Stealing from an old Lady

I feel like I just robbed a bank, or a yarn store, more appropriately. After a pretty terrible 2 days, the weekend outlook is brightening, thanks to a lady who loved to knit, craft, and create. Details of my crappy days are not important to this story; this is a story of unexpected gifts.

In the midst of a pathetic and undeserved pity party for myself, I thanked God for my friend who gave me extra napkins at lunch (because soup after a load of Novocaine is just a bad idea) and only laughed a little. Is the root of the word and main ingredients of Novocaine related to cocaine? Because I don't see why anyone would EVER do cocaine if they had been to the dentist. She also taught me how to "M1R" and "M1L" (insert knitter gang sign here ____) and then assured me that although "St st" did not, in fact, mean "Stuper Stitch" I could call it that if I wanted to.

At the end of the party, Rosa jumped on my face and poked me in the eye with her wet nose so I thanked her, too. "Get over it," she says. "Let's play. Meow." So, before I could sit down to type, we had to play Rosa's throw-the-toys-and-I'll-chase-them-but-won't-bring-them-back game, which might be more fun for her.

This morning I was gifted with a man who asked me to watch his computer while he went to the bathroom. The end. Just kidding. We chatted and I was able to share with him some experiences from Korea and the mission trips in Boracay and Bangalore. A photographer recently interviewed on NPR described photo opportunities falling into her lap as "gifts from God" and I felt the same way about this man. A special conversation in an ordinary setting and crappy week. Thanks.

I was starving for perspective this week, and as it turns out, I did not get it. However, I did get a box from a garage sale. Craigslist has never failed me, and the promise of "knitting and crocheting items" sounded like a good idea. A box of yarn stuffs, a ton of needles, and packet of 1985 knitting patterns later, my soul felt mended. The woman who's crafting empire I was taking over had died earlier this year. Her nephew was selling her life in increments of $1 and 75cents stickers. Proudly hauling my box out of the sale, I asked her name; "Avis," he said. "Hmm, ok, I'll think of her when I knit."

So thank you, Avis for your passion for creating pieces of love for your family. Thanks for keeping some of it for me, too.

Minnesota Pride, sort of

I guess I'm a Minnesotan. Or am I? Do I really have to claim a state? My driver's license says I'm a resident of the Land of 10,000 Lakes. My birth certificate says I was born here. I drive around a vehicle that has a Minnesota license plate. Ew.

Despite the relief of coming home to a place that smells likes Christmas rather than trash, it has been harder to embrace my new home than I imagined. Some people in my new neighborhood could use a lesson in manners and a time-out..."Don't even think about coming out of your room until you have picked up all of the trash you threw in my yard and you have something to say that doesn't involve the f-bomb." I feel the same way about some people in this country, but that is for another blog.

As I'm getting ready to move into this place, to be someone's wife, to really dig in the ground and plant some roots, there are things that I am beginning to appreciate; my new neighbor, Mike, always stops to ask about wedding plans and our bike rides, give me advice about living in an urban area, and always accepts our invitations for some beer and conversation. My friends are making it easier too; Emily from high school has quietly forced me into some new knitting projects, and Emily from college helps me dream about home improvements. My newest Emily in Korea sends emails and facebook messages to let me know she misses me. And MY Emily, related by blood, had her first day of school last week. She can tell me all about it in person in one month, when she walks down the aisle as the flower girl at our wedding. (The 'in-person' part is the most exciting for me.)

This summer contained birth, death, marriage, and divorce. Some of these things are by choice, others are not. I choose to be a part of this neighborhood, to plant flowers and my heart in this state. It will take some patience (like when I have to explain to a nice lady that Korea, is in fact, a developed country and comfortable to live in) but I am committed. Watch out North Minneapolis, Meredith Bird chooses to love you.

Levi, the smallest and newest nugget

Brandon's bride

Nuggets

The oldest nugget

Rest before the Rush

Christine and Dah Hae in Myeondong

In times of transition, times such as now, I'm not sure what to do. I want to spend time with people who are important to me here because it's uncertain if/when our paths will cross again. At the same time, there is a need to foster relationships back home in preparation for my old "new life." My coping mechanism is this; laugh with friends for as long as possible, then retreat to my couch for some TV. Unfortunately, this is not conducive to packing or grading. Surely those things will find their way in the schedule in the next few weeks. Needless to say, I'm in the midst of a whirlwind of exams, events, and emotions.

Retreating to my TV has recently involved overindulging in a series called "Men in Trees" about Marin, a New York writer who finds herself in a small town (full of men) in Alaska. At first she is overwhelmed by the simplicity of life in a village, but then she discovers she can breathe better, think better, and write better. It is unexpectedly inspiring to watch Marin's journey to find herself and what is most important. Cheesy, I know. I LOVE it.

Annette walking in the mountains

Maybe it's the lack of quality English television in Korea that pulls me in to Marin's story. But maybe, just maybe, it's because my hope for returning home to the beautiful Midwest will mean simplicity, and simplicity might bring clarity. When you've been somewhere long enough, normal daily events slowly complicate things. The yellow dust is no longer an exotic phenomenon but rather a real annoyance that poisons the lungs and causes you to sputter, cough, and stumble around with watery, itchy eyes. Simply said, nothing is clear in a yellow dust storm.

Lots of people clean and organize their life's spaces for clarity. Maybe I'm in need of a spring cleaning of countries. I think I will put this one away for a bit; maybe for good, maybe for another season, and pull out my old one. It may be rusty and a little unfamiliar for awhile, but we'll get used to each other again. That is when we see most clearly; when our eyes fall upon what once was familiar, but with new, recovering-from-the-dust lenses.

Enjoying a springy, smoggy day in Seoul

I love...

I love my mom.

Mom recently came to visit and other than our important coffee breaks and much needed catching up, I am most grateful for her new experiences in "my" country. She may not have caught the travel bug, but I found that she responds to unexpected adventures the same way I do. After she left for home, an email arrived in my inbox; Mom was stuck in Japan due to the FedEx crash. When she finally got home, after 36+ hours of travel, she informed me that she had a fun time with her new friend Lucy from New York, stayed in a swanky hotel, and ate some great Japanese food. I'm happy to have inherited her "go-with-the-flow, adventure awaits!" gene.

I love these brownies and the friends who appreciated the method of their delivery (carefully placed in ziplock bags and then in recycled granola bar boxes so as not to get squashed on the bike ride to the party).
I love Thai soup (and winning the cooking game with myself.)

I tried something new today and it (sort of) worked out. I have a weird tendency to ignore ingredients and instructions in recipes and usually end up eating something that is more purple, crunchy, or _______(insert descriptive food word here) than it is supposed to be. But today...fish sauce, prawns, and lime juice were not as important as one might think! My first attempt at Tom Yum Goong, minus the goong, turned out to be quite tasty. Yay for me!

I love this soup because: 1. It tastes like nothing else. It's SOOO good that while in Thailand, I ate it at least once a day 2. The broth is made from lemongrass, garamond, and prawn heads and shells, which you have to pick out meticulously before eating. My ritual was to pick out all the pieces of crap before I could eat the soup (this was also to save my tongue, as they serve it scorching hot).

I love her.

Rosa always finds a way to love me during the day, usually while I'm on the computer. I've tried to capture her snuggling because I'm really the only one that ever sees it and today she finally let me take her picture. She nestles her head on my shoulder and purrs, just enough to let me know she's happy. It doesn't matter that she's a cat; love is love and everyone needs it.

Particle Physics or Providence?

I'm currently debating whether to start my new bible study homework or work on tomorrow's lesson plans; both promise to unveil the origins of the universe. One would be learning about providence and the other an act of trusting that providence.

I've recently been inspired by a new city, a new blog, and a new bible study. I like them because they inspire me to learn more. A friend of a friend has a tattoo on his ankle that says in Latin, I am still learning. It reminds me that its ok to take time to process information, to make connections years later, and to continue to learn about yourself and the world. Maybe this is why I'm still learning about particle physics; I didn't quite get it the first time. Maybe this is why I'm still learning about God's providence; I didn't fully understand the first time, or the second time, or any of the times...but that's ok. After all, I am still learning.

For Lunar New Year, 8 of us went to Hiroshima where the first atomic bomb used in warfare was dropped. It was a place of great sadness, greif, destruction, and hope. Usually when a city or country is attacked brutally and seemingly unfairly (a large percent of the casualties were children, no warning, etc) the natural reaction is to "Get 'em back! Revenge!" The response from the Japanese people was much different. Of course they surrendered, I'm sure they didn't have much of a choice. But they did have a choice to change their hearts and make something good out of something really really crappy. They could have vowed to get back at the US, could have fostered feelings of hate...there are a lot of things they could have done in the aftermath of evil. Instead they chose to turn the other cheek; they chose peace. They strongly felt and still feel that evil repayed with more evil is not OK. There is no political point or pointing fingers here, I simply feel a miracle present when people can take their personal pain and grief and turn it into hope for the rest of the world. Amazing.

The museum and monuments were hard to digest and the trip could have easily been overwhelming, but 7 of my girlfriends were present. It was chaotic and fun and most of our time was spent eating, laughing, or trying to make sure no one wandered off...you can see in the picture above how focused we were....

Particle physics won tonight. I am ready to teach about leptons and quarks and even a few bosons and ferimons. It may have taught me a lesson in providence though. I've recently been plagued with the nesting urge, now stronger than usual. Many thoughts run through my head like, How great would it be to quit my job, have some babies and spend my days knitting and cooking! Then I read a chapter about force carrier particles and antimatter and my heart skips a beat...maybe God wants me to teach awhile longer. Maybe I have more purpose to fulfill in this role...Rosa, on the other hand, doesn't care much about these things and thinks it's time to go to bed and uses all methods to convince me to stop, at least for tonight.


Particle physics and providence will both be on my mind this week. Maybe they shouldn't be looked upon as completely seperate ideas in my life. Rosa has no comment. It's bedtime.

stuck in the middle

As an instinctive peacemaker who hates conflict, I have often taken the place of the mediator in my family, in groups of friends, in the classroom, and in the locker room of a dramatic 9th grade girls basketball team. I am beginning to feel that God has been preparing me to be a mediator for Him in those same areas, but I don't feel ready yet. Isn't that what He's all about, though?

God loves to throw us into the fridge to show us that we WILL find a way out before we freeze to death. Its dark when the fridge door closes, but we know what it looks like; we know how many shelves are in there, how many half used bottles of ketchup and salad dressing are in the door. We even know how to maneuver to avoid the month old container of moldy soup. We can manage. Our biggest problem is our fear and panic because we refuse to sit still for a minute, take a different perspective, and trust that whomever threw us in there believes we are smart enough to get out. He knows we can handle it and even left some cheese, extra potato salad, and a coke to give us a boost.

It just seems lately that I'm allergic to the "cheese" left in my "fridge". This is funny to those of you who know that I am nearly allergic to dairy. My figurative cheese is giving me a literal stomach ache.


What if the things I've been provided with here won't last or stand up to whatever is waiting for me back home? I'm unsure I'll be able to kick the door open in enough time before becoming an apathetic ice woman. Just watching the news is overwhelming enough to send me to bed. I'm not depressed, I'm not even discouraged. It is just fear of the fridge, which can sometimes be pretty powerful. Then Rosa reminds me to look at my pretty Christmas tree and get over it, it's Christmas. (She is very pleased with the festive decorations this year). "I mean, really," she says, "Jesus was born in a barn; you can at least muster up some hope and a little faith." She's pretty smart, for a cat.


I think I'll take her advice and just keep walking in the middle and enjoy Christmas.

Korean Physical Therapy

(The beautiful birthday bike ride that I couldn't go on because of my stupid ankle!)

Three minutes into an intense staff basketball game, my ankle rolled during my famous drop step left hand hook. It crunched, I flopped, and the ball doinked off the rim. Ah crap. This was the beginning of an adventure into Korean physical therapy.

At the orthepedic clinic, my ankle immediately received an exam, xray and ultrasound all for around $40. The doctor told me to avoid exercise for 3 weeks, gave me a wrap, and sent me home.

I've always been curious about acupuncture and seized the opportunity; Emily and I headed across town to see a "rare man" (as he describes himself) to poke me with needles. I thought acupuncture was an ancient, exotic, and calming way to treat injuries. I didn't realize it involved ancient, exotic torture. So far, I have been given 7 injections, many needle pokes, ultrasonic massage, and 2 different types of electric shock therapy.

As much as I squirm during the therapy, its working. The bruises and swelling are nearly gone and my walk is almost normal. I have not had to wait more than 10 minutes to get treated and 3 sessions cost under $100. I'll take Korean torture, I mean therapy, any day!

Instead of biking, I got to take pictures. It turned out to be a pretty good day anyway!

Beautiful Korean fall!