shokufeh is…home

Today was the first day of our Baha’i National Convention, the weekend when we elect our national administrative body. (For those of you that don’t know, Hawaii is treated as a separate entity from the Mainland US in the Baha’i world.) I felt lucky to be there as a delegate. I love it when our events here really reflect the culture, rather than fitting the mold of mainland culture. We started with a visit to the gravesite of Martha Root and then went to the National Center for the official opening which was led by a Hawaiian chant. I think that, whenever the time comes and we leave here, I will miss the sound of Hawaiian chanting – the inflection is so unique. The Center also reflected our presence in the Pacific, with fresh leaves everywhere, some of them woven into archways.

We’re also blessed with the presence of our liason Counsellor, Robin White of New Zealand (remember, we fall into the Australasian region in that sphere of things). Last weekend, she met with all of Auxiliaries, as well as the Local Spiritual Assemblies of this island. We all got really jazzed about the news that in the next month we will be launching our first intensive program of growth as we move closer to becoming an “A” cluster. Yeah, I know that last part probably made no sense to those of you who aren’t Baha’is, but I still wanted to document it for myself.

Tonight, we had a presentation at the YWCA, in its lovely courtyard – dance, music…. One of the most interesting things to me was when a latin music band was playing and about 15 people got up to dance: all of them were women. Except for one guy, who was dancing with his daughter in his arms. Are women less inhibited?

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Dear Papaya,
I love you! How could I ever have thought you smelled/tasted a little like vomit?
Your fan,
shokufeh

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Embarassing but true – I easily tire of eating. It’s rare for me to finish a sandwich, since I usually hit a point at which the pleasure of eating the sandwich no longer outweighs the bother of eating it. I like the different tastes and textures of foods. But something has to be really good for me to eat a lot of it. And I usually have to be at least mildly hungry to bother with the process of picking up a utensil (or two) and moving food to my mouth. Partway through a meal, it’s not extraordinary for me to just stop. Not because I’m full, but because I’m just done with the process of eating.
This is not very convenient while pregnant. I need to get my act together before I either 1) hurl from the nausea because I waited too long between meals or 2) get carted away by Child Services.

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Because I spend far too much time examining the lives of the rich and famous, I have been pondering the engagement of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner. With his last fiance named Jen, the entity containing Ben was dubbed Bennifer. But it seems a little tacky to for the media to use that name again, even if he is again engaged to a woman named Jennifer. I propose they be called Jenjamin.

And since we’re on the topic of Jenjamin, I think it interesting that the new movie Monster-in-Law stars their respective exes – Michael Vartan and Jennifer Lopez.

Does anyone else get distracted by how strange it must be for Michael Vartan and Jennifer Garner to act like they have a romantic relationship on Alias, but to have once had but no longer have one in real life?

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I like to picture that we are all connected to one another by billions of threads – they’re light and thin, like gossamer. We don’t always notice them, but they’re there, waiting to be tugged upon or woven together.
Please tug on the threads connecting you to Giao and her bean and keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

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The offending pants of yesterday (I even had to walk home with them unbuttoned!) have been abandoned for the next 6.5+ months. Today, I donned the wonder that is maternity wear (ware?). I am really pleased with my new pants - the panel is so obvious, people overlook that they’re maternity pants. None of that, “I know I’m a slightly different color and texture from the rest of the pants, but just ignore me.” Instead, it’s a “Yoo hoo! Look at me, I’m a nice stretchy panel.” So people see it, but their brains don’t register what it is.

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You might think, when you put on your pants in the morning, that they fit okay. That maybe you can wear them for another week. That might be true, if your job involves standing all day. But if you’re sitting at a desk, the pants start to feel a little tighter. So much so that, after eating lunch, you feel downright uncomfortable. So my tip is of two parts:
1) If you’re a little on the fence about your pants, sit down for a few minutes before leaving home and see how they feel then. If possible, do this after eating.
2) If you’ve neglected to follow the advice in part one, make sure you have a blanket, or other appropriate item, to drape over yourself to hide the fact that you’ve unbuttoned (and unzipped, but just a little) your pants after lunch. You’ll thank me.

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Last night, we had TLT sandwiches for dinner – tempeh (Fakin’ Bacon strips), lettuce, tomato, avocado, cheese, red onion, and mayonnaise, on multigrain bread. Mmm, mmm, good. Not only was it easy and tasty, it took me back to the summers of 12 to 13 years ago, when the TLT was always the answer to my need for, yet almost-aversion to, food, before a drug problem came between me and my favorite deli for TLT sandwiches.

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I’m not a big fan of pomp and circumstance or empty ritual, but I really like this idea of the Conclave of Cardinals using smoke to announce that a pope has been elected:

At the end of each morning and afternoon session, the ballots from that session will be burned and chemicals added to provide color.

If a pope has been chosen — which requires a two-thirds majority — the smoke will be white. If not, it will be black.

It sounds dignified and subtle, yet open for all to see. Kind of, “Don’t bother us until you see the white smoke. Once you see the white smoke, we’re ready to talk.”

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We received a surpise package yesterday. Sam’s brother and his wife and almost-one-year-old daughter rock! Presents for me, carrying our future bundle of joy, and a little something for the bundle of joy. His or her first gift! A cloth book with a different bug on each page, and different textures to enjoy. And my first maternity clothes! And they’re cute. I’ve been hesitant to make that jump, while recognizing that I’ve probably got only a few more weeks in my regular clothes. They’re getting snug, I tell you. But with such cuteness available to me, I’m ready to make the transition, I think.

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