NPR Junkie Puts Money Where Mouth Is

Posted on April 25, 2012 by 8junebugs

Ennnhhh. Not that much money.

Tonight I’m taking my first class through Skillshare:

Making Beautiful Stories: Interviewing, Editing + Audiojournalism

I’ve got a boatload of reasons for this, not the least of which is the GIANT, GAPING hole in my skillset where Multimedia Production should be (Reason #1). Seriously, you’d think I’d have gotten more involved in A/V stuff somewhere along my otherwise bizarro career path, but no. I’m the Words Person, and I’ve always been most comfortable with those words when they remain unspoken.

Could be because my writing style lends itself to the page and not the voice. Could be because the sound of my own recorded voice has always creeped me out. (I am not alone in this. If you want to shut someone up fast, play their own voice back at them.)

But.

I have a wild, enduring fascination with capturing stories (Reason #2). I firmly, deeply believe that everyone has a story, and that that story matters. If we can count on nothing else in this life, we can count on this: No one, anywhere, shares our exact life story. Shared experiences draw us closer and cement the bonds between us, but it’s the personal permutations of experience that make us who and what we are.

This is why I’m addicted to This American Life and Radiolab. This is why I claimed all the family photos from my mom’s house, stole Dad’s copy of Gingras Family Marriages, and am determined to have Graham’s mom narrate a trip through her photo albums. This is why I will be your grandmother’s favorite of all your friends — given the opportunity, I will sit for hours and listen to her talk about how she got from wherever she started to your front porch.

And then I’ll want to tell someone else about it, because trained reporters are inveterate storytellers. (Or gossips…YMMV.)

Here’s the thing, though. My story? Best told in my voice. Your story is better — or, at least, more authentically — told in your voice. (Reason #3) Audiojournalism gets me out of the way and helps me curate a story without sticking my voice in where it doesn’t belong.

That “sit and listen to grandma tell stories” thing is a skill I developed too late to put down my own grandmothers’ stories…more’s the pity, as they had some tales to tell, and the phrases they used are as much a part of who they were as their favorite colors and recipes.

Even if I had been paying enough attention to sit down and get my own family’s oral history out of its matriarchs, I’m not even ashamed to admit that I never would’ve gotten around to transcribing it. Because wow, do I hate that task. And even though one skill-less professor demanded that I record a podcast for a grade, I wouldn’t have known how to edit the audio for impact and clarity.

Until now, presumably. This class ought to give me a better idea of how to actually use the free software the aforementioned professor made us download (Audacity). This is one of those things I learn best from someone who knows how to do it, not just where to find it (Reason #4).

As for Reason #5…well. About two weeks before Mom died, I bought a digital recorder (something like this one) with the intention of just having her tell stories in its general direction. I’ve still never used it, beyond testing it.

I think it deserves to hear some good stories, don’t you?

Filed under: Book of Me, Booklearnin', Home, If it's not one thing, it's your mother | 2 Comments »

Here we go again

Posted on March 8, 2012 by 8junebugs

We’re 13 days out from the end of our first back-to-California lease. This has been a serviceable first apartment for us — the Allegro was a great location from which to get our bearings and a neat enough fit for our immediate needs upon arrival.

But we’re SO READY to move into a two-bedroom. Two grown-ass people and a dog can live in a one-bedroom for a while, but when both people need work space in the home as well as living space, it gets old preeeetty fast.

A colleague of mine just told me they turned their master bedroom into the office and use in the smaller room for a bedroom. “I just sleep in there,” she said. “Who cares how big it is?” Fair question. Kathleen of &Kathleen (and now of Braid Creative & Consulting) did the same for her home office HQ.

I also underestimated, a year ago today, just how much I’d miss having a balcony…although I’m not sure I’d have wanted one in our current location anyway. We learned soon enough that our only windows are right on the path of least resistance for the semis that stock the Warehouse District, and the noise, vibration, and obscene level of dusty grit probably would’ve kept me indoors much of the time anyway. But I like to have the option, you know? The opportunity to step outside without really going outside, you might say.

So, yay! Our new place has a balcony. There’s also ample storage, an in-unit washer and dryer, and the pool + hot tub + fitness center combination we’d expect to get if we moved back over the hills to Pleasanton. And room to entertain…ye GODS, I miss having the space to entertain properly. There’s so much counter space in the kitchen that I’ve been thinking about finally getting a pasta roller…

We’re also thrilled (and I never thought I’d say this) to be switching back to Comcast. The Allegro had some sort of contract with DirecTV through a third party — Consolidated Smart Systems — that has (a) the most consistently terrible Yelp reviews I’ve ever seen, and (b) some questionable selling/billing practices. We signed up for 12 months, our signed receipt says we signed up for 12 months, our billing indicates we got 12-month pricing with some discounts, but CSS signed us up for 24 months with DirecTV, so…whaaaaa? Ugh, I can’t wait to get back to the simple, straightforward difficulty of calling Comcast to complain every time a promo runs out and jacks up my bill.

We made a trade in deciding on this place. The rent is closer to market rate than I would normally like, but the process was also much easier than if we’d worked through the handful of property management companies that seem to have a lock on the quainter, smaller complexes around town. And those places, when we looked, rarely allowed dogs.

Y’all, if only they’d check Rodney’s references! We’ve got a whole neighborhood of people willing to swear that he’s the sweetest thing on four legs. The ladies who work out at the bootcamp place downstairs, the waitresses at Chop Bar who pet him on their smoke breaks, the people who walk their dogs on a schedule like ours…hell, call our vet. Rodney’s practically their new mascot.

So, here’s what home will look like:

That green bit there? Past the gate and the palm trees, before the harbor? That’s where the puppy parents gather on Friday nights to let the dogs play while they sip cocktails. The lady who started it already invited us — we’ve met her on walks, and it turns out she lives on the floor we’ll be on.

A week from today, we’ll be in our new home. We won’t be Uhauling it — I promised myself years ago that I will always hire movers when I can afford them, for they are worth their weight in Advil.

Off we go, then.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Home, OAK, puppypuppypuppypuppypuppy | Leave a Comment »

Pupdate: Lonely

Posted on February 6, 2012 by 8junebugs

today iz the worst day ever

okay, worst day since yesterday, when PUPPIEZ INVADED MY HOUSE

mom and dad watched flat puppiez play instead of PLAYING WITH ME

stupid flat puppiez

i hate them

i barked and barked so they would know IZ MY HOUSE

mom and dad must be mad…

today they are both NOT HERE, which iz where i like them to be

 i don’t know what “work” means

being all alone makes me sad

plus i have to pee

they’ll be home soon, right?

right?

~r

Filed under: puppypuppypuppypuppypuppy | Leave a Comment »

Soup, and grand theft small appliance

Posted on January 18, 2012 by 8junebugs

What’s the statute of limitations on stealing crap from your parents’ kitchen when you move out?

Nearly 15 years ago, I moved into my first apartment. As I left my dad’s house, I took with me everything in my bedroom, his our copy of the Gingras Family Marriages, and his immersion blender.

I cannot for the life of me recall why I wanted that blender. Was I still drinking Carnation Instant Breakfast (better blended than stirred, which is not to be confused with “good”)? Did I think moving in with a boyfriend meant late-night milkshakes? No idea.

I would like to note, though, that my dad (a) had an immersion blender 15+ years ago (although I don’t know why) and (b) is the primary source of any skill I have in the kitchen. Sure, it took me a while to get started and there was immeasurable influence from other families over the years, but my dad was the cook in my family (and KidBrother is a much more thoughtful, creative cook than I).

In the interest of fairness, my mom made better scrambled eggs. On the whole, though, she preferred bologna sandwiches and potato chips and left the roast beef to Dad.

Fifteen years later, that immersion blender, an early (earliest?) version of the unfortunately named Sunbeam Stickmaster, is a valued member of my kitchen collective and continues to perform valiantly. There was a time a few years ago when I thought it was not long for this world — it was a 15-year-old small appliance, after all, and I’d started making a lot of pureed broccoli soup. It seemed reasonable to plan for its replacement, but it’s still going strong.

This weekend, it handled:

Baked Potato Soup (Smitten Kitchen)
Graham calls this Potato Sludge, possibly because that makes it sound like junk food. I don’t care, as long as “Would you like me to make more potato soup?” continues to be answered with a “Fuck, yeah!” and he’ll eat it without toppings.

Carrot Soup with Miso and Sesame (Smitten Kitchen)
Better without the sesame oil, to my taste, and Graham is not a fan (although he is to be commended for trying something so fantastically orange and smelly). A commenter on the original post substituted miso soup mix and soy sauce for the miso paste, and I did the same, because I didn’t care enough about miso to walk four blocks to the nearest Asian market. I’m pretty sure this was a one-time soup for me – it taught me that I like soups to taste more like the veggies I put in them than like an added flavor. Also that I prefer miso in small doses.

Chickpea-Tomato Soup with Fresh Rosemary (Orangette)
Seriously good. Molly describes this soup as part of her formulaic lunch, and I could eat this daily for a really long time. In fact, I just might…I certainly will this week. My only regret is that I didn’t have any cheese in the house with which to make a cheese bread.

(I didn’t take any pictures. Imagine, if you will, comforting rows of single-serving bowls in red, white, and orange.)

I wasn’t a fan of soup at all until a few years ago. I just don’t remember soup being worth the effort it took to eat it, maybe because soups and stews came out of cans in our household. I mean, my grandmothers made stews and those were awesome, but my parents came of age as the Campbell’s Condensed generation, the generation that tried to make cooking and baking easier and less time-consuming than it had been for their poor mothers. I mean, why peel potatoes — much less peel, simmer, and puree with other things — when you can just add water to some potato flakes?!

Which leads me, again, to wonder why the hell my dad needed a stick blender in the first place, but that’s water 15 years under the bridge.

(My generation may be noted for kickstarting the current foodie movement, once we had the cash to develop our palates, but we have our shortcuts, too. Bagged salads, pre-chopped ingredients, and technology are our time- and work-saving crutches; e.g., we’ll bake bread at home to avoid preservatives and HFCS, but we’ll damn sure use a breadmaker if we can get our hands on one.)

(Which is not an indictment, although I do still prep my own stuff most of the time. Mirepoix is the weekly exception. Thank you, Trader Joe’s, for elegantly, evenly chopped mirepoix.)

So I didn’t realize soup could be yummy until I experienced a decent minestrone and a truly top-flight lobster bisque. It took years for me to make soup at home, and I did so mainly to save money, eat healthfully, and avoid the terrifying amount of sodium in prepared soups.

Instead, I have a terrifying amount of soup-serving-sized storage containers.

Soup! It’s what’s for dinner. Lunch, too. Thanks, Dad!

Filed under: Book of Me, G-Clan, Home, Rearview Mirror, Suzy Homemaking, Tastes Like Chicken, Waist Management | 1 Comment »

Oh, you stupid feet

Posted on January 2, 2012 by 8junebugs

Le sigh.

Today, I bought new running shoes. I do this from time to time, and the last time was April 2010.

(Crap. I didn’t think it’d been that long.)

Ever since my first long-distance training day for my first Avon Walk, I have entrusted my feet to professionals. Back then, I had a pair of New Balance sneakers that were SO COMFORTABLE and SO AWESOME that I ignored the advice of people with more experience and brains than I. Twelve miles later, my feet were such a throbbing, blistered mess that I considered gnawing them off and finishing the walk on two bloody stumps, because no way could that hurt more than swollen feet in a too-small-for-real-distance shoe. And it was only a training walk.

I learned my lesson, got fitted — and shelled out — for proper running shoes a full size too big, and have never looked back.

Well, that’s not true. Every time I do this, I hope that one of the Cool Companies has made a shoe that feels right on my wonky-ass, buniony feet. I hope to come home with Nike or New Balance or Adidas or any one of the brand names that the Cool Kids wore when I was a fashion-inept teenager with no athletic aptitude…or interest.

True to form, the best shoes for my feet are still made by Brooks. This happens to me EVERY GODDAMN TIME and I’m not sure why it bugs me, except that the name reminds me of Middlebury’s (late) Brooks Pharmacy.

Meet the Adrenaline GTS 12:

Still perfect for my bunions and wobbly ankles.*

 

 

 

*I’ve often wondered why previous running store experts haven’t said anything about my wobbly ankles. Those of you who’ve lived with me or known me long enough know my ankles crack on unconscious command, one in a staccato and one in more of a samba rhythm, and I frequently roll an ankle walking on a flat surface. This guy watched me run as well as walk, though, and the others didn’t, which means he saw the range of motion differently. Still…same shoes. Basically. With inserts, just in case.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Conspicuous consumption, Runaway | 7 Comments »

Home again, home again

Posted on January 1, 2012 by 8junebugs

The word for 2012 is Home.

Making one. Being one. Settling into and contributing to one.

2011 was a year of transitions. Moving from one state to another, from one company to another (with some consulting in the middle), from a large household of one to a small household of two and a dog. We’ve spent 2011 sorting and adjusting and refiguring and decluttering and building and learning and replacing and budgeting and getting our bearings.

We won’t be buying a house this year, but when we look for our next place, we’ll do it with a better sense of what we really need, where we want to be, and everything Oakland’s neighborhoods have to offer. This time around, Oakland’s not just the affordable option closest to San Francisco that meets the needs we brought with us — it’s a fantastic network of communities with a ferocity and a pride I can get behind. My street address won’t get carved in stone in 2012, but this is where Home will take root, where it will grow.

Happy New Year, Oakland. Let’s do this.

Source: Oaklandish

Previously:

2011: Courage

2010: Whole

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Book of Me, Happily ever after, Home | Leave a Comment »

In Review: 2011

Posted on December 31, 2011 by 8junebugs

With thanks to ejshea, who’s made an admirable habit of using the same list from year to year. I think I’ll do the same.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Oh, good lord, so many things. I spent a week on a road trip with my brother. I ran a 5K. I finished grad school.

2. Did you [live up to] your New Year’s [word], and will you [select another] for next year?

I picked courage for this year and I think I’ve managed it all right. I’m pretty sure I know what 2012′s will be…

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

I’m 34 — this is true every year. For 2011, the list includes a cousin, my mentor, and several friends.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

In my own family, we managed to lose only a great-uncle and a great-great-uncle this year. I think. They’re not always quick to tell me about the great-greats…or the greats, for that matter. No, this year, it’s my friends who’ve lost parents, and I’ve found myself in that weird spot where you’d think I could offer some comfort, having been through it, but I can’t, really, because each loss is so personal, and so huge, that all you can do is be there. With brownies.

5. What places did you visit?

Gardnerville, NV. A lot.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

A place to live for longer than a year at a time.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

March 22. According to our lease, that was the first official day of Happily Ever After.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Making most of what happened this year happen. It took planning and patience, neither of which are my strongest suits.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I let my thesis stretch out longer than it had to. In fact, I’ve graduated, but I’m still on the hook for an archival copy for the Hopkins library…which the program director keeps reminding me.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Not really. A minor head cold manifested Christmas night. I attribute this directly to my Thanksgiving post, in which I was too obviously thankful for my health to actually get away with it. But hey! Not lupus.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The future I wanted. I took some financial risks in moving the way I did, and they paid off…or, at least, they haven’t completely bitten me in the ass yet.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Graham. Every day, I’m grateful for how even-keeled he is.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

Every single candidate vying for the Republican presidential nomination, most of their handlers, and a great many of their most vocal supporters. There’s no talking sense to people who make shit up and stand by it no matter what.

Also! Every contestant on Survivor. You can expect this to be a perennial answer.

14. Where did most of your money go?

First: Moving and road-tripping. Second: Rodneycare.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

I’m excited every day to be back in California for good. I love that this is my home, that we chose it together, and that our kid(s) will be native Northern Californians.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

Train’s “Save me, San Francisco.” They couldn’t have timed that one more perfectly for me, could they?

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) happier or sadder? So much happier.

b) thinner or fatter? About the same.

c) richer or poorer? A bit richer, I think. There’s more of a cushion, anyway.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

More running, more yoga, more time with friends.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Less time in front of the TV and, not unrelated, a little less wine drinking and pizza eating.

20. How did you spend Christmas in 2011?

We had Christmas in Nevada with Graham’s folks, where I cooked The Dinner: Roast beef, baked mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and breaded butternut squash. I’d have liked something green, but Graham’s mom changed her mind about the green beans she was going to steam. Something about too much food? Whatever. I cook for leftovers, and holidays are certainly no exception.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Every day.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

Bones. Merlin is growing on me, and I watch Survivor because Graham is one of the two dozen remaining fans of the show.

23. What did you do for your birthday in 2011?

Defended my thesis, got a six-month contract (which is being extended into 2012), and went to the beach.

24. What was the best book you read?

I’d love to give that honor to the newest series in the Paksenarrion canon, Paladin’s Legacy, but I read the Hunger Games trilogy this past week and it blew me right out of the water.

25. What did you want and get?

A life by my own design, rather than one by default.

26. What did you want and not get?

A “permanent” job with all the usual benefits and the will to keep as fit as I’d like.

27. What was your favorite film of this year?

We didn’t see too many movies, so the final installment of Harry Potter wins.

28. Did you make some new friends this year?

I did. Work helped.

29.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Not a thing.

 

 

Wait! I take that back. A non-snowed-out Grand Canyon experience would have helped. The pictures still make me angry.

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Tech Company Chic

31. What kept you sane?

Rodney, when he hasn’t been worrying me to death.

32. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Was it Miley Cyrus who just told the media to knock off policing her body? Her, then. Otherwise, I couldn’t care less.

33. What political issue stirred you the most?

Equal rights (for everyone, always) and socioeconomic disparity (and the circular causes and effects thereof).

34. Who did you miss?

This is a loaded one to answer after Christmas, which is when I miss my mom and the rest of my family the most. I’ve also missed living practically equidistant between Alicia and Shotgun, with plenty of cozy places to sit and chat on both sides.

35. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

It’s absolutely worth it. This year was the first time I really acted — for the long term — on who and where I want to be when I grow up, and how I want to live. I had to think about what I was willing to do, to risk, to face, to get started on that life. I had to find a balance between planning and letting go of the pieces I couldn’t control. I gave up a lot of security, which I know seemed extra-super-crazy in today’s United States, but I’m where I need to be, where I should be, where I’m happiest.

No matter the cost, it’s absolutely worth it.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Book of Me, Courage, Happily ever after | 2 Comments »

Thankful days has November

Posted on November 25, 2011 by 8junebugs

Do you know I was never taught that “30 days has September” rhyme as a kid? I’m not very thankful for that.

I am thankful for all this, though:

  1. My health. I realize this is the best way to ensure that I get lupus by Christmas, but I’ve been really, really healthy this year and that’s been helpful. No colds, flus, broken bones, etc.
  2. Steady employment. I took a big fat leap this year and this piece was not at all certain. I’m very, very thankful not just for the paycheck, but also for the trust a new company has placed in my skills.
  3. Smart, funny colleagues. For real, y’all…I land in the damnedest places and get to work with the coolest people. You have no idea.
  4. Telecommuting options. What I do, I can almost always do from anywhere (with or without a snoring dog on my lap), and I work for a company that agrees. This is immeasurably useful in balancing work with everything else that happens without regard for the traditional 9 to 5 schedule (like canine diabetes).
  5. Northern California. I don’t want to live anywhere else ever again.
  6. Oakland. We’ve been here seven months and I feel like it’s home. I can see San Francisco FROM MY HOUSE. (Okay, from the trail two blocks away. Technically, we can see Alameda from our house.)
  7. A good haircut. In October, I paid more for just a haircut than I ever have before, but I did so at a salon where they treat curly hair like it’s made of gold…and because I’m growing it out, I’m not going to need another haircut for six months. I realize I have kind of a shaggy-dog thing going on right now, but it’s intentional and I love it. (Graham does, too, although yesterday he offered me a Scooby snack.)
  8. A good vet. The follow-up vet continues to be awesome. She listens and explains and worries about our dog like he’s her own. And one of the receptionists is exactly the kind of lady you’d want or expect to be a veterinary receptionist. I’m pretty sure she designed the appointment reminder cards.
  9. A good ob/gyn. Yeah. I had to find one. I found a really, really good one. With any luck, I won’t need to see her again until 2012.
  10. Extended family. In the last few months, we’ve spent more time with Graham’s family than…well, pretty much ever, at least from where I sit. There are cousins and babies and aunts and uncles and family drama I didn’t even know existed because he didn’t participate in his younger years. It’s awesome.
  11. Immediate family. Every couple of months, we trek up over the Sierras, blow through Tahoe, and spend a couple of days with Graham’s folks (and their dog). It’s a shorter drive than I faced getting from DC to Vermont, and I can’t tell you how nice it is to visit family without having to suffer through New Jersey.
  12. Big families. The G-clan grew by one this year — tiny Lillie (Lillian Irene) made her appearance not too long ago, and every time that happens, it reminds me that I have many cousins, that they are awesome, and that I am lucky to know almost all of them pretty well.
  13. Small families. Of the original four, it’s just me, Chris, and Dad (and our respective SOs) left, which gives us a fair bit of freedom to change things up, try new traditions, and see what happens.
  14. The Sierras. If I ever reach the point where I can drive through those mountains without a deep, visceral response to ALL THAT NATURE, just cremate me and scatter my ashes on 880 South, for I am quite clearly dead inside.
  15. Lake Tahoe…which needs no further explanation.
  16. BART. There are days when I curse its slowness, its disrepair, and the bicyclists who don’t follow the rush hour bike rules, but really? I’m completely spoiled and don’t want to commute any other way, ever. Except maybe by ferry. Or transporter beam.
  17. Old friends. I haz them. There are people in my life who’ve known me longer than some of my relatives and certainly better than many of my relatives. Which makes them family.
  18. New friends. I’ve met some fantastic people since moving back to California.
  19. Red friends and blue friends. When you’re a wonk, it helps to be friends with other wonks in the run up to an election. It keeps you from being That Person at parties.
  20. New-old friends. Thanks to the magic of social networks, I’ve been able to get to know classmates I didn’t know before, and some of them are fully 10x more awesome than I knew they were when we were teenagers. Some of them — as well as some of the friends I knew a little better back then — have such great adventures…
  21. Safe spaces on the interwebs. In some ways, the internet hasn’t changed at all since 1995 — there are still trolls and flame wars and violent, ignorant, hate-filled crap. On the flipside, though, there are vigilantly moderated communities committed to…more. More tolerance. More equality. More understanding. More openness. I am grateful for these spaces and for the large mercy of the women and men who provide them…at no small cost to themselves.
  22. Puppies! I love our dog beyond reason (almost), which has led to almost always loving all other dogs.
  23. Technology. Facebook, Skype, Google+ Hangouts, unlimited texting, and the like. It’s never been easier or cheaper to keep in touch with people, and it’s just getting better.
  24. Fruit smoothies. You don’t realize how much they do for your body until you spend a week eating bagels with peanut butter for breakfast.
  25. Books. I recently discovered that the author of my favorite series of all time renewed the characters in a five-book series that picks up right where the last book left off. I’ve read the first two books and pre-ordered the next one, and they’re good.
  26. TED Talks. When I get bogged down in a project, I take 20 minutes to listen to one for inspiration. It’s free, easy to access, and I am never disappointed.
  27. Simple pleasures. Coffee, hot showers on rainy days, knee socks, homemade bread and stew, good pillows.
  28. Long walks. Sunshine cleanses more than dirty laundry.
  29. Amazon, Etsy, King Arthur Flour, Penzey’s, and all other online stores that help keep me out of malls. I hate malls.
  30. Graham.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Book of Me, Courage, G-Clan, Happily ever after | 5 Comments »

At the dinner table, #2

Posted on November 7, 2011 by 8junebugs

“Hey, is there a real U.S.S. Defiant*?”

“Sure.”

. . .

“Wait, did you mean somewhere in America’s fleet, or in my collection of little toy spaceships?”

“Uh. America.”

“Oh. Well, probably, then.”

 

*We just started watching season 5 of Deep Space Nine.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Boobtubage, Happily ever after | Leave a Comment »

Leitourgia, schmeitourgia

Posted on October 31, 2011 by 8junebugs

This weekend, while trying to print the recipe for Smitten Kitchen’s most excellent Red Wine Chocolate Cake so I wouldn’t get batter in my keyboard, I realized we’d run out of printer paper and grabbed the first handy scrap paper with an empty side: A copy of The New Roman Missal Introductory Rite.

Yeah. I don’t blog too much about religion anymore, being of what my friends might call “indeterminate faith.” But I was raised mostly Catholic, I’ve checked off a couple of sacraments, and I still get to Mass occasionally for high holidays and nostalgia. I’m not what you’d call a practicing Catholic — I’m more of a respectful, skeptical seeker — but I have reason not to renounce my baptism, and there are times when I find it very, very comforting.

A couple of weeks ago, though, Graham and I found ourselves at Mass in San Ramon, where he stood godfather to the family’s newest member — his cousin’s baby girl. Technically, he stood “Christian Witness,” not being a Catholic by any measure — indeed, cohabiting with a woman considered by the Church to be married to another man (I paid for the divorce — my ex is on the hook for an annulment, should he want one) — but I don’t think the priest or pastor even asked.

Which kind of annoyed me. Not because I think he or the godmother are in any way unfit to share some responsibility for this kid’s future — it was an honor to be asked, and he takes it seriously (I gather she does, too, but I just met her). But canon law is canon law. If the Church doesn’t bother to enforce it, their insistence that the congregants follow it is…suspect. It felt too much like glossing over the details to sign up another unsuspecting, non-consenting infant. (I’m not renouncing my own baptism, but neither will I pretend it was made with my consent.)

So I went to Mass and immediately felt odd, as I do in newer, more contemporary churches. What can I say? My Catholic upbringing was relatively old school, and I am most comfortable in dark stone churches with uncomfortable pews. The more graphic the crucifix over the altar, the more at home I feel. (Gargoyles are optional.) (Don’t judge me.)

Speaking of my upbringing, I should note that I was never properly taught how to be Catholic. By the time I hit catechism, I was an inveterate questioner, which meant I wasn’t really satisfied with pat lessons or coloring books. And although I knew the prayers, NO ONE TAUGHT ME ALL THE OTHER RESPONSES. (Dear family: I am smart, but I was not born knowing. That’s my younger cousin, K, who could’ve coached football from her playpen.)

I may be a little bitter about this. I like chanting, and I remember feeling embarrassed because I didn’t know the words…and, as a wee thing, I never asked for help when embarrassed. Back then, too, there was less of an effort to welcome newcomers (and worried know-it-all kids) by telling them that all the words for the Mass were in the missals.

And that brings us back to the New! Roman! Missal! Introductory Rite. I’d brought home the flyer and set it aside, planning to read it to find out just what was changing now. When I went back to the Church in the year before Wedding 1.0, things were being sung that used to spoken, and some of the melodies had changed slightly. So…fine. Things change. Occasionally, parishes even step outside the liturgy just a little bit. No biggie.

But when I printed the (delicious, decadent) cake recipe on the back, I was forced to remember that I wanted to read it. And there are two bits that bug me the most:

Current Penitential Rite:
I confess to almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do…

New Penitential Rite:
I confess to almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault…

I have heard this “new” version, this “my most grievous fault” version, only one other time: In the penitent tone of Scarlett O’Hara’s deeply disappointed mother, and, simultaneously, in the reverent tone of the youngest O’Hara sister, who later became a nun. This takes place in the scene after Mrs. O’Hara returns from the bedside of the “white-trash Slattery girl” and snubs the O’Haras’ Yankee overseer (the father of said Slattery girl’s mysteriously dead newborn).

You see where I’m going here? This is not a communal confession for the 21st century. “Greatly” sinning “through my most grievous fault” is best left to the antebellum South — it’s a little harsh for running stoplights, illegally downloading music, and hacking your roommate’s Facebook profile. “Grievous fault” is a little too Vatican I, is what I’m saying, and I’m a child of Vatican II. Expecting today’s Catholics to beat their breasts over venial sins strikes me as unnecessarily punitive. Also counterproductive.

Current Gloria:
Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on Earth. (I cannot type that without hearing the old melody in my head. Damn you, indoctrination!)

New Gloria:
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will.

I’d be willing to bet that Jesus wished peace on all, not on those of good will. Unanticipated acts of peace can breed goodwill — no one would know that better than the person of Christ. Aside from providing an easy out for those who sin against mean people, I see no good purpose for this distinction.

The rants about these changes to the Mass do nothing to soothe my lingering fury over the stern lecture this San Ramon pastor delivered in place of a homily, either. The homily for that day could have been such an easy and timely message. The Gospel reading was Matt 22:21 — the “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s” one. And in the bulletin, adult congregants were asked to consider what role society should play in taking care of the less fortunate, and whether they were willing to pay more in taxes to help with that.

I mean, the homily writes itself for these two together, am I right? Even a barely adequate priest could’ve hit that one out of the park. Money is useful for the care and feeding of people on Earth (goodwill notwithstanding), and taxes are due the state. We’re our brother’s keeper, yes? And we should heed the parable of the Good Samaritan, right? Then where do Christians get off cutting programs that help the less fortunate and supporting tax cuts for millionaires who could, if you will, render unto Caesar? Why are the needy demonized instead of the ones Christ would call hypocrites?

Okay, that probably a little too political, but you see where I’m going with this, right? There’s plenty of modern fodder for a homily on paying taxes and helping our neighbors when they need it.

Instead…

Instead, we got a brass-knuckled, belittling lecture on how to participate in the Mass. How to get there on time — no, scratch that, early! How to genuflect – no nodding or curtsying! How to make the sign of the cross — slowly, with reverence, no rushing! How to pray about how much to contribute during the offertory — no hastily grabbing at whatever’s in your wallet! How to read the scripture before Sunday morning — show of hands, how many of you…?! How to sing loud and proud — no mumbling!

And wait! Don’t forget! DO NOT COME IN LATE.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been several years since my last confession, and I spent a good 25 minutes glowering at that priest, who is a poor representative of Your grace and glory.

Admittedly, this lecture would have been super-helpful when I was 7. But on this day, in this tone, during a time reserved for reflection on a very timely Gospel, I was angry and dismayed. This was the first Mass Graham had ever attended, and I’d hoped it would be the kind that makes people think, “Well, this may not be for me, but that was rather nice.” Instead, newcomers witnessed a grumpy old priest scolding his flock for…being human. Awesome.

Y’all really should try that cake, though. SO YUMMEH.

Filed under: A life less ordinary, Happily ever after, Highway or Handbasket?, Rearview Mirror, Tastes Like Chicken | 6 Comments »

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