An Urban Pizza Incident

It’s a beautiful weather day here in Chicago. As everyone knows, we get about two of those days per year, so I had to make the most of it. One of the things that contributes to the New DeLews' ‘uber-urban persona’ is the fact that we both work downtown, and we love that! Unfortunately our offices are on opposite sides of downtown, so we can’t meet up for lunch very easily. But in the past we’ve tried creative ways to meet up. One time I walked to his office (poor decision, as it was about a 30 minute walk), I’ve taken the bus to his office, he's taken a taxi to mine, we've both taken buses to meet up in the middle, etc… All that to say, when there’s a will, there’s a way, but it’s always a little rushed and stressful.

Well today I decided to try yet another creative method to see the Other DeLew. The Chicago Water Taxi! The mucky green Chicago River flows through downtown, and there’s a water taxi with a couple of strategic stops for $2! I took a perfect 5 minute walk to the river, hopped onto the boat, and 10 minutes later I was at Mark’s office! It was so refreshing.

Mark enjoyed some Chicago-style deep dish pizza for lunch today (for a work function), and he graciously offered to give me his leftovers. I’ll be eating dinner solo tonight because Mark is a big business man and has a big business dinner. I had asked him to bring me the pizza when I met up with him today. “Mark, please put the pizza in a bag so I can bring it home after work.” I believe those were my exact words on the phone. And dear Mark came downstairs with the bag of pizza in his hand. We took a walk, got some coffee and relished every moment together. And then I gave Mark a quick kiss and hopped on a bus back to work, bag of pizza in hand.

As I sat down on the bus, I casually looked into the bag of pizza for the first time. And here is what I discovered….

Ahh, the Other DeLew. He did exactly what I requested. Exactly. Love it. Love him. I cherish these moments. Hilarious and just plain wonderful.

That Naive Girl

This New DeLew has never been known as a fashion guru. Back in the olden days, pre-marriage, when I was a 'Young George', I was morally against 'cliche fashion' (as I would call it), because I strongly believed it communicated materialism and consumerism. At the end of freshman year of college, I donated over half my wardrobe because I decided to take a stand against materialism's hold on my life. And although that decision resulted in wearing the same black long-sleeve shirt every day of my college career, I truly believed that this was one of the ways I can be subversive in society. That is, until I needed to dress up for some event and I realized that I didn't have anything fancy. And let's be real here- my definition of fancy was (and kind of still is) 'anything that isn't cotton'. And in the end, I would bow to the god of materialism by raiding my roommate's closets. But anyway, I reflect on that time of my life with a sense of endearment. Part of me says 'what a naive girl', but the other part of me says 'where has that girl gone?'

This past weekend we were in Madison, Wisconsin for a wedding, and we had the chance to spend some time putt-putting around the little city. On Sunday morning we were sitting in an independent coffeeshop surrounded by college students who were working on papers amidst their facebook stalkings. The student next to me was wearing a 'Free Palestine' t-shirt while his girlfriend was using political theory to bash one of Sarah Palin's speeches. And for whatever reason, it brought me back. I was reminded of the numerous thought-provoking discussions that I had in coffeeshops that totally rocked my entire understanding of reality. I remembered that feeling of challenge and uncertainty that I experienced when I was discovering a new way to perceive the world, this society, and my life in the midst of it all. I remember those late nights that we would spend dreaming of ways to be subversive against mainstream society, to fight the system of injustice, and to be communities of peace. These are the visions that make my heart beat. They are conversations that feel raw, that make me feel more alive.

And I asked myself, when was the last time my understanding of reality was rocked? How often do I question the powers that be and seek ways to be subversive? Not just for the sake of being subversive, but because I believe in an alternative vision for this world- a world where people choose love over hate, community over self, and humility over pride. Have I just become another cog in the machine of society?

I refuse to believe that these thought-processes are only for certain stages of life. Yes college students may have the luxury of time to theorize about life and society, but now ideally, I may have the resources and ability to put some of those theories into practice. It may take a different form now, as I can't wear a black long sleeve shirt to work everyday. But that doesn't mean I should just fall into the routine of materialism and consume everything I can. It just might require a bit more nuance now. And however counter-intuitive it might seem, we must continue to live in the midst of complexity and be comfortable with challenge. Now is our time, whatever stage of life we are in, to challenge what we consider 'normal' and be open to alternative visions for how we ought to live in this world- however subversive they might be. It's not naive, it just might be the way we were meant to live.

Did someone say berries?

Let's play a word association game, shall we? When I say Scarecrow, you think Harvest. When I say Glass of Wine, you say Heaven. When I say Midwest, you say The No-Man's Land between California and New York City.... juuuuuuust kidding......... and lastly, when I say Fall is Around the Corner, you say Berry Pie. Right?
Although I'd like to think that I made a berry pie because my psyche is so attuned to the changing of seasons, in actuality I was sitting on the couch and realized that frozen berries could be used for something besides smoothies. And let me say, this epiphany has changed the New DeLews' lives forever. My sister (who is an incredible composer, gourmet cook, and mother of two with another on the way) has a 'healthy' recipe for an Amazing Berry Pie. Now to my dismay, I probably wouldn't consider this pie as healthy as, let's say, kale. But hands-down, I agree that it is Amazing. Ah-maze-ing. If you happen to be anywhere near The No-Man's Land between Calfornia and New York City within the next four months, you will most likely smell this berry pie as it bakes in my oven. We can't get enough of it.

Amazing Berry Pie
A couple notes: I tweaked the recipe a bit, because I don't do the top crust. I don't have the patience or a big enough food processor. So instead I make a sugary, cinnamony, oat-y topping that is amazing. Makes it more like a pie-cobbler fusion.

Preheat oven to 350

Crust:
1.5 c flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c butter (chilled)
1/4 c water

Process ingredients in a food processor until it becomes a big blob. Either roll out or pat out in the pie pan. (I don't own a rolling pin)

Filling/Topping:
5-6 c fresh or frozen berries (I used rasps and boysens, but definitely toss in blacks and huckles!)
1/2 c flour
1 c sugar
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 Tbs butter
1/2 c oats (any kind)

Combine sugar and cinnamon, then cut the butter into the mixture. Sprinkle 1/3 of mixture on the pie crust in the pan. Combine flour and berries. Pour berries into the pie pan. Add the oats into the remaining sugar, cinnamon, butter mixture. Pour on top of berries so that it's well-covered. Bake pie until brown and bubbly, (took my pie about 1 hour and 15 minutes). Let sit for 1-2 hours before serving. Enjoy!!

A Collage of Summer

The New DeLews are not a picture-taking couple. We like the idea of it, and sometimes we even bring our camera, but all too frequently the camera gets swallowed up by the deep mysterious creature known as my purse. (Why must my purse be so big?) But every once in awhile we (actually, the Other DeLew) manages to take a couple of pictures. In order to make up for all the lame posts that have been pictureless, I've decided to share a couple of our summer events through the medium of rather amateur photos. As summer is sadly coming to a close, here's a brief overview of some (not all, by any means!) of our summer happenings in Chicago.


Let's talk about my brief, yet passionate obsession with kale. Oh yes, my grand idea of making 'kale chips' was supposedly going to solve any desire to eat normal potato chips. These are the types of things I do when Mark is on business trips. Although he tried to feign excitement for the kale after returning from the airport, when he really just wanted a piece of meat, let's just say, I haven't made the kale chips since.


Family visits! We had a wonderful time when my parents visited from California, my sister's family (including 2 babies!), and multiple visits from out-of-towners and overnight guests. The Medill has acted like an inn, and we love it! As Mark and I continue to learn how to be hospitable, we have realized that often we work better as a couple when we are hosting people in our home. So people, when you come over for dinner, you're helping the New DeLews be the couple we're meant to be! Thank you for sharing your lives with us!



Mark has continued to improve on his dishwashing business at the Medill. When we moved, we made the switch from having the dish rack on the counter, to placing it in the sink. And this has really developed Mark's incredible jenga-like stacking skills. It's an art.



Grilling and Lemon Drops. Because of the horror known as Chicago humidity and a lack of central AC, we have increased our use of the outdoor grill, and also perfected our recipe for lemon drop martinis. Sitting outside with friends, grilled burgers or grilled pizza and lemon drops? Now that's what I call summer! We have had wonderful conversations with our landlord and friends, sitting over citronella candles and good food.


Time together. Although it has been a busy summer for the New DeLews, we have enjoyed the bike rides, el rides, frozen yogurt, lake outings, and so many wonderful evenings wandering the city streets. We are deeply thankful to live in the city of Chicago, (particularly during the summer months), and we are thankful for the people in our lives. It's the people that bring beauty into our daily lives. So summer, you have done well this year.

Perseverance

I have had a ton of people ask me (with horror on their faces), 'Why are you training for the marathon?!!' And people, you are right to ask this question for a multitude of reasons. 1. I have never been much of a runner. One time I told a new soccer coach that I was normally a halfback, and he laughed at me. I was even diagnosed with 'exercise-induced asthma' at one time. But in reality, I should have just been diagnosed with 'being out of shape'. 2. A marathon is 26.2 miles. Yes. That's a lot. 3. Training for the marathon is a huge time commitment and lifestyle. It isn't a decision that should be taken lightly. I have a history of making spur of the moment decisions, so it's absolutely right to ask me if I'm really committed to this type of thing.

And let me say, although registering for the marathon itself was kind of a spur of the moment decision, I had been mulling over the idea of marathon running for awhile. And although I thought that all this training would absolutely kill me, the truth is, training for the marathon has been very freeing. First of all, I have a set schedule that tells me exactly how many miles to run every other day. On the days that I don't run, I get to rest. And they actually feel like rest days- I don't ever feel guilty about not running those days. Now that I'm running so much, I don't really have to think much about caloric intake (victory!!), and it just feels so good to really feel healthy. I wouldn't quite say that I get a runner's high, because honestly, I think that's an oxymoron. But I do experience a sense of confidence and accomplishment when I feel really good while running 8 miles. And even though I'm cursing the world during mile 14, when I've successfully run 15 miles, I am ecstatic and relieved.

But there is a deeper reason for why I have continued to train for the marathon. I'm learning a new type of perseverance. I kind of feel like I'm sounding like those locker room sports posters that have an acronym for perseverance- p=power, e=excellence, r=respect, etc.... But anyway, never before have I practiced such a a gradual, yet extreme form of physical perseverance. I have always understood perseverance in an emotional or spiritual sense. There are key moments in my life, like tragic deaths, difficult cross-cultural situations, or times of deep loneliness, that have developed emotional and spiritual perseverance within me. And I believe those times have built my character and given me a type of fortitude that you can't muster up. Those times are an intricate part of who I am. But running has opened my eyes to what it means to physically and mentally persevere. I am forcing my body to go beyond its comfort zone, to do things that I never dreamed possible, and I am forcing my mind to push through it all. And it is really encouraging to remember how I could barely run three outdoor miles last February. I never thought I'd be here now!

Now I am not going to say that I am able to run because "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13), because honestly, I'm don't think my ability to train for the marathon is the right interpretation of that verse. But I can say that I sense God in the midst of perseverance. I mean, we have a God of perseverance. A God that only expects perseverance from us because He constantly perseveres for us. As I force myself to persevere through the craziness of marathon training, which in the grand scheme of things is not that monumental, I reflect on something absolutely monumental- God's perseverance for us, as He seeks after the brokenhearted, pours out love on even the proud, and draws the world to Himself. This thing called perseverance- it's beautiful.

On the Trash

11:30pm Friday. After a fun evening with friends at a super hipster bar, I packed and tried to remember all the things I needed to do before flying out at 6am. Mark had already flown to CA because he had a business trip out there, so I was in charge of closing up the Medill before our 8 days in California. So of course, I did the dishes, straightened up the apartment and made sure all the windows were closed and locked. There were only 2 more things I needed to do: 1. water the flowers in our cute window box and 2. take out the kitchen trash. 'Hmm, both of those things require going outside, so I'll wait until the morning to do that....'

worthless decision.

4:40am Saturday. I was rushing around with wet hair, with the greatest intention to take out that damn trash. But before I could do that, I got a phone call from the taxi company: 'Your cab is here. If you do not come outside in 2 minutes, the cab will leave.' So of course, I dropped what I was doing, grabbed my bag and ran outside to catch my taxi, leaving the trash and flowers in the dust.

5pm Saturday. I confessed to Mark about my utter fail. Mark scowled and said "Baaaaaaabe..." (disapprovingly).

6pm Sunday (a week later). We walked up to the apartment- dead flowers. I've never seen flowers so dead in my whole life. Fail. We walked into our apartment, and surprisingly there was not a putrid odor as I had expected! So Mark opened the lid to the trash can, and I immediately thought, 'hmm, I don't remember putting all that flax seed in the trash can.' Mark angrily carried the maggot-filled trash can outside as apologies flowed from my mouth. Needless to say, I cleaned the living hell out of that trash can with a power hose and lysol, majorly ashamed at my complete fail. It was probably the grossest moment in our marriage to date.

But, we are planning to buy more flowers and we have the cleanest trash can ever. And although the whole situation was admittedly my fault, Mark kindly (and silently) worked alongside me to clean up my mess. He could have tried to teach me a lesson by making me clean it up all by myself, but he didn't. I'm thankful for his gracious partnership. And I need to learn how to be a gracious partner in return.

But next time, I promise to take out the damn trash.

Blood Minerals in the Congo?

One of the issues currently in the news that is directly related to my previous post on China in Africa is the influence of the mineral trade on the conflict in the Congo (DRC). This is one of the most tragic wars in the past decade, with millions of deaths, rapes, and mutilations. Moreover, it is one of the most complex and horrific, involving land rights, invasions/subversions from Rwanda and Uganda, the leaders of the Rwandan genocide, mini-states, warlords, ethnic conflict, rape, and minerals. Yet this conflict does not define the Congo. As the blogger Texas In Africa regularly explains, there are (surprise!) real people living there who are rebuilding their country. And the mineral trade, which China helps to drive (along with myriad Western companies), is a actually piece of that process, providing thousands with a small but important revenue stream. While various armed groups derive revenue from minerals, there are other sources of revenue to which they can turn if the legislation actually works. The greatest problem in Eastern Congo is the lack of government...the central government simply does not have the capacity and/or will to impose order upon that part of the country. (The blog Texas In Africa is so interesting because it explores the consequences of this lack of governmental control.)

So the law that the US Congress passed the other day that aims to prohibit the trade of conflict minerals will likely not achieve its desired outcome of reducing the conflict. Despite the focus of the Enough Project and other advocates like Nick Kristof on the mineral trade as the economic driver of the war, Texas In Africa insists that these efforts are misguided and give a simplistic view of the conflict:

The argument that cutting off the mineral trade will make any of this possible defies reality. As does the idea that soldiers will stop raping, looting, and burning down villages if one of their sources of revenue is cut.

Just about every local leader in the east will tell you that the mineral trade is not the cause of violence and that ending the trade is very unlikely to end most violence, especially given the absence of functioning political and security institutions. Ending violence is of course a huge priority for the Congolese, but this is the wrong way to go about it. The legislation is unlikely to do harm (until it causes some of the 1 million people who depend on the trade for their livelihood to become unemployed), so it's mostly just been a waste of time and energy. But why the advocates won't listen to the people they purport to help is beyond me.

...so that's too bad. The ultimate measurers for the success of a development program or in any country is always the local people who are supposed to be benefiting. Unfortunately, US foreign policy is not usually characterized as perceptive to local opinion. What's this bill all about then? Is it just a way to make American consumers feel better about themselves? Hmm...As an American who cares deeply about issues of peace and justice around the world, I will try to listen to the voices of those around the world--especially those of the marginalized and oppressed--and try to influence the foreign policy of my country accordingly.

Update: Texas In Africa is writing about this issue all week, so go to her blog for more/better analysis!