A Strange Comparison

Today I had seven hours of Biology class - a lecture in the morning and a lab in the afternoon. In between these two classes, there's an hour break... for lunch. During this break I walked down the hill to a local coffee shop I love and got a bowl of soup.

Now, you have to understand how great a victory this was. This coffee shop is always out of soup by the time I get there, and yet somehow today when I arrived the sign read 'Wicked Thai soup' instead of the usual 'Sold Out' that I'm used to. I snatched up my cherished bowl, shielding it from the greedy eyes of the other patrons, and took it outside to enjoy in the sunshine.

I chose a bright table-for-two directly in a particularly large patch of sun, and thoughtfully munched my soup while people watching (a past time I've always enjoyed, and find quite fulfilling).

Picture this: There are three table on the patio. One is all on it's own, off the side... probably 20 feet from the others - that's where I was sitting. The other two are quite close (maybe 6 feet apart?) and it was at those two tables I saw a peculiar sight...

First, a tiny wisp of a girl slipped into a chair at one of the tables. As far as I could tell, she was wearing 3 t-shirts and 2 skirts layered on top of one another, and yet she still was so thin I could barely see her when she turned sideways. I was afraid that with a particularly strong gust of wind, she would just flutter away into the sky, her colorful skirts whirling around her weightless body into the distance. She pulled a salad out of her bag and started nibbling at it. Now, I'm being very generous using the term 'salad'. Is there was anything besides lettuce in that container, I didn't see it. Maybe a cherry tomato or two... maybe.

Second, a woman I can only describe as 'hefty' waddled into view. Not to be insensitive, but I'm fairly sure I could have used the shirt she was wearing (identifying her as an A & W employee) as a tent... for me and several other people. She carried with her the tell-tale McDonalds bag - Brown paper emblazoned with a golden 'M'. She plopped down in her chair (at the table next to the lettuce-eater) with a thud, the thin metal legs groaning worryingly under her weight. She pulled not one, but two burgers out of the paper bag, along with two super-sized fries and and extra-large pop. Then she lit up a smoke.

I sat and watched these two ladies from afar, and found their differences so striking. There they sat, right next to each other... completely unaware of the strange pair they made. A leaf-nibbler and a fried-food-guzzler. They seemed so unalike, but the more I thought about it, the more similar they seemed - One so healthy she was killing herself, the other so unhealthy she was doing the same.

I thought about it, I smiled, and then I finished my soup.

Hard Boiled

Next to the fabulous avocado, this is my perfect salad food. Not over done, very yellow-orange (the more orange the better) and oh-so-nice to have any time of day. If you ask me, a properly cooked egg is the true test of a cook. I'm still working on my frying technique but this even I can do!

My Perfect Hard Boiled Egg

6 eggs

1 pot

salt

cold water

Gently place eggs into the bottom of your pot and fill with cold water until eggs are covered with about an inch of water. Place on stove and bring to a soft rolling but not wild boil. (Too much jostling will crack your eggs.) Let it boil for 2-3 minutes then cover and remove from heat. Allow them to stand for 30 minutes undisturbed. Tip: Set a timer or you'll forget about them! Rinse with cool water and enjoy alone with a few pinches of salt, as the finishing touch to the perfect salad, or place them in the refrigerator for later eating.

On Irish Teenagers

Yesterday I was reading on the bus and I came to a particularly funny passage. I tried to keep from laughing, but I utterly failed and thus received those odd quizzical (slightly disapproving) looks people get when they laugh too hard or too loud in public and don't share the joke.

At school we've been studying the effects of laughter on an individual's emotional and physical health, especially in the healing and/or recovery process. The impact laughter has is remarkable, it greatly improves wellbeing. This is visible on even a cellular level.

Since laughter is on my mind, I wanted to share two excerpts I thoroughly enjoyed reading yesterday, but first I'll give you the context... and also, indirectly, recommend the book to you.

I'm a huge fan of travel writing in it's various forms, and I have adored Bill Bryson and Will Ferguson for years (among many others).

Will Ferguson was born and bred on our very own Canadian soil, which leads me to feel oddly connected to him, a strange sort of loyalty I guess. His latest book is called Beyond Belfast and it's the one I'm currently reading. It's the story of his 'misguided attempt at walking the Ulster Way, the longest waymarked trail in the British Isles'. He journeys through the small towns and half-forgotten villages of Northern Ireland, along rugged coastlines and across barren moorland heights, past crumbling castles and patchwork farms. From IRA pubs to Protestant marches, from bandits and bad weather to banshee and blood sausage. Right down my alley. Plus, he's a skilled and witty writer that runs into some impossibly hilarious people and circumstances. Long story short? Great book.

Number One:

Cushendall is a nice place for a stroll. (A short stroll, admittedly, as one soon runs out of Cushendall to stroll through.) It was quiet that evening, almost as though under curfew - and perhaps it was, considering the solid square presence of the centerpiece tower. The village was once owned by a gentleman named Francis Turnley, who undertook many a varied improvement, the most enduring of which was a sandstone tower built at the crossroads. Known as the Curfew Tower, it was intended to be "a place of confinement for idlers and rioters." What a splendidly imperialistic time that was, I thought, when a gentleman might simply "purchase" and entire village, lock, stock and peasantry. A time when "idlers" were a real concern. A forelock-tugging, "yes m'lord" era. It must have been a great time to be alive - if you were the tuggee and not the tugger, of course.

Sullen teenagers (a redundancy, I know) were hanging around out front when I got to the tower. Which is to say, the loathsome "idlers" were with us still. Damnation, where is my walking stick with which to scatter them!

"Is the tower open?" I asked.

They stared at me with bovine gaze, shrugged. Ah, to be young and burning with lassitude and apathy.

I tried the door. "Closed," I chirped. Like they cared.

Drawing on all their inner resolve, they managed to shrug again, barely able to lift their shoulders, so great was the weight of their existence upon them. One of them took a weary drag on a cigarette. Another attempted to bring his can of cola to his lips but gave up halfway, the effort being simply too much for him. He clearly had larger, metaphysical issues to grapple with.

"You know," I said - and no, I don't know why I was trying to make conversation with them - "this tower, it was built to lock up loiterer and riff-raff, such as yourself."

The irony was lost on them, alas, and I wasn't rewarded with even a shrug this time, but only heavy-lidded, morose stares.

"Well, see ya later!" I said.

Number Two:

I had done it. I had gotten lost on one of the most well-travelled routes in the Glens. Retracing my steps, past droopy fishing poles and sleepy teenagers, I found the waymarker that had pointed me into the wooded cul-de-sac. The sign had been turned around. Intentionally. And I just knew it was those ne'er-do-well teenagers I'd passed earlier. I considered going back to give them a proper finger-wagging, but the fact that (a) they might, possibly, be innocent and (b) I could very well end up with both fishing rods inserted up my backside helped dampen my determination.

I did rejoin the main trail, though - the elderly birdwatchers had pulled ahead - and I did eventually reach the Ess-na-Crub Falls behind the restaurant.

"We were about to send a search party," was the greeting I received.

"I took the scenic route," I said.

"Aye? Thought we'd lost you. Were going to send someone out w' breadcrumbs."

"Me?" I said. "Lost? Naw. I'm from the Great White North. We can track polar bears across ice in the middle of a blizzard. We're trail-finders, it's in our blood. I was just taking my time, exploring all avenues. I didn't want to rush through, you see. I wanted to savor the experience."

"So," he said. "You got lost, then?"

"Yup."

After supper, and a fine meal it was, he called a taxi for the long run back. The day was winding down, and my feet ached in a manly sort of way.

These are but two of the hundreds of smiles this books as brought to my face. Hope you enjoyed them! Happy, happy Friday to you all!

Parenting: It comes naturally

The pinecone girl

To get to my bus stop from school, I walk down this really steep hill from the back of campus. Today while I was making this exact journey, there was a girl huffing and puffing her way up in the opposite direction. She was carrying this giant pinecone that a unique shape... kind of circular. When we got close enough, she flashed me a huge toothy smile and held up the pinecone proudly. Then we kept walking.

It was just one of those beautiful moments in life.

Experiments with monochrome

A little taste of my latest forays into photography...

A realization of winter

Walking to my class this morning, I crunched my way through grass made brittle from frost, and watched two flocks of geese flap by overhead on their way to warmer climates. A little girl toddled past me so bundled up in coats and mitts and scarves, she looked wider than she was tall.

It's officially winter, my friends.

A quote or two I like

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." -Kahlil Gibran

"Does a man know any gospel truth aright till he knows it by experience? Is not this the reason why God’s servants are made to pass through so many trials, that they may really learn many truths not otherwise to be apprehended? Do we learn much in sunny weather? Do we not profit most in stormy times? Have you not found it so that your sick-bed, your bereavement, your depression of spirit, has instructed you in many matters which tranquillity and delight have never whispered to you? I suppose we ought: to learn as much by joy as by sorrow, and I hope that many of my Lord’s better servants do so; but, alas! others of us do not; affliction has to be called in to whip the lesson into us." -C.H. Spurgeon

In my own experience, I've found this to be true. Makes me think.

Are Canadians too polite?

Today I was taking a very busy bus to church, and a young man tripped over my foot and almost fell over. He regained his balance, and exclaimed, "I'm so sorry!" to me.

Why was he sorry? It was my foot that tripped him, there's nothing he could do about it!

I'd also like to say Grüße to my German readers! Thank you for taking an interest in me and reading my blog, it's such an honour!!

Blessings,

Brit

Something to cheer you up

In the free time I have (sparse though it may be) I've been enjoying following a group called 'Improv Everywhere', which is just a bunch of people that carry out spontaneous public improvisation skits, gags, etc. Mike introduced me. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do, here I'll share some of my favorites: