Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Disenchanted
In an effort to get my daughter to read SOMETHING besides Harry Potter, I pulled Gail Carson Levine's Newberry award winner Ella Enchanted off my 8-year-old's shelf the other day. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big Potter fan myself, but when my daughter began reading the series for the FOURTH TIME I decided to step in to protect the sanity of the rest of the household. My daughter was a bit resistant at first, but she soon settled in to this clever take on the Cinderella story.
I was delighted. Ella, who is cursed by a fairy at birth with the "gift" of obedience, is smart, multilingual, and never needs to be rescued. Although bound by the curse, she uses her wits to get around it whenever she can, and her kindness, intelligence and sense of fun are what attract others, not her beauty. In fact, she and the prince strike up a friendship based on their mutual love of sliding down bannisters rather than dancing at balls. My favorite part of the book involves Ella, who has been captured by ogres, speaking to these people-eating monsters in ogre-ese and using their own gifts of persuation to talk them out of eating her. When the prince and his knights happen along and witness this, they are all impressed. In the end, (skip this next if you plan on reading the book!) she does indeed marry the prince, but theirs is an equal partnership based on mutual respect -- a model that's pretty rare in these kinds of stories.
Finally, I thought, an empowering fairy tale! My daughter, tom boy that she is, loved the fact that "this princess can have fun!" Grateful to Gail Carson Levine for creating such a brave, smart heroine, and excited after reading a favorable New York Times review, I put the movie version of Ella Enchanted at the top of my Netflix queue. We watched it for our most recent Family Movie Night and -- whoa. Boy was I unimpressed.
To be frank, I was distraught. This movie reverted in every way to the traditional fairy tales that have been thrown at my daughter since birth. Gone is the clever girl who runs away from finishing school, speaks many languages and uses her brain to get out of difficult situations. Instead, we get a pretty, lanky girl caught in a web of unfortunate situations and finally saved and married by, yes, the prince. What's worse, my daughter LIKED IT.
To be fair, the movie Ella is not AWFUL. She doesn't yearn to marry the prince or chase him around like her stepsisters do. But why, I want to ask Miramax, why did you have to take so much away from the heroine to make her appealing to a mass audience? Did you fear an intelligent, independent girl wouldn't seem prince-worthy? Or worse, would she bring to mind -- gasp! -- Hillary Clinton?
There are many movies I've loved as much as (Narnia) or almost as much as (Harry Potter) the books they were based on. Ella Enchanted is not one of them.
I was delighted. Ella, who is cursed by a fairy at birth with the "gift" of obedience, is smart, multilingual, and never needs to be rescued. Although bound by the curse, she uses her wits to get around it whenever she can, and her kindness, intelligence and sense of fun are what attract others, not her beauty. In fact, she and the prince strike up a friendship based on their mutual love of sliding down bannisters rather than dancing at balls. My favorite part of the book involves Ella, who has been captured by ogres, speaking to these people-eating monsters in ogre-ese and using their own gifts of persuation to talk them out of eating her. When the prince and his knights happen along and witness this, they are all impressed. In the end, (skip this next if you plan on reading the book!) she does indeed marry the prince, but theirs is an equal partnership based on mutual respect -- a model that's pretty rare in these kinds of stories.
Finally, I thought, an empowering fairy tale! My daughter, tom boy that she is, loved the fact that "this princess can have fun!" Grateful to Gail Carson Levine for creating such a brave, smart heroine, and excited after reading a favorable New York Times review, I put the movie version of Ella Enchanted at the top of my Netflix queue. We watched it for our most recent Family Movie Night and -- whoa. Boy was I unimpressed.
To be frank, I was distraught. This movie reverted in every way to the traditional fairy tales that have been thrown at my daughter since birth. Gone is the clever girl who runs away from finishing school, speaks many languages and uses her brain to get out of difficult situations. Instead, we get a pretty, lanky girl caught in a web of unfortunate situations and finally saved and married by, yes, the prince. What's worse, my daughter LIKED IT.
To be fair, the movie Ella is not AWFUL. She doesn't yearn to marry the prince or chase him around like her stepsisters do. But why, I want to ask Miramax, why did you have to take so much away from the heroine to make her appealing to a mass audience? Did you fear an intelligent, independent girl wouldn't seem prince-worthy? Or worse, would she bring to mind -- gasp! -- Hillary Clinton?
There are many movies I've loved as much as (Narnia) or almost as much as (Harry Potter) the books they were based on. Ella Enchanted is not one of them.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Cowboy in chief
If you're less than happy with our Commander-in-Chief and you liked the Golden Globe favorite Brokeback Mountain, you'll love the sequel... Check out the preview poster at Curmudgeonly Crab. ;)
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Ninety Six
My grandmother turns 96 today.
At least we THINK so. She was never very candid about her age, or a lot of other things.
Like how exactly she got that tattoo on her thigh.
We know this: Grandma grew up in Washington, D.C. Her father worked for the Treasury Dept., and she was very proud of him. She didn't like her mother all that much, or her brother, for that matter. She was truly a Daddy's Girl.
She married a Merchant Marine who gave her three children and then left her to raise them alone when my mother, the middle child, was 13. Exactly why he left is unclear. He may have been an alcoholic, he may have had gambling debts. Whatever the reason, my mother never saw him again. He died of a heart attack somewhere on the West Coast a short time later. My grandmother did not attend the funeral.
To support herself and her children, she started a school on the first floor of her suburban D.C. home. Somehow, the school was successful enough to allow her to send her children to good private schools. This must have taken all of her strength, because although she worked hard to support and educate her children, she did not find the energy to love them. I think the dysfunction must have started in her own family. She only recently told us of coming home one day when she was twenty or twenty one and finding her beloved father dead. He had committed suicide, and she hadn't told anyone in our family because she didn't want them to think that was the right thing to do.
My grandmother has lived a comfortable life blemished time after time by disappointment. Her only son, a successful banker, went to jail for fraud. Her eldest daughter committed suicide. Her two living children suffer from autoimmune diseases.
She had hoped to live out her life in her own home. But after turning 90, she started bit by bit to lose the independence she valued so dearly. First we had to ask her not to drive anymore. Then we told her she needed someone at the house with her. But when the ceiling started falling in and she refused to let her children fix it, we knew it was time for her to be in a safe place. She did not want to live with her children, so we found a nice place in the mountains with caregivers who truly love working in geriatrics.
At first we made sure that she had a visitor every weekend. But lately she has lost track of the time and, more and more often, of us too. Sometimes I think she knows who I am, but then she loses me. I wish I could have one long, truthful conversation with her before she dies, or before she sinks irrevocably into her thoughts. I'd love to be able to ask her all of my questions: Why did my grandfather leave? What was he like? Did you love him? What are you most proud of? What do you regret? And the one I wonder about the most, What is the story of the tattoo?
But maybe, really truly, I don't want to know. Maybe the mysteries my grandmother will leave may actually be more tangible, more lasting, than the truths she would offer in their place.
I guess they'll have to be.
Happy Birthday, Gram.
At least we THINK so. She was never very candid about her age, or a lot of other things.
Like how exactly she got that tattoo on her thigh.
We know this: Grandma grew up in Washington, D.C. Her father worked for the Treasury Dept., and she was very proud of him. She didn't like her mother all that much, or her brother, for that matter. She was truly a Daddy's Girl.
She married a Merchant Marine who gave her three children and then left her to raise them alone when my mother, the middle child, was 13. Exactly why he left is unclear. He may have been an alcoholic, he may have had gambling debts. Whatever the reason, my mother never saw him again. He died of a heart attack somewhere on the West Coast a short time later. My grandmother did not attend the funeral.
To support herself and her children, she started a school on the first floor of her suburban D.C. home. Somehow, the school was successful enough to allow her to send her children to good private schools. This must have taken all of her strength, because although she worked hard to support and educate her children, she did not find the energy to love them. I think the dysfunction must have started in her own family. She only recently told us of coming home one day when she was twenty or twenty one and finding her beloved father dead. He had committed suicide, and she hadn't told anyone in our family because she didn't want them to think that was the right thing to do.
My grandmother has lived a comfortable life blemished time after time by disappointment. Her only son, a successful banker, went to jail for fraud. Her eldest daughter committed suicide. Her two living children suffer from autoimmune diseases.
She had hoped to live out her life in her own home. But after turning 90, she started bit by bit to lose the independence she valued so dearly. First we had to ask her not to drive anymore. Then we told her she needed someone at the house with her. But when the ceiling started falling in and she refused to let her children fix it, we knew it was time for her to be in a safe place. She did not want to live with her children, so we found a nice place in the mountains with caregivers who truly love working in geriatrics.
At first we made sure that she had a visitor every weekend. But lately she has lost track of the time and, more and more often, of us too. Sometimes I think she knows who I am, but then she loses me. I wish I could have one long, truthful conversation with her before she dies, or before she sinks irrevocably into her thoughts. I'd love to be able to ask her all of my questions: Why did my grandfather leave? What was he like? Did you love him? What are you most proud of? What do you regret? And the one I wonder about the most, What is the story of the tattoo?
But maybe, really truly, I don't want to know. Maybe the mysteries my grandmother will leave may actually be more tangible, more lasting, than the truths she would offer in their place.
I guess they'll have to be.
Happy Birthday, Gram.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Kids and Food
I have a great friend, I'll call her Ella, who takes pride in preparing separate meals for each member of her family. Ella is an amazing cook by any standard, and the "grownup" fare she prepares would rival that of the finest restaurant. Her children, though, are fed a variety of chicken nuggets, pasta with sauce on the side, and grilled cheese sandwiches. I have to admit that it horrifies me!
I am not one of those mothers who prepares multiple meals to satisfy individual appetites. In other words, if the kids don't like what we're having, they don't have to eat it. Don't get me wrong, my kids don't starve. I know what they like, and I try to include something they'll eat at each meal. But I don't want to fall into the trap of preparing something different for each member of the family. It seems too... decadent.
I base my philosophy of family feeding on a strangely-named but great book on the topic: Ellen Satter's Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Taste. Her basic premise, as I remember it, is that as the parent it is your job to put healthy and appetizing food on the table. It is up to your child to choose whether and how much to eat.
In practice this can sometimes be difficult -- I'm tempted more nights than not to offer my two-year-old something I KNOW she'll eat when she pushes away her meal untouched. But I usually keep myself from offering, hoping that she will learn to try new things. My 8-year-old has a pretty good appetite and eats just about everything (including meat!). Sometimes I take total credit, certain that my philosophy on food has helped her to become such a good eater. There's no way for me to know, though, whether it's nature or nurture-- I acknowledge the possibility that she was just born a good eater. I can already see that my 2-year-old has much more of a sweet tooth, so she may prove more of a challenge. I'm trying to keep Satter's advice close at hand.
A nutritionist, Satter provides knowledgeable advice from breastfeeding forward. One suggestion I followed was not to grind up grownup food to make baby food -- if you can't feed it to a healthy baby without sticking it in a blender, the baby's probably too young to be eating it in the first place. Satter is big into letting babies experience the joy of playing with food and connecting that to learning to feed themselves. She helps set up healthy feelings about food and prevent power struggles that can turn into dangerous eating disorders later in life.
What would she say about Super Moms like my friend Ella who lovingly prepare several meals a night to please each family member?
"Children learn to eat a variety of foods and take responsibility for their own eating when they are regularly offered a variety of nutritious food in a no-pressure environment. No pressure means getting a meal on the table and eating with a child rather than feeding her. Generating food especially for a child makes pressure an unavoidable part of the equation." (p. 3, italics are hers).
What could Ella do with the time she would save by only preparing one meal a night? Hmmmm... maybe have friends over for dinner more often?
I am not one of those mothers who prepares multiple meals to satisfy individual appetites. In other words, if the kids don't like what we're having, they don't have to eat it. Don't get me wrong, my kids don't starve. I know what they like, and I try to include something they'll eat at each meal. But I don't want to fall into the trap of preparing something different for each member of the family. It seems too... decadent.
I base my philosophy of family feeding on a strangely-named but great book on the topic: Ellen Satter's Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Taste. Her basic premise, as I remember it, is that as the parent it is your job to put healthy and appetizing food on the table. It is up to your child to choose whether and how much to eat.
In practice this can sometimes be difficult -- I'm tempted more nights than not to offer my two-year-old something I KNOW she'll eat when she pushes away her meal untouched. But I usually keep myself from offering, hoping that she will learn to try new things. My 8-year-old has a pretty good appetite and eats just about everything (including meat!). Sometimes I take total credit, certain that my philosophy on food has helped her to become such a good eater. There's no way for me to know, though, whether it's nature or nurture-- I acknowledge the possibility that she was just born a good eater. I can already see that my 2-year-old has much more of a sweet tooth, so she may prove more of a challenge. I'm trying to keep Satter's advice close at hand.
A nutritionist, Satter provides knowledgeable advice from breastfeeding forward. One suggestion I followed was not to grind up grownup food to make baby food -- if you can't feed it to a healthy baby without sticking it in a blender, the baby's probably too young to be eating it in the first place. Satter is big into letting babies experience the joy of playing with food and connecting that to learning to feed themselves. She helps set up healthy feelings about food and prevent power struggles that can turn into dangerous eating disorders later in life.
What would she say about Super Moms like my friend Ella who lovingly prepare several meals a night to please each family member?
"Children learn to eat a variety of foods and take responsibility for their own eating when they are regularly offered a variety of nutritious food in a no-pressure environment. No pressure means getting a meal on the table and eating with a child rather than feeding her. Generating food especially for a child makes pressure an unavoidable part of the equation." (p. 3, italics are hers).
What could Ella do with the time she would save by only preparing one meal a night? Hmmmm... maybe have friends over for dinner more often?
Bargains
I am not an efficient shopper. I like a bargain, and I have a deeply-ingrained need to research each purchase fully, so whether it's groceries or a new countertop, it takes me FOREVER to decide on a purchase. What's worse, at least from my husband's perspective, is that the purchase, no matter how small, becomes my major preoccupation and the topic of endless discussion. What's more, the time invested in the process makes me feel CERTAIN that I've made the best purchase possible, and I am always eager, and actually feel a duty (much to my friends' chagrin) to share my hard-earned knowledge whenever possible.
My latest quarry is a food processor. I got two new cookbooks for Christmas, The Essential Eating Well Cookbook and The Eating Well Healthy in a Hurry Cookbook, both compilations from my favorite food magazine, Eating Well. As part of my New Year's Resolution mentioned below, I've been trying to cook more often, and I need quick, easy, healthful, vegetarian meals that are low in refined carbs -- not easy to come by. Eating Well and, occasionally, Cooking Light, have proven to be my best bets. "What?" you wonder -- "A vegetarian who doesn't sleep with one of the Moosewood cookbooks under her pillow?" Well, I do own several of the Moosewood cookbooks (The New Moosewood Cookbook , The Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home, The Enchanted Broccoli Forest), and I especially love their comfort foods, but my husband often finds them to be too bland, and my obsession with "good" carbs limits the options. Anyway, whatever the source of the recipe, I find myself chopping, chopping, chopping vegetables with not-so-good knives and even worse technique. So I spend much more time cooking than I need to. And I'm hoping that a food processor (yes, we have returned to the primary topic!) will help me cut my cooking time.
After doing some (ok, LOTS) of research, I've decided that the Cuisinart DLC-5, a basic 7-cup processor with a couple of blades, is for me. And I've found that I can get it from anywhere from $79.99 to $139.99, depending on where I look. The bargain shopper in me purrrrrrrrrs! I can actually get this food processor for almost HALF of what someone else will pay for it!! (I'm sorry to show this sad, sad side of myself). So, I order it for $79.99 (and free shipping!) from Amazon although it is backordered because the satisfaction of the bargain will ease the pain of the chopping that will take place during the month or two before it's shipped.
All of this takes place while I should be grading papers. Or planning classes. Or planning menus.
But what a bargain!
My latest quarry is a food processor. I got two new cookbooks for Christmas, The Essential Eating Well Cookbook and The Eating Well Healthy in a Hurry Cookbook, both compilations from my favorite food magazine, Eating Well. As part of my New Year's Resolution mentioned below, I've been trying to cook more often, and I need quick, easy, healthful, vegetarian meals that are low in refined carbs -- not easy to come by. Eating Well and, occasionally, Cooking Light, have proven to be my best bets. "What?" you wonder -- "A vegetarian who doesn't sleep with one of the Moosewood cookbooks under her pillow?" Well, I do own several of the Moosewood cookbooks (The New Moosewood Cookbook , The Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home, The Enchanted Broccoli Forest), and I especially love their comfort foods, but my husband often finds them to be too bland, and my obsession with "good" carbs limits the options. Anyway, whatever the source of the recipe, I find myself chopping, chopping, chopping vegetables with not-so-good knives and even worse technique. So I spend much more time cooking than I need to. And I'm hoping that a food processor (yes, we have returned to the primary topic!) will help me cut my cooking time.
After doing some (ok, LOTS) of research, I've decided that the Cuisinart DLC-5, a basic 7-cup processor with a couple of blades, is for me. And I've found that I can get it from anywhere from $79.99 to $139.99, depending on where I look. The bargain shopper in me purrrrrrrrrs! I can actually get this food processor for almost HALF of what someone else will pay for it!! (I'm sorry to show this sad, sad side of myself). So, I order it for $79.99 (and free shipping!) from Amazon although it is backordered because the satisfaction of the bargain will ease the pain of the chopping that will take place during the month or two before it's shipped.
All of this takes place while I should be grading papers. Or planning classes. Or planning menus.
But what a bargain!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Dinner
As part of my New Year's resolution to organize my meal-planning and reduce the amount I'm spending at the grocery store, I'm actually planning TOMORROW's dinner. Unfortunately I have no idea what I'm serving tonight, so I'm not sure how effective this strategy is. Nevertheless, here is chez Turner's Friday evening meal, from my favorite magazine, Eating Well:
Squash, Chickpea & Red Lentil Stew
3/4 cup dried chickpeas
2.5 lbs. kabocha or butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large onion, chopped
1 cup red lentils
4 cups vegetable broth
2 T. tomato paste
1 T. minced peeled fresh ginger
1.5 t. ground cumin
1 t. salt
1/4 t. saffron
1/4 t. freshly ground pepper
1/4 c. lime juice
1/2 c. chopped roasted unsalted peanuts
1/4 c. packed fresh cilantro leaves, chopped
1. Soak chickpeas in enough cold water to cover them by 2 inches for 6 hours or overnight. Drain when ready to use.
2. Combine the soaked chickpeas, squash, carrots, onion, lentils, broth, tomato paste, ginger, cumin, salt, saffron and pepper in a 6-qt. slow cooker.
3. Put on lid and cook on low until the chickpeas are tender and the lentils have begun to break down, 5 to 6 1/2 hours.
4. Stir in lime juice. Serve sprinkled with peanuts and cilantro.
I think I'm going to serve this with some cous-cous that my finicky 2-year-old will eat and maybe a green salad.
Next I've got to come up with dinner for a colleague whose wife just had a baby. I really need to have a "signature" dish that's easy to prepare so I don't have to rack my brain in these situations.
Squash, Chickpea & Red Lentil Stew
3/4 cup dried chickpeas
2.5 lbs. kabocha or butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch cubes
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large onion, chopped
1 cup red lentils
4 cups vegetable broth
2 T. tomato paste
1 T. minced peeled fresh ginger
1.5 t. ground cumin
1 t. salt
1/4 t. saffron
1/4 t. freshly ground pepper
1/4 c. lime juice
1/2 c. chopped roasted unsalted peanuts
1/4 c. packed fresh cilantro leaves, chopped
1. Soak chickpeas in enough cold water to cover them by 2 inches for 6 hours or overnight. Drain when ready to use.
2. Combine the soaked chickpeas, squash, carrots, onion, lentils, broth, tomato paste, ginger, cumin, salt, saffron and pepper in a 6-qt. slow cooker.
3. Put on lid and cook on low until the chickpeas are tender and the lentils have begun to break down, 5 to 6 1/2 hours.
4. Stir in lime juice. Serve sprinkled with peanuts and cilantro.
I think I'm going to serve this with some cous-cous that my finicky 2-year-old will eat and maybe a green salad.
Next I've got to come up with dinner for a colleague whose wife just had a baby. I really need to have a "signature" dish that's easy to prepare so I don't have to rack my brain in these situations.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Enjoy Every Minute
My nextdoor neighbor has lung cancer. She was diagnosed last April after complaining about back pain for a while. She went to her doctor, who prescribed muscle relaxants, as he had done before, and she insisted that she wouldn't leave his office until he gave her an MRI. Well, the doctor took one look at the MRI and put her in an ambulance to the Medical College of Virginia. Turns out she had lung cancer that had eaten into two vertebrae, which had to be immediately removed.
She's been through a lot in the past nine months -- back surgery, radiation, chemo. She lost her hair and lots of weight. After finishing her chemo regimen last month, her outlook was good. Her doctor was optimistic, and we all looked forward to watching her gain some weight and get more energy. That hasn't happened; in fact, she started feeling increasingly worse and noticed some lumps and pain in her ribcage. She went back down to Duke, where she gets her treatment, and got the news we'd all feared: There are more tumors.
She's not talking to us much right now. Each day when I get home from work, I look to see if her door is open (a sign she'd like visitors), but lately the door has stayed closed. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday, and we talked about several things, but she did not mention her condition, aside from the fact that she can't drive now. Her sister-in-law arrived yesterday to help with things around the house, because it's increasingly difficult for her to be home alone.
The worst part of this is that she has an 8-year-old daughter, born two weeks before my own daughter. She loves this child -- and her husband -- fiercely and is doing everything in her power to stay alive to be with them. But she's losing the battle.
It's hard for me not to personalize this. I can't imagine facing the possiblility of having to leave the people I love so much, to not watch my daughter grow up, to know she will lose her mother. It's a true nightmare, and it's taking place right nextdoor.
I'm trying to do the right things. I try to listen, to let her know I'm here for her. I join other neighbors in offering to bring meals. I'm trying to strengthen my relationship with her daughter so that I'll be able to help comfort her when the time comes. My own daughter knows that her friend's mother is sick, but she hasn't asked any questions yet about the future. I've broached the subject with her, but I'm waiting for her to ask the tough questions -- I don't want to force this on her before she's ready.
In the meantime, I'm doing a lot of thinking about life and death and justice and God. I've read (and will re-read) Annie Dillard's For the Time Being, which somehow helps me stop searching for the justice in awful things like this.
Mostly, I'm trying to use as a mantra my father's advice to all five of his children: Enjoy every minute. I know he's right. I know every minute is precious, and I know there is no guarantee we will get another. But it sure doesn't come naturally to me.
She's been through a lot in the past nine months -- back surgery, radiation, chemo. She lost her hair and lots of weight. After finishing her chemo regimen last month, her outlook was good. Her doctor was optimistic, and we all looked forward to watching her gain some weight and get more energy. That hasn't happened; in fact, she started feeling increasingly worse and noticed some lumps and pain in her ribcage. She went back down to Duke, where she gets her treatment, and got the news we'd all feared: There are more tumors.
She's not talking to us much right now. Each day when I get home from work, I look to see if her door is open (a sign she'd like visitors), but lately the door has stayed closed. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday, and we talked about several things, but she did not mention her condition, aside from the fact that she can't drive now. Her sister-in-law arrived yesterday to help with things around the house, because it's increasingly difficult for her to be home alone.
The worst part of this is that she has an 8-year-old daughter, born two weeks before my own daughter. She loves this child -- and her husband -- fiercely and is doing everything in her power to stay alive to be with them. But she's losing the battle.
It's hard for me not to personalize this. I can't imagine facing the possiblility of having to leave the people I love so much, to not watch my daughter grow up, to know she will lose her mother. It's a true nightmare, and it's taking place right nextdoor.
I'm trying to do the right things. I try to listen, to let her know I'm here for her. I join other neighbors in offering to bring meals. I'm trying to strengthen my relationship with her daughter so that I'll be able to help comfort her when the time comes. My own daughter knows that her friend's mother is sick, but she hasn't asked any questions yet about the future. I've broached the subject with her, but I'm waiting for her to ask the tough questions -- I don't want to force this on her before she's ready.
In the meantime, I'm doing a lot of thinking about life and death and justice and God. I've read (and will re-read) Annie Dillard's For the Time Being, which somehow helps me stop searching for the justice in awful things like this.
Mostly, I'm trying to use as a mantra my father's advice to all five of his children: Enjoy every minute. I know he's right. I know every minute is precious, and I know there is no guarantee we will get another. But it sure doesn't come naturally to me.
