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Archive for September, 2008

It’s a full moon. It (was) the 13th. That cannot be good.

*I’m sick of hearing about Sarah Palin.

*Hawaiian Punch is delicious

*I do not like the new layout of Facebook

*I ought to go to my Facebook more often.

*I can’t believe my husband spent hours trying to beat my reMovem high score on the iPod.

*Why aren’t cows smaller?

*I wonder if it would be possible to build a small fountain in the area behind my swing. I know we’ve talked about. We should just go ahead and do it I think.

*There is nothing on cable.

*South Park is only funny in small doses

*I wish I weren’t allergic to cats.

*I really want a puppy or a kitten.

*I’m awfully glad I backed up my Sims2 game.

*I like hot pink and lime green together even though it’s not trendy anymore.

*I really need to clean off my desk.

*I wish i could drive again.

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Feel Good Friday

Ignore the hair.

This song completely rocks. It’s one of my top 3 “drive with the radio cranked and windows down” songs. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s a hot afternoon and I don’t want to waste it.

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I mentioned over at Aunt B.’s that I’ve had a chip on my shoulder. I realise this and am trying very hard to get over my sad sorry self.

I’ve been doing very well lately–but like most bloggers I fail to blog the good stuff. My upcoming trip to Disney World, my great relationship with my husband, my love for hot hot hot days, the fact that Wal Mart carries Bailey’s Irish Cream Haagen Dazs. That’s all beyond wonderful.

The last three weeks though have been really bad. I say this to explain that I’ve been on large quantities of morphine and vicodin for a good portion of those three weeks. And this is where we learn just how cranky three weeks of opiates can make a person.

One of the oft-not-discussed side effects of painkillers is that they will make you constipated. BADLY.
And the other night I happened to be watching a movie (Dan In Real Life, which was okay, but of course I was taking morphine) and they mentioned the book “Everyone Poops”.

That was when I started screaming at the screen “NO! NO THEY DON’T! Not everyone! No matter how badly they want to, not everyone poops!!!!” And that was also when I realised that I needed to take some Milk Of Magnesia and get over myself.

These, my friends, are the things they don’t tell you in high school.

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I just read something in a comment on a blog that bugged me. (It was over at Slarti’s and it was about a woman whose arthritis cleared up when she lost 40lbs and stopped eating potatoes.)
(more…)

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Very early this morning I received a break-up note from our church’s youth pastor.

On Facebook.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It was a very thoughtful, well-done sort of thing the upshot of which is that he has prayerfully taken another job back in Texas. He’s from Texas and his family is still there.

I guess I’m just a bit stymied about it being on Facebook of all things. I still think of Facebook as a place where people throw sheep at me and I race my cute toy monkey against other cute toys of other people. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that despite all their attempts to be relevant I still think of Facebook as kind of a childish entity. To me it doesn’t seem to be the place I’d expect to get a grown-up job resignation notice from a pastor.

It’s not that he was wrong to do it–I don’t mean that. It just feels weird to me; like eating McDonalds instead of chicken at a charity dinner or saying the Pledge of Allegiance at a Pampered Chef party.

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I’ve stumbled across a lot of political blogging lately. Most of it by accident because only one person I read (thank you, Connie Lane) warns and cutlines her content.

Since my candidate long ago faded from the forefront, as we knew he would, I just can’t really bring myself to care that much about who wins. From where I sit, either victory looks like a loss for limited-government types like myself. And really, who cares about the brand of steamroller? They’re both deadly heavy as they grind you to a pulp.

What IS bothering me, though, is the contempt. Not for parties, party leadership or candidates. The contempt for neighbours, family members, coworkers and friends. I’ve seen more of it coming from the left–but that is ONLY because most of the blogs I read lately have left-leaning authors. I’m sure it’s on the right also. I mean, Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh are shining examples and they aren’t exactly punching Obama’s ticket.

When I say “contempt” I’m talking about the people who say things like “I can’t believe anyone could be so stupid”. You know, sometimes people who disagree with you are actually intelligent people who’ve thought through the issues and have arrived at their opinions after careful study and consideration. Not everyone is alike and not everyone shares the same life experience and same values. That doesn’t make them stupid and it doesn’t make them less human.

I may not be a die-hard conservative Republican any longer. But my parents, brother and sister are. My other brother is somewhere between libertarian and Democrat(ic) I think. We don’t discuss it. But either way, I think of them when I hear people call the other party “stupid”. They’re real human beings who work hard and love their families and love God. (All of them–even the lefty brother.)

It’s this divisiveness that keeps me at arm’s length in this game.

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I’d been offline for several days and was a bit intimidated to come back to my email and see Sharon’s comment about submission in the Christian marriage. Jonnelle has an excellent answer, and at first I was tempted to just leave hers out there. But I truly feel called to answer this question even though my answer won’t win me any friends and may earn a few hurled tomatoes in my direction.

I’m a feminist. Even though my membership in NOW was short-lived and my subscription to Ms. ran out several years ago without being renewed, I still claim the mantle. I’m a libertarian. I believe in every person’s right to be governed by his or her own mind and to exercise free choice in so far as those choices harm no others.

First and foremost, though, I am a Christian. I made the choice to become a Christian when I was four years old. Many times since then I’ve had the opportunity to choose to leave that life but I have chosen to stay. Being a Christian is a life-long exercise of choice. God gave us free will to shake things up a bit, to keep us interesting. In fact I believe that God’s greatest three gifts to us are Life, Salvation and Free Will. Hence my strident adherence to the libertarian dogma.

I emphasise choice because one of my seemingly contradictory positions in life is that I am a believer in that passage in Ephesians everyone hates. The one about wives and husbands.

When people hear about wives submitting to husbands they get up in arms because it sounds backward, backwoods and baffling. It sounds like a sort of slavery where a woman is robbed of her mind and dignity, forced to live life on her knees with the heel of oppression on her neck. What most people forget, though, is that passage is written to Christians, about Christians. Which means–as with most things Christian–that we are through the looking glass.

Christianity is a world where nothing makes sense. When we are struck we turn the other cheek. When we are angered we forgive those who anger us. We actually believe that some homeless, jobless tramp in a tiny desert country 2000 years ago was God and that when he was put to death by the Romans he came back to life, hung around with his buds for a bit and then jumped back into the sky. We believe all of that. We’re a fairly weird people on the whole.

So it should surprise no one that our attitude on marriage is a bit odd as well. After all, who else would say that you should love your wife even if she’s a whore? That you should be willing to die for your wife no matter what–even if she cheats with another man. Just us, really. We also say that women should treat their husbands as their leader and guide.

When I was younger I thought I’d never marry. I only wanted to marry if I found a man who was my best friend, who was good with his hands, who was forgiving and had a good sense of humour. My ideal husband was a mashup of Jesus, Bill Cosby and John Wayne. So of course I wouldn’t marry any time in the future. So I was surprised when God put such a man in my path at 19.

We talked alot about what Christian marriage and family meant. When he asked me to marry him it was clear that he was asking me into a Covenant marriage as described in that dreaded passage. I made the choice to marry him. In that choice was also the choice to accept him as my spiritual leader, my teacher and my guide. Of course, Christ is first and the teacher, leader and guide of both of us.

That means that if my husband were to tell me to do something unlike Christ I would not be bound to his direction, because Christ’s direction is first. But insofar as the things of life are concerned, I obey my husband’s direction. I’m sure it chafes people to hear this, and I’m sure that eyes are rolling. It IS strange, I admit. But it’s the way of my weird people. It works for us and we are happy.

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He didn’t want me to write that Gosselin post. I wrote it anyway.

Now, more than a month later, people are carrying out a war in the comments that I have no part of. It really weirds me out. I have one other post like that over at the blogspot blog (the Gwen Shamblin thing from three years ago). It makes me feel like my blog is turning into the wall at the SATCO on 21st Ave. where people just write whatever they want with no one actually around to care once it’s written.

I did, though, love the comment a few days ago from nm who pointed out to all the people telling me to get a life that THEY were the ones commenting on a very stale post.

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Feel Good Friday

This song requires some explanation.

I don’t really think that it’s necessarily kosher to use FGF to proselytise so I debated for a couple of weeks about whether or not to post this. Then I realised that, you know what, it’s not about the lyrics–which are definitely very Christian–but about the chance to hear great Mennonite singing. Some of the happiest moments of my life have been Mennonite singalongs. We used to have them on some Sunday nights at my church and we had them at camp. But the absolute best were always at the Mennonite Relief Sale. Mennonites from all over the world on those old folding chairs inside a cement-block 4H exhibit hall singing songs we all knew.

There’s really nothing like it for just creating a feel-good experience. So I decided to share this under the guise of “experiencing a bit of my culture“. I in no way mean to offend my Atheist, Jewish, Muslim and other readers. (“other” being the ones I’m sure are out there but haven’t shared their belief system with me personally)

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I’ve been watching a lot of How It’s Made because, well, I’m fascinated by how things are made. It’s almost hypnotic to watch assembly lines put together bottles of Avon bubble bath, monofilament light bulbs, jars of peanut butter and artificial limbs. Everything has a soothing rhythm to it which is both intriguing and calming.

A few weeks ago they did an episode on down comforters. There were machines to sort the feathers from the down, wash the down, weigh the down, insert it into the covers, sew the covers and add the “do not remove under penalty of law” tags. Then, at the very end, each comforter was laid on a light table and two women with badminton bats (!) hammered out the piles of down to make the comforter lie flat and even.

The other day they did an episode with holograms. I’m still not quite sure I understand the whole process because it was very complicated. It involved a lot of frikkin’ laser beams which couldn’t vibrate AT ALL so they were mounted on high tech steel tables which were in turn resting on high-tech air baffles. I swear to you I understood about every third word the dude said because it was all about tolerance bands and the physics of light waves.

Then at the very end they secure the holographic film between two panes of glass with binder clips. The same 12 for $2.99 binder clips I used to run around the office with, hanging from my shirt. (We always had to clip something an odd times.)

Since I’m getting all deep about things it just occurs to me that the whole truth of life is in this. No matter how complicated or involved a process seems, there is always room for the simplest element. In fact, the simplest element is often the most necessary component to success.

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