From the mouth to the heart

I love food. I think about food almost all the time, especially when I'm supposed to be thinking about other things. (Today in church I caught myself thinking about how to prepare the yam I bought in order to achieve maximum delciousness--whoops). I look forward to Saturdays when I do the grocery shopping. The store has about 20 half-mile long aisles showcasing a number of options that oftentimes makes my head spin. All too often I end up standing in front of one area, say granola bars, for twenty minutes comparing ingredients, calculating the price per bar (allowing for coupons if applicable), deciding if the extra two grams of fiber are worth another 20 calories per serving, and contemplating whether or not placing the box of snack bars in my cart is really the life choice that I'm going to be happiest with 20 years down the road, or at least when I get home. This, of course, often leads to frustration severe enough for me to call Husband and extract the information from him I already know: He doesn't care - do whatever I want. Then, wishing I hadn't given in the the temptation to call him in the first place, I either throw something decidely into the cart or forget the whole thing and move on.

However, I still like going. The food is beautiful. Last week my favorite kind of apples in the whole world were on sale for 98 cents a pound, and I filled a bag like a greedy kid at the carcass of a pinata. Every week it's my sole responsibility to choose what sort of good food will nourish my family of two. There's the game of trying to make the money stretch as far as possible, and the label-deciphering research it takes to determine when spending the extra $1.00 really is going to buy a healthier option. There are the staples to buy: Husband's Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, my weekly yogurt supply, and our weekly supply of onions. Onions, apparently, go in everything. Then there's always the mystery of what new thing could be in store for my shopping cart this week- could this be the week I finally find out what a parsnip tastes like? What? Blackberries are that cheap?? Into the cart they go. It's always fun when Husband helps put away the groceries, apples, bread, pasta sauce - what? Croissants?? His happy surprise makes me feel like a goddess, especially when I pronounce they were on sale for an extremely affordable price.

What we eat gives us clues about who we are. It shows our culture, our habits, our background. I think that the fact that I will never leave a spoon with even miniscule traces of batter, dough, or sauce unlicked tells a lot about who I am and where I came from. I think also the fact that Husband washes his hands instead of licking frosting off his fingers says a lot about him - but I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with the implications. Food also helps us build relationships.

Which is why I had such a good time today. After church when we were invited to join a group of our fellow church-goers for breakfast, I was worried they might be talking about another day when my schedule probably would not allow it. But no - they meant breakfast for lunch. Breakfast is my favorite meal. I not only love ALL breakfast foods, but I like that it's the first meal of the day. The promise of Cheerios has oftentimes inspired me to finally get out of bed in the morning. However, when breakfast is the second or third meal of the day, my love does not diminish. Husband quickly said we would go, which surprised me considering his usual reluctance to join big groups. Later I learned he simply knew that I would want to go. I like him.

So we arrived and sat down with our group. Our group. It wasn't awkward and we all didn't have to grasp for conversation and then try for kindness' sake to pull in the quiet ones (or they didn't have to try to pull us in, as would have been the case). We had a common purpose - food. Conversation started lightly as we glanced over our menus and decided out loud whether we were wanting something sweet or savory, and then continued to comments about the drinks when they were brought out. (Which was no hard as this was one of the places that serve those artistically designed mochas). By the time the real food came, we had to pause between bites to continue the conversations that had developed. I, of course, did not pause too long, as I am always very eager to transfer delcious fare from a plate (not always my own) to my mouth. We shared a meal together, and that history marks a cornerstone of relationship - one that may grow and may not, but that has been established firmly by sitting down to food together. I was even able to save half of my omelette (oh! eggs!) because I wasn't single-mindedly wolfing down all my food. The food wasn't the purpose of my being there, at least not completely. The fellowship was, but also the food, but then, also the fellowship. It's hard to separate the two because they flow so smoothly together.

When Husband told me he was going to ask one of his co-workers to dinner, I asked him what he was going to make. But he knew better than to give a comment like that any creedence- he knows I would jump at the chance to cook for someone. (Scared to death and calling my mom every 5 minutes, but still). Sharing food together, sharing favorite restaurants, especially cooking for someone, is an accepted custom we have of sharing ourselves with others. Serving someone in that way is very intimate, and a privilege. Friendships form around food (especially with me, but out of default since I'm always by food when it's at all possible).

If this has made anyone hungry, please, please come to my house. I'll whip something right up - or maybe you'd just like some hot chocolate or tea. There's an open invitation. There's no need to RSVP, just know you might find us on we-have-ten-minutes-to-cook-and-get-out-the-door night. But you're welcome! If you let me know beforehand I'll go with something I've established a good track record with. But please, do let me know if you don't like onions, because I hardly start a meal without chopping one up before I'm even sure what I'm making.

I know that most people that read this, though I would love to have them over for food - or take them out to muffins!! - won't be able to join me. I'm continuing in my search for people that I can do that with. But just know, all you long-distance friends, I miss you all and wish you good meals with good food, good friends, and, if applicable, a Husband who's willing to help clean up!

What? You READ this?

I furrow my brows curiously as it occurs to me that read this blog that I write so that people can read it. Mayhap I should have suspected as much, this curious trend of people reading writing, but I still find myself taken aback - like a puppy who glances behind himself and discovers - Eureka! - he has a tail. I'm quite pleased that anyone at all, especially such lovely people as I happen to know have read this blog, takes the time to read my social logbook. To those of you that read it because my mom, ahem, suggests you do so, well, thank you to you too.

This whole internet writing business has been pretty useful. I did not want to write simply about my desire for friends, because that's not interesting, and while I think I a lot of people can relate to the desire for quality friendships, sitting along moaning into cyberspace about it is not an efficient problem-solving method, and if I'm going to use my computer to ignore the world and forgo human interaction, then I'm going to do it right and start playing WOW. At least then I'll be defeating evil. (Because while I wouldn't, if I did, Alliance, obviously, sorry Walrus).

Anywho, I wanted to write about a quest for friends. An epic search! I wanted to document my going forth and seeking that which I am unworthy and unprepared to seek, but nevertheless I go on! On! Fighting, bleeding, dodging orcs and foaming at the mouth until Samwise finally throws me over his shoulder and hefts me up the mountain! (Thus fulfilling my destiny and his deepest fantasy)! I used to think I liked the fantasy genre (of which Lord of the Rings reigns supreme) because of the escapism - because of the lack of reality. But that's not it at all. These epic stories reflect the deeper truths of real life, and the grand scale of the stories serves to magnify the themes that surround us every day and should be, but hardly ever are, obvious. There is a good fight to fight, there are insurmountable forces, and we are not qualified to overcome the evil that threatens to destroy. Yet we're still called upon to fight, and in some respects, everything does depend upon us doing what we are called to do. I can't watch Lord of the Rings, Narnia, or even Harry Potter, without thinking, "Hey! This is real, the world is dying and God is desperate that we fight with him to save it!" Those fantasies get me in the gut because they strip off the frills and show us the scale of our lives.

Scale it back now - I think I was having a flashback to a really excellent essay I wrote in college. The problem with this epic principal when I apply it to my life, however, is that actual action is required. I mean action besides crying. And calling my mom. And those are two things I am very good at. If crying and calling your mom were an Olympic event, then the world would watch me take gold in London. Not only can I cry and call my mom simultaneously, I can hold off crying until I can also call my mom, or sometimes I make sure I have my mom on the line (and I'm never dissuaded if I can't through the first time, or if it's early in the morning, no, I'll track her down), and then commence crying. I don't feel I need to limit myself to once a day either. The second day I was married, I resisted crying on the phone to my mom. And that was the end of that. In light of Mother's Day, let's just acknowledge that some moms are amazing. And a mom that is ready to encourage her daughter tirelessly, and is committed to telling her what she needs to hear not just what she wants to hear, is one of the amazing ones. So I don't mind if I take a sentence to thank my mom, and I don't feel bad, because she very well may be the only one reading this!!

Now I think it's about time I make my point. Writing this blog has forced me to be accountable. I can't write that I'm going to do something and not do it (again, my mom reads this, and what would she think?) I had to take actual steps to reach out, and those steps have been matched by those that already love me. God has blessed my efforts and I've reaped more than I've sown. My friends have helped me find friends. Thank you to all. Maybe I should blog about other areas of my life, and get those quandaries somewhat organized as well. But one thing at a time. And I don't want to say I now have all the friends I want or even all the friends I need. I'm definitely not saying I'm going to stop, cut back, or even ease up on crying and calling my mom. (Though it has been a few weeks!) I just see things blooming, and I'm grateful and encouraged. So many people are so wonderful. I highly recommend them. Seek them out, and you'll be rewarded. Status update? This week I had lunch with Neighbor girl again and we both ordered in Spanish. Good times. Next week I have a date to have lunch with Co-Worker, who has the same name as Neighbor girl. Also, the girl that owns the best coffee shop in the world also lives in my complex and I think we could become friends here with a little extra effort on my part. I don't know if it's silly that I never use names, but I just don't know how people would feel about it. But I'll give you a hint - all three of the aforementioned females have the same name. And it's the same name that I have. I'm a big fan of diversity, but if it ain't broke... love you all!