Thinking too much

Today at church I had a revelation. Not the kind you're thinking of.

No, my revelation was much more mundane than the kind of epiphany you'd expect during Advent. It came as I was listening to the choir and thinking for 199th time that I ought to join the choir. Midway through that 199th thought it occurred to me: if I join the choir, then I have to go to worship every single Sunday. That could be a problem. As much as I love church, I can't make that commitment.

So that got me thinking even further: I should have just signed up and been done with it. Everything I have done of which I am proud I have done without thinking. At age six I signed up for violin lessons because I wanted to be like my cousin. At age sixteen I applied to Brown because, well, it was there. At age nineteen I founded a campus chapter of Habitat for Humanity because I felt like it. Also at age nineteen I volunteered to be a resident counselor, which any former resident advisor knows is definitely not a rational decision. And at age twenty-five I matriculated at Boston College Law School because there was just something about it that made it different from anywhere else. So I got to meet the Captain and all my other cherished lawyer friends, as well as pass the bar. I did all these without too much thinking, and there's got to be something to that. All my thinking today just led to my not doing something, rather than forging ahead.

Maybe I'm just getting old.

Mindless diversion

So...Jenski had this going on at her blog, and since I'm usually a sucker for this sort of thing, I'll do it, too. I don't know who came up with these ninety-nine items, but they're neat in their variety and it's cool to see just how much you and your friends have done. Items I have accomplished are italicized in bold, with notes below.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

The only note I feel is worth making is 97. I myself never have been party to a lawsuit, but since I've worked on a few, I think that counts as being involved.
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License to idiocy

In the week that has followed my Very Best Day (So Far), I've been reminded that just because I'm a lawyer doesn't mean I'm not an idiot. To wit, the day immediately after the Very Best Day (So Far), the Captain and I boarded a bus to Charlottesville, where Mr. and Mrs. Priest hosted us in their lovely home. Before the Captain and I could board the bus, however, we had to locate the bus station. This proved to be a challenge for this newly minted California attorney. Who knew that in Washington, the bus station isn't the same as the train station?

Then later that week, the Captain and I decided to indulge ourselves with a truly expensive - and sumptuous - meal at the Blue Duck Tavern. The restaurant's unfortunate name notwithstanding, the experience was superb.[FN1] Truly exquisite. But, again, we had to find the tavern before we could eat there, and that also proved difficult for me. It didn't help that the restaurant's website said "24th and M"as its address, but still, I could have done a little research.

Perhaps I'll chalk it all up to a residual euphoria after the Very Best Day (So Far).

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FN1. It is an odd coincidence that in the Captain's favorite book (and I mean FAVORITE book), the villain's name is Blue Duck. And for those of you familiar with Larry McMurtry, you know that Blue Duck is one dastardly dude.

Passed.

Giddy-up.

Low-grade fever

YIKES.

Earlier in the week I told the Captain I'd need to occupy myself - heavily - the day the bar results came out so I wouldn't be a complete wreck. He thought that was a good idea, so in a little bit we're headed out to the National Portrait Gallery and the Air & Space Museum. As much as I love renegade portraits of Stephen Colbert, however, it doesn't eliminate the fact that I've had a chronic, low-grade anxiety all week. I didn't realize it at first, but sometime on Wednesday I noticed that my neck was stiff and sore. Since I haven't been hunched over a book for nearly four months, I knew something was up. Then I noticed yesterday some other bodily manifestations of anxiety, and I figured it out: I'm freaking out. November 21 has been burned into my mind for the last several months, and it's finally here. At the moment I'm sitting in a cafe trying to upload some videos of the Genius' choir concert two nights ago, and I'm so wigged out I don't even care that everyone around me can 1) see I am blogging, and 2) read what I'm blogging.

YIKES.

T minus one day

The Captain: What should we have for dinner tomorrow night? Chop SUEy?

Honest living

A few short hours from now, the Captain and I will be enjoying Bizet at the Kennedy Center. We're going to Carmen at the National Opera and I cannot wait. I bought the tickets months ago and the performance is finally here.

But this is not another post about how I am so very much a liberal cliche.

It is, instead, a reflection on my experiences at the bakery. It is a composite sketch of how I have begun to understand what Sarah Palin getting at when she was jeering us in the fake America. Seriously. I've been wanting to write this post for a while, ever since I served coffee to a classmate of mine from Brown a few weeks ago, but I haven't been able to because, well, I was working.

So yes, several weeks ago a woman from my class at Brown walked into the bakery and ordered a coffee. She recognized me immediately so I reintroduced myself and said hello. We then had a painfully polite exchange about what we had been up to since college. I told her I'd just graduated from law school and she, perhaps with a bit of relief, mentioned she was a lawyer, too. I wanted to elaborate that the bakery gig was just a temporary thing but other customers were waiting so I couldn't explain why I was serving cupcakes rather than billing hours. She was left to assume whatever she wanted, and I'm slightly ashamed I even wanted to explain myself. Yes, I am about to head out to a cushy job in a lovely place, but what if I weren't? What if I hadn't done as well as I had in law school and talked my way into biglaw? What if I'd had to take a part-time job to pay the bills until I'd found a "real" job? There would have been nothing wrong with that. That I felt the need to remind myself there's nothing wrong with that, however, smacks of intense elitism.

Because if there is one thing I have learned from working with my co-workers, then it is that I am supremely privileged to work alongside them. They struggle to get ahead, but they still keep going. They scrimp and they save and they ride their bikes from Virginia so they can open at 6:30; they hustle for tips so they can pay tuition. They work the holidays because they want to, and they refrain from visiting family until they can afford to. I am honored to be near their motivation because it makes me just a little bit better. It reminds me of just how hungry everyone is for success, and that I have been very lucky to land where I have. My co-workers have fires in their bellies, and so do I.

Savvy marketing

A children's clothing store in Georgetown.

Vive le capitalisme.

Part of the neighborhood

The bakery customers are starting to remember me!

Today I noticed a customer wearing a BAA 2007 Boston Marathon jacket. I asked her about it, she started to answer, but then she interrupted herself and said, "Wait, you're a marathoner, too! The Marine Corps. You have that really cool hat." Indeed, I do!

And later, an older gentlemen took a look at my plain white tee and remarked, "You're not wearing one of your funny t-shirts." To his buddy, "She has all these funny t-shirts." Like the sexy one below.

So great.

Loving President Bush

At church yesterday, we prayed for President Bush. I should mention that I was at my home church, a bastion of liberalism that didn't support Al Gore in the 2000 primaries because he wasn't liberal enough. (We wanted Bill Bradley.) Lest you think I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies, I wasn't. I grew up in lovely, academic Princeton, NJ where my Sunday school teachers were professors at the seminary and where my friends' parents were professors at the university. So, yeah, maybe I was raised in a commune of impractical hippies.

Anyway, I was surprised to hear the prayer for President Bush. Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised because, you know, we're supposed to love everyone, but I was. The liturgist prayed that the President would have wisdom and courage in the last days of his administration and that he would be able to effect positive change for the country. A reasonable prayer, I thought, but still I was surprised.

Then she started praying for President-elect Obama, and suddenly I understood. She'd just wanted to say those words out loud in church. "President-elect Obama." Crazy liberals - so predictable.

Caramel apples and a new food blog

Behold, caramel apples. Last week I saw this recipe at 101 Cookbooks, and since there were only three ingredients on it, I gave it a try. It's super easy, but the one catch is that the caramel needs to be heated to just the right temperature. Since I don't have a candy thermometer, it turned out kinda soupy, so I will have to keep trying. In the meantime there is nothing wrong with scooping up melted caramel and eating it off the silpat. Yum.

Which reminds me: I have a new blog. Well, semi-new. It's at Fortune's Feast, and describes my attempts to teach myself Chinese cooking. As some of you know, I've long been conflicted about how "Chinese" I am, if identity even is something quantifiable. I speak Chinese, I lived in Taipei, but I have very few Chinese friends. I had all sorts of friends as a child, but somewhere around middle school is when all the Asian kids started hanging out with each other - and nobody else. This bothered me. It bothered me because I thought the practice exclusive and discriminatory. Maybe they weren't actively segregating themselves, but at one point one of my Chinese American classmates came over to my lunch table and asked, "Why don't you sit with the Asian kids?"

That bothered me. I didn't want to be exclusionary, but it seemed to be the only way to be "Asian" where I grew up.[FN1] So my response was to be not "Asian" and to befriend people of all ethnicities. Somewhere along the line, though, I think I overcompensated, because soon I had no Asian friends. That also bothered me. So I was conflicted.

Anyway, this is all a long way of saying that I have a new food blog, where I try to reconnect with a heritage I once dismissed because I didn't want to be exclusive. I write about recipes, challenges, identity, and family. Mostly it's an excuse to eat more.

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FN1. Looking back I realize the absurdity of this all, even the very idea of "Asian." It's a wholly American concept - nobody in China actually wants to hang out with anybody in Korea. So really the attempt to be more "Asian" was something inauthentic to begin with.

God bless America

When the results came in last night, I knew I'd want to write something, but I wasn't sure what. What could possibly describe the sheer magnificence of it all? What words could I use? As it got later and later, I realized I was growing too tired to think of anything compelling, so my reflections would have to wait.

Today, however, a day after the most exciting campaign I have had the privilege to see, I've started to put my finger on it. Just now I was playing "Yes We Can," on the YouTube (because, as you know, I find continuous loops to be soothing), and I started to cry. Hard. As if it had been left up to me cry all the tears left in heaven: heaving shoulders, hiccups, a very scrunched up face. The Captain was initially amused because he's always amused by how sensitive I am (I can't watch an Army recruiting commercial without shedding a tear), but then he noticed there was something more and came over to hold me.

Because there was something more - so much more. There was the very idea of a politics of hope, the idea that despite all the cynicism and special interests and real-world practicalities, the United States is a country firmly rooted in its belief that its people can, and will, do better. The idea that this is not a country that leaves its weak and poor behind, but takes care of its own and sends them out to do better. The idea that, yes, anyone can be President, even a skinny kid with a funny name who someday promises his two little girls a puppy once they move into the White House.

And the idea that two Chinese immigrants, who spoke only passable English when they first arrived, could provide their daughter with the best education money could buy, and all the opportunities she could want. The idea that through hard work and determination, anything is possible.

God bless America.

Doxology

Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluuuuuuuuuia.

Continuous loop

I have will.i.am's "Yes We Can" playing on continuous loop. I find it soothing.

Happy Election Day.