« April 2006 | Main | June 2006 »
May 31, 2006
Comcast, Why Must Thee Hate?
There are three pieces of pink paper sitting on our table. Three receipts of service from our friendly Comcast technicians. Further, each slip commemorates the arrival of a new DVR box into our home. Three pink pieces. Three DVR boxes. Did I mention that we collected this trio in just under a week and a half?
Now, let's be honest. Our household has some deep issues with Comcast Cable. In fact, Noel would be eager to point out that he is full of loathing for this telecommunications whale. But, after several months of correct billing cycles, uninterrupted service, and, um, 7 channels, we were ready to trust again. And, let's be honest; we needed the ESPNs for the World Cup.
Our pink paper collection process began:
There was Short Dude. In his thickly heeled boots, he came up to my shoulder, and I had to offer him a chair -- for standing -- so that he could reach our cable box. That was Box #1. We'll call it Frank. Sadly, Frank -- like his namesake -- hated soccer. Instead of politely recording and playing back the Champions League final, Frank was spiteful. Frank stuttered, stalled, and repeatedly died.
We called in the big guns. Hulk Hogan and his back-up, Mr. T came. They gave us a new box, Ted, and then hung out for forty-five minutes while they double checked, tested, and waited for everything to download. Hulk Hogan told me that he ran youth camps in Ukraine. Then, he lowered his voice, and told me, quietly, that his true love was cartooning. I liked him. Mr. T shared his own Comcast-related angst. He was not down with the current restructuring. I liked him too.
The box, Ted, seemed to adjust well to his new home. He worked for a while. He let us watch things. He let us record things. Then came the blue screens with error messages. The unresponsiveness to direct button pushing. The false accusations of having a full memory card.
Taupe Crayon Man came yesterday. Not the brightest crayon in the box. He stared at the blue error screen for a while. "I have no idea what that means," he told me. Further staring ensued, followed by a quick unplug-replug action. "That's the weirest thing I've ever seen," he muttered. (Sheltered life, apparently.) After puttering about for a while, he gave up and decided to give us a new box. Out went Ted, in came Box #3.
I'm not naming this one until he's been here for a month.
Posted by elissa at 12:26 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
May 30, 2006
Weekender
We're in the middle by the other Asians
It's not every three day weekend that you get to bake bourbon cake, grill out for a friend's birthday, karaoke with rednecks, watch whiskey ferment, worship well, hike your neighborhood ridge, create a "pin the topping on the taco" game, breathe a sigh of relief, buy pants, rob a bank, er, watch a heist movie, and celebrate another friend with peanut butter chocolate brownies.
Props to our social coordinator.
Posted by elissa at 11:46 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 26, 2006
Empty Nesters
For the last year and half Noel and I informally advised, hung out with, fed and occasionally housed "The Kids." "The Kids" primarily referred to Paigey and Yosh, our siblings, but it also included a slew of their close friends, many of whom we RA-ed in our respective reigns.
When Noel and I got married, there were a lot of different people or ministries in which we could choose to invest; we could have focused on our neighborhood, we could have picked a ministry in our church, or we could have gone out and integrated with the young Chattanooga culture.
We chose our siblings and still-student friends.
Sometimes, I wondered if that was the "easy" option. After all, we already knew them; we already loved them. They were comfortably middle-class folk, finishing a degree at a private college. And besides, they were all well-adjusted kids and well-respected on campus as leaders and ministers themselves.
Maybe that's why we picked them.
Three years ago, we were those people. And future leaders -- as well-supported and well-integrated as they may be -- need someone to take care of them, too. We tried to do for The Kids what we had longed for during the end of our undergraduate years.
We didn't always do a good job. We did not always pursue, we were not always available, and we likely did not always dispense wise advice. Still, we sure fed them a lot. We had long talks about romantic relationships, stretched friendships, and future plans. We discussed women in the church, economic development, academic freedom, race, theology, world events, politics, school policies, and culture. There were brownies or cookies when they were stressed, hot beverage or shopping dates, an available washing machine, an inviting trampoline, downloaded soccer games, and an endlessly entertaining cat. While we might not have been as close or connected as when we all lived in Carter together, The Kids occupied a huge place in our hearts.
Almost all of The Kids graduated this year, the last big batch of our close friends to finish their Covenant careers. And though many of them will be in Chattanooga next year, we will likely be in St. Louis. I have little doubt that these Kids will continue to grow into vital leaders in the church. They will change communities, affect their disciplines, minister abroad, pastor churches, and teach others. I will be outrageously proud of them.
Right now, though, I miss them.
Posted by elissa at 02:04 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
May 25, 2006
Pink Cover, Script Font
The latest issue of In Style had a helpful Summer Book Roundup. You know, sizzling chick lit to read poolside. Quality selections included:
The Girls - "Ever wonder what life is like for Siamese twins? Meet fictionalized 29 year old Ruby and Rose Darlen, who are joined at the head but are hardly of the same mind."
The Whole World Over - "If you've ever dreamed of moving out west and starting over, this pastry chef's story will inspire."
And so on.
So, I decided: if all my grand art criticism plans fail to materialize, I'll just write chick lit. I mean, I've never actually read a bona fide, contemporary, high-estrogen novel, but I think I have the formula down:
Set of Five - San Francisco stationary designer Luci has just been unceremoniously dumped by her CEO husband. With a huge deadline for her next card line looming, there couldn't be a worse time for learning to live the simple life. But when Luci's sister, a stay-at-home mother of five, takes the new divorcee under her wing, Luci finds inspiration where she least expects it.
Lift and Separate - When Jacquelyn moved from Wichita to Manhattan, she was determined to be daring. But after two years in the Big Apple, Jaq is still working a dead-end job in a nubby brown sweater and Birkenstocks. When she hears that Charles, her college ex-boyfriend, is moving to town she decides that a drastic change is in order: an overdue city life and style makeover. Can she learn to strut in Jimmy Choos in just two weeks?
Dry - Chloe, a twenty-eight year old Harvard law grad, is far from pleased when her firm packs her off to Texas to do some research for an upcoming oil case. Once there, however, she meets Trent, a charming, dedicated wildcatter, a man quite skilled at finding promise in the most unlikely of places...
This could be lucrative.
Posted by elissa at 04:27 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
May 24, 2006
A Primer on Spam
I know, I know. You don't think that spam is fit for human consumption. "You don't know what part of the animal it's from," you moan (conveniently forgetting your taste for sausage). "It's pale and pink and shiny and slippery," you persist (failing to remember that most canned food is not eaten as-is from its metal home).
In Hawaii, spam is almost its own food group. There is a popular spam cookbook, spam has shown up on McDonald's breakfast menus, and spam musubis (a rice block topped with spam and wrapped with dried seaweed) are sold at every drug, convenience, and grocery store in the islands. I mean, having the highest per capita spam consumption is no fluke.
Yeah, I just waxed eloquent about that stuff.
The trick is all in the preparation. At the very least, spam should always, always be pan fried to a crisp brown. For the best spam experience, however, a few extra steps and ingredients are necessary. The trick, of course, lies in the ever-appropriate sweet/salty combination. Soy sauce, sugar, ginger, and, yes, a little bit of white wine. I'm so serious.
And, poof. Spam for musubi, spam for fried rice, spam for ramen, spam for eggs. Don't even pretend you're not tempted.
Posted by elissa at 02:55 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 23, 2006
Ranger Rocks Out
If you are a single Scandinavian woman who enjoys whiskey, guns, and hand-piecing quilts, I have got *the* man for you. Ryan "Ranger" Petersen can fix a sink, build a fire, catch a fish, and probably build an entire wilderness settlement with his bare hands in two hours. Also, as evidenced by these pictures, the man can dance.
Posted by elissa at 12:06 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
May 22, 2006
A Wedding of Sinners
Weddings are beautiful when the bride and groom are full of fresh, ecstatic love for each other.
Weddings are gorgeous when they are soaked through with a sober joy and an intimate knowledge of redemption's reach.
This past weekend, Noel and I witnessed the latter, and it was, indeed, deeply lovely. As individuals, the bride and groom had lived sharply different lives, but both had been shattered by sin's unrelenting destructiveness. Denial, loss, hopelessness, addiction. Bitterness, betrayal, desperation. In these lives, Christ took His quiet, tender love; He opened eyes, changed hearts, bound wounds, and placed hope inside aching, gaping holes.
And then, He gave each to the other.
He had restored them separately, but when He brought them together with brilliant grace, there seemed to be an explosion of new life. No one claims that this marriage will be blissfully smooth, but the grace they know is wrapped tightly around their hearts. Their love is humble but eager.
Because of these friends, Noel and I have come to understand better how completely and restoringly Christ loves the church. In turn, we have new knowledge of the call for our own marriage to reflect that love. It is a call to acknowledge our devastating failures and to sacrifice ourselves, making beauty in brokenness.
Redemption is gorgeous indeed.
Posted by elissa at 03:23 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 21, 2006
Roadies
Ah, back in Chatty. If I-24 had a frequent driver club, Noel and I would easily be Platinum Members by this point.
Posted by elissa at 08:38 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 17, 2006
We Got Cable for 2:45 This Afternoon
...and we will be watching this this. When, and only when, the smoke has cleared and Ronaldinho's ponytail has galloped off the pitch, we will leave for St. Louis.
That's just how we roll.
Posted by elissa at 12:10 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
May 16, 2006
W Hotel
Since the beginning of May, the W hotel motel has served as the primary support location for Transitioners. We are proud to offer one twin bed, one fold down futon, one couch, and one queen size trampoline for your sleeping comfort. Do your laundry in our in-house washer and dryer, kick back and watch some of our limited cable channels, or test your luck with our exotic, ferocious house cat. Breakfast is free and served every morning at your convenience.
But the W is not just for spending the night! Our spacious attic and out-of-the-way back bedroom are prime storage locations for all your Rubbermaid-containered possessions that you can't take home for the summer but will still need once you manage to find permanent housing. Our expansive back porch and yard are the perfect spot to kick back with a pipe and some bourbon or to throw a very large barbecue.
The W managers know what it's like to live on the go -- what with a wedding in Peoria this past weekend and another wedding in St. Louis this coming weekend -- and they do their best to accomodate your transient lifestyle. For reservations, just call. The other beds are taken, but the trampoline is still vacant for this evening.
Posted by elissa at 02:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
May 10, 2006
Thickening Hair
I have a lot of hair. The strands themselves are deceptively fine, but, when marshalled together into a ponytail, the resulting diameter is about the size of a golf ball. And, thanks to my mom, it is also very Asian hair: straight, slippery, and stubborn.
All this makes getting my haircut a surefire adventure. In Hawaii, little grandmothers would scoop my hair off of the salon floor and stuff it into plastic bags, excitedly telling me that they were going to make a lot of pin cushions out of the dark brown piles. The first time I had my hair cut on the mainland, the hair dresser almost had a nervous breakdown; no matter how carefully she pinned and snipped, there was a never-ending, tumbling procession of layers. My best mainland haircut came at a Vietnamese-owned salon in Houston, where the head barber snipped delightedly, the blow-dryer took twenty minutes to dry the heavy thatch, and the floor-sweeper discarded four dust bins full of my tresses.
But unlike Noel's hair, which is immediately intimidating, the dread of my locks develops slowly, building to a frightening peak throughout the duration of the haircut.
I sit down in the swiveling chair and begin a mental countdown. Within three seconds of sweeping my hair up and draping me with the black haircutting cape comes the inevitable: "Well you have quite a bit of hair, dontcha?" The tone is confident, touched with something like bemusement. "Yes," I reply evenly, "I do. I have a lot of hair. It probably needs to be thinned and texturized."
It is my warning.
Ten minutes into the haircut, as the hairdresser resorts to using two clips where one would usually suffice, she remarks again, "You sure have a lot of hair." I smile.
Fifteen minutes into the haircut she is tackling my head with her spray bottle. "That's a lot of hair," she says, spritzing energetically. "It's wet on top but dry on the bottom." And then she laughs a little, but with tension.
Twenty-five minutes in, another hair dresser walks past and stares at the shaggy brown stacks on the salon floor. "She has a lot of hair." "Yes," replies my stylist, "she has a lot of hair."
Thirty minutes. The stylist is warning me that "it's still really heavy." I'm not sure what she means since my head feels significantly lighter after shedding four and a half inches. She clarifies: "I mean, you just have so much hair."
By the forty-five minute mark, the cutting is finished and the stylist is using twice the recommended amount of pomade to coax my hair into some semblance of order. "You have a lot of hair," she kindly tells me, "probably enough for four people."
After I pay her, she hands me her card. "You'll need to get this trimmed regularly if you want it to work," she says. "You just have so much hair."
Posted by elissa at 02:37 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
May 09, 2006
The Mather Family Does The South: Literacy Is Up
*Forty minutes after entering the largest aquarium in the world*
Jonathan and Ian report back, "We're finished."
"You're what?!"
"We're finished. There wasn't anything to read."
Posted by elissa at 03:28 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
The Mather Family Does the South: Mom Finds Her Inner Tourist
Posted by elissa at 03:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Mather Family Does the South: Adventures with Grandpa Kanemoto
We pulled into the parking lot of Point Park on a foggy Friday afternoon; my brothers had already seen the view earlier in the week, but they needed to pick up one more souvenier for a friend. "Oh shucks," Grandpa Kanemoto muttered, getting out of the car. I thought he was complaining about the weather.
"Shucks," he said again, "I didn't bring my ca-mer-a."
"It's foggy, Grandpa, you can't see anything."
"I know, but I wanted to take a picture of the fog."
I got out my camera, and we did.
Posted by elissa at 03:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
The Mather Family Does the South: Height Advantage
The brother on the left is Ian. He's 15 and over 6 feet. The brother on the right in Jon. He's 17 and pushing 6'4". I'm 5'9" in the middle. In Hawaii, we are as giants.
Posted by elissa at 03:05 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
May 04, 2006
Kawaii Fold
And speakinng of my grandfather, what would the world do without the Japanese? I suppose I'm a little behind the times -- after all, I'm only half -- but I recently discovered the ancestral way of folding my t-shirts in mere seconds. You really must watch it.
Smaller, cuter, and faster (with sound effects). It is the Japanese way. And, really, it makes so much sense that the Japanese would perfect the art of t-shirt folding since they have already taken t-shirt design to new and imaginative heights. Note the t-shirt that the young guy in the video folds: Girl of Slender Frame. Love it.
Posted by elissa at 03:48 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Grandpa Takes on Chattanooga
My Hawaii grandpa -- a second generation Japanese American and World War II vet -- arrived in Chattanooga today. He walked into my house wearing a jacket and a winter beanie. Cold here, he said.
Posted by elissa at 03:29 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
May 02, 2006
Confession: I Will Be On the Edge of My Seat at 6 pm Tonight
Over the past year or so, my happiness and home life have become increasingly influenced by the whims and wisdom of a man who looks like an orangutan. His name is Bruce Arena.
And so it comes to this: I am nervous, actually, honestly nervous, about the imminent selection of the World Cup roster.
Posted by elissa at 10:40 AM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
May 01, 2006
Family in Tow, Posting will Slow
The fam is here for a week-long vacation, built around Josh's Saturday graduation from Covenant. If you see a pack of giants lumbering about town with a small Japanese woman in tow, that's them. Say "hi."
Posted by elissa at 04:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack