Did you know there are still people in the world who have never been to Panera Bread? I once believed that, with the current ratio of people to Paneras, this was a statistical near-impossibility. Surely, with no less than four Panera Bread restaurants within a two mile radius of my workplace, there can be no such thing as a Panera Newbie. My recent lunch experience has taught me otherwise:
12:15. (15 minutes left of my lunch break) I park my car at Panera Bread, excited to snag a spot close to the door. I feel pretty good about my odds of getting a bagel and cream cheese to go with plenty of time to spare.
12:15 and 30 seconds. I head over to the bakery, where two people are standing in line: a young lady and her boyfriend/date/companion/whatever. Perfect. I will be in and out in no time.
12:16. I scan the bakery window. I decide on a blueberry bagel with raspberry cream cheese.
12:17. I notice that the young man in front of me has finished ordering and is waiting for his girlfriend/date/companion/whatever. The young lady wants a sandwich. Only bakery items are listed on the bakery menu, so the lady behind the register gives her a sandwich menu.
12:18. The young lady asks the Panera worker for sandwich suggestions. The worker gives her a few ideas. The young lady studies the menu. The young man glances in my direction. I look at my watch. I still feel pretty good, as work is less than five minutes from the restaurant.
12:19. The young lady wants to know the difference between two sauces. The worker walks over to the sandwich counter to get samples.
12:21. The worker brings back the sauces and the girl declares that she doesn’t like either of them. I look at my watch. If I don’t get my bagel in exactly four minutes, I will be late.
12:22. The young lady selects a sandwich. She asks her boyfriend/date/companion/whatever if she should choose an apple, chips, or bread for her side item. He looks as if he could care less. I glance compulsively at my watch every 20 seconds, as if time will stand still by my mere effort. I grudgingly accept the fact that I will be late.
12:24. The young lady decides on chips. She is now faced with a beverage choice. The possibilities seem to overwhelm her. I tap my foot on the floor, the last of my patience failing.
12:26. The worker lists all café drinks, their ingredients, and how they are prepared. The young lady chooses lemonade.
12:27. The worker totals the lunch: $16.45. The young lady looks up at the young man. “Shoot. $16. Are you kidding me?” The young man shrugs and pulls out a twenty. He pays the worker. The young lady continues to marvel over the cost of lunch.
12:28. I order. I get my bagel and cream cheese and pay. My order takes less than 60 seconds.
12:30. I head back to work at the time when I should be at work. I attempt to comfort myself by the thought that there is now one less Panera Newbie in the world. To that young lady, I would like to say: Welcome to a world where you can get hopped up on caffeine, fattened on pastries, and robbed by salads and sandwiches you can make at home for half the cost. May you be fortunate enough to one day break in your own Panera Newbie.
Oh, and to God: You can stop laughing now. I’ll never ask you to teach me patience again.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Person That I Used to Be
I was cleaning out my filing cabinet this weekend when I found a stack of old college term papers and high school play newspaper clippings. Anyone who has ever stumbled onto a piece of the past while cleaning knows that what should have been a simple, half hour job suddenly morphs into a multi-hour process. When faced with a choice to continue working or take a leisurely stroll down memory lane, I chose the latter. (To be perfectly honest, when faced with a choice to clean or do almost anything else – say, alphabetize my DVDs or count the number of people walking past my apartment in the space of twenty minutes – I will inevitably make my choice based on the thing that least resembles work.)
While my weekend “work” didn’t really achieve anything tangible other than covering a perfectly clean floor with piles of junk, my jaunt back to the past did teach me quite a few things about the person that I used to be. For those of you who didn’t know me 10 to 15 years ago, I present to you a little enlightenment:
§ I was short. Evidence: A fellow cast member signed my play program with a running joke: “How’s the weather down there?” (People tell me that I am still short, but I have since come to the conclusion that the rest of the world is freakishly tall.)
§ I was interested in women in history. Evidence: Two college term papers titled “Women of the Protestant Reformation” and “Social Implications of The Salem Witch Trials.”
§ I liked to sound really smart. Evidence: The title of the aforementioned term paper: “Social Implications of the Salem Witch Trials.”
§ I was really smart. Evidence: All of the term papers received A’s. (Although, I suppose that is why I saved them. My conclusion is probably skewed based on selective evidence. No matter. My conclusion will stand because I am smart, and I say so.)
§ I was (am) a pack rat. Evidence: My original rehearsal schedule for The Sound of Music. (Yes, I was (am) that sad.)
§ I was funny. Evidence: A cast member’s note on a program: “You are funny.”
§ I was proud of my achievements. Evidence: the keeping of term papers, newspaper clippings, and notes from classmates telling me that I am funny, and then writing about them on my blog.
While my weekend “work” didn’t really achieve anything tangible other than covering a perfectly clean floor with piles of junk, my jaunt back to the past did teach me quite a few things about the person that I used to be. For those of you who didn’t know me 10 to 15 years ago, I present to you a little enlightenment:
§ I was short. Evidence: A fellow cast member signed my play program with a running joke: “How’s the weather down there?” (People tell me that I am still short, but I have since come to the conclusion that the rest of the world is freakishly tall.)
§ I was interested in women in history. Evidence: Two college term papers titled “Women of the Protestant Reformation” and “Social Implications of The Salem Witch Trials.”
§ I liked to sound really smart. Evidence: The title of the aforementioned term paper: “Social Implications of the Salem Witch Trials.”
§ I was really smart. Evidence: All of the term papers received A’s. (Although, I suppose that is why I saved them. My conclusion is probably skewed based on selective evidence. No matter. My conclusion will stand because I am smart, and I say so.)
§ I was (am) a pack rat. Evidence: My original rehearsal schedule for The Sound of Music. (Yes, I was (am) that sad.)
§ I was funny. Evidence: A cast member’s note on a program: “You are funny.”
§ I was proud of my achievements. Evidence: the keeping of term papers, newspaper clippings, and notes from classmates telling me that I am funny, and then writing about them on my blog.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Waxing Poetic on Fall
Summer is a social gathering, a call to come out and play. Autumn is private…quiet…peaceful. She steels over the party, voice soft and firm. The noise and thrill of pool parties and baseball games and vacations melt beneath her touch, replaced by the secluded pleasure of reading a book by candlelight, keeping company with heroes and villains.
Summer exposes, with its cloudless skies and bright sunshine; autumn hides in the shadows of shortened days. Her weakened light casts a silent spell over the earth: a hush falling with the leaves, nature’s voices veiled to match the quieting landscape.
The sky feels her presence and turns cold. Humans take cover: tanned arms clothed in wool, summer sandaled-toes stuffed into slippers and boots. Crawling beneath warm blankets, they find a safe escape. Heads covered, chins tucked in close …they peek out at the world without the intrusion of the world peeking back.
Autumn sends out her invitation, a summons into the solitude of hibernation. She speaks with every cup of hot tea, every morning breath frozen in air, every step muffled by fallen leaves: “Slow down…Quiet each movement and thought and word…Hide away.”
Summer exposes, with its cloudless skies and bright sunshine; autumn hides in the shadows of shortened days. Her weakened light casts a silent spell over the earth: a hush falling with the leaves, nature’s voices veiled to match the quieting landscape.
The sky feels her presence and turns cold. Humans take cover: tanned arms clothed in wool, summer sandaled-toes stuffed into slippers and boots. Crawling beneath warm blankets, they find a safe escape. Heads covered, chins tucked in close …they peek out at the world without the intrusion of the world peeking back.
Autumn sends out her invitation, a summons into the solitude of hibernation. She speaks with every cup of hot tea, every morning breath frozen in air, every step muffled by fallen leaves: “Slow down…Quiet each movement and thought and word…Hide away.”
Friday, September 7, 2007
Wisdom from Gilead
I recently finished reading the Pulitzer Prize winning book Gilead, a beautiful little piece of fiction that requires slow, contemplative reading. Marilynne Robinson writes from the perspective of a small-town Midwestern pastor jotting down letters to his son. While a slender plot does exist, the real treasures of the book are the words of wisdom and powerful prose sprinkled throughout the pages. It is very hard to leave the life of this gentle, Christ-centered narrator behind without being challenged or changed in some way.
Here are my 10 favorite quotes from Gilead:
§ “Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don’t have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see.”
§ “Love is holy because it is like grace – the worthiness of its object is never what really matters.”
§ “People tend to forget that we are to love our enemies, not to satisfy some standard of righteousness, but because God their father loves them.”
§ “Every day is holy, but the Sabbath is set apart so that the holiness of time can be experienced.”
§ “Calvin says somewhere that each of us is an actor on a stage and God is the audience. That metaphor has always interested me, because it makes us artists of our behavior…How well do we understand our role? With how much assurance do we perform it?...I do like Calvin’s image, because it suggests how God might actually enjoy us.”
§ “Remembering my youth makes me aware that I never really had enough of it, it was over before I was done with it.”
§ “These people who can see right through you never quite do you justice, because they never give you credit for the effort you’re making to do better than you actually are, which is difficult and well meant and deserving of some little notice.”
§ “Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. All it needs from you is that you take care not to trample on it.”
§ “You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.”
§ “There are a thousand reasons to live this life, every one of them sufficient.”
Here are my 10 favorite quotes from Gilead:
§ “Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don’t have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see.”
§ “Love is holy because it is like grace – the worthiness of its object is never what really matters.”
§ “People tend to forget that we are to love our enemies, not to satisfy some standard of righteousness, but because God their father loves them.”
§ “Every day is holy, but the Sabbath is set apart so that the holiness of time can be experienced.”
§ “Calvin says somewhere that each of us is an actor on a stage and God is the audience. That metaphor has always interested me, because it makes us artists of our behavior…How well do we understand our role? With how much assurance do we perform it?...I do like Calvin’s image, because it suggests how God might actually enjoy us.”
§ “Remembering my youth makes me aware that I never really had enough of it, it was over before I was done with it.”
§ “These people who can see right through you never quite do you justice, because they never give you credit for the effort you’re making to do better than you actually are, which is difficult and well meant and deserving of some little notice.”
§ “Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. All it needs from you is that you take care not to trample on it.”
§ “You can know a thing to death and be for all purposes completely ignorant of it. A man can know his father, or his son, and there might still be nothing between them but loyalty and love and mutual incomprehension.”
§ “There are a thousand reasons to live this life, every one of them sufficient.”
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