But a Moment

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,














a time to plant and a time to uproot,














a time to kill and a time to heal,










a time to tear down and a time to build,












a time to weep and a time to laugh,


a time to mourn and a time to dance,






a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,



a time to embrace and a time to refrain,





a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,







a time to tear and a time to mend,










a time to be silent and a time to speak,









a time to love and a time to hate,


a time for war and a time for peace.








Life is but a moment,
full of mistakes and good intentions,
full of love and longing for what can never be.




His was a good moment.

Arthur Knyfd, Jr.

March 17, 1921-January 23, 2009

http://laurenkooistra.weebly.com/4/post/2009/01/to-dust-we-shall-return.html

Q & A

Q: When you give a kid a camera,

what do you get?

A: Too much fun

"I could die tomorrow....

...and that would be OK." ~Lauren KooistraYes, I really said this--numerous times actually--this past Saturday night. Before you get yourself all worked up, however, let me assure you that I am about to tell you why. Sit back, relax, get yourself a drink as I tell you the story of

"The First Weekend in January Lauren Lisa & Geoff Get Together and Hash Out Life, 2010"



Before we get started for real, you need to know that this is the third official January HOL (as we have come to lovingly refer to it). It has become an institution, and has spurred some spin offs (namely, the fall installment of HOL, annually held in State College Pennsylvania, and a spring version in New York City when the weather begins to change...). January HOL's began simply, but (to put it in Lisa's words) at a certain point grew legs and began to walk on their own. Hence, the reason I could die, and it would be ok. But--I get ahead of myself.

HOL's typically involve a low-key Friday evening, reminiscing the many hilarious and fun memories of our 10-year long friendship (things such as "the superfluous left nipple" that followed Lisa and I everywhere we went for a few years in a row [don't ask--it is too disturbing to think about more than once a year] and our curious experience with a boy who will not be named here because he is a google-able figure and I would rather not my little bloggy be found as a source of information about him...), drinking much good wine (probably more than we should), and eating decadent treats (probably more than we should). This year did not disappoint--we've got the routine down.

Saturday morning in the NYC/January HOL tradition typically involves L & G sleeping in while I read on the couch, and then brunch at Cafe Henri. Brunch at Cafe Henri is an excellent way to start any Saturday, but particularly a HOL Saturday--it is only a mere estimation of what is going to occur later in the day, and it fortifies us as we wait in eager anticipation of what is to come.





(Their food is beyond good, but it is the latte I long for whilst reading on the couch....)








Typically there is some sort of "girl-time" taken so that Geoff can get away from us and we can talk about our hair. This year's installment involved a movie (Leap Year: to paraphrase Lisa's words again, entirely predictable, and entirely lovely. Ah, escapism...)









Now, I am sure that you are thinking "Well, that all sounds very nice, but take on death? Isn't that a bit dramatic?". I am sure that you are thinking that, because--at this point in the story-- I would be thinking the same. You, however, are not being patient. Do not worry though, because here we go:

Before we get started for real, however, you need to know that when Lisa first moved to NYC she worked as a server (as in that nasty word "waitress") at a pretty fancy-shmancy restaurant in the city, working her way (while she was at it) into the hearts of her colleagues. This boded well for HOL when a particular colleague (as in, the chef) decided to own his own restaurant and also decided that when special guests (such as former colleagues) came to dine they would be SHOWERED (as in: the-completely-unordered-and-yet-completely-divine-items NEVER STOP ARRIVING) with food that is not really food but instead some sort of artistic masterpiece that you cannot even entertain the thought of wolfing down because your tongue refuses to hurry.





By the time we had gone through the rose champagne, the appetizers (both ordered and un), the main course (baby pig, monk fish with braised oxtail, and striped bass in truffle sauce), the wine, and the many small palette-pleasers in between, I found myself in tears at this man's generosity (I am not even kidding and no, I do not think it was the alcohol...) when not three but five desserts were brought to us and arrayed in splendor across our table. We didn't even have the presence of mind to take pictures (and we always take pictures) because we were having a transcendent experience (and--I don't know if you know this--transcendence cannot involve cameras. It is against the rules.) Even the tea was the best tea I have ever consumed.

I was so happy.



(I believe this was the point where the first "I could die tomorrow..." statement was uttered, in case you are keeping track...)

The transcendent dinner, however, took nearly three hours. This meant that we had to hot-foot it over to Dizzy's Club to make the 9.30 set of the Clayton Brothers. We didn't need to worry however--we made it in plenty of time, settled into our table, and ordered our drinks. (I only mention the drinks because Sangria is my Dizzy's Club drink of choice, and Sangria also is one of the things that makes me ridiculously happy.) (I feel the need to mention: Please do not think I drink like this on a regular basis--or that I even got all that inebriated--in case you were dialing my local intervention service...though I appreciate your concern, of course.)


As we waited for our drinks to arrive and the music to begin I literally sat there looking at the audience, feeling sorry for them because they had not experienced the dining experience we had had the privilege of. They had no idea that their night was nothing to die after. (Truly--sad.)

The sadness was short-lived however, as I drank in the music and drowned in the most beautifully compelling sound I have heard in a long time. (Here is the key to great musicianship as I realized it that night: Great musicianship involves taking the music where your audience expects it to go, and then going just a step beyond it so that they collapse-in-a-heap-on-the-floor out of sheer aesthetic surprise.) As I said--could die tomorrow.


We ended our night with gratitude for the unnecessary privileges our life has afforded us (as a privilege is just that--unnecessary, yet granted to us for some strange and providentially benevolent reason), for the gift of each other (as Geoff said, we've reached a place in our lives where very little hashing needs to occur and we can just settle into being together), and the warmth of much laughter ("Why aren't we doing that?!" [don't ask, it needs context]).

We have already decided that we should not even try to match the decadence that was involved in this grand edition of HOL, and so next year we're going to take in happy meals from McDonalds and sit around the stereo listening to Brittany Spears. Maybe we can build up from there.

The point is: I had a fabulous time with these dear friends, and was happy enough to say that I needed absolutely nothing more out of life: I could die tomorrow, and it would be ok. (You might be thinking the same thing, except in reference to the fact that you have encountered your lifetime's share of parenthetical information in this one posting.)

Thanks for reading!

Ain't no time like Baxter time

Here is the history of Andrea and Lauren:

Back in my grad school years (I mean--my other grad school years) in the lovely yet expensive borough of Princeton NJ, I needed a means of paying my rent. Enter Prince of Peace Lutheran Church, its exquisite Yamaha, and its visionary Music Director: Andrea Baxter. A warm and welcoming soul, she helped me to navigate the waters outside of my evangelical bubble ("Can people really be Christians if they go out for beer after choir rehearsal?!"), and to expand my musical horizons ("You don't really mean that I am going to play this conga, do you?!").

More than that, however, she pulled me into her family and gave me the gift of herself, her husband, and her boys in my life. Hence (since we have both moved on from NJ to different areas of PA and rarely have time or energy to connect via telephone), we have established a New Years Eve ritual that involves games, laughter, eating, drinking, and overall hysterical fun.



This year's festivities started off with a rousing round of guitar hero, involving the whole gang of us. (This was thanks to Adam and Nathan's Christmas gift of microphone and drum being added to their collection.) Notice that in these pictures my role never changes--they are all silently thinking "Finally, something she can actually do..." (and even this was spotty seeing as I didn't have my glasses on and couldn't really even see the words...)

The real party began, however, with Simon's unleashing of the confetti and his donning of the party hat (at a modified hour for which we provided a modified countdown).

Even Pete got in on the action. (I don't know Pete very well, seeing as this was his first New Years celebration with us, but I got the distinct feeling that Pete loves New Year's Eve...)

Thus commenced a dance party like no other, strobe light and dj included, that was difficult to capture by photograph, and for which the video will never be made public. Nathan contributed his dance moves, made complete by his classy shades.

Simon went off to bed, and the rest of us big kids played our traditional apples to apples (someone please explain to me how that game got invented, but do not try to deny that it can be awfully fun....), ate yummy snacks (see evidence below) and drank our new year's bubbly at the turning of the decade.

(Is it just me, or do these two share similar features? Hmmm...)

(I really shouldn't pick on him, since Adam single-handedly provided me with the enjoyable opportunity to reflect on my Princetonian life as I drove to pick him up from a friends house there on my way to PA, and pretty consistently teaches me how to use my own technological gadgets...)

The next morning began lazily, and the laziness never really ended. Simon and I played an exciting game of Lightning McQueen Uno, followed by a building frenzy that included "the world's smallest tower" (seen to the right). We had lunch and afterward we adults lounged at the table in conversation while the boys amused themselves.

Andrea and I headed to the mall for our annual New Years Day shopping trip, and then came back to finish preparing their traditional New Years Day pork & saeurkraut (how the heck do you spell that? Sorry A, I did the best I could.....) for dinner. The evening ended with Andrea and I bundled on the couch, watching a movie.

The next day I sadly departed, wending my way westward and back to the rest of my life. As I drove I reflected on

the fact that really--there ain't no time like Baxter time.