sylvan: a snapshot

megan: "hi linnea! here for your math lesson?"

linnea: "uhhh. yeah."

megan: "i'm glad to see you. it's been a while! where've you been?"

linnea: "welluh, last week i was in new york."

megan: "nice! had you been there before?"

linnea: "duuuh. i go there every year."

megan: "wow. okay."

linnea: (mumbles indinstinctly to her tutor)

tutor: "linnea, can you say please?"

linnea: "uuuugh. i'm too rich to say please."

me: i love my job!

things i love learning to love.

brussel sprouts, opera, cream of wheat, art as worship, central asia, silent films.

after all, it is only 10:30

the night is young. and one of my beloved roommates is downstairs practicing for her trombone lesson.

i survived christmas '08

having the world's quirkiest extended family can be a blessing and a curse.
here's what i'll remember this year:

- playing a great game with the cousins-in-law we like to call "what
if this were my hand"
- using aubrey's remote-controlled "cyclone robot" to shoot foam
discs at the cat
- scrabble tournaments
- daddy's toffee
- paul's tamales
- watching taryn's new hamster "wonder princess" crawl
backwards up its hot pink tube
- driving for hours to get to aunt betsy's and singing real loud
because the car stereo doesn't work
- bundling up in icelandic christmas sweaters to watch heima
- paulette's traumatized account of growing up in alsace, living in
constant fear come christmas of "le père fouettard"
- uncle john's collection of statues of hindu deities
- mommy's armenian novelty wine
- the "knifty knitter"
- playing "paralyze!" on the kitchen linoleum (it's every bit
as fun as it sounds)
- pretending elvis' "blue christmas" can actually pass as a carol
- cousin billy... is he related?

i love being home.

baklava.

ah yeah. you watch your back, papa stell.
i won't let my pasty whiteness keep me from baking ethnic.

there's still some in the fridge. if anyone wants to come over.

soul food.

there it is, in all its glory.
"cornbread dressing", yams, collard greens, sweet potato pie. what the picture fails to capture is the table littered with cans of Colt 45 malt liquor and orange soda. also newport menthols.

thanksgiving '08: a uniquely cross-cultural experience.

cynthia, tommy and i have been taking t.y. out for breakfast/lunch/barbeque ribs every thursday for the past few months. when cynthia and i met him in september he was doing what he always does: panhandling on the corner of 2nd and yesler, monday-friday, 7:30 to 1:00.

that first day we had lunch curbside. surrounded by pigeons and bustling business professionals in the heart of pioneer square, we shared a meal with a 54-year-old black transient and heard about his journey. he has a rock-solid faith, a hard history, a sound mind and a humble heart. the next week we brought tommy, and now we just can't quit.

last week found the four of us sitting snugly in our sticky red booth at the planet java diner with our friend josh, a young-urban-professional who works in the building above t.y.'s corner. we discussed the pros and cons of recruiting josh's hollywood-producer friend to make a movie out of t.y.'s story and formulated a game plan to find him permanent housing this winter. in the midst of a heated debate about whether or not t.y. should star in his blockbuster, his estranged little sister called.

she invited him to spend thanksgiving with her, and to bring whoever he wanted.

and thus we ended up spending our turkey day in an apartment in renton with our wonderful big black homeless friend, his oldest son, his little sister, his best friend/his little sister's boyfriend, his son's mother and her two daughters, his son's sometime-girlfriend and her baby nephew, etc. etc. etc. a truly beautiful dysfunctional family.

p.s. in the picture, you will observe that there is a notable lack of "chittlins" on my plate. when i learned that t.y.'s euphemistic term "slave food" was actually code for hot festering hog guts, i opted out of that particular dish.

tommy took one for the team, though.

and i bet he can still taste it sometimes.

happy thanksgiving.

jeudi.

there are days when all we need on earth is french food and yann tiersen.