"Go away now."

My mom is hilarious.

There were a few moments today, with my immediate family assembled, when the conversations flew about like three middle-schoolers, seven bouncy balls and a racquetball court. Like the nimble lucky buggers they are, none of them got hit/hurt and, really, at least one of them should have. For crying out loud, a few eyes should have been knocked out - eh? Seriously, things were shouted all around and nobody heard anybody say anything. Yes, hilarity and excitement and family. Word.

There's jalapeno cornbread on the counter, waiting to be turned into stuffing tomorrow. Also, the turkey is drying, stuffed with aromatics and rubbed with oregano and parsley. And there are potatoes waiting to be mashed. Am I looking forward to tomorrow? In many ways, yes. Mom is making foodstuffs of the Korean variety for her husband, sons, daughter and all those Dordt students (of the Korean variety). Imagine how much of a celebration that will be - magnificent, straightforward, no-fuss Korean food. It'll be an honor to make three dishes with her. Just three! Make 'em count! And, you know, it will be eaten by all of the above... you know, the Korean variety. And that's great.

It's funny how you change when you go on break. I guess it's also humbling to find that you don't have as firm a grasp on your mind as you had thought or planned. OK - I need to absorb some crap and rest for awhile, I can accept that... I think. The problem is, instead of running back and forth from various classes, projects, meetings, etc. I find my mental energy running on what used to be (partially) blocked. Grr.

Readers... I don't know what to do with my life. Yep. Go!

It's pretty daunting, encouraging and cool that these video projects keep popping up.

I'm six pages into the new novel for Canadian Lit. It's "Obasan" by Joy Kogawa. I have yet to comprehend how it falls into the Canadian Lit. category, other than the author living in Canada or the narrator living in Canada. I don't know. But I'm six pages in and, like most novels are at this point, I have little idea what's going on. I have only an abrupt introduction with this character, this voice and, presumably, I'll gradually lose that initial wariness and fall deeper and deeper into the character and the story. What if human interaction were like that? What if our words and actions were nearly as deliberate? Imagine how we would be, to each other, if we were to take each other by the hand and fearlessly unroll ourselves?
It's not like that; we toss and turn, rolling with the wind and the hours while the words on the page stand still, waiting to be read. The people on the screen fade to black, but they are seen by patient viewers. The stage characters wash off their makeup every night, but they never forget the lives they filled and the characters they invited to thwart their own individual beings. The subjects are suspended in ink, posed or candid, and SNAP their physical image is captured, stolen, on paper.
Could we stand to be a little more brave? Would we benefit from taking each other in with more patience, and eagerness, as when we read a novel?

Love is a promise made of smoke.