mawage *

While enjoying a contemplative conversation over pints with a friend, I was reminded of two wonderful quotes - both of which are written down in a dank, dark journal of mine somewhere and should be allowed to play online.

Love is a wonderfully labyrinthine thing and, in the words of St. Paul, "I don't pretend to understand it at all", but I do know that older, wiser contemplators have gone before me. Their words, like handprints cast in concrete, show me that there is much more to learn and much more room to grow.

"Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes; in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, ore even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to."
- J.R.R. Tolkien

"We want our marriage to fulfill all of our emotional and physical needs; we ask our partner to do what an entire village once did; and to desire nothing or no one else while doing it."
- Esther Perel

- - - - -

* "Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday. Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam...and wuv, twoo wuv, wiw fowow you foweva... so tweasure your wuv..."
- The Impressive Clergyman, The Princess Bride

oenophilicious party

I discovered a new word:

oenophile
oe·no·phile (plural: oe·no·philes)
noun
Definition: connoisseur or lover of wines: a lover of or expert on wine
[Mid-20th century. French "oeno-" Greek "oinos", "wine"]

How I haven't known about this word prior to now astounds me.

On that note, my lovely roommate, Nicole, and I will be hosting a housewarming soirée at our new apartment. If you are friends of ours feel free to contact us for details. If you're thinking to yourself, "I don't know Sarah or Nicole's contact information as I only visit this blog to stalk..." then you're out of luck, sweetheart.

That means you, Anonymous.

ghost stories

This is a post I originally began about a month ago, then under the working title "rennies", referring to Ericka and Andrew pictured above, respectively. Rennie-Hunter History 101: I first met Andrew at an awkward Hallowe'en "dance" at Tyndale (imagine a grade eight dance in a grade school gym...then take out the prepubescent kids and replace them with seminary students) and we e-corresponded while he traveled to India and I to Korea. He later met and wed the lovely Ericka who has become not only my downtown fortnightly lunch date but an excellent source of godly wisdom, smart-ass commentary and easy girly-camaraderie. I didn't have much to say about them after I ranted about how cool they were, but now I do.

You see, the Rennies have given birth to their second. Event, that is. They two are founding members of an uber-relevant project called Empire Remixed. Click on the link to hear what they're about in their own words (much more concise than I am apt to write), which include:

One might claim that we need to tear the walls down. Another might claim that we have no business acting on such a grand scale. And yet, in the midst of this all, in the midst of our culture, we hear a new song. A new sound.

The group was behind another tremendous event, this one self-titled, that I was privileged to attend last year where N.T. Wright (or "The Bish" as he was referred to all evening) spoke to a packed out club (one-time Baptist church, named, of all things, Revival) in Little Italy. The subject matter, or "conversation" as you'll hear it commonly called, was, and still is, Christian relevancy and integrity in a world system overwrought with capitalism, consumerism and individualism. I was hooked.

Last night, the Empire struck again with a brilliant event called "Ghost Stories :: Local Pain, Local Hope" hosted in the heart of Parkdale in a pretty presby church auditorium. Among the throng were Phyllis Novak (founder and director of Sketch!), musician Sam Sunder Singh and author of The Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne of The Simple Way community in Philadelphia.

I'm left with images and words that I can not shake from the corners of my mind... What am I doing to help the poor in my community? Am I being Jesus where I can? How comfortable have I become in my 9-to-5 job, my cosy apartment, my familiar church family? Am I still dancing upon injustice?

“Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you,” Jeremiah relates, “for in its welfare, you will have your welfare.”
(Jer 29.7)

mars and venus

Ooh, I found some fun articles.

For women, including:

• Necessities
  Men and women have different ideas about necessities.
• Superman Syndrome
  How to let your man feel like a hero.
• The Man Behind the Curtain
  In the companion article to How to Read a Woman, Fred describes in detail the eight categories of men.

And for men, including:

• How to Read a Woman
  The answers all men have been waiting for.
• What Women Want
  Fred has discovered the seven things women want!
• If
  Rudyard Kipling teaches us how to be men.
  

tuesdays

Tout doux, tout doux, tout doucement
Toujours, tout doux, tout doucement
Comme ça
La vie c'est épatant

Tout doux, tout doux, tout doucement
Toujours, tout doux, tout doucement
Comme ça
La vie je la comprends

N'allez jamais trop vite
Vous avez tout le temps
Attention à la dynamite
Prenez garde aux volcans
A ces jeunes énervés
Qui ne savent pas aller

Tout doux, tout doux, tout doucement
Toujours, tout doux, tout doucement
Comme ça
En flânant gentiment

N'allez jamais trop vite
En aimant simplement
Pour avoir de la réussite
Soyez très très prudent
L'amour alors viendra
Se blottir dans vos bras

Tout doux, tout doux, tout doucement
Toujours, tout doux, tout doucement
Comme ça
En flânant gentiment
En souriant gentiment
En flânant gentiment
Tout doucement

Feist, Tout Doucement
(for you unilinguals)

madness in the spring

Spring reminds me of paintings by Max Liebermann, one of my favourite artists.

Spring fever officially hit yesterday with an afternoon dedicated to shenanigans, tomfoolery and monkeyshines. We strolled around the BWV for a spell, watched Shrek 3, ate Chinese downtown and wound up shooting each other with roman candles in a park until the cops broke up the festivities.

Not bad for turning 27 in eleven days.

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King.
- Emily Dickinson

get out of my facebook

The Boss and I were attempting to track down the Canadian managing director of a rather large company, which will remain nameless. For two days we used the tools of canada411.com, yellowpages.ca, toronto.com, and Google, to no avail. After countless attempts (including automated telephone service, outsourced help desks and American headquarters who didn't know where Canada was) we decided that this particular company prefers being nebulous and de-centralized.

Then, The Boss: "I just found him. On Facebook."

Indeed, the acclaimed managing director has a Facebook page complete with a profile picture of him being hugged by a life-sized character of Cookie Monster.

Under orders from The Boss, I sent sent the managing director a message requesting his mailing address.
He wrote a note back with a mailing address.
I thanked him and wished him a happy long weekend.
Now we're Facebook friends.