Pakistani Party

I was privileged to be invited to a Pakistani birthday party. One of my co workers invited me to her son's 16th birthday party. In many other cultures birthdays are family affairs. It is not a strange thing to invite an adult to a kid's party. My friend invited me to come early and hang out for a while before the other guests arrived. I was treated to a snack of ground nuts with sugar and tea. We watched Indian TV. The entertainment for the evening began with an American Idol type show. This one featured kids under the age 18 singing in the competition. It was explained to me that in India if a school aged child showed talent in singing or dancing they were educated fairly strongly in these arts. I didn't understand a word of what was going on, but it was interesting to watch. The judges seemed to approve of just about all the contestants. They were always nodding and looked on approvingly. My friend and her husband told me about the judges, some were singers and others actors. They pointed out the more difficult songs and the different types. I have difficulty telling the difference between good and great singing in English, I had no idea the quality of singing I was hearing. My friend kept telling me that they were all very good.
Just before 8 the other guests began to arrive. The birthday boy greeted the guests shaking the men's hands and ducking his head so the women could touch his head. I'm not sure how exactly everyone was related to the birthday boy, but I think most of them were family. Suddenly I was immersed in conversations that I couldn't understand at all. Occasionally, someone would turn to me and offer an explanation or ask a question, but otherwise I was presumed to know what was going on. Soon dinner was ready. We all gathered around to fill our plates. There were beans, goat curry, chicken curry, vegetable dish, rice, and a cucumber tomato salad. There was a basket full of naan. We gathered in the living room around tables to eat. The food was nicely spicy and delicious. I was grateful for the naan and rice that helped absorb the spiciness. After dinner the kids went upstairs to play and we watched music videos of Indian songs and Indian x-factor. 
The birthday cake was brought out with lit candles. Lots of pictures were taken and the candles blown out. Then my friend was called from the kitchen. Her son cut the cake and handed her a small piece. She fed him the first bite. The cake was taken back into the kitchen and served up along with tea.
At this point I was quite tired and trying to figure out when it would be polite to leave. It is exhausting being surrounded by people speaking in a language that you don't understand. Around 9:30 the party began to break up and I took the opportunity to get ready to go. My friend gave me some rice and chicken curry to take home for my lunch the following day. I really enjoyed my cultural experience. I think I've been adopted into my friend's family and look forward to more Indian singing shows and Pakistani food. Maybe I will even learn some Hindi and Urdu so I can understand what is going on.

PARTYING LIKE A ROCKSTAR!

Yesterday night I partied like a rock star because I was a rock star. A good friend of mine had the good sense to celebrate her birthday by bringing out rock band and her Wii. Being a themed party every one was asked to dress for the occasion. I do not have a string of costumes in my closet for such occasions and my every day wardrobe does not pose many options. So I arrived early at my friends house because I knew she would have a get up for me. In no time I found myself attired in black, short spangly skirt, hot pink tights, a neon green leopard print 80s style shirt. My hair was done up in a banana clip and I put blue and yellow streaks in my hair. I was almost ready. All that was left were white calf height boots. They were white with a string of purple flowers on one side. I was hot.
The other reason I arrived early was to learn how to make extra ordinary ice cream. A chef friend arrived under the alias Stephan with the emphasis on the last syllable. We quadrupled the ice cream recipe and had three ice cream makers. It was an educating experience, but this post is not about ice cream it is about a rock star party.
The guests began to arrive. Most of the guys showed up wearing jeans and headbands or some such things. One friend showed up in a fabulous outfit including a mullet, skin tight leopard shirt and a large dollar sign worn around his neck. The ladies came in many varied outfits from street level to classy rockers to the outlandish.
The intrepid rock stars got straight down to business and jumped right in. Others of us watched for several songs and snacked on pumpkin logs, chips, veggies, and a fabulous dip made from sausage and I forget what other tasty ingredients. Being mannerly rock stars we kindly offered up our instruments after every couple of songs and sometimes pushed the timid into taking a turn at jamming like the rich and famous.
Finally, the ice cream finished churning. We gathered for some cake and choice of vanilla or strawberry or both. Stephan even made a caramel sauce and candied cashews to make the ice cream top notch dessert. Towards the end of the evening we broke out dance dance revolution, which was perfect because I was starting to fall asleep. That is what happens when a rock star has to wake up at 4 in the morning to go to work and party at night. So a little incompetent dancing was perfect for waking me up. I averaged a low score of E and a high score of D. In my optimistic universe I believe those stand for extraordinary and dynamic because I was definitely both of those. Leaving for the night I morphed back into the ever day Kristin putting the rock star dynamo away for another day when the music blares, the lights are low, and the food superb.

A little bit of this and a little bit of that

Last week I was going to write a light spirited post about childhood harvest festivals. It was going to be descriptive of my memorable costumes growing up and the wacky booths we came up with, hoping someone would pay a ticket to marry a couple of people by binding their hands with a piece of stapled construction paper or standing against an outside wall in a swimsuit and allowing people to throw water balloons at you. I was going to talk about cake auctions, silly skits, and talented musicians. But you see life got in the way and I had other more important things to do and my lazy bone started acting up and I had to read one more chapter in my book and so it never got done.
This evening my thoughts are scattered and no cohesive thought worth writing about it presenting itself. One of the things at the forefront of my thoughts is my novel for National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo. I wrote more about this on my writing blog if you want to read more about this. After I finish this post and eat some dinner I will be typing madly with the goal being to add as many words as I possibly can to my word count before my brain shuts down, my fingers ache or I just lose determination and spend the rest of my evening eating brownies, watching movies, and crocheting hats.
Yes, I said crocheting hats. This is the other project that is vying for my time and I'll admit is in the long run the better use of my time. My church is sending a group of people to the community we support in Swaziland. The goal is to make around 120 hats or as many as possible before the team leaves in February. The hats I make will be keeping a child warm in a couple of months during their winter. There will be many people contributing to this project, but I'm good at making hats and I'm fast. I want to contribute as many as I can. Here is another confession, kind of like my word count I want to see how many I can possibly get down in the next couple of months. Is 25 too many? Can I become a hat making machine and astonish myself with the sheer number of hats that fly from my fingertips? I don't know. All I know is that hats and words will be filling this month.
These are the fun things to take up my time. I still have to work, got to school, do homework, meet with my learning team, make time for other social engagements and sleep. So if my posts are only moderately interesting or very short please forgive me. I will pick up strong come December.
I'm about to make pizza. I'm very excited about this. A friend is bringing toppings over so it could be any sort of pizza. I also have a brownie mix and ice cream. Although today is technically Friday, for me it is actually Thursday in that I work tomorrow, but am off on Sunday, anyway I'm planning on eating like it is Friday night. I am hoping I make it to bed by eleven so I can be up bright eyed and bushy tailed at 4 am, well at least with my eyes cracked open wide enough to drive to work and my brain alert enough so I don't drive in the opposite lane of traffic. Enough little bits of things for now. I hope you all have a great weekend.

Mary and Martha

There are several stories in the Bible involving Mary and Martha. These usually leave me feeling uneasy. You see, I identify with Martha. Martha is the busy one, the one getting things done. She works hard and is practical. She doesn't allow herself to feel too much emotion or to get caught up in the moment. Mary, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to be with Jesus. She hangs on his every word. She risks scandal to be with him and show him how much she loves him. I'm a Martha I see all sorts of things to criticize in the Mary's of this world. However, secretly I envy them. I envy the trusting relationship between Mary and Jesus. I am jealous of her desire to sit at Jesus' feet and just listen to him. I wish I could be vulnerable like her. I wish I could be like Mary, but I'm a Martha. I will never be a Mary, but I can become the best Martha that I am able. Serving out of heart instead of obligation. Letting go of my comparison with Mary, I can be just as close to Jesus as Mary. I wrote this poem about Martha.

My Name is Martha

1/18/09

My name is Martha

Cooking, cleaning, serving

My duty

Acclaimed, spotless house

My pride

Hearty kosher meals

My joy

Jesus, Rabbi, Friend

A most auspicious guest

My chance

Unparalleled feast

My worth

Lifetime opportunity

My wealth

There is too much work

Where is Mary?

My help

Wasting time, abandoning

My anger

“Master, tell my sister!”

My justification

“Martha, Martha, Martha,

What do you do?”

My self-righteousness

Your sister chose better

My indignation

You should have done the same

My shame

My name is Martha

My service

Just busy expectations

My heart

Focused on myself

My redemption

Messiah’s sacrifice

Fall

It is mid October. Ghoulish masks fill the aisles of the stores and orange frosted cupcakes tempt the unwary shopper. Crisp mornings with the tang of mulching leaves, followed by warm glowing afternoons signal the changes of seasons. Fall brings pumpkins, candy corn, Halloween costumes, Thanksgiving celebrations, and long sleeved shirts. The hillsides cover themselves with hues of red, orange, yellow and green. Flocks of birds fly overhead, squawking noisily.
Many people love this season. They love wearing the muted fall colors and carving pumpkins. Dressing up for Halloween and taking the little ones trick or treating brings back fond memories of childhood. Others watch fall creep over the land with dread. The cooler days not only indicate that summer is past, but that winter is fast upon its heals. All they see is icy roads, getting up early to scrape the snow off the windshield, and cold.
Fall is a transitional season. It makes way for the end of another year. I grew up where we didn't have four seasons. Our seasons were rainy and dry season. There were no changing leaves and although the nights cooled down the days resurrected toasty as ever. For me the changing of the season is miraculous. There are things I love about all of them. Part of me dreads the coming of winter, another part of me mourns the passing of summer. I love the rich scent in the air. I like the outward manifestation of the passing of time. I greatly anticipate Thanksgiving. I would like to host it at my house, but I just can't think of a way to get more than a hand full of people into my house. I like soaking up the last bits of warmth from the sun.
What are some of the things that you enjoy most about this season?

Predicting the Weather

Can you predict the weather better than the weather man or woman on your favorite news channel? At times I think I can and other times the weather person beats me. Radar and other technology helps forecast whether or not it will rain on your picnic, but there are some basic ways that you and I can reasonably well predict the weather. My disclaimer is that some of these methods work better in different parts of the country and climates.
Lets start with clouds. If someone says it looks like rain the first thing I do is look up. If there are big cumulonimbus clouds that are dark there is a high likelihood of rain, we all know that. Think back to science class with me. Do you remember what a cirrus cloud looks like. You might call them mares tales, pony tales, horse tails, or high wispies. These clouds indicate that a change in weather is coming.Usually between 24 and 48 hours it will rain when cirrus clouds are present, especially on the East coast I have seen this to be true.


Smoke from a fire is also useful for telling what the weather might do. If the smoke from your campfire hangs around your camp and stays closer to the ground you have a low pressure system. If the smoke goes straight up you have a high pressure system. With lower pressure precipitation is more likely and if you have high pressure for a while then more likely than not a low pressure system will be coming through and it might rain.
Dew indicates that it shouldn't rain that day, but if it rained the night before this method does not workAn increase in humidity can mean a storm coming in. Your hair may be curlier and more unmanageable, the air may feel heavier, and leaves may curl.Strong winds or easterly winds also indicate possible weather.Recall the sailors saying, "Red sky at night a sailors delight, red sky in the morning sailors take warning." This also has to do with air pressure. A ring around the moon also indicates possible precipitation. If you are wondering look for birds or animals. They usually know and will act differently then they normally would.
My favorite is the deep breath and the gut feeling. Does it smell like rain? It may smell sweeter or like mulch. Do you feel it? Don't discredit your uncles knees or your grandmothers left elbow. Aching bones and painful old injuries can shout out a change in humidity.
Now that you have some tips when you are out camping take a deep breath and observe the smoke from your fire see if you can predict the weather. If you bored at home test your new information against the forecasters, can you predict rain or fair weather better than your weather person?
Free Tip: You can tell how long it is before sunset by holding your hand at arms length and measuring how many hand breadths there are from the bottom of the sun to the horizon. Each finger is 15 minutes, ergo each hand is one hour. It works.

The Conductors Language

Last night I went to the Utah Symphony with my roommate. I have been to the performances of my college symphony, but I haven't been to a professional symphony before. I enjoyed myself immensely. It was held in Abravanel Hall. The crystals on the large crystal chandeliers captured the light and refracted tiny rainbows over our heads. The musicians all in black and white formally sat on the stage. On the right side, three rows back a violinist pinned a small purple clip to her hair. The small splash of color kept drawing my eye, as if she was saying, "I'm here too even thought I'm in the third row. I want you to see me."
My favorite part of the evening was watching the conductor. The language of conducting is a mystery to me. Sometimes I can match the movement of the conductors arms with the resulting music, but most of the time I'm baffled by it. Like all communication you have the ones conveying the message and the listeners responding. In this case the conductor commands  with his baton and the musicians respond by increasing or decreasing tempo as well as other commands. Thierry Fischer conducted last nights performance. He has guest conducted for orchestras and philharmonics all over the world. He began performing as Principal Flute at the Zurich Opera in Hamburg.Through out the years has played and conducted all over the world. The Utah Symphony is privileged to have Fischer as a conductor for the last two years.
I have seen a variety of conductors and to me most of them look like they are waving their arms around. Fischer on the other hand looked like he was performing magic. His movements were crisp sometimes slashing other times jabbing. To slow down or soften the music he employed delicate intricate flourishes with his baton. My favorite movement, which I still don't know what it signaled, was when he pointed his baton towards the ground and pointed down with the other hand as well. He thrust his arms up and down, almost like he was dancing. His whole body held rigid and from his profile all the muscles in his face clenched tight in concentration. Instead of birds fluttering out of his baton or sparks of light; music, purposeful and obedient jumped, sang and mourned following his baton. In a language that most of the audience doesn't understand Thierry Fischer directed the symphony to spill forth music that anyone can interpret and understand, making black note figures translate into grace and beauty.