
2.  students vs. staff/faculty softball game. [wednesday]
3.  watch Friends/Modern Family/Gilmore Girls on dvd/hulu.
4.  file fingernails.
5.  plan senior week events. [ie order tshirts and reserve a cotton candy machine]
6.  cover clothespins in pretty tape and mod-podge.  
7.  drink wine at Joel & Melissa’s.
8.  see George Washington’s wooden teeth at the MN History Center. [tomorrow]
9.  text/facebook/twitter/pinterest.
10.  think about you and when we can hang out.

end in sight.

9 May
It’s official.  I have entered my last full week of seminary classes.
[I’m going to say it again, because sometimes I don’t even believe it.]
I have entered my last full week of seminary classes.
I have four class periods and four final papers that separate me from the end of my seminary career, plus a few other minor assignments.
Ca. ray. zee.
[and here I am blogging instead of working on any of them. procrastination of schoolwork is my life.]

new favorite.

8 May
Raw oatmeal.
The old-fashioned oats soaked in cold almond milk for a matter of minutes (or put in the fridge overnight) and devoured.  
So delicious.
No cooking.  No forcing myself to eat a hot breakfast when it’s not cold out.  A little chewy with the perfect taste.
I so love oatmeal – I think I’ve sang my oatmeal song here before – and love that there is yet another new way to eat it.
Do you want the recipe?  Ready?
[1/2 cup old fashioned oats.  1/2 cup almond milk.  Mix.  Eat.]

tears.

7 May
My mom could speak to my youngest years and how often I shed tears, but in my adult life, I know that I do not cry much.
I remember not crying when I led prayer services for the family and close friends of deceased members while in Dawson.  Sometimes, I even wanted to, or felt like I should.  But I don’t think I ever did.  I didn’t cry at the funerals that happened the next day, and can remain pretty emotionally strong while meeting with families and being with them in times of loss.  [Not that crying would be a sure sign of not being emotionally strong.]
Want to make me cry?  
Stress me out, give me too much to do, throw in a lack of Lindsay time, and it’s only a matter of minutes before the tear ducts burst.  
I remember on internship there were moments like this.  Moments right around Easter and VBS when I was incredibly stressed out.  I had taken on too many responsibilities or procrastinated so well that I was stuck and frustrated, both at myself and the situation.  Talk to me about it and my eyes would well up.  
When my coworkers could tell I was at my limit, they would ask what they could do to help.  Being ever the one to not give up control or let anyone down, I said I just needed to have a good cry and that would push me into the git-er-done mode.  They wouldn’t necessarily accept this as a good answer to their question, but time and again, it’s what happened.
I reached that point tonight.  I went to the CYF dinner, walked into the room where it was being held and realized I didn’t really know anyone who was there yet.  [There are distance learners and people that I just don’t come into contact with on a regular basis within the program, and whether I’m stressed and on the edge or not, walking into a room where I know no one strikes enough fear into me – unless I’m in pastor mode and know it needs to be done.  No pastor mode tonight.]  I could tell I had reached my limit with everything going on and that if I walked in any further, I’d start to cry.  Pathetic, right?  
Pathetic or not, I knew I just needed to step away for a moment.  I sat cross-legged on a couch in the hallway for a good ten minutes, checking Twitter on my phone, speaking very few words.  I regrouped myself and had a nice dinner at a table with people I knew.  [Call me snotty but that’s exactly what I needed – people I knew.]
I’m back at the computer now, working on my presentation.  I can hear your inner thoughts: “Lindsay, you’re not working on your presentation.  You’re blogging.”  True, wise grasshopper, true.  But truth is, typing all this out is a way to work through the current tears.  I feel better focused and ready to carry on.  Let’s git-er-done.
ps.  I realize it’s late notice but if you are at all intrigued to watch me present my thesis, you can stream the video of it here live.  9:30am.  You’re invited to watch me fall on my face rock it.  [My self-confidence still needs work.]

synod assembling.

7 May
I am beat.  [sleepy, tired, exhausted, fried, etc.]

This lady just returned from the Southeastern MN Church Assembly.  Held in Rochester, this annual event is the place where each church is represented by their clergy and voting lay members.  Two days of sitting in a convention center listening to reports, amendments to the amendment of the amendment, and thumb wrestling.  [I kid not, but really wish I was.]  I went with Paige and Jonathan [also new assignees to the SE MN synod], and Jonathan’s wife, Lauren [P, J & L).  We were assigned to sit in the very front of the assembly so the bishop knew when we weren’t there [like that one time we sat and ate breakfast instead of going into the assembly] and when we were doing things other than listening [passing notes, iPhone games, magazines, etc.].
Irresponsible?  Maybe.  But we are not voting members [yet] and have so many other things going on in our lives [like trying to complete finals so we can actually graduate and get calls to SE MN], that we simply could not focus for so long.  [I’ll at least speak for myself here when I say that I entered that assembly hall with very little energy for what was happening.  Synod assemblies don’t exactly get me any too excited.]
It simply made me exhausted.  We left at 6:45 yesterday morning, did a lot of sitting, and it was a lot of people and small talk that did me in.  Being around people – and so many people at that [about 500 at the assembly] – just makes me tired.  [Introverted and proud of it.]  But it was good too.  We met a lot of people, a lot of pastors, and were able to get some insight as we enter into the synod as new clergy.  
It was great fun to spend time with P, J & L.  I’m so thankful that I have them in the same synod.  We misbehaved at the front table of the assembly together, tried to keep it together when the assembly made us do a few corny things [thumb-wrestling, hand-holding], and struggled to not break face when the photographer for the event would come uncomfortably close to take our picture.  We went out for Chinese food [ditching the synod dinner – shh.] and played a three-hour game of Settlers at the hotel.  [And we did have a pretty swank hotel.  I could have laid in that bed-with-way-too-many-pillows and watched television all day.]
I quite literally just got in the door of my apartment after returning home.  I have one hour before I’m expected to be at a CYF banquet and I need to blog.  Like, NEED to blog.  I have been around people for the very nearly the last 48 hours, but need to decompress and burst with introvert energy right about now.  I also need to unpack, sleep, and veg on the couch.
Unfortunately, there is little time to recover right now.  This weekend has been labeled in my mind as the weekend from hell for the past month and now I’m in the midst of it; it lives up to its name.  Synod assembly has passed but tomorrow morning at 9:30 I must defend my thesis.  [But, hey, before I do that, I should probably create the powerpoint and write what I will say, right?  Good idea.  Hello, late night tonight.]  Tomorrow, following the morning of CYF fun [sarcasm? slightly.], I must prepare for a Sunday night group meeting to fine-tune a presentation we make to our class at 8am on Monday morning.  From that class, I leave early to assist in the daily chapel service.
After that I can sleep.  [Until a 10 page final paper is due and a sermon is to be written for Thursday, a paper outline and reflection paper for Friday, a final paper on Sunday, and one last one for Tuesday.]  It will get done.  It always does.  
End of term: Come faster please.

rant.

5 May
oh-my-goodness.  i-cannot-wait-until-i-no-longer-live-in-this-parking-lot-facing-apartment-in-the-city.  i-cannot-wait-to-have-my-windows-open-and-not-hear-daycare-children-screaming-and-fighting-over-a-swing.  i-cannot-wait-until-i-don’t-hear-ridiculously-loud-cars-pull-up-and-drive-away-right-under-my-window-at-all-hours-of-the-day-and-night.  i-cannot-wait-until-i-can-simply-have-my-windows-open-and-enjoy-the-quiet-of-nature.  because-this-right-now-is-driving-me-nutty-beyond-sanity.  
rant over.

the first goodbye.

4 May
It’s May.  The month I graduate from seminary.  The month at the end of which I move home.  
May is exciting.  Graduation will be exciting.  I’m kinda thrilled to be done with school and looking towards what is next.  There is lots of fun stuff happening between now and the end.  Granted, yes, I have to finish my classes too, but after final papers are turned in, I think nearly every night of mine is booked with last minute Twin Cities adventures and hanging out with friends.
May is exciting but May is also going to be sad.  I will be saying goodbye to a place, a city, and lots of people who have been a part of my life while I’ve lived here.  Today was the first goodbye –
Brentt, my hair stylist.
I told him that I was moving and that he shouldn’t be offended when I don’t show up again in another six weeks.  We talked a bit about where I was going and what was next, and then he said, “If it’s your last time here, let’s do something crazy!”  There was a moment of panic on my part, and then he said, “Let’s straighten your hair today.”
phew.  That I can handle.  I straighten my hair on occasion and those are the days more than three people ask me if I’ve got it cut or simply look at me a bit strangely, not really being able to pinpoint the change but knowing something is different … 
As he began to blow dry and straighten, Brentt said, “It will be our little treat today, since this is it.” I was a little skeptical.  I don’t think I’d ever straightened my hair when it was this short.  And a hair stylist – with the product, tool, and height advantage – can always do it better than I.  Better = straighter, shinier, and smaller.
When he finished, frankly, I was a bit scared.  It doesn’t feel like my hair and, it turns out, when my hair isn’t big, my face looks huge.  Don’t believe me?
One friend saw me walking down the sidewalk on campus, unable to identify it as me for certain from a distance.  Flip-flops?  Check.  Scarf?  Check.  Hair? Um …  I felt like to whatever friend I approached, I had to explain why I looked so out of the ordinary.  I’d put my hands on my head and the first thing out of my mouth was, “I got a hair cut!” [probably too loudly like Will Ferrell’s character on SNL who couldn’t control the volume of his voice.]  With such small, straight hair, I don’t know how anyone can grasp that it truly is me.  In complete honesty, I like my short curly huge hair.  This is just a friendly reminder of that.
I will miss Brentt though.  He helped me find a cut and style for my hair that I really enjoy.  As he walked me over to the counter after my cut, he told me to call for a haircut if I ever came back to the Cities.  Then he said, “Hug,” his two hands motioning such.  Aww.  Hug for you, my gay hairstylist.  You’re awesome.

mac- mac- macarons.

3 May
Starbucks is killing the cakepop and I’m moving on.  The seven stages of grief are still very real in my baking world but I’m looking for a new focus.  It’s time to settle with the past and look to the future.
Macarons.
[Don’t freak out.  I’m not ditching the cakepop.  Calm down, I say!  I will continue to make, share, and if Melissa has her way, she will be managing my etsy store that sells them.  But I’m ready to try something new too.]

Macarons are rising in popularity, one of the newest trends, much like the cupcake has been the trend of the last year.  [Ever watch DC Cupcakes?  I want pink boots and the skill to do the signature swirl.]  The petite dessert has been named as one of the top food trends of 2011 by this unfamiliar [trusted?] source.  I honestly think I’ve never even heard of this French dessert until the past year, and I certainly had never ate one before.  Have you ever ate one before?  They started appearing on Pinterest and there were too many pretty pictures to stand before I was determined to try them myself. 
I bought a macaron cookbook and it consumed me.  Must make macarons.  And it was so.
I did a trial run last night of lemon macarons with a lemon curd filling.  [You know, instead of homework.]  I have promises to make macarons with friends too, in the next few weeks, but to have a trial run under my belt will help facilitate success in later endeavors.  They worked … but I have practice to do.
A macaron is basically ground almonds [note: leave in the food processor longer], powdered sugar, egg whites [note: beat in mixer longer], and caster sugar [note: find some].  I’m not quite sure where to find caster sugar; any ideas, friends?  Apparently it’s a superfine sugar.  Maybe I’ll try to make my own with the trusty food processor.  The recipes require only three tablespoons of this type of sugar, and last night I substituted regular sugar.  I also need to purchase a proper cookie sheet that fits my silpat for ease and functionality.
Once the batter is mixed, it is transferred to the silpat using a pastry bag and tip.  I’ve never used one of those before – you know, the bags people use to decorate cakes with fancy tips.  It felt awesome, like I was on some fancy cooking show or something.  I loved it.  My macarons turned out anything but perfectly round and the right shape but that can be improved, and I’m happy to practice with the pastry bag.  
They’re light and airy, unique and colorful with lots of possibilities and flavors.  [Much like what I love about cakepops, minus the light and airy pieces.]  Macarons, I think we can be friends.    

money is dumb.

2 May
I wish it didn’t matter.  I’d like to believe that it doesn’t.  Money is a necessary evil, one required in our society to survive.  Money is what buys the things we need to live.  Those basic needs we learn in elementary school social studies – clothing, shelter, food.  We need money for those things.  gross.
But beyond that, what really do we need?  I know, I know.  I sit here, typing on my MacBook that’s charging my iPhone, surrounded by a closet of way too many clothes, next to a bathroom easily containing at least $100 in product/makeup, and lots of stuff.  [The gnomes on the shelf are excluded.  They are not stuff; they are gnomes.]   If this weren’t a public blog, I would call it shit.  [Whelp, just did.] Who am I to talk?  I can’t. 
As my classmates and I move farther and farther into the interviewing/call process, salary negotiations happen.  I’ve shared with a very few of you that I had a second interview yesterday.  If they decide to extend a call, the next step would be going over the salary packages and I feel completely ill-equipped to be on one side of that table.
Ill-equipped and very uncomfortable.  I find myself wondering what I need, and I think I’m easily going to be the push-over because, in all honesty, I don’t need a lot.  There is such a fine line, simply not wanting to be taken advantage of and honestly evaluating my needs.  The synod guidelines for pastor salary include a designated amount for books, periodicals, etc.  Do I need that?  I’m quick to say no; I can easily pay for that out of my general salary.  Do I fight for my cell phone bill to be included in my salary package?  I’m quick to say no; I’ll make it work.  I go back to my childhood-taught line, “Don’t ask for money,” but then contrast it with being a professional with a master’s degree who deserves such-and-such a salary.  I can’t find the balance in my head.  Will this lead towards poor thinking, financial management, and planning on my part?  Some pastors would say yes; some would say no.  
I’m leaning towards not, probably lots due to my dad.  Today would be a celebration of his 52nd birthday and there is no doubt that were he still here, my mom [in collaboration with us kids] would hand over standard packages of white tshirts, socks, and underwear as his gift.  And he would be happy as a clam.  It’s all he needed.  He had a house, food on the table [and chickens in the yard], a job, a shirt on his back, and a family.  What more is there?  He taught me what’s needed in life, though most of the times I forget.
What’s needed right now?  A little Marty McFly and a DeLorean.
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