Twenty-Six Expressions of Thankfulness for a Year of Being Twenty-Six

I am 27 today, kicking off a new year, and a new adventure, here in Kenya.

I would love to have some words of wisdom to offer, ala my friend Koh, about moving into one's “late” twenties, and all that jazz, but all I really have is a list of things I'm thankful for from the spectacular year that was 26 (spectacular because, well, every year is spectacular, isn't it, if we really stop to notice?):

1. Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing with the sibs, on (or about) my birthday.

2. A mini Tardis, which served as a good omen, linking my year of Doctor Who in the UK, with Karise, to my year of Doctor Who in Corvallis, with Marisa.

3. Blackberry walks.
4. Blueberry picking.

5.Trading a year of accomplishments in walking for a year of accomplishments in driving (the first time I was ever in a car alone was trying out my new commute from Corvallis to Newberg, and I made it =)).

6. A year of Corvallis to Newberg (and back) commuting. With the fields and the hills and the sky, alone with my thoughts and so many wondrous audiobooks.

7. The incredible opportunity of spending a year teaching at Fox. A bucket-list dream realized, and an experience that provided so many challenges and allowed room for so much growth.

8. Getting to co-teach with the spectacular Melanie Springer Mock.

9. Conversations with wise, wonderful people: Howard Macy, Rick Muthiah, Kathy Heininge, and Roget Newell, to name a few.

10. The protection of God and Mr. Toad during my scary car crash, in January.

11. Conversations and sleepovers and movies; Thai food and espresso; creating new memories, and celebrating the old; processing through who we are, and how we've changed, and what dreams still drive us -- all in the presence of the ever-fabulous Kohleun (once an FLP, always an FLP?).

12. My students, who challenged me in their writing, and in their discussions, and came to see me during office hours, and let me catch, even a glimpse, of the great beauty and light inside them. The many who met me halfway, and more than halfway, and blessed me with their friendship, their questions, and their gratitude.

13. A chance to read Faulkner and O'Connor in the company of Bill Jolliff and his wisdom and his class.

14. Theatre, even if only to watch, and not to participate: In the Family of Things, The House of Bernarda Alba, Parade, The Lion in Winter, and The Game's Afoot.

15. A year of reconnecting with dear friends (in Newberg, and in San Diego, and while roadtripping): Alicia, and Tammi, and Megan, and Michael, and Ruth, and Mariam, and Elspeth . . .

16. Time with family, at Thanksgiving (in Corvallis), and Christmas (in Bethlehem), and Brendan's graduation (New London and the Caribbean =)).

17. The World Cup, and all the joys of futbol.

18. Time (always too brief) with extended family. And what an incredible group of incredible people they are.

19. All the ways that God provided financially: Obamacare, and my job at Sunnyside, and parents and siblings who extended grace upon grace.

20. Being able to be a part of Susanna and Zack's wedding, and celebrate in the company of so many who dearly love them.

21. A friend who challenges me to write, and to seek God, and to serve others. Several days in her (and her grandparents') beautiful presence.

22. Books that gleam and spark: Art Objects

23. Films that do the same (inspiring conversation and thought): Noah

24. Others with whom to converse and think, and watch anime and Game of Thrones, and be challenged by to live the life one aspires to live.  

25. Three beautiful days in the beautiful UK, shared with such beautiful people.

26. The grace and patience of God, which undergirds all things: And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

And one for the coming year:

27. That God has brought me to this place, to this garden, to these friends (both old and new), and leads me on; God's grace, and strength, sufficient for whatever lies ahead.  

Welcome to Africa

Hm . . . so, I seem to have been locked out of my most recent blog.  Until I get that situation rectified, I'm going to go ahead and post this (written last week) on here.  My first post in . . . well, a long time. 

It's day five of my new, African, adventure.

My last few months/weeks in the States (if one can discount the packing) were pretty glorious. Attending my “little” brother's graduation from the Coast Guard Academy, going on a Caribbean cruise with the family, seeing wonderful cousins and uncles and aunts in Minnesota, spending some time on the Oregon Coast, watching the World Cup, attending a dear friend's wedding in New Mexico, and getting to spend time with special people all along the way.

As a last hoorah of our year of living together, my amazing brother and sister-in-law took me into Portland the night before I flew out. We ate delicious Thai food, swam in our hotel pool, and got up super early to make my flight out of PDX. And if that wasn't enough, they sent me off with a packet of goodies ranging from tealight candles to pictures to snacks (not to mention some utterly epic princess band-aids).

[At PDX with my travel buddy and my bag of goodies]

So off I sailed from old things to new things, feeling very loved.

My next stop was three days in the UK – a wonderful transition, both in terms of jet-lag and the extra time to catch my breath, but also as an opportunity to reconnect with some beloved people and places before undertaking the process of connecting to all things new.

And then I arrived in Africa, on the night of the 21^st, only to be met by a herd of zebra crossing the road. My drivers laughed and shrugged: “Welcome to Africa.”

Or, as one of my friends pointed out, “welcome back to Africa,” for this is the continent of my childhood, and even though the expanse of the Sahara separates the now from then, there are plants and trees I recognize, though it is all so much more here.

I'm living in a small apartment (a bedroom, a toilet and shower, a living space with a kitchen) on a compound that is very much a slice of Eden. So many colors, so much growth and life outside my windows. And my own private corner in which to drink coffee, read my Bible, and watch the birds.

My landlady is Swiss, and grows vegetables as well as flowers, telling me I can feel free to pick what I would like (herbs, and spinach, and white radish, and so much more), saying that she always offers the invitation, but no one ever takes her up on it (the implication seeming to be that young people these days prefer fast food to fresh greens) – I assured her that there is nothing I love so much as vegetables and fruit, and I have already helped myself to some of her basil and chives.

So if nothing else, I think I will love living here, in my own space, with a garden, and an awesome next door neighbor who took me hiking on Thursday to Mt. Longonot, where we walked the ridge of the volcano and I drank my first Stony and saw my first (non-zoo enclosed) giraffe. It was a glorious day.

[Can you spot the giraffe?]

And yesterday I had an adventure of a slightly different caliber, walking to the store on my own for the first time. I think I am slowly gaining my bearings, and discovering that yes, indeed, I can live here.

Though, please, don't ask me to drive.

Time Displacement Activities (as Kim would say)

Well, you may be thinking that I've fallen off the face of the earth.  And I guess I kind of have.  Or, to be more accurate, the earth (in the guise of a dissertation due in 19 days) may have opened up to swallow me whole.  I do plan on eventually getting around to posting about some pre-term activities, like May Day and the Royal Wedding (which I attended =), but until the world stops turning dangerously quickly, here's a brief update on things I've been doing while I should have been locked away in the library, oblivious to a world beyond my windows:

Sitting next to Christine Baranski at the Perch (you know, that actress from Mamma Mia and The Big Bang Theory?), helping Kim celebrate completing her finals (I don't know if I can stress how big of a deal finals are here -- rather than marking the end of a semester's work, they, and they alone, are the assessing rod for one's entire Oxford degree -- think N.E.W.T.S. in Harry Potter), attending a celebratory birthday BBQ at the Kilns (C.S. Lewis's house) for Jonathan, my Jr. Dean (and Classics tutor) from my SCIO semester, going to a Low concert in London with a friend, and watching (rather than participating in) Summer VIIIs, the summer crew races (I haven't actually been rowing this term, which has probably been a good thing, but wasn't completely voluntary -- we ended up having too many women for the team, and while I would like to blame losing my seat on the fact that I was quite sick during trial week, and couldn't even complete the sprint length, much less make the time cut, the reality is that I'm not much of a speed demon anyway, so might have lost my place regardless -- a bummer, but not something I really have time to mope about).

Here are some pictures from my exciting life (that I should not be living):

 Friends waiting for Kim to exit her last exam. 

Kim emerging from the Exam Schools. 

Flowers and champagne.

What says victory better than a purple balloon?  

Flatmates.  =)

The Kilns.

Eating ice-cream while watching the division one races.

my life in the sun

These last few days (and weeks) have been glorious in Oxford.  Sunshine and warmth and blossoms that fill the air with perfume and color.  I guess I've never really understood about the spring before - about why it's the season for twitterpation and first kisses.  But with a sky so blue and colors so bright it's impossible to feel anything but beautiful.  

That is, unless you're spending the day studying in the library.  Which I was - for a while.  So, in order to cope, I created a new routine: get up (with the assistance of three alarms), spend an hour saturating in the sun while eating a croissant and sipping coffee at Combibos (my new favorite coffee shop), make it to the library around the time they were opening their doors, write, saturate in the sun over a picnic lunch in the Botanic Garden, return to the library, write . . . you get the picture.   

my morning routine

lunch in the Botanic Garden across from Magdalen College

Eventually, however, I gave up on the library all together.  It wasn't helping my panic attacks, so now I just study in the parks . . . permanently.  Usually writing by hand, and then returning to my room to type up the notes at night.  But today I actually took my computer with me.

iced vanilla lattes help the writing process immensely 

the University Parks

So no, it's probably not the most efficient study plan.  And yes, the writing is going terribly slow.  But at least I'm happy while I'm doing it.  'Cause like I said, it's impossible not to feel pretty - at home with earth and sky, content, delighted, capable of flight - in the springtime.

A Rowing Life

So, I never truly posted about rowing, so here's a taster from last fall, written by one of my teammates, the fabulous Corinne Smith: back it down, stern pair.  She's an English MSt student, the only other postgrad on the team, and I think she excellently captures the gist of the rowing experience.  If I had written it though, the title would be, "row it on, bow pair."

Our team has changed a bit since last term, as we lost several girls when the weather turned dreary (not that it wasn't dreary already), and our two captains now row with us (since, having rowed Christ Church, we're no longer a novice crew).  But the experience remains basically unchanged, the only real difference being that we now punctuate our midnight study sessions with erg training -- need to work on that stamina.   

And for the record, we did lose.  And lose.  And lose.  Good thing that I'm not in it for the racing.  Just the early morning training sessions.  =)

Early mornings with Percy Shelley

I am in the process of creating a new lifestyle for myself.  One in which I actually wake up in the morning.  (Shocking, I know).  Eat breakfast (with many, many cups of coffee), and then spend all of my daylight hours in the library.

I've done well so far.  With the exception of Saturday and Sunday (where my routine was broken with a migraine and church), I've done a complete week without falling off the wagon.  Written about half of a (rough) rough draft of my theory essay, and read about 800 pages of Icelandic myth and history.

The real test will be how well I survive the revival of crew training tomorrow.

But anyway.  That was actually just a prelude to say that I was in the Bodleian today, reading The Poetic Edda (translated by the professor I'll be working with this term), when one of the women from my Thursday night Bible study asked if I wanted to take a lunch break with her.  So we went to a local deli and bought baguette sandwiches (Brie and onion marmalade) and then ate them in her college's MCR (which, for those of you uninitiated, is the "Middle Common Room" -- i.e. the place where grad students hang out).

She's a member of University College, and gave me a bit of a tour, which included this lovely memorial to (arguably) the college's most famous member: Percy Bysshe Shelley.

In case you didn't know, besides being married to the author of Frankenstein, Shelley is one of the most famous of the Romantic poets, usually remembered beside such names as Byron and Keats.

What I found exceedingly amusing, however, is that this memorial (given to the college because it was too large to transport, as originally intended, to his grave in Rome) commemorates a student who lasted a grand total of one term at Oxford.  That's right.  On the 25th of March it will be exactly 200 years since Shelley was expelled.

Which explains, I suppose, why, when originally offered the memorial, the Fellows of the college decided to reject it.  But granted foresight (and extra money from his daughter-in-law) they finally accepted what has become the college's leading tourist attraction.

It, appropriately enough, is described as the statue that "continues to fascinate and disturb."  I think that Shelley, the author of "infidel poetry" (so described by the journalist who gloated, upon hearing of his death, that "now he knows whether there is God or no") and the "inspiration to rebellious students everywhere" (so claimed by one of Oxford's current student newspapers), would appreciate the description.

Cooking French in England

I am in the midst of eating freshly made ratatouille with a giant loaf of French bread.  I'm not sure why this fact is so exciting.  It just is.

Okay, so that's a lie.  I do know why it's exciting, the truth is just a bit embarrassing.

It's the first time I've ever made myself a real meal.  Like a "follow the recipe" type meal.  I make killer pasta all the time, but I'm usually cheating with ready-made sauce.  And while I can also make great quesadillas, pita bread pizzas, and other food involving the oven and melted cheese, I wouldn't consider any of those a "real" meal (even though making ratatouille is probably just as easy).

Now don't get me wrong, I have made food in my life -- just usually with the help of others, for others.  It never made a lot of sense to make something just for myself.  It takes time and effort, and I can't eat it all anyway.

But I watched an episode of Castle last night (give me a break, I had a migraine), and there they were in the kitchen, cutting up their bright and beautiful vegetables in front of a roaring fire, and I realized that I want that. The time and space in my life to glory over food preparation.  To make things delicious and beautiful, the way my mother does.

I didn't put any plans into action -- because the truth is that I don't have the time or space right now -- but then I had a good day today.  I woke up, and got up (don't make me tell you what a massive achievement this is for me), and spent the day in the library.  And while I didn't get a huge amount actually written, it was a step in the right direction, and I did write some.  I signed up for meals (including breakfast) tomorrow, and in the afternoon I met with Professor Paul Fiddes to talk about Charles Williams, and Dr. Lynn Robson to talk about my dissertation.  And while I didn't make any new discoveries (I always knew I was falling back on my "images of Eve" option), it's still nice to know that a final decision has been made.  And I can't wait to start reading.  So much so, that I actually feel motivated to get this theory essay OUT OF THE WAY.  Let's hope that holds true tomorrow (or when I come back from seeing my MSt lovelies tonight).

All that to say, I got out of my last meeting, and had a sudden, irrepressible urge to make myself something real.  So I did.  I went to the store, bought an eggplant, courgette, onion, tomatoes, and freshly baked baguette, and came home and did some cooking.

And now, since the hot water is finally back on, I'm going to go take a shower.

morning on the river

Walking to the river this morning, alone and in the dark, was like stepping into some primordial past.  The stars blazing above Christ Church, only to be blotted out by the trees growing dense and dark on either side of the path.  And the river itself, rising out of a rolling mist that shrouded bank and distance in the mysterious grey of pre-morning light.

The puff of breath, the sting of frozen fingers, red with cold, as the sun rose over frost covered docks, and the white geese preened themselves on the ice-covered shore.  And in the fields of Christ Church meadow, the deer could be seen bounding between the lumbering cows, frost-covered in their crystallized pasture, as the spires of Oxford rose behind them, gleaming gold in the early morning light.  

And that, I suppose, is why students rise early from warm beds, and walk through deserted streets, weaving through trucks unloading merchandise on Cornmarket, to row in the dark on the river Isis.

College Lodgings

Some pictures of my Oxford space, taken when I first arrived.  I've since decorated (and rearranged) my room, so this was just first impression documentation.  Hopefully you're properly impressed.

interesting wood designs in the ceiling

oh the beauty of bare bulbs . . . 

miniature table, perfect for afternoon tea and biscuits

the original room setup, currently reversed

the kitchen with the baby windows
(but free washing, and bright overhead) 

 our incredibly disgusting table, that no amount of scrubbing
will clean (we're investing in a table cloth)

 the narrow hallway

and last but not least, the bathroom
(which I'm sure you all really wanted to picture)