forever.

Hello there. It's been a while!

I feel like I should start by finishing my pie story. I didn't place. Sad, I know. But, I did get a nifty little score card in the mail that tells me how many points I go in each category! It was fun - kinda like a report card. I am officially a B+ pie maker (89% thank you very much) which I count as success for my first year. I can't seem to find that little card to break it down any more, but I do remember my highest points were in the crust, for which I got a 14/15 for flavor. I was pretty proud of that. My lowest were in apple flavor and texture. Boo.

Anyway, thanks to my sister and mom I have all sorts of new pie tools that will help with next (this) year's project. For the record, I think my favorite apple (for baking) is the Granny Smith. The Zester was good in theory, but just lacked the density. Or something.

Contrary to how my life seems on this little bloggy blog, I actually have been up to more than just pie making. Thank goodness. Let's see: my sister had twins babies! I became certified as a Pediatric Nurse! I moved into a new apartment (that is beautiful and spacious and not freezing and has no mice)! I went to Jamaica and worked in a Children's hospital for a week! I survived the worst winter in the whole entire world. Trust me, it's no small task.

Plans for this spring:

I want to buy a bike. Soon.
The rest is TBD

meet me at the fair!

Today is the big day! Waking early, I rolled out my beautiful dough, sliced apples carefully, measured meticulously and assembled my fifth and final (2010) pie. I surprised myself when I woke with a smile on my face and butterflies in my stomach (silly!) and then, just prior to departure, began to imagine myself dropping the pie right outside the Creative Activities building, or having to put on my breaks really hard and (in slow motion) watching my pie fall to the dirty floor of my car... or worse, getting out of the shower to find I didn't hear the timer and everything was burned to a crisp. Oh dear. I probably should have baked it last night.

The good news is we arrived safe and sound! With plenty of time to spare! I felt curious about how people would be acting in line - competitive? Minnesota nice? Both at the same time! There were all kinds, much to my delight, and everyone was excited about their baking. Some women stepped into line with boxes full of bars and drop cookies and brownies, one even needed a moment of consolation from her husband right before she got in line! Others were like me, smiling, delighted with their single creation and happily chatting with other bakers about their fair experiences. The woman behind me in line made it very clear that she had gotten a blue ribbon her first time in the fair (for muffins made out of cereal??) & told her name to people as if they should know... hehe. I loved it.

As far as the actual pie goes, I kept it pretty much the same as 4G except I did go sans boiled cider. I think it does create a really traditional pie flavor, but I liked keeping it lighter and more of a pastry than a heavy pie. Anyway, I really wish I had more time to experiment - I was changing multiple ingredients each time so it was hard to know what change I liked and what I could do without. Five pies under my belt doesn't seem like much, but this is just my first year after all.

The judging happens today but I won't know the results until I actually go to the fair (they hang the list on the door somewhere on the fairgrounds). Anyway, up above are some pictures of my morning! It really was fun.

4G

Things are back on track with pie 4G! Again, I let the crust get good and cold before rolling it out into perfectly shaped disks. I cut the butter and lard in by hand & I think this time I unintentionally left some larger chunks behind (notice: swiss-cheese like holes in the top crust). Didn't affect the taste at all, and I kind of loved the out-of-my-hands imperfection that formed while it baked.

And, the Zestar apples were a very good decision. As the pie was baking I was worried they were creating too much water (we had some overflow, which didn't happen with the other types) but in the end the texture, taste and consistency was nearly perfect. They are a semi-tart apple, I definitely wouldn't put them in the same category as Granny Smith, so with the lemon zest (which I went heavy on again, since it was so yummy last time), things turned out a little too puckery. So, for round five I'm going to stay with the Zestars, skimp on the lemon zest and call it good! Which is good since I just went to the grocery store and there were no Braeburns in sight! The only thing I have yet to decide on is the boiled cider. Friend or foe? It's a heavy taste, and I'm finding it tough to balance with the spices. The first time I used it, I added a whole 1/4 cup, which is what my recipe told me to do. It was kinda thick for my preferences, so last time I added 2 tablespoons instead. Still, I felt kind of overwhelmed by the flavor. Hm, what to do...

Regardless, tonight my 5th pie will be born! And tomorrow I will drop it off at the state fair! I don't even really care if I win, I'm finding, I'm just so excited to bring my All-Minnesotan apple pie to the fair grounds, along with all my competition, & then see it proudly displayed in the Creative Activities building next week. I'm super curious what the social culture is like on days like this. Are people cut throat about their pies? Or will we all be standing in line, chatty, exchanging tips and secret ingredients? Hm, I guess it won't be long until I find out!

3G

Progress in the pie department took a significant hit this week. Forgetting to add the last cup of flour until after the water and vodka were mixed in does create some problems... mostly, chewy crust. And I wasn't even watching TV this time!

I also changed a few things with the apples. First, I have read on multiple occasions that it is best to make pies with two kinds of apples (one half tart, the other sweet). I've been using Granny Smith and Braeburn up until this pie when I decided to switch out the Braeburns for Fuij. Not a great decision, as they are very different consistencies (fuji: soft and spongy, grannies: crisp and wonderful). But, it did help me identify what it is that I find most appealing in pie filling. Haha, or should I say a-peeling?

Anyway, I've got 4G in the oven right now and I've made some good improvements in the apple selection department. Mostly, I decided that I'm in charge of the sweet vs. tart ratio and I must say that I favor the tart. Especially with fall coming.So, bubbling between the flaky layers of crust are Zestar apple! Wait, what are Zestar apples, you ask? Well, they are a University of Minnesota original (which I found very fitting) that were created to ripen early in the season in colder climates. I found them via the co-op, but they are grown and harvested in LaCrescent, MN. There are bumps and bruises all over these apples, but that makes me love them all the more. I can't wait to see how it turns out!

Apple Pie 2.0

Well, the second round in this baking series has come and gone. I feel a little embarrassed to say that I've only crafted two pies during this "summer of baking" but, hey, it's really hot in this tiny apt!

My goals with this second one was to focus on the filling. I got feedback that my spices were less than balanced the first go round, so I added a couple to try and give it some depth or diversity (or whatever - don't be fooled, I'm no spice expert). So, there was cinnamon, nutmeg, mace and cloves in this last one. And while that part of it was good, the filling was less than perfect. Which I must admit wasn't due to my ingredients, but rather a product of my addictive personality.

Has anyone seen Nip/Tuck? If not, be warned, it's almost impossible to peel your eyes away from those dark and twisty characters... which is especially dangerous while you are zesting a lemon into your state fair pie! No blood spill, thankfully, but I did end up zesting nearly the whole lemon when I had planned on only using a tablespoon. I thought I picked enough of it out, but the filling was super tart. The strange part was that my tasters raved about it! And, yes, even though I love them dearly, I am now a bit skeptical of their discretion when it comes to apple pie filling.

The thing that did go really well with this pie was the crust. Last time I made it I was SO excited to roll it out and bake it up all flaky and golden that I only let it get chilly in the fridge for about an hour. This time I was a bit strapped for time, so I made it and then let it sit (accidentally) for 2 whole days. I don't know what happens when you let things really sit and get truly cold, but the end result was a perfectly flaky and delicious crust. I haven't quite figured out how to resolve the whole "I want it to taste more like butter" issue, but I'm leaning toward experimenting with butter extract. (My insides are saying "NOOOOO, only use REAL butter", but from what I've read it's really hard to keep the flakes with real butter. Decisions, decisions).

This week needs to be about baking pies - the fair is but weeks away! And I will do my best, I promise!! Anyone have any suggestions or tips? I love feedback!!

There are very few things in my life that I get to see through to completion. I see patients come and then leave (in better shape than when they arrived), yes. But let's face it - closure is really hard to come by in my line of business. So, I've been experimenting with different "hobbies" if you will, to see what keeps my attention and what doesn't.

First off, I work out on a consistent basis and have discovered that it is most definitely a chore, not a hobby. I do love to knit, but often I find that too long of a commitment and I do (gasp) get a little tired of my projects toward the end. I enjoy reading, and it does fairly often bring closure, but it isn't a social activity. So, I have found baking to be my time (and tummy) filler of choice. And, yes, there is a difference between baking and cooking... at least for me. And I love baking & enjoying the finished product with my friends the very most.

For a while I was on a cake kick... tunnel of fudge cake, angel food with a citrus twist, almond and walnut cakes. Oh my, I am in love! It was earlier this summer that I decided I needed to turn this baking experiment into more of a project: a MN state fair themed project, if you will. The original plan was to perfect the sugar cookie and submit that to the state fair for judging, but that was so labor intensive and making a batch of sugar cookies is really an all day commitment. So, I decided on the pie baking category because, really, what says "State Fair" more than an apple pie?! You got it - nothing.

My mom has been so helpful in the research phase of this project - collecting recipes, finding food blogs, giving me resources that discuss everything from gluten chains in the flour to the importance of keeping the pH of your crust between a 5 and 6 (ps. baking is science, people!), etc etc. I paid extra attention to the tips on crust making, as I felt this would be my greatest challenge and decided to use a recipe from Cooks Illustrated for my first go round. And it was 97% perfect. The filling has some work to be done, and I'd like the crust to have more of a butter flavor (because I lalalove butter!!)... But, for a first timer, I was pretty thrilled with how it all baked out.

So, the plan for apple pie 2.0: more butter, softer apples, more balanced spices, and as always... maintain flakiness!! I'll let you know how it goes!

Minnesota nurses are but a few days away from making history... again.

Maybe all ignorance is somewhat purposeful, but I've really tried to avoid learning much about the upcoming strike (why? Oh, I really dislike confrontation). But, while I am not a member of the Minnesota Nurses Association, June 10 is going to be a really big day in nursing history & I do feel somewhat a part of it. For those who might be out of the political loop - as it relates to nursing anyway - let me give you an update: after a long spring of contract negotiations, 12,000 Minnesota nurses will be participating in a 24-hr strike as a way of "defending their patients and their practice".

I'm not really interested in touching on the complexities of this issue (feel free to see the MNA website if this really "strikes" your fancy), but I am interested in reconnecting with the philosophy of nursing. Because when people get all excited about the issues, I find myself becoming more introspective than usual.

This may come as a shock to many, but the fundamentals of nursing theory is not the first thing I think about when I get to work. At least not in the organized manner in which it is presented in Nursing 301. But theory drives our practice, whether or not we recognize it, and most of our theory is based on our personal values. And, as a large majority of nurses will tell you, above all nurses value their patients.

I could go on and on about what nursing means to me. But, let me share with you part of a letter the nurses at my hospital received from our Chief of Staff during Nurses Week...

"Despite the rise of technology medicine remains a highly personal endeavor. And it must be so. I think that an unspoken question exists in the mind of every parent, and every child, when they come to us for care. The question we hear center on the mechanics of medicine: Where do I park?, where do I register?, how long must I wait?, what will be done?, will it hurt, will it help? and so on. The unspoken question is: Will you care about me? The answer to that question determines the worth of everything that follows. ... our patients and families value the physical presence of those who provide care. They treasure it! It is how they measure whether we care about them. And who is more present than a nurse?"

The rising voices of contract nurses in the Twin Cities have challenged me. Why did I pick nursing? What values influence how I approach my career and my patients? How do I find a place in this healthcare system that seems to be overwhelmed by tasks, efficiency, quantifying people's emotions and that pesky bottom line?

How do we maintain our presence?

this brought me some comfort.

The Bath
By Laura Gilpin

I stand here bathing her
while she sleeps
in a far place beyond my reaching.

I bathe her
as I have been taught to do:
first the eyes, then the forehead,
the face, the neck.

And as I work
I talk to her--in case she hears me
(believing that hearing is the last to go).

I tell her--I don't know why
but I tell her the time, the day,
the season, what the weather is doing,

lifting each arm to wash and dry it,
laying it down again at her side,
then the chest, the abdomen, each leg.

She offers no resistance,
except that of gravity,
the earth pulling her
down while I lift,
as though something between us
is being weighed.

Then I turn her to wash her back
talking to her about what seems to matter
in this life--though I make no promises.

Only this morning
the promise of spring was in the air
and I tell her that.

Some nights I am inspired to cook. And, yes, it takes inspiration (which is more than a growling stomach). Tonight, I was not inspired but I had to make a dessert for work. Living in Minnesota, I have found, requires you to prepare things for potlucks every now and then...

So, being on dessert duty, I took my crisp, hardly used copy of "Homemade Cakes" off my kitchen self and proceeded to get very excited about a yogurt and fruit cake. Simple enough, less than 10 ingredient, most of which I already had. It was after I returned from the grocery store with vanilla yogurt that I started my necessary pep talk: "Ashlee, baking is like chemistry lab. This recipe has been proven to work. All you have to do is follow the directions & measure things carefully. It will be fine." Turns out baking and chemistry lab are a lot more similar than I thought - I'm not a natural at either.

After I started to realize (er, accept) that this attempt will likely end in failure, I decided to start following my intuition. Move the cake down a rack, set the timer for 5 more minutes... Nope still a failure. It's bubbling with heat, but not forming into a cake. My plan to teach myself to cook has turned into a waste of resources.

I think it is time for Plan B. I'm calling in sick.

As you read my last few blogs, it might become obvious that I haven't been very inspired lately. I don't know why I write when I'm not really clear on all my thoughts - probably with the anticipation that writing will help sort them out?

Regardless, today I am feel inspired. Inspired and a little heartbroken. In the wake of Brown's Senate win yesterday, and the subsequent blow to the Healthcare Reform initiative, I stand completely dumbfounded. I don't even feel the need to comment on how irresponsible it is to elect a one-issue politician OR how ignorant it is to disregard healthcare reform when we are all one bad car accident or cancer diagnosis away from reaching our lifetime limit on our insurance policies (a limitation that will be revoked under Insurance Reforms), so I won't. Instead I will talk about why I still support federal healthcare reform. Because I whole-heartedly do.

I volunteer at a free clinic and I have noticed a new wave of clients in the past year. They remind me a lot of my dad - hard working men who were very well established in their careers, only to be laid off two or three years before they are eligible for retirement. Under healthcare reform, insurance coverage would be expanded for early retirees. Not only will this benefit the individuals, but the companies and our workforce in general, by opening up positions or preventing lay offs.

The state of Minnesota has the best "medical loss ratio" in the country. A "medical loss" is the money insurance companies pay to healthcare providers (yes, they count doing what they are supposed to do as a loss). Minnesota's insurance companies are required by law to use at least 91% of what you pay them to then pay the providers. Other states in our country don't "lose" even 60%. That means the patient is paying 40% more for healthcare than it actually costs!!! Under healthcare reform, minimum medical-loss ratios would be established, thus decreasing the insurance companies profit off of disease and disability.

95-98% of Americans would be provided with coverage & children will be covered until age 27. I think that one speaks for itself... especially when you consider how many new college graduates are unable to find jobs, let alone jobs with benefits.

Pre-existing condition clauses prevent people who have been diagnosed with cancer, and then go into remission, from being covered if the cancer should return. Healthcare reform would eliminate this entirely.

Increased affordability, through the institution of non-profit co-ops and the expansion of Medicaid, could be in our future. Instead, our country is choosing to continue down a road where 80% of all bankruptcies filed are due to high and unavoidable healthcare costs. Most of which have been accumulated by privately insured individuals (also part of my "lifetime limits" point).

Sure, this will take awhile. Best case scenario, it is up and running in 2014. And, I understand the hesitation of investing in an initially very expensive program. That's why the billions this reform will save our country over the next 10 years is important to keep in mind (if you are on the more money-conscious side of the argument).

The worst part of healthcare reform is that hospitals will be seeing less reimbursement for services rendered. That is why many institutions (the smart ones anyway) are preparing for this by evaluating costs and looking to high efficiency industries to get pointers on eliminating waste, increasing efficiency and ensuring that the quality of care provided does not suffer. Providers may need to run cheaper and less invasive tests when a patient initially presents with a headache instead of immediately rushing them down to the MRI room. But, is that really a bad change?

There are so many reasons I support Federal Healthcare Reform and I've really tried to show how it is not just a "theory" but something that is happening to people. Please see this as a part of discussion - I'm aware of all the other sides that exist. I just wanted to say my peace (/piece) about this particular side. I hope it's helpful....

twenty five in twenty ten. has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

I have no idea what I should (want to) do with this year. I am tempted to make a resolution... my way of saying, "I have control!! I'm going to rock this year (instead of it rocking me... again)". Hm, not sure if that's actually how it works. But, how can decide to "roll with the tide" without sounding a bit apathetic about my life?

I am in a better place (whatever that means) this Jan 2 than I was last. Significantly better. There are reasons for this - mainly good decisions and a lot of love and support from my people. But, also I think a lot of this happiness has been sustained through a focus on my reaction to life rather than getting so distracted by the desire to control it. Because, as it turns out, control is quite impossible. And incredibly agonizing.

I am looking forward to discovering a new year... I have no idea what it holds, which is really exciting! Mostly because I know that I will be in good company, and that is all I need.

very merry.

Christmas at the hospital is hard to figure out. On one hand, there is some excitement. The night nurses take on some Santa-like qualities and distribute the gifts from our Child Life dept in the patient rooms, the popcorn tins and bags of chocolate bells pile high, and everyone (and I mean everyone) is wearing some outrageous combination of red and green. On the other hand, no one wants to be in the hospital on Christmas - staff or patients! Grief comes out at funny, unexpected times, but I think it is safe to say that Christmas is not really an unexpected time.

Holidays, by nature it seems, cause us to crave the securities in life. It seems as if humanity is especially in need of comfort & community during the holiday season. As it turns out, finding yourself in a very unfamiliar life experience is not comforting. And while the emotional needs of our patients run high, the desire to be at work runs low for the caretakers. It is an important inequality to realize, I think. Tragically ironic how the opportunities to really impact a person in a positive way happen to also be a time when I might not be "in the mood" for it. (For the record, I believe caretakers have to be in the right place to "be present". People who say they are ready to take on all the severe emotional needs of other people all the time are not very aware - or they have reached an incredible emotional maturity that I merely dream of. That's my opinion at least. The problem with that, I will admit, is that people don't always have time for you to get in the right emotional/spiritual place, but that's a topic for another blog).

Anyway, Christmas at the hospital is tricky. It's not a time that people want to outline in their holiday letters. But, it's not automatically a time that people will be inconsolable. I believe in the significance of faith & I am often in awe of how some are able to genuinely stand in the face of real tragedy and remain committed to things like life and love. I'm certain that there are always going to be times when you would have to fight for that kind of peace, though. The idea that peace washes over us is nice and probably true to some extent but, I also think there is some kind of battle involved - a reclaiming of the good and a rejection of all that enslaves us.

Redemption composes all that is good about Christmas, which by definition means there is something from which we need to be redeemed. No life is immune to grief - some grief will be manifested in small ways, other grief will take hold of us and never seems to release it's grip. No matter the experience, pain is always significant - but, may our spirits be moved to remain open to living in freedom and love.

Receive and give, my friends. Merry Christmas.

for the record.

I am an aunt. And, while this post will be focused on only one aspect of my "aunt-ness", I would like to just start by saying my nephew is probably one of my favorite people... ever. I love him quite a bit and I have a feeling that he will only get cooler with time.

Now, part of being an aunt is showering these little humans with gifts. At least, that is part of being an aunt for me. I have been on the search for some practical gifts for him, as is the nature of me (practical) and the holiday season (gifts), and I have come to find that I hate the baby/infant/toddler "product world". Not only are clothes ugly, they are SO gendered and confrontational. Boys can, apparently, only wear clothes that say things like "stud" or "jock" or "my dad can beat up your dad" or " this is what handsome looks like" or "here comes trouble" or "ladies man". Oh, and the absolute worst was "my mom is hotter than your mom"... somehow, amazingly, one little baby bib is able to not only keep your clothes clean but also reinforce gender stereotypes.

Not only do I refused to spend my money on this garbage, but I will not be responsible for socializing a generation of self involved, competitive, smart mouthed kids. What if my nephew doesn't want to be a jock? What if he wants to be a poet? Or, maybe both. Do they have bibs that say, "be who you are and love other people"? No. And, really, why does it have to say anything at all? It's this weird, subtle objectification of our children that people indulge in merely to boost their own self images... if you want people to know you are hot or strong or produce genetically perfect children that will inevitably grow into irresistible sex objects, then wear it on your own shirt.

I also have negative feelings about anything princess or diva themed, for all the same reasons. My dislike of pastel, baby animals is less socially minded, but I might as well just say I don't like those very much either. Well, that's not true. Even animals are gendered - boys get strong animals like lions and elephants and girls get the pretty, gentle animals (that don't eat much) like birds and kittens.

It's everywhere, people.

Sigh. That's really all, I don't have any brilliant ideas on how to fix this problem, other than craft my own baby clothes. I don't have high hopes that this will actually happen, so we're sticking to solids, stripes and argyle this year, Henrik.

During my trip to NYC I was able to visit Resurrection Presbyterian Church with my friends. I have been able to enjoy more sermons from this church since being home, through their website.

If anyone else is interested, I've added them to my "recommendations" column.

Work, by nature, is going to be hard. Some of us look at this task and desire to find something that fits who we are, something that puts our personal motivations to good use and maybe (or hopefully) brings out some good in the world. I understand that not everyone feels this way about occupation - work is not life and so on. This is true, and part of me is jealous of this mindset. Oh, to see my profession as a paycheck seems so.... nice... right about now.

I am getting better at "drawing a line" between work and life. But, I will admit that is feels a bit counterintuitive. Not because I think bringing work home is necessary, or even helpful, but because I just can't turn things on and off that quickly! Like I said, this takes practice and I still have a lot of time to work out the kinks with this one. But, when you are investing yourself into someone all day, it takes more than just the drive home to stop thinking about them. At least for me.

I identified a whole new, ironic aspect to this yesterday at work. After 8 days of "caring" with what felt like my whole body, I crashed. 2pm, no charting done, no food in my tummy and I felt like more of my self control was being used to keep myself from crawling under the desk than finishing my shift well. After I managed to squeeze in a snack (and the subsequent increase in blood sugar), I remembered how much harder things are for my little patients. The last thing (or maybe one of the last things) they need is a nurse who isn't willing to give. But, how do I give genuinely when all I want is a nice, cold (and preferably huge) beer?

Hm... remembering how much I have been given, how much I've been loved. Imagining myself in their position is always good, I suppose. Eating. Certainly that helps. And, time away, experiencing my own life. 7/8 days is a long time.

SO! The next post will be much more upbeat.... Seriously. My weekend is already off to a wonderful start. Enough about this... off to enjoy a few days away.

After I get my oil changed, of course.

Weekends are sometimes good for grocery shopping, sleeping in, laundry, post office runs, etc. But, sometimes weekends are good for leaving things undone, skipping town and spending face-to-face time with my people. This past weekend was fortunate enough to be of the later variety, and it was just in time.

I count my people as among my most significant blessings. In this category, of course, is my family. My friends, too, are just wonderful, unique, talented, inspirational people and I'm not sure where I'd be without them. A variety, you may call us, but a good mix for sure. Three of these lovelies live out east - one in CT, two in NYC. So, I was able to soak up some good time with them and see new and beautiful places.

And, I have (unfortunately?) learned that I really really love New York City. I was there as a teenager, but experiencing it as a 24-year old is much different, right? We didn't indulge in the more intense NYC experience, but rather played the low key card and enjoyed coffee at Blue Sky Bakery in Brooklyn, caught the Staten Island Ferry for some (free) sightseeing, walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan via the bridge, enjoyed bits of Soho, made our way through Central Park, ate some street food, and did a fairly good job of drinking wonderful coffee by day and lovely wine by night. Looking back, highlights are easy to find.

I'm not sure what it was about the city that drew me in so much. I mean, it is a very large city... but, cities are cities?? Maybe. There was just something different about New York - like, I never felt alone while I was there. The hustle didn't bring up any sort of anxiety in me, but rather I felt calmer than I have in a really long time (the quite of my apt now, for example, is having quite the opposite effect). The word "magic" is coming to mind, although it feels a bit exaggerated for what I'm actually trying to say. Regardless of what it's called, I felt so good being there. A kind of good this girl hasn't felt in a long time.

I'm not going to post pictures because I just don't have the energy... soon, though. While the weekend was nearly perfect it was also quite exhausting. In a wonderful sort of way.

Yesterday, volunteers came around the unit with a cart full of children-sized Halloween costumes. One of my little patients asked in eager anticipation, "do you have a Buzz Lightyear outfit?"

We all breathed relief as the volunteer dug through her pile and proudly held up one, very precious space cadet costume.

And so, his mom and I worked to get the costume onto this little body. Disconnected the IV for just a minute, cut the costume as needed to get it over tubes and around braces... pretty soon we had a (very modified) Buzz Lightyear in our midst.

He was so delighted! And, really, so were we.

This week has been marked by tragedy. My journal is missing.

Ok, so you all know me and know that I sometimes say things that are a bit on the dramatic side, but I am being completely honest and fairly rational when I say this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in a very long time.

I started (serious, committed) journaling in 2005. Since then I have really come to cherish the little books that are my testimonial. You know the question, "if you are stranded on an island and you can have one thing it would be..." or "if your house was on fire and you could bring one material thing with you ..." Hands down, I would choose my journals. It is on those perfectly blank pages that I find most freedom to express my ideas. There is no need for correct grammar, flow, sentence structure... anything really. I can do whatever I want - have any opinion - in my journal and no one gets to know. And, no one gets to tell me that what I'm feeling is wrong or I should approach a situation in a different way... or whatever.

I know that the loss of this journal is not the loss of journaling. But, it is the loss of a year's worth of knee-jerk reactions, deep reflection and sweet anticipation. I wrote about my first days as a nurse in this journal, my first (professional) experience with death. The overwhelming joys of meeting my first nephew. The nervous excitement that came with moving into my very own apartment. Gosh, even the thrill of watching our nation's first African American President take office. To not have my written memories of all that is so.... sad.

Normally when something like this happens, I would journal about it. But, since that isn't an option right now I will blog. And, I can say with confidence that blogging is really second best.

Last summer I was invited to join an online book club. As you can imagine, the lack of face-to-face interaction made it very difficult for me to stay committed to the text. Well, that and the fact that The Brothers Karamazov was not an ideal pick for light summer reading.

The thick beige and red book has been patiently waiting for me on my bookshelf and I have decided to give good ol' Fyodor another shot. I am 19 pages in and already in love. Not because it is incredibly easy, or because I feel as if I've been hooked by action or glamour... but, rather, because it is just beautiful.

This book is going to be no small task for me - mostly because my nursing school experience has resulted in the development of a special reflex. The one that makes me go to sleep two paragraphs into any kind of reading. I have determination, though, to retrain my attention span to not only stay focused during these long pages, but to actually .... get ready for it... enjoy reading again.

In hopes of "setting the stage" for this endeavor, I went to the Russian Museum of Art in Minneapolis last weekend. I don't know much about Russia - at all - and I thought that maybe by getting a small glimpse of how Russian artists interpret their culture, I'd be in a better place to enjoy this novel.

But, it didn't really help. Well, ok, that might not be true. It just didn't help as much as I had hoped. What I did find is that a.) I love Russian art (at least the art they have at this museum) and b.) I want to learn more about Russia.

I was talking to one of the museum volunteers and he was telling me about an exhibit they are trying to bring in this coming spring. It is composed of art that came from the Siege of Leningrad. Now many of you, I am sure, have heard of this part of history. I will blame my ignorance on my intense participation in biology and anatomy during college and less interaction with the "arts" and history classes. It is probably fine that I am learning this late. Anyway, I have spent some time exploring the details of this 900 day siege - a siege that took more lives than any other modern day conflict. And what I have found is actually quite amazing.

From what I can tell, this siege did many things to Leningrad. Mainly - and I'm not trying to make light here - it destroyed it, right? But, like Annie Dillard taught me to say, there is so much evidence of "the inrush of power and light" in the stories I've read tonight. Stories of human resiliency and motivation to cling to good and deny evil. The German and Finnish armies cut off all sources of life from Leningrad - it started in September and by winter there was no heat, no electricity, only ounces of bread for each person. But, in the face of this all, the people of Leningrad did not surrender. FOR 900 DAYS. I also read stories of people risking their lives to dig up potatoes in forbidden fields, only to then surrender their sweet harvest to authorities so they could be distributed equally among all the civilians. The city even commissioned cooks and chefs to "invent" high-calorie soups and breads to be distributed in the bread lines. Granted, their supplementation of cotton for flour didn't provide what people needed. Most during this time died of starvation or from the actual bombings. I think it is only accurate to say that with each sweet story of devotion to the whole community, there were also terrifying stories of human desperation. Factory workers eating oil off machines to satisfy hunger.... and of public authorities creating special forces focused primarily on attacking the cannibalism that eventually developed.

One might think the end of this siege was a beautiful day for Russia. I'm sure it was in many ways, but I think it was probably also a quiet victory. An unbelieving sigh of relief, or whatever could be mustered up by the souls who still stood 900 days after suck darkness struck their city. The Red Army, an army of Russian revolutionaries, eventually brought defeat to the German forces.

My visit to the museum did good things for my curiosities about Russia, although, like I said, none actually lead me any closer to understanding The Brothers specifically. But, I'm just going to say that is okay. Because there is a lot to know about the world, and learning it a little at a time is just fine.

Sometimes things happen and all I can do is shrug. I don't know the answer, I don't know where to go, I don't even know how to identify what went wrong. These are the situations that are most defeting for me. Not only because I am at a loss, but because I feel like I shouldn't be. Like, the Christian life is supposed to be an easy one, filled with right answers and only the occassional mistake that leads to a greater understanding or brings your closer to becoming that beautiful, whole person who won't ever make the same mistake twice. Seriously? Who told me that was true? They are w-r-o-n-g.

The Christian life isn't about having all the right answers, but living in a grace that redeems us from our shortcomings. While I might not ever know exactly the right answer to every one of life's challenges, I do know that having empty hands might not always be a bad thing. When my little patients cry at night, I might not ever have a perfect response to their grief. I don't know if I will ever be able to look one of them in the eye and say, "this is how we fix your problem". This is hard for me to accept because I so want to solve problems! My own, but also their's. I don't want them to live in pain, confusion, or grief. I want them to be freed from it.

People ask me sometimes how I can "do what I do". Good question. I'm not totally sure of the answer, but I do know that I would never make it if I haven't been blessed with at least a small shred of inner peace. Because, really, there are a thousand evidences of redemption in each day. It's just about being in the right place to notice them.