The Date Eight Years Ago

Eight years ago tonight, Ben and I went on our first date. We went to Tommy's in Coventry, and walked around Mac's Backs bookstore, and had sodas at Mitzi's, and ate Phish Food ice cream. It was a really good date.

We have both changed so much in the years since, in ways that we never could have without one another. It's a really good marriage.

This isn't entirely related (or is it?), but yesterday Ben noted one of the essential differences between us. I will not walk across the street if the orange hand tells me not to. Ben would totally walk across the street regardless of what the crosswalk says, if there aren't any cars coming (and if his wife would let him). On the other hand, I will walk right in front of a car (stridently, to make a point) if the walk light tells me that I have the right of way.

{ Happy everything, Ben. I love you. }

On the Other Hand...

The other day I was feeling a little salty about how reserved I've become when it comes to sharing my opinions. I think part of it is maturity - at least I'd like to believe that being more sensitive to context and audience is a sign of maturity. And then part of it is anxiety. It no longer appeals to me that I can write something on the internet and have no idea who will read it - or more importantly, how they will read it. Like, if I share my convictions about some issue here, will the assumption be that I use the bully pulpit at church about that same issue? Last fall I joined the "Clergy for Obama" group on Facebook. I immediately received a message from a friend's husband that contained one line: "I hope you are not preaching to your congregation to vote for Mr. Obama." Um, no. I am exercising my right to have my political convictions. As clergy, I have just as much right as a teacher or lawyer or longshoreman to share those convictions. I would never in a million years cross the line and campaign for a politician at church or on behalf of my church. I wouldn't touch that line with a ten foot pole. But Joe Shmo who passes through here does not know that. Perhaps it's a problem that I even care what Joe Shmo thinks. It just feels like the internet contains an infinite number of Shmos. And that's on top of the people I know and love who I have no intention of offending.

But that isn't what I intended to write about tonight. To briefly recap the excessively long intro to the point: Katherine is less likely to climb on the soapbox because of maturity (maybe) and anxiety (definitely). And the third and possibly biggest piece is contained in the first line of this post: "my domestic side has been having a field day." Like it or not, I seem to be way more into raising Juliette and baking scones and plotting my first patchwork quilt than talking politics these days. I care about health care - just ask Elizabeth, who I recently subjected to a great deal of capital letters in an email exchange (and no, I wasn't yelling at her, more like yelling at the RIDICULOUSLY BROKEN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM). I'm just fitting my health care rants in between well-baby appointments at the pediatrician. There's a parallel at church; I'm deeply engaged in the work of caring for my congregation. It doesn't involve process theology (although it does involve butting up against the RIDICULOUSLY BROKEN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM). My life is lived in domestic and congregational spheres right now. And while I miss the rush of arguing about politics and theology, I have bread to bake (and bless and break).

But I did manage to slip in a few opinions in this post, didn't I?

Diplomatic Silence

I have a lot of opinions.

(Did you hear that? That was the sound of my father's head nodding furiously in agreement.)

A lot of opinions. From theology to politics, music to food, I have something to say about just about everything.

I feel like I spend a great deal of time biting my tongue and sitting on my hands. This is not an entirely bad thing. Sometimes it really is best to keep one's opinions to one's self. I remember learning this lesson the day a friend had the courage to chew me out for ripping on something that I knew she liked. I remember being startled into complete agreement with her, and totally grateful to learn the lesson on how not to be so tacky. (And besides, she was right. U2 rocks, and I humbly repent ever thinking otherwise.)

On the other hand, sometimes it's tiresome to feel like I don't have the freedom to speak openly about things about which I'm passionate. I used to blog about politics & theology more, but don't so much anymore. I'm more aware that not everyone who reads this shares my opinions about this, that, and the other. I don't want to offend people, and I don't want to write something that could have consequences now or down the road.

It's against my nature to be so reserved, especially since I ultimately do trust that my voice matters - that everyone's voice matters. I just know that I can't control how what I write/say is received.

Not that I'm comparing myself to the prophets, but it would have been a really sad thing if Isaiah & co. shut up for the sake of diplomacy.

Eggplant Oooh La La

After a month on the road, my domestic side has been having a field day. I'm all about the cooking and knitting and organizing and yes, even scrubbing the grout in the shower. I even checked out a book from the library titled The Gentle Arts of Domesticity. I think I'm driven in part by the whole notion that the home needs to be homey, a respite in stressful times. Because as you well know, these are some stressful times indeed.

All of that is to introduce a recipe, a recipe that made for what I'd say was one of the best-tasting meals I've ever cooked. I was stalling before dinner-making time tonight, checking blogs instead of chopping veggies. I happened upon a post by Angie Lucas, "Growing Vegetables in the Dirt," in which she surveyed her readers for a good eggplant recipe. And there it was, in the comments, a quick write-up of a saute from Instead of Chicken, Instead of Turkey. I didn't have everything that one called for, but I did have a few tasty extras to throw in.

Behold: Eggplant Oooh La La.

1 eggplant, cubed
1 large tomato, chopped
a large handful of white mushrooms, chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
olive oil
1 cup chicken broth (original recipe calls for veggie; I didn't have any)
1/4 tsp salt (more/less according to preference)
fresh basil
(dried) oregano
leftover roasted chicken pieces
Trader Joe's Harvest Grains mix (or couscous)
(next time I'll add onions)

Saute eggplant in olive oil in a large skillet for a few minutes, adding mushrooms and garlic for the last minute or so.

Add everything except for chicken & grains.

Simmer on low heat for 30 minutes, covered.

Add chicken pieces and give it another 5 minutes

Spoon over grains/couscous, prepared according to package.

Two hearty servings (the toddler only eats Israeli couscous and plain peas).

It was so good I'm still talking about it.

Quote from a Favorite Artist

"I want my work to resonate with a deep collective memory of fingers in soil, growing food, talking to birds (not just listening), people working together in community. Some people do this everyday, but some people are in cities where the soil is deeply buried and the human noise drowns out bird voices. What is human nature? Cities aren't unnatural, but more can be done to encourage cooperation. I'm just trying to help recall a memory of that."

-Nikki McClure, Mishaps & Adventures Interview

Seriously Cute Toddler Flirting

Well, we're back. After the week in Collegeville, I flew back to California to meet up with Ben & Juliette, and we proceeded to travel to Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana. Quite the trip. I have lots of photos and stories, but for now, check out the cutest toddler flirting ever caught on camera. I don't know exactly what transpired between Juliette and her new friend Jed, but they both ended up giggling.

Juliette, Jed, & Mia, in Anna's backyard. One of countless lovely moments of the summer, many of which included Radio Flyer wagons, and all of which depended upon the hospitality and generosity of friends and family.