A summary of winter break

I finished packing my suitcase of sweaters and jeans and unmentionables, a big brown paper bag of books that I've either purchased from used bookstores during this break or swiped off my dad's bookshelf, and my backpack with odds and ends like my cell phone charger and new pair of green ear buds. 

So ends my last winter break of college. 

It was a really good one, too--though it was the first one spent completely in the US without the nightly mugs of champurrado, which is this delicious hot chocolate made with masa that has an edgier flavor than its American counterpart.   Truth be told, there were these random slivers of nostalgia that interrupted the general cheeriness of the holidays, because eating cups of buttered, chili-sprinkled corn while admiring the nativity scene at the Cathedral of Chihuahua as sweet and crispy gorditas are cooking on outdoor griddles really can't compare to any other Christmas tradition, at least for me. 

But as much as I pretend that it's super cheesy whenever my dad insists that home to him is wherever my mom is, it's true: family is home.  Playing Monopoly with my brothers and remembering once again to never, ever think that the green properties will yield more profit than the light blue ones; exploring windy streets lined with quaint shops before my mom and I decide to order random things from a Chinese take-out menu for dinner; chuckling over how fatherly my littlest brother looks as he dresses his dog in fleece baby clothes because of the frosty-cold weather; all of us bundling up in multiple layers in order to satisfy a 9 PM craving for McDonald's soft-serve ice cream cones--these all made for some good memories that I will cherish for a very long time.  This isn't to say that winter break was perfect.  There was some angsty teenage tension in the air, which I briefly alluded to in this post.  And Sadie the dog was captured by the pound one afternoon; my mom freaked out and made us all bunch up in the back seat while she frantically zoomed all over the neighborhood before realizing that that coy little dog ditched us for what was planned to be a bold, daring adventure.  Two phone calls and forty-five dollars later, Sadie was given a warm bath, dressed in her fleece things, and once again claimed her spot as my parents' "favorite daughter." I bet she's soooo happy that I'm leaving tomorrow.

A pop-tart kinda day

I've been home for a couple of days, feeling a little under the weather, but still managing to enjoy morning runs with my parents, yummy salads for breakfast, little grocery trips here and there, a nice Sunday service in Philly, another visit to that pho place I mentioned the other day, reading six or seven books at once, washing dishes with my mom, making cheesy spice cornbread muffins and lentil soup, and other small things that I'll surely miss when school starts again, like eating a pop-tart for lunch. 

I rang in my birthday at the Hillsong United concert with my friends and 40,000 other people as we sang worship songs together.  Since it's during winter break and usually celebrated with family in Mexico, I kinda wondered what it would be like to be with tons of people on my birthday, but it never really went past a mild curiosity because I knew that all the attention would make me feel really uncomfy.  So this was perfect. 

Hello, 2012

Between Christmas and New Years Day, 

1) I got to spend some time with eighth grade girls at a middle school retreat.  During small group time, the girls were chatty enough, but it was during the really unstructured moments of the day-- like when we were watching people play volleyball or when we had some time to brush our tangled hair--that they seemed to be the most willing to share their lives with me.  At first, I assumed that these middle schoolers from NOVA came from relatively privileged environments (and that's the case for many of them), but there is definitely some very real and inescapable hurt that some of these girls experience, masked by light chitter-chatter about boys and pillow pets and being a Bielieber.  

2) I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain.  I didn't expect a story narrated by a dog to be life-changing...but I did find myself at a dog park the next day (and petted some pugs with my shoe), so maybe the book did something for me in a teensy little way.  

3) My aunt saw the haircut I got and said something about my head resembling a mushroom.  Which is how haircut #2 happened.  

4) Considering how the next four days will be spent with fifteen other people in a fifteen passenger van, then with forty thousand people in a really big dome, I thought I'd spend New Year's Eve with my grandma.  I helped her with random tasks in the kitchen, and we sampled the dduk gook she was preparing for today.  She told me stories about when she was a little girl and gave her opinion on lots of things.  I then decided to watch this really interesting documentary on ballet:

I was kinda curious what it would be like to spend New Year's Eve in a low-key way, without the roar of crowds or going to a church service, but I guess I'll find out another year, because I ended up spending my first American NYE in ten years with lots of good people and hot soup and interesting conversations about how changes can realistically be made in this world, ones that I can imagine us remembering ten years from now, and thinking, "that was when we were young and hopeful and burdened by things that matter." And after thinking that thought, I hope we can trace how conversations like these shaped selfless conviction throughout our twenties and thirties instead of wondering where it all went.  I really hope that.

My aunt is beckoning me to come downstairs

Me and me

Kelsey and I found a stash of Berenstain Bear books underneath my brother's bed, so we read one of them instead of going to sleep.


Me (reading to her): "Humph!" said Papa grumpily.  "Farmer Ben's not such a much." " 'Not such a much' ?" said Mama.  "Why, Ben is the finest farmer in Bear country--and besides, he's one of your best friends."  Best friends! Just like me and--

Kelsey: me

me and me : ]