Earth moneys.

The other week, my boss asked me to write a post for the spilling hope blog. Don't know what that is? Well you should. Here, click. The general gist of the matter is simplification - living with less so other people can live with more (and we got little blue arm bands to remind us not to forget). Anywho - this was a fun thing for me to reflect on because thinking constructively about money is not my forte. But I did...I did. So I give you: Aunt Jemima and The arm band challenge.

Finances. The word that immediately causes my eyes to glaze over, my ears to magically muffle all sound and my mind to travel straight to the lofty heights of Not Here. It is one of those subjects that moms love to bring up in concerned tones, leaves one feeling rather like a cantaloupe has settled in the pit of ones stomach for an unforeseen amount of time, and is often the enthusiastic initiator of guilt trips over rampant latte habits and growing cardigan collections. In short, it’s a word I avoid – along with all its itchy implications. You know, savings, budgeting, being a good steward, all that sort of thing.

But now I’m wearing this little blue armband that says “Spilling Hope” on it. What this means is that the term “finance” must now be revived in my vocabulary –in a way that turns the monster good. Kind of like a metaphoric Great Aunt Jemima that you thought was wicked when you were five because of her glass eye and cane but then, it turns out, she funded your college education, bakes great cookies and is really nice.

And so I decided to look at my finances and see them for what they are. Turns out they’re a blessing. Turns out, they really did fund my college education and are really nice. Turns out, budgeting might mean I have more to give.

So in the name of the little blue armband, budgeting is what I did.

Challenge to self: See where it goes. Rein it in. Give. (Feel free to adopt.)

Step 1: The unveiling.

I love to cook. I love to throw parties, go out to coffee with people and get bagels at the bagel place. Frequently, going out for Pad Thai sounds better than reheating pasta. So I decided to add it all up – coffee dates, groceries, dinners out. In just over two weeks I threw down a grand total of $188.95, averaging at $82.67 a week. Woof. I’m a college kid, mind you. I’m feeding me, myself and friends now and again. Not the U.S. military.

Step 2: Wooooah there, Bessy!

In my mind, I never really go grocery shopping. I pick up things here and there, being frugal. Coffee is only about 3 bucks right? Hey, it’s half off today! I’d be saving by buying lunch here instead, I’m pretty sure. Not really. The numbers by themselves are not ruinous, but added up…well, you saw. I needed a plan.

I planned a week’s menu. I looked at what we had in the house, and got creative (creative is a loose term – not even I can call corn bread and chili innovative). Cheap, healthy meals that minimized superfluous shopping was the goal.

And so, I give you, Le Menu bon marché de la Semaine*.

Again, feel free to adopt. And season according to taste.

Give yourself a coffee allowance. I’m making the bold decision to save going out for special occasions. I’m taking the arduous, 2 block hike home for lunch (no one said this was going to be easy, people). You get the gist. Cut out what needs cutting out.

Step 3: Give.

$82.67 last week. $44.82 this week. $37.79 for Uganda and Rwanda.

Be Great Aunt Jemima.

You've won my heart

And you've won my heart.

Now I can

Trade these ashes in for beauty

And wear forgiveness like a crown

Coming to kiss the feet of mercy

I lay every burden down

At the foot of the cross.

Thank you for allowing your unfathomable wrath and your limitless love to collide and to vanquish.

Thank you for fighting for me.

Thank you for making living an infinitely good thing.

Alyssa

20 years ago Alyssa Sutherland was born.

Our friendship was destined to happen the day we we banded together like a flock of monkeys to fight the onslaught of the previous years STUB team. We found out they were going to "initiate" us into our new positions with a raucous and perilously early morning call and a series of possibly uncomfortable activities and decided to one up them - armed with nothing but the element of surprise and a healthy quota of water balloons.

I have been blessed to know this girl and am so happy to call her friend. She is strong, full of passion, zeal ambition and is beautiful in every way. She has also been favored with a knack for politics, robust and witty banter and Dutch roots - yep, she's going places. I was honored and so pleased when she asked me to take her campaign shots and I thought I'd share some of them with you.

Happy Birthday miss!

Girl meets World.

Capstone is a bit of a drag. That said, I have decided to take away something from every class. It'll be a game, kind of.

Yesterday we read Boy Meets World, ie, the Parable of the Prodigal Son. (http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%2015:11-32&version=NIV)

Blah until proven unblah. I thought for a second about good story telling. What makes Shakespeare Shakespeare? What makes the stories of Cinderella and Rapunzel as magical now as they were a hundred years ago?

We identify with them. We become invested in characters because we see traces of ourselves in their joys and sorrows and fears and hopes. These are human things and as it turns out, humans haven't changed a whole lot across the centuries.

Jesus knew how to tell stories. We were asked to write our own versions of the story, and here is mine.

* * *

Sometimes I am the lost brother. I love the idea of being independent, of taking off into the wild world with all the gusto, enthusiasm and fervor that is in my young, if admittedly naive self. So I go. I pack my things and pluck the pen of authorship from Abbai's hands with a quick smile and a Thank you and I am off.

Dancing

running

walking

shuffling

crawling

sitting

curled up and broken because I can't dance anymore.

My joy is gone.

I come home, into the presence of my father - I dare not call him Abbai now - with hands behind my back and my eyes to the ground. I mumble an apology.

He sighs - a sigh of relief, exasperation and love - much like my mother does when she catches wind of adventures of the thoughtless variety. He lifts my face to face his. I still can't quite meet his eyes but I see that smile I know so well. For a moment I am almost angry - why is he letting it go this easily?

But then I am suddenly weak, suddenly aware of how tired and small I am. I hold the pen out to him, my hands are smeared with ink. He takes it back with a smile and a Thank you. My hand feels weightless suddenly in his.

Gung-Ho for Senioritis and Such.

And so we bid our adieu to break as we once knew it. It's gone, having given way to what we've fondly termed "The Beginning of the End". Spring Quarter. Yep, this is is it, the last quarter of my undergraduate career. It's a strange feeling and one that is, for the most part, still a vague, distant thing that is by and large not real. But then there are those moments of clarity...like when I ordered my cap and gown or when I trip over my own tongue in response to that really insightful question "so, what are you doing next year?" Fear not, I too have asked that question many times and oft. Of others and of myself. Or when the kindly gentleman at the next-door ticket stand offered me a job application with a schedule that was flexible for students, and I replied with an aura of chagrin that it just didn't matter, "I wont BE a student, sir."

Despite the timbre of angst you may be gleaning from this post here, I really am excited. A few days off was just the ticket to the final stages of senioritis and the beginning of the steady march to the finish line - whereupon we will start a new race altogether.

Revival, let me tell you, is a great thing. The best remedies in the world include:

Coffee, Agatha Christy and snider bits at Nielson's.

Theatre, champagne and Steinbeck accompanied by only the best.

Thai food by the canal, almost being run over by Dan Armading and sunshine.

But now we have Shakespeare to look forward to. And capstones and sailing. And then to join the bandwagon of some of my favorite alums (mainly I'm excited about this so I can finally feel deserving of my Alumni mug.)

It's finally here.

Today I woke up to blue skies, the strange, unharried silence of my usually chipper alarm clock (My alarm clock is a morning person of the most annoying variety. The kind that is persistent, and sings.) and french pressed coffee. This can logically mean one thing. Happy days are here again. It is finally Spring.

Already I can feel the petals of my soul unfurling and my senses rediscovering what it is to be alive. The sky is once again an appropriate color. There are flowers starting to grace our midsts. Moods and temperaments are slowly but surely inching their ways up and out of the deep dark pit of winter despair. All is as it should be.

Despite winter quarter causing the appearance of a pitiful and possibly unbalanced state of being (brought on primarily because of the cold and a semi-translucent shade of specter-gray is my current skin tone), it was in all reality a rather cheerful collection of weeks. It was all about the creative and the introspective this quarter. I had a play writing class (I based my main characters on my parents - my dad has enough lines in his usual repertoire to supply an entire season of comedic theatrical productions, musical and otherwise - grandparents and of course Stephen Rickard) and a costume design class during which I learned that in order to successfully design a children's play, one must go big or go home. It was touch and go for a week or so mid-quarter but the former prevailed and I've never had a more fun and creatively satisfying class. I also had my English Capstone and a physics class that rocked my world. Iremembered why I wanted to be an architect for so many years - but then also why I changed my mind. Then also how it's cool that I can do physics despite my changed mind. College is kind of a great that way. Did you know that every color we see is because of light photons that only come in red, blue and green? They do the whole mix and match thing to trick us into seeing every thing else - yellow is 50% green and 50% red in real life. Also that it is almost impossible for men to stand up straight against a wall and pick up a chair but it's the easiest thing for a well endowed woman. Wudduuuup.

But now it's all in the past. The present means nothing but lounging in the sun filtering through my windows, sitting on the porch with tea and my girls, sleeping in and playing with my nanny kids at the park. Also spending time with my boy who survived the earthquake.

We celebrated the happier of the two equinoxes (equinoxi? just plain equinox?) by going down to Port Orchard to welcome Markus's brother Calvin home (also from Japan, also an earthquake survivor). Deciding that three plus arms, although practical, would be more undesirable than not, the Bulthuis's decided to get Calvin out of the danger zone and back home for a little while.

I always love my time with this family, and this time I got spend time with the Lynden and Japanese branches - including, of course, Ms. Ada and Ruby Jean.

We took Ada to the beach and learned how to throw rocks (Ada and I have about same level of rock skipping profiency - she just looks better doing it). I learned the beauty of mushrooms in food related things and how to correctly cut strawberries according to what one is cutting them for. Also, if you somehow failed to catch the phenomenon of the supermoon (for shame), keep in mind for 2022 that a. the biggest moon in 20 years is not to be missed because b. if nothing else, it really does offer ample opportunity for romantically lit strolls to sea-side bluffs and suchlike, if you're into that sort of thing. I freely confess I am.

I feel like I've gone on long enough for one day...I'm going to go bake pie.