There's Beauty in the Bellow

Passing one of the local churches here in South Carolina, the signboard says "Is it safe to die?" I don't know--I never thought of whether death is "safe" or not. And also, will the Church ever reach a point where she can emphasize the resurrection, ascension, victory and reign of Christ over the passion and crucifixion? Of course, we can only speak of the humiliation of the Christ with such complacency because of His triumph. But we also need to work harder at realizing what His kingdom should look like and how we are to emulate it. My music professor tells us we should all be interested in singing because we are going to spend eternity singing and so why not start now? My grandfather is listening to various opera arias--Madame Butterfly and Figaro's pompous trilling incredible ode to himself in the Barber of Seville.

My chocolate molasses cookies. I took my Cook's Illustrated recipe for molasses cookies, substituted 1/2 cup of cocoa powder for 1/4 cup of flour and added chocolate chips. They were spectacular. Sunday: and we've gotten more snow since then. Now some pictures of Seattle from Thanksgiving break: In front of the Seattle Art Museum. The arm with the hammer goes up and down. I didn't like it very much: too Ayn Rand. In the ticketing area. There were a couple cars hanging from the ceiling in different positions of a frozen flip with tubes of lights inside bundled like star bursts. My friend pointed out the the car used was the same make and model as hers. Nice comforting thought. I love taking city pictures with all the layers of architecture. Brick and glass make my heart pitter patter. Found shattered auto glass in the parking lot outside school. It makes nice votives with tea lights and tea cups.

In the last year or two, I've taken up reading recipes for enjoyment. Recipes are short, light reading, not at all taxing to the intellect, and they can appease one's creative urges when there is no time to fulfill one's creative urges. At any rate, all this week, some insistent little region in my brain has been telegraphing me chocolate and molasses , chocolate and molasses , chocolate and molasses . Surely, this is a rather unusual marriage, thought I, and it might take some convincing with others, but I think, I really think, that those two rather strong personalities could work together. Not in equal proportions, but rather that biting into a molasses cookie with a chocolate note, or a chocolate cookie with a molasses note, the passerby would have to stop and ask What was that?! Lo, and behold, it appears from scrounging around the dregs of the internet that chocolate and molasses is a classic Dutch combination. Maybe that genetic .32% Dutchness somehow communicates t

From Ovid: the giant, Polyphemus of Homeric fame, tries to woo the recalcitrant Galatea: A forest of hair towers over my strong stern features and shades my magnificent shoulders. Don't think me ugly because my body's a bristling thicket of prickly hair. A tree is ugly without any foliage; so is a horse, if a mane doesn't cover his tawny neck; birds are bedecked in plumage, and sheep are clothed in their own wool. Men look well with a beard and a carpet of hair on their chests. Metamorphoses 13: 845-850

Winter is here, my computer is healthy again, and I can share some autumnal high points: Hokkaido squash soup with white pepper, peanut butter, red pepper flakes, and cumin. Sweet and spicy--so good, something inside me does triple axles, quadruple jumps (a la Tara Lipinski), triple salchows, back flips, twists, the whole shebang. The obliging squash: she was much more beautiful than the lighting reveals. Bell pepper soup: just some white wine vinegar, red pepper, chili powder, and salt. The peppers were sweet enough that no brown sugar was needed. (This spicy kick is totally new with me.) When there are so many types of trees, fascinating confetti combinations result. It's all gone now. My eggplant. I didn't know I could like eggplant. Notice the gold and burgundy galaxies in the skin. It's like seeing eternity in a grain of sand. Beautiful plums/pluots; they were scattered on the sidewalk like unpolished citrine, yellow opals or topaz, left out for trampling. It&#

Does anyone believe that Kenneth Grahame made an arbitrary choice when he gave his principle character the form of a toad, or that a tag, a pigeon, a lion, would have done as well? The choice is based on the fact that the real toad's face has a grotesque resemblance to a certain kind of human face--- a rather apoplectic face with a fatuous grin on it. This is, no doubt, an accident in the sense that all the lines which suggest the resemblance are really there for quite different biological reasons. The ludicrous quasi-human expression is therefore changeless: the toad cannot stop grinning because its 'grin' is not really a grin at all. Looking at the creature we thus see, isolated and fixed, an aspect of human vanity in its funniest and most pardonable form; following that hint Grahame creates Mr. Toad--an ultra-Jonsonian 'humour'. And we bring back the wealth of the Indies; we have henceforward more amusement in, and kindness toward, a certain kind of vanity in rea

Hats for the Fall Jolly Fabulous bread dough, the richest I've ever made, thanks to the Best Recipe I gave away the cinnamon rolls unbaked. But they sure turned out lovely, thanks to the precision of dental floss. The peaches were starting to turn to vinegar, so I baked them in bread dough The cake turned out too dry (The recipe was for tres leches cake, but of course I don't have any rum) But it's pretty and made fairly decent french toast. Zucchini, tomates, basil and keilbasa on pizza dough I overloaded the dough, so the middle turned out a bit soggy. But otherwise it was fabulous. I did long for some parmesan though. I'll make it again. The beauty that is Idaho

Man is not worthy of God but he is not incapable of being made worthy. It is unworthy of God to unite Himself to wretched man, but it is not unworthy of God to raise him out of his wretchedness. ~ Blaise Pascal

Create your own lavendar mist: http://www.jacksonpollock.org/

I knew them first as the chrome and ochre yellows that seemed to scream from the brush of the man who cut off his own ear. But here, so affectionate, the lionheads turned upwards to follow the movement of their beloved, until their necks are limp and wrung, their spent gold drooping heavy on their shoulders . O Lord, I cannot hear You For the ticking of the clock, For the humming of the refridgerator, For the sighing of the air conditioner. Speak, shatter these dim voices, These clattering machines With their incessant insistent grey din, Explode into the dimness of the world.

Sidewalk art: advertising the local yoga studio Crazy balloon hats Funny balloon people A rapt audience Jousting The all-important jumpy castle Some cute people Flipping hamburgers Dressing hamburgers Pretty good for just a dollar . . . and a friend A local oddity Behind the scenes: somebody ain't too interested The light is fading . . . And we got ourselves some moosick. The Afters are supposed to be a big deal. And they were pretty good. But they also came right on the tail of Pastor Wilson's sermon on effeminacy in Christian men. And I wondered what the weird hairstyles and deconstructed clothes in varying degrees of drab were for . I wasn't able to stay long enough to hear any rank cliches, but they probably existed somewhere among the general what's-the-point . But still, I enjoyed them. I just didn't find them terribly original creative. But Bryan Duncan was better--though of course he represents a whole 'nother sandwich filling of culture that come