why i love cherries

Those who know me well know that I LOVE cherries. In fact, I think I love everything about cherries: from their blossoms which signal the coming of Spring, to their color and wonderful flavor, I think that I am cherry obsessed. I own cherry dishes, send cherry note cards, wear a cherry belly ring...heck, my car is named Cherry (and it's rather tempting to think of naming my first daughter Cherry as well, but I'm smart enough to let that one go! lol!)

I'm not sure when I developed my fascination with the fruit, but I remember looking at red cherries in picture books at my grandparent's house as a kid and being enthralled by the bright red color and clean look of a pair of lovely ripe cherries.

Unfortunately for me, I sometimes find it difficult to express my appropriate cherry love, as in youth culture anyway, cherries have become a symbol of chauvinistic sex...not exactly what I associate them with, but nevertheless, I've had to learn to refrain from doing such things as placing a cherry decal in the back window of my car-that's just asking for all kinds of unwanted attention.

That being said, here is a list of the top 10 things I like...no love, about cherries (in no particular order):

1.They are classic: A fixture in art from all over the world, spanning hundreds of years, cherries defy being categorized as a fad (unlike the apple, strawberry, or mushroom).

2.The melding of clean lines: the curved lines of the fruit paired with the straight lines of the stems...cherries never look cluttered or ill-placed.

3.Red. There is no color more beautiful than a deep, rich, cherry red. (Though white cherries are beautiful too)

4.They taste good in just about ANYTHING! (And I'm not talking about the sickly sweet manufactured flavoring used in medication and artificial fruit punch.) I'm talking about the real deal...in chocolate, coffee drinks (try a white choc. coffee based frapp. with black cherry syurp at Starbucks-awesome!), black forest cakes/milkshakes (I suggest Burgerville)/ham, cherry pie, ice cream (Baskin Robbin's Cherry Jubilee is great), in jello salads, cheese cake, coffee cake, bread, and in juice drinks. They are also wonderful ingredients in marinades and barbecue sauces. Talk about versatile...I think the cherry has even the apple beat in this category.

5.They are wearable: think clothes and jewelery (though, as I mentioned...this should be done with caution and with utmost care-or you will quickly earn an unflattering nickname). Really, have you ever seen someone wearing a kiwi pendant? I didn't think so.

6.They are the perfect mix of sweet and sour.

7.Cherries contain dietary properties that ease pain and inflammation for sufferers of arthritis and gout, as well as for runners and others who experience joint pain. Studies have confirmed that they also help prevent certain types of cancer. And to sweeten the deal, they are full of vitamins as well...yay for cherries!

8.They are easy to pick: no thorns in a cherry tree!

9.They come in sets of two...who wants to stop at one?!

10.Even the wood of the tree they come from is beautiful. Has anyone ever made a dresser out of Apple wood?

when boredom strikes

give these two lovely sites a try. That is, if you haven't already!

Jon Acuff's Blog "Stuff Christians Like"

-I recommend checking out the "archives" section: the last option in the header. A humorous look at the funny things we Christians do in church.

People of Wal-mart

-With this site, I recommend the photos. Especially pages 100-120 or so. Beware: you may see a couple of *almost* naked butts.

round waffles and twisted spaghetti

This week my former roommate, Ashley, paid a visit to those of our social group (including myself) who are still "fortunate" enough to be college students. I love it when she's here. I have never met another person who thinks and responds the same way I do to, and about, everything...which may be a bad thing because you know, I can be pretty screwed up sometimes (not to insult her, and she would agree). Anyway, this afternoon, I drove Ashley and another friend (who was along for the ride) to the airport. In the car we had the following conversation (some background-the convo. was based on a theory by Bill and Pam Farrel, that men are like waffles-read: compartmentalized, contained emotions, and women are like spaghetti-read: non-linear thought process, emotionally uncontained):
______________

Ash: I wish I were able to compartmentalize better.

Me: Why?

Ash: Because my life would be easier and I could put off thinking about things until I had time to really think about them instead of letting thinking about them ruin my day.

Me: Oh ok. Yeah, I wish I were better at that too. You know, that theory: men are like waffles, women are like spaghetti. I heard those people speak once, it was different. I wish I were more of a waffle thinker.

Ash: Yes, I want to be a waffle thinker too. I don't want to be spaghetti. It's just so floppy and tangled.

Me: And it doesn't taste good.

Ash: No. It doesn't. And you can't eat it cold because it's so gross. And when you reheat it, you have to add water...*pause* and water just makes it soggier and when spaghetti gets soggy it just falls apart. Waffles have more resistance to sogginess.

Friend in backseat (who has no idea what we're talking about at this point): Spaghetti is very good cold, and cold waffles are nasty.

Me: See, if we were like waffles, we would be the kind of women we want to be (both of us wish we were better at saying what we think, rather than not saying what we really feel because we're afraid of hurting other peoples' feelings and then having to deal with the fall out), because you know, we could be like, 'I might offend you and you may not like me, but you only know one compartment, you don't know the whole thing.' So we would feel like people were only rejecting one part and not us as whole individuals; which would make us more outgoing and less sensitive.

Ash: And then we'd be happier, and people would know where we stood on things, and we wouldn't feel so drained all the time or avoid people as much.

Me: But maybe that's disrespectful because sometimes, if you're a waffle thinker, you have to be rude. And it's selfish to think about yourself all the time.

Ash: But it's ok to be rude sometimes if you're doing it for the right reasons.

Me: I think being like spaghetti can be good too. Like, spaghetti is all tangled up, but that helps you process things in a round about way and gives you insight because you're processing indirectly and your mind can be more spontaneous in how it responds.

Ash: Maybe we need to be a mix of waffle and spaghetti.

Friend in Backseat: Maybe you are uncooked spaghetti. You know, how it's brittle and breaks. I'm a waffle thinker.

Ash (to friend): You mean you never feel like Spaghetti?

Friend: No. Well, maybe sometimes.

Ash: See, I think we're a mix of both. I think everyone is a mix with one or the other being predominate.

Me: Agreed. But I think some people are ALL one or the other.

Ash: I wonder what we are-well I know we're spaghetti, but I think we're kind of waffles too because over time, you become what you want to be.

Friend in backseat: I'm a waffle.

(Ash and I look at each other and smile because we both fully understand that this particular friend is definitely not a waffle)

Me: I think we're waffles on the outside and spaghetti on the inside because neither of us is very outwardly emotive, but we have spaghetti tendencies.

Ash: Yes! Round on the outside, with twisted minds. (laughter)

Friend in Backseat: I'm definitely a waffle.

_______________

And that is how the conversation went down. It was followed by a very similar conversation about cars, but I will spare you the play-by-play. Clearly, we are still very much spaghetti thinkers.

long distance

"american sunday night"

The title of this post is of course, a play on Brad Paisley's latest album title, but this really has nothing to do with Brad Paisley...except maybe the idea behind the post. As I do on many Sunday afternoons/evenings, I went for a drive. I'm not sure why I drive, probably has something to do with the Sunday drives my parents took us on when I was little, but anyway, I love them-I love that I can be alone to think, and process, and take in scenery at the same time, and basically be in my own world. Most of the time when I go for a drive, I find myself never wanting to come back, to just keep driving for days-of course, I know that cannot happen, but it's fun to think about.

Anyway, tonight's drive was much the same as many others. I didn't go anywhere in particular, just north out of town. About ten miles down the road, I found a little pond that I'd never noticed before. It was along the road, but partially surrounded by trees. Then, I noticed three plastic lawn chairs, the kind you get for five dollars at Wal-Mart, set up beside the pond. Nothing out of the ordinary at all, but it impressed on me that those people, the ones who own the land and set up the chairs, they are living the true American dream: they have a little place, a nice view, and each other...and really, that's all anyone needs. Sure, their pond was small and the land around it was hilly and probably not very good for producing much of anything. And, their chairs were cheap and not very sturdy, but people like that have it all. They have realized that they don't need a lot to make them happy, and they are content with what they have, with the view out their window, the one that they worked to earn. They are content in the life that they are living. Tell me, is there a better way to spend Sunday night than watching the sun set over a little pond with the one you love beside you?

And I kept driving. Another ten miles down the road, I came across six or seven cars and two or three motorcycles parked in the highway median. Now, those who are from the pnw, usually don't understand this kind of highway median. Basically there are two lanes going each direction, with about 300 feet of grass in between the two sides of the highway. Periodically, there are small roads going through the median connecting the highways allowing for u-turns or the ability to reach access roads. Anyway, there were a bunch of cars and motorcycles in the median and several people walking in the grass there, going down under the highway bridge. Apparently they had some kind of party or barbecue going on down there...imagine that: A party. Under a bridge. In the middle of nowhere. When I came back going the opposite direction, there were couples taking turns riding the motorcycles around in the grass. Again, what a neat way to spend a Sunday evening. Sure, it's probably something not everyone would enjoy, but it's another glimpse at the American dream: the ability to have the freedom to enjoy friends, and empty spaces, and have a good time.

That's what I call a true "American Sunday Night".

kites

On my drive home from work today, something caught my eye. It was a kite in the air flying high above the trees. As I got closer, I could see a dad and his 3 or 4 kids standing on a high place along the road putting their kites together. The one I had seen was already in the air, and one or two more were nearing completion. It was such a nice thing to see after spending all day at work watching grumpy moms and dads and tired kids playing the consumer game. Here was a family having fun together outside without spending money, other than what they paid for their kites.

It struck me as funny then, that seeing a kite was odd. That's because I tend associate kites with the beach. I grew up near the coast and there usually isn't enough consistent wind anywhere else that would lift a kite. It also reminded me of my first kite. My dad bought it for me when I was probably 3 or 4. It was a bright sky blue and it had some kind of brightly colored design on the front (I can't remember what the design was). The kite was fairly simple, and it was held together with wooden dowels. I do remember the first time I got to take it to the beach and being so scared that I was going to let it go because it went so high in the air, that at the time, it was hard to watch it and hold on too. I remember letting it go once and dad had to run after it, but man, I loved that thing. I remember bringing it out at home and trying to make it fly on my own. I could never seem to get it going and usually ended up in trouble because I made a mess out of the string and miscellaneous pieces. Eventually, I lost the dowels that held it all together, and so ended my kite-flying days. However, I still enjoy watching others fly them at the beach...or on the way home from work. :)

no picking allowed

Maybe I'm being a little emo. today, but it hit me again tonight that we live in a sad world. I was sitting here at my desk looking at some dying daffodils that my mom sent me from home and began to think about how I would love to find some flowers to replace them. Then I thought, "Where would I find flowers to pick?" and followed by that thought was, "Even if I found them, it's not like I could pick them." Is there anywhere for someone to pick a bouquet of flowers for enjoyment without getting fined?

P.S. I promise I'll try to write about something happy next time...seems like these last few posts have been a little depressing!

chapel, we have a problem

_______________________
How He Loves Us

"He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me.
Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so.

Yeah, He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves.

So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

That He loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He love"
____________________

Ok, call me ridiculous, but I am of the opinion that most contemporary Christian worship music these days quite frankly, needs help. The writing is "cheap" (I mean seriously, "Woah" and "Lalalala"?), the tunes are regurgitated from every other worship song, and the whole atmosphere of a service with such music just screams, "I wish I were at a rock concert, but I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with this...maybe if I pretend I'm at a rock concert and scream along, the hott worship leader will notice me." Well, I'm probably taking things a little far with that picture, and to be sure, I know many people who sing worship music with seemingly genuine hearts, but I'm just saying, the music itself just doesn't exactly seem real, or heartfelt, or very worshipful at all. That's why I was exceedingly appalled last August when one of the University's worship teams brought out this song. Sure, I had issues with the "woah, woahs" and the illogical flow of the lyrics, but they were tolerable until third and fourth sentences of the second verse: "If grace is an ocean we're all sinking, So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest." Those lines, particularly the line about the "sloppy wet kiss" were a little shocking. Describing God's handiwork as a sloppy wet kiss seems like an insult to me. I mean, I've had sloppy wet kisses (ex-boyfriend story) and let me tell you, they were not pleasant. I dreaded kissing-it was gross, and awkward, and basically miserable. So anyway, what I'm saying is, the word picture is disgusting and I have two reactions when I hear it sung:

-1.) I want to hurl-because I can relate to the idea of a sloppy wet kiss, and
-2.) I am angered that something as sacred and wonderful as heaven meeting earth (the divine reaching down to touch the temporal and sinful) is compared to something so unpleasant.

Of course kissing, in and of itself, is not gross, and with someone you care about and enjoy being with, it's a lovely thing, but I'm saying I just take issue with the way the song is written. Now I am sure that the writers of the song didn't mean for it to be gross, or disgusting, or de-valuing in any way. I don't know much about the guy who wrote the lyrics, but I'm sure he's a great Christian guy; I just have a problem with the seeming "cheapness" of the lyrics. Compared to the great hymns and choruses of years past, the song seems to bear resemblance to something a teenager would have written in a moment of passion using the limited life experience that most young teenagers have. Of course, who am I to judge? I guess someone could do the same thing to my writing: compared to someone like Chopin, or Melville, or Chaucer, it is utter garbage worthy of the burn pit (it's actually probably worthy of the burn pit of it's own accord), so I don't mean to be judgmental about the writing-it's just how it seems. Also, it is possible that the hymn writers of old had hearts further from the truth than someone sitting in chapel genuinely singing these words, it's just the impression that the song makes that causes me some discomfort and for that reason, I will not sing it.