Tour De Nursery

When I initially found out I was pregnant back in January, I was dreading the summer months for two main reasons: 1) I'd be in my third trimester in July/August. 2) We have no air conditioning (like most people in the Pacific Northwest).

However, things have turned out quite differently than I expected. Thankfully, we generally have mild summer weather around here, no humidity, and once temps hit the 90s we bought a portable air conditioner on Craigslist (read:  relief!). Not to mention I took the advice of some friends and found a swimming pool, and let me tell you, for about an hour everyday I swim and feel like I'm not even pregnant. 'Tis marvelous!

My pregnancy has been great and I've enjoyed sharing it with family and friends.  The baby's kicks are getting stronger, and it makes me smile every time over the little miracle growing inside me.

Yes, we have a name picked out but it is top secret and will not be announced until after she's born. Sorry folks!   Due date:  Sept. 24.  This summer I've had a break from teaching and have greatly enjoyed working on projects for our nursery!

And now for a little tour....

My first sewing project back in May was to recover some bumper pads.  Our cat Miles was a big help as you can see.  I found some bumper pads at a thrift shop for $5, and made my own cover.  I designed the owls myself and think it turned out really cute!
 

Since then I've also made three baby quilts and knitted a couple of stuffed toys.  Our other cat Moses is also a big help (see below)!

I'm not into themed nurseries, nor do I want a room filled with pastels.  That's not me.  So, back in Febuary I must have bookmarked a zillion nurseries online that I liked.  I ruled out painting the walls because we are renting this year, and let's face it, I really don't want to have to re-paint the walls back to white before we move out.  So I went with primary colors. 

I found the wall decals online, and I love them! 

I used the leftover fabric from the bumper pads to make a caddy that hangs on the end of the crib.  Soon it will fill up with lots of baby things.

And here's me at 30 weeks.  Baby's growing fast! 

Sounding Through

I started reading Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Formation a few days ago.  What a feast for thought.  I don't want to write a book review, but this is certainly a book that should be read slowly, and lately, I'm feeling hungry inside for something good and true.

I read about a sculptor who worked tirelessly day after day carving a slab of marble.  A little girl would come by as often as she could to watch him.  When he finished, the little girl approached the sculptor, stared at his fantastical sculpture of a lion and said something to the effect of, "How did you know there was a lion inside that marble?"  Nouwen goes on to describe the sculptor's secret:  what he knows by heart he already sees in the marble.  

I have this growing conviction that the more I allow God to penetrate my thoughts in conjunction with my heart, he opens doors to me in all sorts of "marble" whether it be nature or people or music or works of art or even my experience of time.  I learn to see rich things buried behind the ordinary.  And as romantic as this may sound, it's so subtle that it often happens without my realizing it, and it doesn't look all that romantic along the way.

For example, the other day I was contemplating these things and feeling so spiritual and wonderful, my thoughts basically lifting me to the heavens while I vacuumed the carpet (a rather annoying sight I'm sure to anyone feeling the least bit melancholy).  Then I decided to catch up on the goings-on on Facebook.  Bad choice. 
Apparently it doesn't take much for me to switch between spiritual euphoria and crazy dragon lady.  Someone posted a youtube video of North Koreans mourning the loss of Kim Jong Il.  Fine.  Whatever.  What really pissed me off was the ridicule surrounding this video.  And comment-addict that I am, I had to read all the comments and every single person who commented also proceeded to make fun of the manner in which these people grieved, however genuine or fake.  I could not think of one intelligent thing to say.  I typed in a nastygram but deleted it when this annoying little voice in my head said, "Remember.  If you slap a pig, you too will get muddy."  Well.  I am many things but I am certainly no pig slapper!  *takes off helmut, sheaths sword, cracks knuckles for continued opitmal typing* 

Why was I angered so easily?  Really?!  And how deep-seated was my theological-scupltor-meditation that its euphoric effects could be shattered over this?  Later that night it hit me.  This is what Nouwen was talking about.  How do we allow rich thoughts about spiritual truth to penetrate our inner-most being (you know, that place that gets so easily angry with others)?  That, friends, is the question.

While I'd like to think that I am the theology-sculptor seeing God in all the world's marble, I think that the primary truth is that I am first and foremost the marble, and when I stand still and tell God what I really honestly think, he starts chipping away until I am more than I was.  My vision clears, and the fusion between thought and being somehow takes place.  Opaqueness morphs into transparency and gradually I feel free to simply be.  No hiding.  No need to be defensive or controlling.  No more need to define my identity entirely by the reactions of others or how they perceive me. 

Now that the fog has cleared I understand why I was so angry.  While I lived in China, I had a friend from North Korea, and when I see North Koreans, I see my friend's face.  It's easy to ridicule faceless communities of people detached from one's reality.  It's impossible when my own journey is bound up with theirs, and theirs has been such a dark journey. 

Time for another corresponding thought lately.  I also read that the word "person" originates with the Old French rendering per-sonare, which means to "sound through."  Nouwen's theory is that we were created for true and good things to sound through us in endless creative avenues of expression and being. The problem is that all too often the comparmentalization between thinking and being just deceives us into believing that we embody something simply because we are able to think about it in deep or cute or clever ways.

Yesterday I started reading a novel:  Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell.  Mr. Norrell is a practical magician in the early 19 century.  At this time magic no longer existed in England and the society of magicians (who are nothing more than scholars) gather frequently to discuss at length the history, theory, and philosophies of magic.  They love to think.  And what's more, they love to talk about what they think.  But they are terrified to practice magic (though they would never admit it).  So terrified, in fact, that a large part of their scholarly endeavors are even dedicated to the justification of the non-existence of magic.  Magicians who hearitly and very proudly refuse to practice magic.  I could not help but chuckle over the absurdity, rapidly followed by my own panicked whisper, "I'm not like that with theology, am I?"  Shoot. 

Enter Mr. Norrell, who claims to possess magical powers.  "Prove it!" his peers demand.  And he does, and when he does, the entire society of magicians find themselves irrelevant, and their society disbands.  I think all too often we believe we are Mr. Norrell simply because we have a storehouse of magical cliches for any number of things.  We think we're Jesus because we have the scriptures memorized (some of us can even read it in the Greek).  What Nouwen is calling for is a person who embodies truth holistically .  He would say that when we allow God to penetrate our inmost self, a space is created for truth to sound through our very being.

In short, these are the thoughts haunting me in the best possible way lately.  Basically, I want to be Mr. Norrell.  I just want to be someone the magic can sound through.

I never knew Yin Yang could be so cute and cuddly

Meet Miles and Moses, a.k.a. Yin and Yang...

What I Learned From the Local Coffee Geek

Months ago I read an article in the Willamette Weekly about pour-over coffee brewing. And well, since half of my friends in the Portland Metro are baristas (spell-check thinks I meant to say "bastards".  What exactly are you trying to pull here, Spell-check, with your shady algorithmic schemery?), I felt it was time to venture out and explore new things in the world of coffee making.  Well....new to me anyhow.   

My quest for a new coffee making mechanism was a major success this past weekend. My old red coffee maker is dying a slow death, but thanks to a run-in with Moscow's local coffee geek Andrew, who works at One World Cafe downtown, I've been turned on to new ways to brew coffee.  Okay, they're not really that new, but new to my palate anyhow.

Enter Andrew. I instantly knew I'd like him because he basically leaped over the bar in his excitement to demonstrate and educate someone on the science and art of a simple cup of coffee.

I had popped in to inquire about the Chemex, a rather cool (and dare I say sexy) hour-glass shaped coffee device supposedly great for the classic drip method.  But I was soon re-introduced to a craze I've seen all over Portland but not really understood until recently.
 
Enter the Clever Coffee Dripper.

Photo taken from someone else's blog:  Click here!

 How's this any different than a French Press, you might wonder?  Well, the finished product has no sediment seeping over into your cuppa, which is generally not possible with the Press (at least in my experience), not to mention the taste is so, so, very rich and smooth.  Perfection in a mug.

Here's some CCD tips via Andrew at One World: 

1.  Ground your coffee as for a standard drip coffee maker (not too fine, not too course).

2.  Place the filter in the CCD and dampen it with some warm water; then pour out the excess water before adding the coffee grounds. (I honestly don't remember why this step was important, but Andrew looked quite the Einstein of brewville, so okay...sure, whatever). 

Photo taken from Here

3.  Add coffee grounds, and then pour just enough boiling water to cover the grounds.  Wait 45ish seconds for the grounds to release their dose of carbon dioxide before continuing.  Andrew had this motion perfectly choreographed with his timer set to precisely 47.5 seconds.  He assured me experimentation was necessary to obtain the exact secondage in accordance with the amount of grounds to be brewed.  Experimentation, you say?  Sweet.  Thank you, I will most certainly take that to heart, Professor Snape.  (This part makes me feel like I'm in a science lab, concocting potions that will revolutionize the world.  But who are we kidding here?  I add so much milk and flavoring to my coffee, I could probably skip this step altogether and never know the difference, though I dare not confess this to Andrew.)

But I never skip this step.  Never.  I like to believe that without this critical 47.25 second pause, I would not have complete control over the extraction process.  And I do.  I truly do.  You see, here's what makes the pour over method taste so darn good (at least according to my own Force-sensitive, padawonish, amateur know-how.  There.  Have fun with that, Spell-check.  Padawonish, not shadowiness...hehe.)

With your standard automated coffee machine, the middle of the your coffee grounds are immersed in water and usually over-extracted resulting in too much bitterness, while the grounds on the perimeter are often under-extracted resulting in sourness.  (Poor, marginal coffee grounds.  I feel sorry for them.  Pitiful.)  Simultaneous under-extraction and over-extraction does not average out into a coffee sweet spot, unless you are a fan of super-bitter or sour coffee.  If that's the case, I can't help you.

So I set a 45 sec. timer on my microwave, you know, to de-gas those coffee grounds and all.  Critical, friends.  Absolutely critical.  As the carbon dioxide releases, the grounds began to bubble creating a slight caramel-colored foam.  It kinda makes me smile.  My potions master would be so proud. 

4.  Add the rest of the boiling water and wait about 4 minutes.  Then place the CCD on top of your coffee mug or kettle and watch the dripping process commence.  There ya go!

Photo taken from a coffee website I've never read:  Click Here

Photo taken from Here

Plus, the CCD costs just under $13 and since it requires no electricity, I can totally take it camping with me on the weekends.  Sweet!!

Needless to say I now own my own Clever Coffee Dripper and for my birthday this month Bruce got me an espresso machine.   And I'm beyond giddy about them both.  I've had a ball experimenting with all sorts of yummy coffee drinks in my kitchen. Maybe I'll post about the espresso machine later. 

Anyhoo, for those interested, you can check out some Portland, geeky, coffee news by clicking here:  Drip City.  

So once my work is done on this lovely, rainy day, I'll make myself another cup of coffee and get back to the important things in life.  *Sigh*  Cannot put this book down!