gladness

that everyone is together for the close of the year

for meals and laughter and shopping and wonder 

in shared labor and scheming and clever strategy

by sun and candlelight

thanks be to God

who holds all things and gives generously out of all things.

mt batur

mt batur in bali, to one peak of which i am hauled by HOM and the kids one pre-dawn and from which i need to be handheld down. my quads and my hamstrings screech in agonal protest. it's ok, J1 keeps telling me. challenge develops character. it's all in the mind, HOM says. you can do it.

gentlemen. it's my character my mind my quads and my hamstrings.

cuca ♥ ♥ ♥

what i say is, this place makes up for some other meals we have in bali which are of the choose-your-seafood-sunset-on-the-beach-complete-with-noise-and-cigarette-smoke-and-oily-table-top type of dinner.

why i dislike the beach

1. the sand

2. the salt

what i say is, i like the beach in the same way i like the snow, which is on a postcard.

bali vs. pattaya

the beaches the trades the squalor the shrines the music the souvenirs the tourists. one forgets which is which after a while.

although it is a little less squalid and a mite more affordable. or perhaps that is the exchange rate.

my reason for this season

... she will bring forth a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins.

- matt 1:21

i will never understand the love that sends a beloved child to die so that another may live. 

room in my heart

o come to my heart Lord Jesus

there is room in my heart for thee.

- e.e.elliot

my heart is crowded and cluttered and unkempt and poorly guarded

but thou art welcome there, lord of all Lords.

psalm 117

praise the LORD, all you gentiles! 

laud him, all you peoples!

for his merciful kindness is great toward us

and the truth of the LORD endures forever.

praise the LORD!

for boundless mercy and overflowing kindness

on hearth at industry in joyful height and deepest distress

thank you for every unmerited grace.

thank you for this time with J and J, which should not be, but is.

and thank you for time with HOM, which often is, but remains sweet.

little ironies

i hear the most evocative rendition of O Come All Ye Faithful this year in the iphone accessories shop in vivocity. whilst in church we appear to be strenuously avoiding any hint of the traditional, in choice of the songs we sing as well as the way we sing what we do choose.

stopping by woods on a snowy evening

the woods are lovely dark and deep

but i have... miles to go before i sleep.

not at present though.

we finally come to the end of the year's travels and meetings and commitments and promises to keep. i can look deep into the woods now, and it's a deliciously exciting feeling.

advent

i thank my God always concerning you for the grace of God which was given to you by Christ Jesus... God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

- 1 cor. 1:4, 9

a time to remember that it is God who keeps me faithful.

advent is God's gift. his great mercy meets my unbounded need.

8 dec again

every good and perfect gift is from above,

- james 1:17

i still thank God, with cheery gladness wild delight and abiding certainty in the perfectness of his gift.

humanum 2014

lord Jonathan Sacks' speech, in defense of the traditional family. he gets my vote for oration of the year. in fact, he also gets my vote for gentleman of the year. as i gush to anyone willing to listen, here is one courteous restrained logical eloquent position statement that is poetry and exegesis to boot. 

which is a welcome change from the militant declarations of rights that make their points decibel by ramming decibel that define much of public discourse today.

things i want to say, on your birthday

keep the faith. remember the Lord in the days of your youth, and in the days to come, when joys will shower you and pains will carelessly toss you.

work hard. easy victories are easy. there is a special reward for those who toil for their success. work hard and strive to be excellent. there is a cheaper way, but this other will make you richer, in ways that matter. 

don't get jaded. values are malleable creatures. they are formed pure and easily get modulated or sullied. remember the source of your values is our unchanging Father of light, and resist the temptation to a lower standard. 

give back. as you have already begun, to our immense gladness and gratitude. continue to do so, in whatever manner you can. it is a blessing to give, and a blessing to be able to. 

and i am certain that God, who began a good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ returns.

- phil 1:6

happy birthday, son. we give thanks for you.

sobering thoughts

so she said to him, my father, if you have given your word to the LORD, do to me according to what has gone out of your mouth...

- judges 11:36

words of bravado and pride. words of weakness and vanity. words that are not mine to say.

words said that cannot be unsaid.

lessons from abroad

1. goat cheese is white.

2. old cheese is great with port.

3. port tastes wonderful.

4. sun-dried tomatoes are worth the hype.
clearly, the focus was food.

red light district

what i say is, the dutch have got this open-society-full-disclosure-maximum-tolerance thing down to a fine art, the acme of which must be the red-lighted display windows. 

what i also say is, you've got to admit their system is neat, and removes all ambiguity. other women, however dodgy looking and hanging around the vicinity, will not be mistaken for the real articles in the windows. this is an improvement over the situation in geylang, for example.

that said, there is something indescribably sad about the stony faces and perfect bodies all trussed up in their little strings behind the glass panels. 

waterlooplein flea market

or, chatuchak, the dutch version. equal parts seedy garbage and cheap indian imports. but what the hey, i love flea markets. thrift stores work too, and i find one off a street off de clerqs.

city of bicycles

pretty. smokey. liberal.

dinner plans

the good thing about traveling in your middle age is that you can afford a more expansive budget for food. we remember the shared portions, HOM and i, and we rejoice in lavishness too.

camden market

what i say is, this is the british chatuchak.

we discover a used book stall and an afghan rugs place, complete with some old fragments. not bad.

all souls'

because, as i tell HOM, this is where all good VCFers go when they visit london.

and thankful i am to attend too, because it is a service that is delightfully short on the histrionics and rambling verbiage that is always my secret fear. i don't even mind the meeting and greeting bit, because my neighbor turns to me and says, you are new, aren't you? instead of pumping my hand and telling me God loves you! i do too! 

worship ought to come from my mind and heart. today it does.

st. martin-in-the-fields

sir neville mariner gets his spot in my memory banks next to agatha christie and sherlock holmes. which is why HOM and i decide to augment the evita with mozart and handel. it's jolly good too, in a totally different way. the common point to both concerts is the fact that i spend half of this one asleep again. as i remind myself, however, i consistently sleep thru most concerts.

evita

jolly good musical romp, HOM and i both agree. even if i spend half of it asleep, on account of the overnight flight. in any case, i remind him, i slept thru les miz as well, and THAT is my all time favorite musical.

london day 1

fly in. heathrow express to paddington. walk. hotel. walk. soho. leicester square. trafalgar. lunch. the river. big ben. westminster. walk. walk. evita. walk. dinner. st. martin-in-the-fields. walk. supper. 

day 2. recovery.

my fair lady

the cars drive on the left side. there is a predominance of english. also, i can actually understand the english that they speak. mostly. the women's hair is not so perfect. to top it off, thanks to a lifetime diet of agatha christie and sherlock holmes i pretty much feel as if this is my own backyard. i'm glad to finally visit.

tuesdays with morrie - albom (1995)

i finally get around to reading this.

nice touchy feely mushy booky. i would like to live as wisely as morrie did, and to touch lives as he did.

however, there is a caveat to morrie's continuing courtliness in the face of his awful physical decay, and that must be his access to tremendous resources in addition to the love of his friends and family. i would like to die with as much graciousness, and may God grant me the means to such dignity.

it's a little bit oprah, but no harm to that i guess.

chance photograph on somebody's facebook page

in a most bewildering way, i smell the cinnamon coffee and bagel i feel the crisp bite in the air i am again driving through cabin john on a fall afternoon and the little bookshop is a-beckoning my hair's in a hat my legs are booted and i'm huddled in a scarf and it is as magical as it ever was.

it's almost two years since we left. sometimes it could have been just last month.

epiphany

the difficulty in principle remains: one should give milk, but one doesn't know what that means and wonders whether one isn't giving sugared water by mistake, bonhoeffer writes from his church in barcelona.

sugared water might just explain a lot of things.

repair

he walks slowly, step by laborious step, and always afraid of a stumble. the fingers of his left hand stubbornly curl up with a life of their own. his left shoulder sags heavily in its socket. his mind remains sharp. he is always aware of what he is and what he was. i remember his tears.

today, he tells me quietly, i am blessed. i was down there, but i know now that i am blessed. i have learned that life can go on.

the glass castle - jeannette walls (2005)

straightforward unsentimental prose spins a tale which is equal parts fascinating and horrifying. can any parent be so self centered? can any child forgive so much? can love really overlook overlook and overlook again? is this what resilience looks like, this glorious ability to bounce up from the depths without carrying too many residual marks?

the best part about it is that this is a memoir, so at the end i can go online to find out what happens after the book.

next change

J and J are coming home for christmas. in a most unsophisticated non-cool-parents shivers-down-the-spine sort of way, HOM and i find ourselves looking forward to the year's end. even if we have to navigate another few business trips assignments datelines and projects before then. 

how are you doing? someone asks me. not bad, really, i say. it's october. i am always best in december.

the haze

this year the unseasonal pollution is making the october sky look decidedly autumnish although the air continues to be muggy warm and to smell of burning wood and soil. what i say is, if you don't feel, it looks pretty.

what i also say is, the smokers could stop for a bit. it would save them money, and the air is free.

the gift of therapy - yalom (2001)

lend me that nice book of patients' narratives that you have, i tell my friend, and he lends me his favorite psychotherapist's book instead. this is how a life-long neo-colonialist, stiff upper lip an' all, ends up exploring that most quintessentially american tradition, therapy.

he turns out to be human humane compassionate and most embarrassingly honest. this is an american book, after all. he reads easily and shares generously and i almost get inspired to want to be able to do it myself. 

look out of the patients' window, he says. let the patient matter to you. wise words, these, and not at all the therapist's purview. 

not in the class of bonhoeffer, but a jolly humbling book from a lifetime of deep experience. i am richer for reading it.

change of life

HOM and i talk quite a bit about the next phase of our lives these days. we want to retire, but not from fruitful engagement. we want to rest, but not really. we would start anew somewhere, but we know not where. 

i know only that the watershed years approach when things begin to change. i want the changes to be gentle and exciting and tolerable and saltatory and unfrightening and magnificent. i claim isaiah 43:1 with hopeful trepidation - fear not, for i have redeemed you; i have called you by name; you are mine, and i read a few verses down and feel a delicious jolt of anticipation - do not remember the former things... behold, i will do a new thing.

lead us to the path you mark out for us. 

first rant in a bit

what is it with church services these days? 

the songs are jolly-ho experiential upbeat-y relentlessly energetic choruses. or not. sometimes they are endless repetitions of a few key phrases. sermons have little discernible connection to the scripture passage. and the preacher keeps telling me to turn to my neighbor to tell him all sorts of things. God is good, i am supposed to say. He answers prayer. i am happy to see you today.

the song of the prison cell plumbs the depths of pain as well as joy. i would learn to sing it in church. the world's  message is straightforward cheerful and positive. i would learn to grapple with unavoidable issues in church. and don't get me wrong. fellowship makes the heart glad and strengthens the spirit. but surely there is a time for quiet reverence and broken reflection. in church.

it's enough to make a case for high church. or perhaps i am being hormonal.

yearnings

it's been a time. the words have dried up. my song is silent. is this what full time employment does to you? does it drain you of all vigor so that only a shell remains? 

and yet i am immensely, immeasurably grateful for my full time employment. i have work which engages me and allows me to engage and which keeps me nicely out of mischief and pays the bills to boot.

there is an elusive balance between work and home and ministry and laughter and sweat and tears. i would that i could balance it with writing too.

to everything there is a season, the preacher says. i would have more seasons together, Lord!

holidays

so we cruise to nowhere this year. in addition to taking a weekend off to fly to KL. as well as drive to malacca another time. this year, i tell HOM, we found the secret to a protracted vacation.

[almost] old stable road

not the weekend. no workplace to show up to. stuff to do, but tomorrow. indirect light; shadows. birdsong, not people sounds. just me.

it's like from another lifetime.

gender confusion

i don't know what you've got, brother, but it sure ain't wot you think it is.

family discussion

it would be really nice to have another dog. a golden retriever preferably. adopted and house-trained would be socially responsible and convenient. J2 wants to call it Charlie. i'm thinking Esmeralda. J1 would like a corgi called Edgar. HOM thinks we are too busy and says any dog would become a latchkey dog. sometimes HOM is brutally realistic and pragmatic.

honesty

... as i am fully known.

1 Cor 13:12

colors day

this year's camp color is also k.c.dat's corporate color. it makes for a somewhat unfortunate meeting of equals at the parking lot where we (campers) wait for the church bus and the (k.c.dat) crew await their assignment for the day.

church camp

have devices, will travel.

church camp will never be the same again.

escapade

we take an overnight trip to old malacca. the red house the church the hill the tombs pale next to ole sayang the antique shops and the pottery mart. plus we discover a little shop selling gorgeous kashmiri textiles. we need to do this more often, HOM and i tell each other. again.

thirty-year wait

βαπτίζω - of the rite of sacred ablution, first instituted by John the Baptist, afterward by Christ's command... 

my mother is baptized. 

ho-ho-ho-ho-horlicks

one childhood memory.

three adults one gadget one youtube video.

and it still takes ten minutes to conquer that bottle.

some designs are flawed.

night activity

doing random bible trivia quizzes with J2. cheap thrill. real fun.

tech time

everyone is home.

it's time to take a break

some major projects in. some major tasks done. pretty much all the big briefings done. J1 home on summer holidays. J2 home soon. HOM back after that. May coming to an end.

i suddenly have a nice shimmery feeling that i ought to go on vacation soon.

travel plans

• J1 comes home
• HOM goes off on business
• J2 comes home, with Y
• J1 goes to visit his friend
• HOM comes back from business
• Y goes off
• J1 comes back

a girl might as well camp at the airport.

home office

the man and his machines.

new word

frivia n. inconsequential information of a particularly pointless nature. [f. Eng. frivolous + trivia]
frivialize v. to acquire inconsequential information of a particularly pointless nature.

she frivialized the morning away, watching old solvil et titus commercials on youtube.

RGP lenses

• the multiple ghost images are gone. 
• i can wear my cool shades again!

hi def vision is almost worth the discomfort of not being able to rub me eyes.

i wish

there ought to be a way to indicate your preference when you step into the hairdresser's or the taxi or the airplane or the salon. i like conversation or i don't want to chat. as it is every one's presumed default is TALK. it makes life dashed difficult for those of us who want utter silence.

heb 10:19-25/calvary's love

having a boldness

having a High Priest

let us draw near 

let us hold fast 

let us consider one another

and this priceless gift Christ makes us worthy of

thank God for the immeasurable horror of the crucifixion, which i cannot even begin to grasp. thank God for the glorious triumph of the resurrection, which covers over the horror. thank God for the path i am given to walk, step by unknowing step. Christ makes me worthy in a way i will never deserve.

good friday

and where these have been forgiven, sacrifice for sin is no longer necessary.

heb 10:18

the holy for the profane.

perfection for that which is worthless.

i will never understand the exchange.

but i rejoice in it.

there is a fountain

e'er since by faith i saw the stream thy flowing wounds supply

redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till i die.

- william cowper

strange how the new songs leave me somewhat disoriented and one verse of the old song makes me weep. tonight i attend my first maundy thursday service in decades, and am richly spent.

john 17

Christ's final prayer:

show them divine glory

make them united

keep them faithful

show us who you are, as you remind us who we are

bind us in one heart, one love, one joy, one peace

and help us walk together in grateful surrender and service

holy week

another year. another time to quieten and bow down in shame and utter gratitude.

my Lord and my God. 

i believe. help my unbelief.

reflections

keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. otherwise, i may have too much and disown you and say, who is the LORD? or i may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God.

- proverbs 30:8-9

in time to come, in case people wonder, did she have much? yes, beyond all she ever asked.

did she do much? yes, more than she planned to see and do and taste and live.

did she go places? yes, places farther than she read and dreamed of.

was she happy? unutterably, ineffably so. not because of fullness of aspect but because of the perfection of an imperfect life. not in unalloyed laughter but in her merciful God.

now that you mention it

we're easy, HOM and i tell each other. all we need on vacation are nice walks and good food, and not even in that order. we should totally get another dog.

sunday service

liturgy, i say, quietens the spirit and tames the rebel. when you take your place in the pews a stillness descends upon your soul, and when you say the familiar words of the creed you declare who you are before your God, and always in relief.

not here the rock band accompaniment or the friendly frenzy of a modern congregation, yet here a peace of communion and rest.

on a related note, unlike the mass we attended in notre dame de paris all those years ago, the high church stuff does not put me to sleep today. perhaps i have grown more inclined to fossil. that the service is in english helps too.

old time treat

my favorite aussie sweet, discovered on our first foray into a perth supermarket twenty years ago.

we remember those days, HOM and i, when we had more energy than finances and more bodies to feed on vacation. the empty nest has its advantages, but we miss j and j.

cocktail hour

wine cheese nuts chocolate and wheat crackers.

that's the dash diet for you.

melbourne 2

this place is full of bookstores and food stores. i can relate.

melbourne

HOM and i, doing the weekend getaway thing. a quarter of the new year's up and gone whilst we were busy with life, that's what appears to have happened.

that certain age

it strikes me that when nice men without obvious vices reach a certain age they all start to like talking about wine watches and good food. 

requiem for a '

mark my words. the apostrophe, the placement of which has marked the grammar literate from the rest, is going the way of the dodo. with smartphone qwerty keyboards putting the punctuation marks on the second screen and with no quick shortcut to summon it, it no longer features in my otherwise fully spelled out texts. from there, the ease of dropping it is now insidiously infecting my real keyboard work too.

soon, this genteel little mark, established over lifetimes of conditioning, will feature mostly as a curiosity, with various  cameo appearances at odd and unexpected spots. its coming. and theres no stopping it.

good day 2

today at work a member of the public accosts me and asks, you are from the other place, are you not? she is my old regular, from another place, another time, at a new place now, and she recognizes me. she remembers that i went away. she remembers that J and J were young. she remembers me with fond memories.

eight years are a long time to remember, i think. it humbles me to realize that God pleases, out of his great kindness, to establish the work of my hands, and to allow me glimpses of his goodness to gladden my day. 

good day

today on the public bus i give my seat to an older gentleman. and almost immediately a younger gentleman stands to offer me his. 'tis warmth to the cockles of me 'eart.

many happy returns

when you hit past the half century mark, birthdays get a bit tired. this year, i tell HOM his best gift to himself was the day off he took on his special day, during which he finally MANAGED TO FILE HIS TAX RETURNS. 

saturday lunch

what i feel like: beef ragout

what i actually have: toast

i could start analyzing my virtual meals.

yeah!!

roadside assistance rocks.
just in time for HOM to return from his trip to a non-event.

EBM workshop - bayesian idea

how my impression of a person is irreversibly altered after we spend some days working on the same project. talk about a changing body of evidence.

EBM workshop - paradigms in tension

so now we look at pre-test probability and LR and post-test probability and try not to go by cut-off values and a one-size-fits-all approach to things. which all sound very legitimate and absolutely appropriate.

the problem is our entire current armory of deeply and universally beloved cut-off points and one-size-fits-all protocols. let's be honest. when you deal with masses and a time crunch, nothing beats protocol.

EBM workshop

lifetime achievement award:

to Ronald Fisher

for singlehandedly manufacturing the concept that haunted my undergraduate years and continues to drive my nightmares today, the p-value.

evolution

paper - cassette - camera

i'm not sure i can relate

sunday rant

my pet sermon peeve, born of long varied experience:

preachers who make me turn to my neighbor in the next seat to tell them God loves you! so do i! or whatever the affirmation du jour may be. 

there ought to be a place of quiet rest. 

high school reunion

what i say is, time is a great leveler. the cool dudes and dames of thirty years ago are less intimidating today. some quiet people grow up to be genuinely nice quiet people. the snarky humor fazes me less. the pockets of cynicism and idealism are somewhat differently distributed. some of the shiny brittleness actually mellows. 

we are not comfortable yet i think. some of us are still too busy doing. but i am glad to be happier with my own skin than i was. 

saturday

eight in the morning and i have no task lined up for the day and no one to do it with on account of HOM's business trip. i am torn between a delicious freedom and an interminable stretch.

a sense of great lethargy threatens to send me back to bed.

blessed

it's a crowded mall and i see her at the escalator as i approach. there she is, middle aged simply dressed slight and deformed and hovering just proximal to the first step of the escalator down, moving back and forth and never onto that step - one stationary body amidst the other busy ones. 

she looks up just i get to that step myself, and suddenly holds out her hand and says, help me. i take her hand and we step onto the escalator together, me in the full assurance of a lifetime of able-ness, and she with her spastic movements coaxed into a forward rhythm by holding my hand. she has a small dry hand, this bird-like woman beside me, which i take again as we reach the bottom and get off together.

thank you, she says. thank you, i say in my heart. you are an angel God sends to remind me that there is beauty in the broken things, and that it is a privilege to see it.

the old place

HOM is back in our old home and sends me this photo of the outside this morning. 

there is a loveliness to that misty dawn with twinkling lights and the blanket of untrodden snow that never fails to draw me anew.

the pragmatic part of me shudders to remember the bone-chilling cold the frozen frosted windshield and the backbreaking shoveling. but the other part is enchanted all over again just like at the beginning.

dinner plans

what i would really like for dinner is the napa almond chicken farmer's bread sandwich from panera bread, together with a cup of rich tomato bisque. what i will end up with is looking to be either a ham in raisin bread sandwich or another bowl of instant noodles.

 

when HOM travels my diet regresses to levels i cannot admit to in public.

after the colic

what i manage to read today, because i feel better and manage to stay up past 9 for a change:

• a commentary on clean and unclean, as per Leviticus. i still don't get why a man with sub-total skin disease is unclean but a man with globally involved skin becomes clean.
• a couple of essays on euthanasia and suicide. what i say is, such essays should not be read on the bed. they have a soporific effect on the unsuspecting.
• robert frost.

i also get to talk to J2 and start a new blog. additionally, dinner was a fabulous tom yam instant noodle, liberally cilantroed. it feels good not to be sick anymore.

in other news and in another place, HOM is awaiting the next big winter storm to hit the nova region. that is to stay, i am  anxiously monitoring the capital weather gang while he drievs with impunity to work and (i hope) back.

illness experience

today i gingerly emerge from the clutches of two days of the most perfectly horrigible stomach clenching peristaltic paralysis i can remember for some time. that is to say, i awaken this morning to the cautious realization that that lump of bile that was lodged behind my xiphisternum had finally taken its leave, together with its companion that niggling stretchy epigastric sensation that pretty much floored me yesterday, and i was free to move and eat. it is amazing what a bit of colic can do to a grown woman. 

you bet i'm grateful

reading Leviticus, with the multiplicity of offerings and profusion of laws and requirements, trying hard to imagine the processes but always getting distracted, and cognizant of the gulf between my understanding and the truth, it occurs to me to be grateful that Christ holds within himself the full sum of the sacrifices and their import, and that his death satisfies the entire demands of the laws on my behalf. 

... that you ... distinguish between holy and unholy, and between unclean and clean, - Lev 10:10

my Lord, my sin offering my burnt offering my fellowship offering my peace offering and my grain offering, in whom i am found holy! 

a letter to J2

i remember that imp who was born with a fully formed opinion on every thing. i remember the long plaits the early morning waits for the bus the school canteen and the fishball treats. i remember the latin words the first prom that tumblr blog and the driving lessons. i remember fights and tears and shared jokes and hopes.

i see an imp with a spirit that loves and a heart that is unafraid to dream. i see faith and faithfulness,  grace and generosity. i could not be more proud of her.

even to your old age, I am He,

and even to gray hairs I will carry you!

I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.

- isaiah 46:4

stuff i am heartily sick of

• lunar new year songs
• yu sheng
• fishballs

today

my new happy shoes.

in other news, i re-bite that ulcer on my lower lip, thereby drawing blood and generously extending its dominion. i spill coffee on my favorite pair of tailored grey pants. J2 loses her entire wallet. the credit company very efficiently couriers a replacement card over. except it couriers it over HERE, and J2 is in need over THERE.

wilted cabbage

the last guest leaves from the extended family reunion. you could say that our weekend begins finally. except that the new workweek draweth nigh.

if you ask me, it was dashed inconvenient for the first day of the new year to fall on a friday. as a result the crazy busy begins on thursday through the weekend without a real weekend to recuperate in.

moon blues

another year, another lunar new year. another round of hearty wishes for good health and prosperity. another contrived exchange of greetings and red packets. another offering of yet one more special homemade sweet. another cycle of hopeful horoscopes and lucky colors. 

after a half century, the season gets tired. i begin the holiday weekend wondering what it will take to get through it, with no break to look forward to for the next half year.

if you take away the family part, this festival can pretty much be retired. i hope i feel more congenially tribal next year.

你的雙手

springs into summers, autumns into frosts

how many meetings and partings

pass like shooting stars in the night sky

who can catch eternity and hold her still?

laughter and tears, loves and rancors

how many sunrises into days

when passion's flower becomes the faded bud

who can find true love and keep it still?

teach me to number my days, that i may gain wisdom

give me peace by your hands - in your embrace i count no regrets

the wind brought me whispers of you, now my eyes have seen you

give me peace by your hand; in your embrace i find my home

it's been a long time, but i thought i would try to render gist of the original into english.

grrrowl

this evening, irritated beyond measure, i pop my head out the window and bellow at the kid who's  been yelling non-stop on the slope in the backyard, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SHOUTING?

he snaps to attention, nods cheerfully and says yes! and i say, thank you.

he's a charming little imp and i'm crabby and middle aged. also, i would like to shout at the young pianist on the ground floor who murders mozart every night at ten o'clock.

open letter to google maps

in the spirit of the google maps traffic updates, here's a special request for a mrt traffic update:

• monitor the density and movement of cellphone signals
• superimpose on a map of the subway system

• green for cellphone signals moving along lines at usual speed
• red for unusually slow movements along subway lines

• circles to show relative accumulation of cellphone signals at subway stations
• red circles at unusually large accumulations of cellphone signals at subway stations

the objective being so that people can bypass depending on delayed official pronouncements and various angry commuters to update their facebook statuses and still get to their destinations on time.

iWish 2

my fashion ambition, i tell people, is to be wearing heels at seventy. there is something sartorially unacceptable about that modern septuagenarian affection, the sneaker. sports shoe companies need to start making nice-looking dress shoes for the discerning senior. and by nice i mean nice-and-sharp nice, not girl-next-door nice.

iWish

it occurs to me that a new app for the smartphone that monitors mrt train speeds and highlights unexpected slowdowns, would be very much in the way of a public service.

and clearly the app should not obtain its information from official sources, seeing as how these sources have consistently been the reason why people are caught unawares and in the jam, owing to fiendishly delayed decisions for action.

in any case we do not need an official breakdown. i simply need to know when the trains are running behind so that i can take useful action that does not include 19,000 other commuters.

getting to work on time is becoming a lottery these days.

nostalgia

a snow day today, HOM and i tell each other, would be nice. we would stay home wrapped up in robes with hot coffee and toasted bagels and cream cheese and watch the snow fall outside the picture window. the refrigerator would be stuffed with meals and the portable stove would be ready. the books and the ipads and the laptops would be pressed into service.

except, of course, we would have to shovel the driveway every two hours.

the empty nest years

it's back to the two of us, HOM tells me. do you remember the old days of ferrying J1 and J2 to chinese class? i do, as i remember their baby faces and their happy hopes and, as if it were yesterday, the many mistakes i would not make again if i could. i would, if i could, hug more and be interrupted more. i would tolerate more and demand less. i would spend their childhood on my knees, not in despair but with canny strategy.

God gives parents have a peculiar burden, i think. our years to parent an intact family are fleeting, and then we have many years of wistful reflection. perhaps this is why grandparents are so globally indulgent.

maternal reflection

J1 flies back to college. it's been a good 3 weeks. 

the big comfort, i'm afraid, is to realize that other mothers elsewhere are saying goodbye to their college-bound children too. there is much truth in old sayings about misery loving company and such. HOM doesn't count, of course, because we share the same boat and the same kid.

geek-speak

my first tech foray for the year,

which promises to simplify my life

and upgrade my efficiency.

the usual problem with previous forays has been that i forget i have forayed.

but i must say the green elephant is a rather likeable icon.

mismatch

things that do not go together, regardless of your optimism:

• silver bells at the mall parading cny ware
• blouses with wide cut-outs to show bra-straps
• that mohawk hairstyle on a live adult scalp

pernicious addiction

go to: youtube.com
type in search bar: [dog breed] puppies
watch
repeat

i tell HOM it's my substitute Dog.

photo attack

3 years after going over to the dark side i finally migrate our photos from the old hewlett packard. 14 years of digital family photos are neatly categorized in iPhoto, a mammoth achievement that exacts its due in a stiff neck and an awful rhomboid ache.

it is done, i tell HOM happily. although i confess many of the folders are labelled misc and random.

2014!!

let your work appear to your servants,

and your glory to their children.

and let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us,

and establish the work of our hands for us;

yes, establish the work of our hands.

- ps 90:16-17

i could post about how disconnected i feel from the aggressive exuberance in the air, but on reflection this prayer about sums up all i ought to feel, i suppose.