Archive for June, 2007

  1. My mother in law has gone home.  It was cool to have her here, but it’s also cool that I can now watch my Deadwood Season 3 DVDs.
  2. Ron Paul supporters were on the corner of whatever the two streets are at the head of Hillsboro Village.  And they got A TON of horn-honks in support.  Shame they didn’t have bumper stickers.
  3. My RSS feed from the Nashville Public Library tells me when I have books due.  That rocks.

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Conflicting reports coming out of Major Local Company.

I continue to be a bit worried.

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An ad campaign in Brasil features fat women in famous pop-culture sexual iconography. The tagline “Men’s preferences will never change” says it all.

Eat the light yogurt because fat women aren’t sexy, and men will never think they are.

So I’m not a man, but frankly I think some of the photos are still sexy. I also think that using prejudice to sell a product is EVIL.

Oh well.

(Via BFB)

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I read you every day. Except some Sundays. (The Sunday strips are usually insipid ripoffs of old “Family Circus”es.)

You’ve become like a surrogate family to me. I moved away from the rest of my immediate family when I was 21, but I had all of you there to comfort me. You are a white middle-class suburban family dealing with the same issues as my own kin back home. You dealt with these issues in a nice, straightforward comic strip way.

I know you’ll only be around for a few more months because Lynn Johnston is tired of drawing you. And that’s where we have some problems.
There are big issues out there which need to be resolved, chief among them is who Elizabeth will “end up” with. And every time we just get up enough steam in the “Elizabeth’s love life” story line to make it intriguing, you cut away. Usually to the stooopid storyline of April And Her Little Band. And, usually, just to make me feel extra-guilty about HATING the April story line, you bring Shannon, the special-needs girl, into the picture. I have nothing against Those With Special Needs and nothing against Shannon in particular (except the way you portray her speech in a pidgin style. She’s not a lolcat.)
But I hate the April Storyline and I hate the way you try to make a teenage band relevent to my life by exploiting Shannon.

So stop it.

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Here’s one for all of you who have or do freelance.

If you get paid by the hour, and a client says they’ll email changes to you right away because you’re all on deadline and you sit by the computer for an hour waiting for those changes to come through…do you bill for that hour?

I mean, sure you weren’t doing any ACTUAL work for the client during that hour, but you were also not able to do anything ELSE because they said they’d have the changes to you immediately but they actually didn’t.

It is a dilemma.

And I’m tired of hitting “get mail”.

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I talked about this a wee bit at NiT, but that blog isn’t “Christian” and this one “is”. So I’m going to address another part of Sam Davidson’s rant against home ec courses at Seminary here.

Sam says:

Like a lot of moves made by Southwestern since the arrival of Paige Patterson, this one is absurd. The seminary has the freedom to offer such coursework, but if they think such offerings will save Christianity or society, their theology is completely misplaced. And so, again, we have a Christian educational institution misplacing priorities in an attempt to fix the problem of misplaced priorities. People are still hungry, poverty is a still an epidemic, disease is still killing countless Africans, and injustice prevails in much of our world.

I hear this type of talk from a lot of Christians, especially those who are extremely idealistic. I admire their zeal for Fixing The World, but I think it disturbing when that zeal tramples over the choices and callings of other Christians. A while back there seemed to be this thrust toward Missions work. The culture of much of the Christian church seemed to say that those with a Vocation To Christian Service–ie. Missionaries, Ministers, Teachers in Christian Schools–were of a better, more sanctified, class of Holy. (I think some of this comes from a warping of our reading of the word “holy”. It DOES mean “set apart”, but that apartness need not necessarily apply to your line of work. One can be a holy banker, a holy cook, a holy shoe salesman. One can even be a holy attorney or college professor.)

A bit of exposure to that line of snobbery in my childhood as raised my guard permanently, so I do NOT react well when I hear other people say “how is THAT going to end world hunger?” or any other dismissive, judgemental evaluation of another’s calling. We cannot know the entirety of another person’s life, nor is it our business to know his or her calling from God. How we can then say that another’s actions are less worthy of the kingdom than ours escapes me.

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I’m just sitting here feeling sorry for myself.   I’ve written a white paper for a client, whipped out an accompanying Powerpoint complete with “charts and grafts” (as his email requested) and I just realise how much I hate Fathers’ Day.

I love my dad.  I have a great dad.  That’s beside the point.

The point is that I’m married to the most wonderful man in the world and I know that more than anything he wants children.   And I haven’t been able to give him any.   The one thing he wants I haven’t provided.   So there’s this bright sunny day out, but I’m having a bit of darkness inside.

None of this is helped by having my mother in law here, constantly talking about her grandchildren (she lives with them part-time–4 days a week), showing pictures of these babies and telling cute stories of what they did this day or that day.   Don’t people realise that sometimes it’s not easy to hear about cute children doing cute things?  Most of the time I don’t mind, but today I did and do.

We were having lunch at Baja Fresh and a couple with two children under the age of 5 asked if they could sit with us because all the other tables were high-top tavern tables and they had a booster seat.   Without even thinking I said “do you have kids?” and realised how hateful that sounded.  But God, I’m sorry.  I just couldn’t bear to have lunch on Fathers’ Day with some happy family with two happy children.  I really couldn’t.

And I know I’m a jerk for not being all “sure! Come sit with us!”  I know that the Mom thought I was some kind of Childfree Monster Clown Of Death.  But it wasn’t that at all.  It was that I just couldn’t bear it and really didn’t want to break down in a flood of tears in the damned Baja Fresh on West End.

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