A thoughtful New Year's Eve day.

New Year’s Eve. Well, day of the Eve, if you know what I mean. It doesn’t seem right to call it just “Eve” when it’s light outside. So that’s how I call these days: New Year’s Eve day, New Year’s Day eve; Christmas Eve day, Christmas Day eve. It’s useful, at least to me. Anyway.

Have you noticed that in the Christmas season, it’s appropriate to say Merry Christmas all the way up until Christmas Day? But for the New Year, it seems wrong to say it until it’s actually the New Year.  Yet, I am looking forward to the New Year, as I did Christmas, so I wish I could say it in the same way, but it just doesn’t seem right. Do others feel the same way?

It’s windy today. And I mean, high-wind-advisory strength. The wind blows so hard that the metal knocker on our front door knocks slightly when a big gust comes up. So I’m particularly jumpy today, thinking that someone is at the door, before I remember how windy it is.

Then that cold, December wind puts me in the mood for tea. So I put the teakettle on, feeling so-vintage-it’s-chic for doing so. It takes awhile for the water to boil, so I do other chores around the house in the meantime. Then, when the kettle screams, I literally jump up, and I race upstairs to the kitchen to pull it off the burner. Is there really a need for such hurry? Probably not, but that highly-concentrated steam has a note of anxiety in it, so I rush to its rescue—or is it my rescue?—to ease my nerves. I’m doing a lot of jumping today; I probably need the soothing tea.

The last day of the year. Naturally it makes me look back. Particularly noteworthy is my engagement, of course. That’s an event that literally will affect the rest of my life, perhaps more than any other event. Congratulations, 2011, you get the honor of containing that landmark. Or should I say “timemark”? In fact, many people I know got engaged this year. It’s the season of our lives, I suppose, for that kind of thing. I count in my head: thirteen. I believe there are thirteen couples, besides myself and my fiancé, that got engaged this year. That’s a lot of weddings for people I know in 2012!

What’s curious about these engagements, besides the sheer number of them in one year, is that most of these people are close to my age. That means they are considerably younger than the national average age that people get married. And to be honest, I am quite proud of my friends for this fact. Take that, American culture, I think to myself. While I don’t have anything against people getting married at an older age, it’s understandable that many people don’t want to wait so long, especially if they’ve been dating the same person for some time. I don’t expect that my circle of friends and acquaintances are an accurate representation of national trends, but I do find the difference striking. Also, the nation’s average length of engagement is about 15-18 months (I couldn’t find any hard facts on this but the sites I saw seemed to have a general consensus), so this means that nearly all of these couples will have had a shorter-than-average engagement as well. Same reason as above probably applies here: don’t want to wait.

The national trend shows that fewer people overall are getting married these days and the divorce rate is still high. So the final reason this makes me proud is that these couples are sticking it to the “Man”—if readers will allow me to refer to culture as a man—by saying that they still believe in marriage; they are still willing to give it a try. Personally, I am consciously saying those things with my own agreement to get married—one that is made all the stronger because I don’t believe divorce is an option, except in very extreme circumstances. I especially give kudos to those of my friends who come from divorced families. That’s an incredible faith! So on this New Year’s Eve day, I toast to you, newly engaged couples of 2011.

A somber note bears including, however. No matter how atypical this group of couples is, statistically, some of these couples will divorce. Considering their ages and lengths of engagement, the likelihood might be even higher than normal. It’s hard to think about, when I like all of these people and can honestly say I am excited about all of these relationships. It makes me want to look back on that list of 2011 couples in 5, 10 and 20 years, to see who stood the test of time. Only God knows. Hm. You know what? For once, I’m glad He’s the only one who does.

Well, this has been quite the entry of varied topics and tones, and I think I shall end here for today. I’ll adapt the classic poem’s final line as my way of signing off:

“Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night.”

As always, thoughtfully yours,

Ellen

(P.S. Strange to think my last initial will change next year! That will take some getting used to! For now, I’ll just leave it off entirely.)

Tres Leches recipe with pictures

Pastel de tres leches (pah-stel day trays-lay-chays): the classic Latino cake made of three milks that's oh-so-moist.
I participate in a cooking class with a few local women and we made this in the most recent class. I enjoyed it so much, I've decided to write a food blog post about it. Also, I recently bought a new camera so this is a very generalized step-by-step with pictures. (If you want the full recipe, let me know!) I'd tasted tres leches cake before, but never baked one myself. This one was a great success. Mind you, I love milk so I wasn't worried about not liking this cake. However, if you're concerned about how much milk it contains, even the class teacher who swears she hates all kinds of milk loved the final product. Sweet, indeed!
Note: the recipe we used is from a high-altitude restaurant, which may be partly why it turned out so well in my high-altitude town. But who knows, maybe it's just a dang good recipe! Anyway, let's get started.

1. Separate the egg whites from the yolks using their own shells.

 

 2. Beat egg whites...

3. ...and keep beating on high until they form soft peaks (but not stiff like for meringue). Be patient with this step.

4. Combine the dry and wet ingredients separately. Gently stir together. Grease and flour a 9x13, and pour in batter. Bake 25-30 minutes (28min was perfect for us) or until lightly golden.

5. While the cake is still hot, poke lots of holes in it with a long-tine fork or toothpick. Combine the three milks (sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, and heavy whipping cream) and slowly pour over the cake. Allow each coating to soak in before continuing. Let the cake cool a couple minutes, then refrigerate at least 4 hours (overnight is best).

 6. Beat heavy whipping cream, a few teaspoons of sugar and a little vanilla extract until it forms soft, shiny peaks. While the cake is still cold, cut into slices. The first slice will be the hardest to get out. Either frost the entire cake or put a dollop of cream on each slice. Enjoy!

"Et voila!"

Weddings on the mind... and nerves

Hello all!
It's been quite some time since I blogged, so it's time again. As many of you know, I am engaged (as of one month ago!) and set to marry in March. Time will go by quick! And I am learning a lot! As exciting as it is to prepare for being married to the love of my life, I'm feeling the need to rant about the annoying parts of engagement...

Things I Dislike:

• Since 5.5 months is a short engagement by American culture standards, I am continually being told that there's barely enough time to get everything done. Hurry, hurry! Worry, worry!
• How much everything costs. I knew this would be the case, but boy, just when you think you've thought of everything, you haven't. Granted, I'm going to be as resourceful and creative as possible, but I'm still in the learning process, but it's pretty ridiculous sometimes!
• How wedding planning starts overshadowing the Bigger Picture: being married For The Rest Of Your Life. I'm not in love with wedding planning in the first place, but even for me, it is a fight to keep it all in perspective. Pre-marriage counseling, however, helps a lot to counteract this effect.
• How it's all about the Bride (and barely about the Groom). I know that girls tend to get more excited about being the princess for a day (and bows, candles, deco, etc, etc). but it's a momentous day for the groom too. He may even care more (gasp!) about the food than I will, and he often has opinions of his own about design. Thankfully, I'm blessed to be engaged to someone who wants to be involved and feel free to share his ideas.
• Being told we're too young. Although people are free to have their own opinions about the ideal age to get married, I have heard plenty of success stories of couples who married in their early 20s. I've been out of high school for over 4 years, and I have grown a lot in that time. Honestly, I believe that more important than age is relative maturity, a similar belief system, and a commitment to work through tough times.

So there's my rant. Of course, this doesn't compare to the longer list of great and fun things about engagement and marriage. I am thankful for so many aspects of this crazy process, and for all of the people in my life, both supportive and willing to voice their opinion. Please understand that I welcome people's views that differ from mine; I just needed a chance to let mine be heard. If I get too obsessed with this whole wedding preparation thing, by all means let me know!

So here's to taking the risk of the Adventure of a Lifetime with my best friend, and to supporting Kingdom values that differ so much from the culture who wants to play "Pretty Pretty Princess."
Thoughtfully yours,
Ellen P.

Uncertain how to deal with the Uncertain

How much do you bother decorating when you're only going to be in a place for a couple months? Do you change your address for everything?

And what if you're not sure how long you'll be in town? Do you apply for a library card? What do you say at church or in conversations with friendly faces you run into at the grocery store?

Of course, being in my hometown again makes it easier--many people already know me and I already have a library card (has it expired? do those ever expire?). But still. Funny how dealing with the uncertain is so... well, uncertain.

Instability. Uncertainty.
This is my new place.
Hesitating, ambulating,
I am the new face.


(© Ellen P. 2011)

A Think-Write.

A Think-Write for a couple of minutes.

I would time it but I don’t want to bother. I can’t remember what you call it when you write exactly what you're thinking for a set time but a Think-Write-So-It-Flows seems to work. I know what I’m talking about anyway.

I just read and looked through the college yearbook Grinnell College--1966. Did you know that they used to not offer credit for working on the publication of their very own yearbook? Crazy. Two of the student staff flunked or were put on academic probation just because their classwork suffered due to their hard work on this yearbook. Then it wasn’t approved by administrators, so it wasn’t published until 20 years later. 20 years! My host father gave it to me to read this evening and it’s made me thoughtful.

Black and white photos, every one. [The photos in this entry are mine.] Controversial because of stating opinion that wasn’t shared by faculty or administrators nor all of student body. Controversial because not everyone in the senior class is shown, and no head and shoulder shots are given. It is a roughly chronological, photographic-masterpiece of a year at Grinnell.

I don’t know anyone who has gone to Grinnell, but the college and town name are familiar to me. I’ve never seen the campus, but I wish I had, because then I could compare it to the photos I saw in this book. I’m sure lots of things have changed tremendously.

Controversy over boys and girls visiting each other after hours, etc. So much call for change, for the ability to change things… but in the end, the admins have the say and the money. They actually sent out letters to parents discouraging student drug use, student sex, etc.... but these pictures tell the (alleged) majority student opinion: Mary J isn’t so bad (my peers still say the same today! Does anything ever change?), couples are fact of life, and boys will always be the slackers compared to women, at least in big groups.

So all this subversive journalism and photography in a yearbook that was banned makes me think. Makes me wish that my peers and I were living for something that means something, in a political-academic-cultural way. I don’t mean the religion part right now, but I do mean the good humanitarian part. I’ve never even seen my university's yearbook—was there one?—but I’m sure it is nothing like this one and it looks nothing like what I knew of it. Granted, it’s hard to sum up for each student what they did and lived and felt in college. But still. Did the student government do anything? Did the student newspaper—high quality though it is—put an urge in me to stop sitting around and to think hard about what I’m doing with my life?

Oh, believe me there was plenty of drinking and lazing around pictured in those pages. But these were people who also felt deep in their gut that they wanted to mean something, and be able to cause change. Be able to cause change.

Yeah, that’s it.

Dramatic paragraph with [Enter Key] because this warrants it.

No wonder people don’t change things; no wonder because my peers don’t even know enough to change things. We have to know first that it’s possible! That if we have a cause that lights our fires; that we have a way to go about it. We are the students, after all, the ones who are the lifeblood of a university.

Sure makes me hate rich admins all the more. Sure makes me hate bigger and bigger classes each year, and those fundraising campaigns. What is that money for? I suddenly feel like I’ve been scammed. Like the university life is one expensive way to give more money to someone else than back to me, the one in need of a degree to do something with my life. What was the point of the liberal arts college experience—besides put me into debt and my many friends into much greater debt?

…Where was I going with this? I’m just kinda nostalgic and kinda upset. But I can’t pinpoint why or how exactly.

I wish I had tried to photograph the sunlight that filtered through trees into the piano practice room in the basement of Music Hall at my own university. That would have summed up much for me and my experience.

In fact, I wish I knew enough about photography to produce pics that I actually like… and not just of people or random snow scenes that don’t convey any emotion.

Why was that moment (or was it moments?) in Music Hall so crucial to me? Because it meant that I was thinking on life, becoming someone rich and deep, that I loved life and it’s natural beauty… that I was in tune with campus, not trying to escape from it, yet not in one of the commercial, “sellable” aspects of it.

I’m so glad I found a piano on campus. Ha, no, rather, pianos. Many quiet friends in protected basement rooms with beautiful, leaf-filtered sunlight for years to come.

“There are some things in life that money can’t buy,” comes the commercial motto of MasterCard. Or is it Visa? No, MasterCard. That’s what I’m feeling right now. Just what did my money (or rather, my parents’ money) buy when I signed up for roughly 4 years? And are those years in context of the rest of world history for me to reflect on later? Just as the Grinnell yearbook had many hints to the Vietnam War going on, I want my memories (which will apparently have to replace a yearbook since I never bought one and probably can’t justify the money to buy one now even if I could) to be in context. President Obama was elected, I remember that. Michael Jackson died. …Um…

Kirk went and came back from modern war in the Middle East. People came to Christ. Students died, from explained and unexplained causes. I learned that I know almost nothing about financial things and I am soon going to need a credit score in order to really make it in life… By the way, I think financial class should be required for freshman and/or seniors, ALL of them, at all colleges. Ha.

One last comment. Near the end of the yearbook, I thought it was very honest and realistic for the editors to write that graduates sleepily got through the commencement ceremony, said some goodbyes,and then “the class of ‘66 scattered.” How anti-climactic yet honest is that? “Scattered.” That’s exactly what we’ll do. Just like in high school, but even more, because we didn’t come from the same place in the first place. But how bitter. All that joy and change and boredom, and all those smirks and kisses and interesting lectures and pretty photos to capture it all… and they scatter. An unplanned force came together in 1966 to actually realize that something isn’t right and things need to change at Grinnell College, but things didn’t because they couldn’t and everyone leaves anyway because college isn’t a lasting thing. So we scatter.

That leads me to this thought: what am I going to do in this life? Yes, I want to encourage people toward Jesus. But I also want to improve this world practically, to show my respect for the good in it. I want to be a relevant, thinking Christian who made it through a 4-year, secular liberal arts college with a degree, and cares about the world around her because she cares about the scattered people around her. What am I going to do? What will my niche be? Or not one, but multiple seeds cast be?

For some reason, I think of the futility brought up by the song “Fix You”:

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

That’s about how I feel right now. That, and Ecclesiastes’ reminder (or is it a warning?):

“Nothing is new under the sun.”

Nothing is new. Grinnell Yearbook – 1966 taught me that. Not the pot smoking nor the liberal attitude felt by its users. Not the generational gap on moral/sexual beliefs and practices. Not the pocket-lining administrators who live in a different world than the students on their campus. Not the beauty of the experience of acting even though it's just an extracurricular activity, nor the desire to change things that’s common among publications crews. Those things aren't new.

Oh, ha. You know, the chorus lyrics say “Tears stream down on your face” but before reading the lyrics, I thought they said “It’s history there on your face.” I liked the latter better, and that makes more sense right now. It’s history, Grinnell, right on your face, finally published, and you can’t fix it. 

I can’t fix you…

but I’ll damn well try.

—Ellen—

“When you're too in love to let it go…
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth”