I've so far tried to stay away from the obvious topic "of the hour" in this particular blog, but it's what's on my mind tonight (as if that's somehow different from any other night), so I thought I might as well address it.
Overall, I have enjoyed being pregnant as I always thought I would; although, it's been quite different from how I had it figured all along. Big surprise. You would think I'd learn to actually NOT trust what I expect or assume since it becomes increasingly more obvious to me that I am, 9 times out of 10, wrong.
One of my assumptions was that being a naturally emotional person, I would be a dynamically more emotional pregnant person. I was wrong. Much to David's joy and amazement, I have only had 2 or 3 major melt downs during pregnancy. That would be a fairly outstanding record for me during a "normal" nine month period. I also figured that I would be considerably weepy and sentimental about the whole idea of impending motherhood, but again I was wrong. Don't misunderstand me... I'm absolutely overjoyed and thrilled about having a child, but I haven't waxed poetic on the topic even once. Again, something pretty new and different for an old poet/beatnik wannabe (don't judge me too harshly; I've had a very lengthy awkward stage and it's possible that I may finally be emerging).
So besides a couple of significant mental/emotional changes, what else has happened to me in the past months?
My interests have changed. I've always liked to go to Barnes & Noble, get a nice tea, and sit down with a magazine. My preference in magazines used to consist of Cosmopolitan, Star, Us Weekly, or something else equally disgusting and brainless. I still like the tea, of course (although not as often because of the caffeine), but my magazine choice has changed considerably. I forget the names of the magazines (another pregnancy side effect), but all the topics of interest are the same. What's swelling, stretching, sagging, leaking, retaining, growing, contracting, tearing, or otherwise protruding this month?
About the absent mindedness. David randomly called me into the kitchen this afternoon to "look at something in the refrigerator." I had explained to him earlier that upon finding that we were out of spaghetti sauce I had concocted my own. What he wanted me to see in the refrigerator was a half-full jar of spaghetti sauce sitting at 12 o'clock in plain sight right in front of the orange juice. I did the same thing earlier this week with a hair clippy, which I found being the only object sitting in the middle of my empty bathroom counter top after proclaiming that it was nowhere to be found.
I've found the later stages of pregnancy to be the most frustrating at least when it comes to clothing choices. After recycling the same 3 dresses for Sundays and Wednesday nights about 6 weeks running, I decided to revert back to some of the nice blouses I'd all but forgotten. No dice. None of them fit anymore! I'm not THAT much bigger am I? I have less than 2 months to go and had to go shopping for more clothes yesterday. I tried on several items only to find that, yes, I do look like a hippopotamus. A hippopotamus who no longer has ankles. A hippopotamus who should maybe just invest in a good muu-muu or a Sir Edmund Hillary tent.
But really, folks...
The maternity clothes are getting to be a nuisance, the swollen ankles are a pain, the absent mindedness is making me feel like a lunatic, and the whole getting up to go pee at least twice a night is just annoying... but the end result is going to be phenomenal. After typing all this (and fully relishing complaining for a bit), I looked just to my right and saw the ultrasonic image of our baby. OUR baby. A child of our very own. And I know that the things I have to put up with now will fade into the distant past when they lay that baby on my chest for the first time. Yes, I know that I still have a lot of hard stuff ahead of me, but God has brought us this far and I'm confident that He'll take us the rest of the way through. And all that will matter when it's all said and done is that my baby and I are healthy and whole and together, face to face, finally.
Meanwhile, you might have wondered why I took the time to type all this anyway and am not in bed like most normal people are at 12:30 at night. Heartburn, naturally.
*Written on 7/18/2007
10.22.2007
laundry
If there were ever a fit analogy for eternity, it must be laundry.
It is the ever-present stuff that life is made of. And even when the baskets are empty, the promise of tomorrow's dirty socks, underwear lingers. Since, after all, every today's starchy button down or grungy Saturday t-shirt is every tomorrow's lights and darks.
Even before birth, one's diapers, clothes, and bed linens must be laundered appropriately. A time-consuming task for the nesting mother. One's laundry must be continued indefinitely by whomever is brave enough to take on the task.
All of this is hardly a concern to most until the great new adventure of college life, at which time one must find a suitable laundromat or haul home gigantic bags of increasingly moldy and mildewed unmentionables to Mother. Laundry, at this point, becomes a concern of great proportion since laundromats cost money and Mother nags.
Perhaps laundry is the infinity represented by the exchanged wedding bands, as the task of laundry only grows with the swap of those sacred vows. Ceremony and reception in hindsight, what is the next step but to hurriedly shed the symbolic attire, which is tossed aside becoming tomorrow's wash pile before the marriage is even consummated. Sure there's still the honeymoon, but that, of course, only leads to sand-filled swim suits which naturally must be laundered (and normally HAND laundered, I might add).
Thus life begins and wedded bliss ends. The towels creep from the hamper and slowly progress toward the ceiling. The young couple grows accustomed to each other's varying stains and smells and settle into a comfortable familiarity. Everything ticks along swimmingly until the washing machine becomes unbalanced. The newly wedded pair sit bolt upright in bed alarmed by the racket coming from the laundry room, a rhythmic ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk. The brave young husband dashes through the house in his skivvies only to find that the washing machine has tangoed its way out of the laundry room and halfway across the kitchen. There is no long-term repair, they find. So, the concede to closing the laundry room door, turning the television up, and doing their best to ignore the spin cycle.
These are only a few aspects of life affected so distinctly by laundry. There are many more. Introducing children into the household creates more laundry and less time to do it. The older the child, the more varying the stains. Babies produce only two or three kinds of stains, but a more independent child who is capable of preparing his own peanut butter and banana sandwiches as well as going outside unattended to feed it to the dog is capable of a virtual rainbow of stains almost every day. Thus, pre-treating becomes something of real importance.
At this point, Mother's only hope is that the child will prefer the laundromat over her nagging. And then it's most likely not far off that the child will get married and start his or her own wash pile.
In the end, a person who is careful to make plans ahead of time lays everything out in a will. With every detail in place, one's executor should know even what outfit one would prefer to be laid out in. Unfortunately, too many times, said outfit has been stored away with in a stuffy attic or perhaps with mothballs. Since no one wants Mother, Grandmother, etc. to smell of mothballs the outfit must be, you guessed it, laundered.
Thus is the great circle of life... all laid out in the ever-present medium of laundry.
---
Forgive me. It's late and I'm waiting for a bout of indigestion to pass (no pun intended).
*Written on 6/23/2007
It is the ever-present stuff that life is made of. And even when the baskets are empty, the promise of tomorrow's dirty socks, underwear lingers. Since, after all, every today's starchy button down or grungy Saturday t-shirt is every tomorrow's lights and darks.
Even before birth, one's diapers, clothes, and bed linens must be laundered appropriately. A time-consuming task for the nesting mother. One's laundry must be continued indefinitely by whomever is brave enough to take on the task.
All of this is hardly a concern to most until the great new adventure of college life, at which time one must find a suitable laundromat or haul home gigantic bags of increasingly moldy and mildewed unmentionables to Mother. Laundry, at this point, becomes a concern of great proportion since laundromats cost money and Mother nags.
Perhaps laundry is the infinity represented by the exchanged wedding bands, as the task of laundry only grows with the swap of those sacred vows. Ceremony and reception in hindsight, what is the next step but to hurriedly shed the symbolic attire, which is tossed aside becoming tomorrow's wash pile before the marriage is even consummated. Sure there's still the honeymoon, but that, of course, only leads to sand-filled swim suits which naturally must be laundered (and normally HAND laundered, I might add).
Thus life begins and wedded bliss ends. The towels creep from the hamper and slowly progress toward the ceiling. The young couple grows accustomed to each other's varying stains and smells and settle into a comfortable familiarity. Everything ticks along swimmingly until the washing machine becomes unbalanced. The newly wedded pair sit bolt upright in bed alarmed by the racket coming from the laundry room, a rhythmic ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk. The brave young husband dashes through the house in his skivvies only to find that the washing machine has tangoed its way out of the laundry room and halfway across the kitchen. There is no long-term repair, they find. So, the concede to closing the laundry room door, turning the television up, and doing their best to ignore the spin cycle.
These are only a few aspects of life affected so distinctly by laundry. There are many more. Introducing children into the household creates more laundry and less time to do it. The older the child, the more varying the stains. Babies produce only two or three kinds of stains, but a more independent child who is capable of preparing his own peanut butter and banana sandwiches as well as going outside unattended to feed it to the dog is capable of a virtual rainbow of stains almost every day. Thus, pre-treating becomes something of real importance.
At this point, Mother's only hope is that the child will prefer the laundromat over her nagging. And then it's most likely not far off that the child will get married and start his or her own wash pile.
In the end, a person who is careful to make plans ahead of time lays everything out in a will. With every detail in place, one's executor should know even what outfit one would prefer to be laid out in. Unfortunately, too many times, said outfit has been stored away with in a stuffy attic or perhaps with mothballs. Since no one wants Mother, Grandmother, etc. to smell of mothballs the outfit must be, you guessed it, laundered.
Thus is the great circle of life... all laid out in the ever-present medium of laundry.
---
Forgive me. It's late and I'm waiting for a bout of indigestion to pass (no pun intended).
*Written on 6/23/2007
not sleeping and why
I had already laid down for the night, but there's something about the feeling of gastric acid creeping up your esophagus that just doesn't inspire sweet dreams. Yuck-o.
It's been a sad past few days due to the fact that David's mom's boss and his wife lost their oldest son in a biking accident on Saturday. His name was Bobby and he was 36. He left a wife and two little kids who are too young to grasp how their lives have changed.
I didn't know him personally, but I've been more troubled by the deaths of people I knew less. It's the same as always, though; I try for days to rationalize why it troubles me and become even more troubled by the fact that I can't rationalize it. I know that God's in control of it all and this He knows the end result of all things, but it's so hard to not wonder why it had to happen.
Still, beyond all the initial sadness of the situation, I can't help but think that no other person who know so little of him as I do has thought the things I have. How will his wife stand to go home and open the closet and smell him on all of his clothes? And look around the house and see things as he left them? How will Christmas ever be anything happy for them ever again? I know his death affects a lot of people, but my mind keeps going back to his wife... over and over...
But why do I even think these things?
I guess most of all, it's made me really stop and consider the blessings in my own life. In the past few days, every time David has hugged or kissed me or just held my hand, it's meant something a little bit different. Feeling him in bed next to me has been just a little bit sweeter. I'm a little bit happier to hear the door open when he gets home in the afternoons.
It's made me think that despite the random stresses and occasional aggravations of marriage, even though we get on each other's nerves sometimes, and even if every single minute of every single day isn't euphorically happy... at least we have more than memories of each other. I have him here with me to share all those ups and downs.
I hope that even when I stop thinking about such sad things, I can hold onto the lessons they've taught me. Every day that I live and can share with David is such a blessing that I know I take too much for granted. I'm sure Rachel would give anything now for one more day with Bobby.
*Written on 6/19/2007
It's been a sad past few days due to the fact that David's mom's boss and his wife lost their oldest son in a biking accident on Saturday. His name was Bobby and he was 36. He left a wife and two little kids who are too young to grasp how their lives have changed.
I didn't know him personally, but I've been more troubled by the deaths of people I knew less. It's the same as always, though; I try for days to rationalize why it troubles me and become even more troubled by the fact that I can't rationalize it. I know that God's in control of it all and this He knows the end result of all things, but it's so hard to not wonder why it had to happen.
Still, beyond all the initial sadness of the situation, I can't help but think that no other person who know so little of him as I do has thought the things I have. How will his wife stand to go home and open the closet and smell him on all of his clothes? And look around the house and see things as he left them? How will Christmas ever be anything happy for them ever again? I know his death affects a lot of people, but my mind keeps going back to his wife... over and over...
But why do I even think these things?
I guess most of all, it's made me really stop and consider the blessings in my own life. In the past few days, every time David has hugged or kissed me or just held my hand, it's meant something a little bit different. Feeling him in bed next to me has been just a little bit sweeter. I'm a little bit happier to hear the door open when he gets home in the afternoons.
It's made me think that despite the random stresses and occasional aggravations of marriage, even though we get on each other's nerves sometimes, and even if every single minute of every single day isn't euphorically happy... at least we have more than memories of each other. I have him here with me to share all those ups and downs.
I hope that even when I stop thinking about such sad things, I can hold onto the lessons they've taught me. Every day that I live and can share with David is such a blessing that I know I take too much for granted. I'm sure Rachel would give anything now for one more day with Bobby.
*Written on 6/19/2007
a thanksgiving party
I'm having one on November 18th for the student organization of which I am a member.
So I thought: What makes a good one?
1. A list of colorful names on the guest list, which are fun to see and equally fun to say:
April, a whole month of sweet things.
Heather, a field of grayish-purple flowers.
Brad, an ingenious tool for holding things together.
...and many other beautiful ones who I hope will attend.
2. Extra tables set up in my kitchen because there are too many to fit elsewhere.
3. A non-traditional Thanksgiving menu with no turkey in sight:
Two soups: Chili and Potato
Homemade (by me) sourdough bread, perhaps
Cheese/Rotel dip with hot sausage (in a crock pot, naturally)
Veggie/cheese platter of some sort
...and perhaps a couple things brought by friends.
*and I haven't decided on dessert yet.
4. Some good music on in the background.
5. A clean house (that'll be the hardest part).
6. Maybe some games after we eat.
I'm excited and this is only the first of many lists, I'm sure, since I'm so fond of list-making.
*Written on 10/23/2006
So I thought: What makes a good one?
1. A list of colorful names on the guest list, which are fun to see and equally fun to say:
April, a whole month of sweet things.
Heather, a field of grayish-purple flowers.
Brad, an ingenious tool for holding things together.
...and many other beautiful ones who I hope will attend.
2. Extra tables set up in my kitchen because there are too many to fit elsewhere.
3. A non-traditional Thanksgiving menu with no turkey in sight:
Two soups: Chili and Potato
Homemade (by me) sourdough bread, perhaps
Cheese/Rotel dip with hot sausage (in a crock pot, naturally)
Veggie/cheese platter of some sort
...and perhaps a couple things brought by friends.
*and I haven't decided on dessert yet.
4. Some good music on in the background.
5. A clean house (that'll be the hardest part).
6. Maybe some games after we eat.
I'm excited and this is only the first of many lists, I'm sure, since I'm so fond of list-making.
*Written on 10/23/2006
a good birthday
1. Getting presents the night before because the giver is too excited to wait.
2. Waking up alive and healthy, which is a much better idea than waking up dead and sick.
3. Getting dressed and only having to change once because you aren't satisfied with the previous outfit.
4. Having time to check for birthday messages online and finding several.
5. Being sung to over the phone by your mother.
6. Finding out later that you were sung to before you even woke up that morning.
7. Not getting kidnapped on the way to class.
8. Being told by your dad that he's thankful the Lord gave you to him.
9. Having a friend who remembers your birthday and brings you a brownie with a candle in it.
10. Eating lunch with your mom, sister, and niece. Buying your niece something that makes her happy.
11. Driving with the window down and listening to good music as loud as you like. Admiring the lazily changing leaves.
12. Coming home to find one balloon tied to your mailbox and catching your sister in the act of tying another one onto your front door.
13. Receiving 4 or 5 cards in the mail.
14. Going to the Lord's house and having the opportunity to publicly thank Him for the good life He's given.
15. Eating cake and ice cream with your husband and parents.
16. Sitting down and making a list about why your birthday was good.
God's been so good. And what do I have to give? Nothing of myself, but only His precious Son's righteousness and the blood which He's allowed me to spread on my door posts. Thank God for His grace, mercy, and providence for the past 21 years.
*Written on 10/18/2006
2. Waking up alive and healthy, which is a much better idea than waking up dead and sick.
3. Getting dressed and only having to change once because you aren't satisfied with the previous outfit.
4. Having time to check for birthday messages online and finding several.
5. Being sung to over the phone by your mother.
6. Finding out later that you were sung to before you even woke up that morning.
7. Not getting kidnapped on the way to class.
8. Being told by your dad that he's thankful the Lord gave you to him.
9. Having a friend who remembers your birthday and brings you a brownie with a candle in it.
10. Eating lunch with your mom, sister, and niece. Buying your niece something that makes her happy.
11. Driving with the window down and listening to good music as loud as you like. Admiring the lazily changing leaves.
12. Coming home to find one balloon tied to your mailbox and catching your sister in the act of tying another one onto your front door.
13. Receiving 4 or 5 cards in the mail.
14. Going to the Lord's house and having the opportunity to publicly thank Him for the good life He's given.
15. Eating cake and ice cream with your husband and parents.
16. Sitting down and making a list about why your birthday was good.
God's been so good. And what do I have to give? Nothing of myself, but only His precious Son's righteousness and the blood which He's allowed me to spread on my door posts. Thank God for His grace, mercy, and providence for the past 21 years.
*Written on 10/18/2006
gosh-awful professors
I know a few. Here're a few categories into which they fit nicely. And, just for the sake of clarity, I may or may not be referring to particular people and may or may not be referring to combinations of particular people's poor qualities. Also, just because I use masculine or feminine pronouns does not mean that I am indeed referring to males or females. Glad I could clear things up there...
1. The movie English teacher wannabe: Think Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society... Michelle Pfeiffer in... that movie where she reads Dylan Thomas to a classroom of gang members... I can't remember the name of the movie. Not meaning that she looks or acts exactly like them, but approaches teaching as if her class just might be as life-changing as the classes taught in those movies. And I guess it could be... if you consider filing a new degree program just to avoid her life changing.
2. The professor-hat-wearing high school teacher: He stops people who get up to go to the bathroom demanding a reason why they are leaving the classroom. He lays out ground rules that if you have to go to the bathroom during the last 10 minutes of class to just take your stuff with you and don't come back. Along with that, he demands that if you get up in the middle of class and think you are going to be gone for a while that you should let him know. All of these things remind me of my high school days when the teachers were having trouble with the boys staying in the bathroom too long during class, so they limited them to 2 minute bathroom breaks. Seem harsh? Yeah, it did to me too. Well, after a while, the boys got smart and said that it wasn't fair that they had to dash back and forth while the girls had no time limit whatsoever. So what happened? We girls got limited to 2 minutes as well. Lots of fun. I remember literally sprinting back and forth to the bathroom. And yes, this act does extend into the college atmosphere, although not so often.
3. The politician: How about a professor who traps you in her office and rams every controversial political issue down your throat in about 5 minutes time? I visited a professor in her office a while back. Bear in mind that she was well-aware of our differeing opinions on various moral/political issues. In the short time that I was in her office, she brought up abortion, gay rights, equal treatment of women, and the overall stupidity of right-winged thought. She also managed to bring up that she did not believe in the divinity of the Bible and pointed out several Biblical principles which she basically said were ignorant. Now, maybe it was just my imagination, but it certainly felt like she was trying to get me riled up. Is it really a professor's job to start arguments with students?
4. The queers: If you're gay, be gay on your own time. I don't want to hear about it. Your escapades are not appropriate for classroom discussion and I certainly don't want to hear you flirting with gay students. Both situations are highly innappropriate and unprofessional and I would be just as disgusted by a heterosexual individual doing the same things. OK, maybe not AS disgusted, but I still wouldn't like it.
5. Environmentalists, Feminists, and other various and assorted circus folk: Shut up, already. I'm gonna cut down a tree and beat up your mom with it because when she and whomever else conceived you she wasn't in the kitchen where she should have been.
6. Winers: You only make $91k a year. Wah...
*No professors were harmed in the writing of this critical blog entry. If you're offended, go grade some papers.
*Written on 10/18/2006
1. The movie English teacher wannabe: Think Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society... Michelle Pfeiffer in... that movie where she reads Dylan Thomas to a classroom of gang members... I can't remember the name of the movie. Not meaning that she looks or acts exactly like them, but approaches teaching as if her class just might be as life-changing as the classes taught in those movies. And I guess it could be... if you consider filing a new degree program just to avoid her life changing.
2. The professor-hat-wearing high school teacher: He stops people who get up to go to the bathroom demanding a reason why they are leaving the classroom. He lays out ground rules that if you have to go to the bathroom during the last 10 minutes of class to just take your stuff with you and don't come back. Along with that, he demands that if you get up in the middle of class and think you are going to be gone for a while that you should let him know. All of these things remind me of my high school days when the teachers were having trouble with the boys staying in the bathroom too long during class, so they limited them to 2 minute bathroom breaks. Seem harsh? Yeah, it did to me too. Well, after a while, the boys got smart and said that it wasn't fair that they had to dash back and forth while the girls had no time limit whatsoever. So what happened? We girls got limited to 2 minutes as well. Lots of fun. I remember literally sprinting back and forth to the bathroom. And yes, this act does extend into the college atmosphere, although not so often.
3. The politician: How about a professor who traps you in her office and rams every controversial political issue down your throat in about 5 minutes time? I visited a professor in her office a while back. Bear in mind that she was well-aware of our differeing opinions on various moral/political issues. In the short time that I was in her office, she brought up abortion, gay rights, equal treatment of women, and the overall stupidity of right-winged thought. She also managed to bring up that she did not believe in the divinity of the Bible and pointed out several Biblical principles which she basically said were ignorant. Now, maybe it was just my imagination, but it certainly felt like she was trying to get me riled up. Is it really a professor's job to start arguments with students?
4. The queers: If you're gay, be gay on your own time. I don't want to hear about it. Your escapades are not appropriate for classroom discussion and I certainly don't want to hear you flirting with gay students. Both situations are highly innappropriate and unprofessional and I would be just as disgusted by a heterosexual individual doing the same things. OK, maybe not AS disgusted, but I still wouldn't like it.
5. Environmentalists, Feminists, and other various and assorted circus folk: Shut up, already. I'm gonna cut down a tree and beat up your mom with it because when she and whomever else conceived you she wasn't in the kitchen where she should have been.
6. Winers: You only make $91k a year. Wah...
*No professors were harmed in the writing of this critical blog entry. If you're offended, go grade some papers.
*Written on 10/18/2006
materialism
When will people realize that stuff doesn't matter? At least for some, not until the stuff is gone.
I am amazed at this dually minded society I'm living in. There's a new hippie age coming on - this idea of "less is more," supposedly, thrift store clothes wearing, long haired ridiculousness. It's a new rebellion for kids to leave their posh, hand-fed homes, off to college, and put off their parents ways. Yet, how many people I see everyday, walking along in their holey, threadbare clothes, while talking on their RAZR and ALWAYS, not-for-a-second without their precious Ipod.
Hey, I have an idea... let's start a commune. Let's grow our own food... hang on, we don't really know how to grow food. Well, let's just set up our commune really close to Kroger, then. OK... let's make our own clothes... well, not really sure how to do that either... that's fine, let's just go to Goodwill and get, ya know, whatever we can find. And let's not bring any electronics or modern conveniences with us. But... I think my ears will close up if I don't have ear buds in them, and if I can't watch Grey's Anatomy I think I'll just die.
Ugh...
I should interject that I have nothing against Goodwill/thrift store clothing. It's just this double lifestyle. The less-is-more/more-is-great lifestyle. It bugs me...
I guess what bothers me more, though, is the ultra-material syndrome that is also raging on college camupuses. People are paying close to $100 for blue jeans with holes in them. They come with holes in them. Plain old polo shirts are over 30 and 40 dollars because they have a moose or an alligator on the front. A purse that you could maybe carry a pill bottle and some lip gloss in can set you back over $200. People leave notes on people's pictures on Facebook, etc. saying they are "so f'in cool" because of what they're "rockin'." I don't understand the lingo either, but that's another post.
I remember a time when I was concerned with brand names. Yes, there was a time when I had a problem with "mixing" name brands. It's called high school. It's called being a superficial, stupid, mentally underdeveloped little teenager. The importance of brand names lessened for me when I started having to pay my own way; that really brings things into perspective.
But since then, I've realized how unimportant things are in general. I won't deny that I like STUFF just as much as the next gal, but I certainly don't base my stuff-preferences on what is or isn't going to be a status symbol. I admit that I have too much stuff, but I just buy the things that make me happy... never what I think is going to make me fit in or whatever.
Good silver is tested by fire and the dross (the stuff that isn't "good silver") is consumed by the fire. Someday, we're all going to be tested by fire and the only thing that will last is what has been forged by the Master. Everything else will just burn.
*Written on 9/23/2006
I am amazed at this dually minded society I'm living in. There's a new hippie age coming on - this idea of "less is more," supposedly, thrift store clothes wearing, long haired ridiculousness. It's a new rebellion for kids to leave their posh, hand-fed homes, off to college, and put off their parents ways. Yet, how many people I see everyday, walking along in their holey, threadbare clothes, while talking on their RAZR and ALWAYS, not-for-a-second without their precious Ipod.
Hey, I have an idea... let's start a commune. Let's grow our own food... hang on, we don't really know how to grow food. Well, let's just set up our commune really close to Kroger, then. OK... let's make our own clothes... well, not really sure how to do that either... that's fine, let's just go to Goodwill and get, ya know, whatever we can find. And let's not bring any electronics or modern conveniences with us. But... I think my ears will close up if I don't have ear buds in them, and if I can't watch Grey's Anatomy I think I'll just die.
Ugh...
I should interject that I have nothing against Goodwill/thrift store clothing. It's just this double lifestyle. The less-is-more/more-is-great lifestyle. It bugs me...
I guess what bothers me more, though, is the ultra-material syndrome that is also raging on college camupuses. People are paying close to $100 for blue jeans with holes in them. They come with holes in them. Plain old polo shirts are over 30 and 40 dollars because they have a moose or an alligator on the front. A purse that you could maybe carry a pill bottle and some lip gloss in can set you back over $200. People leave notes on people's pictures on Facebook, etc. saying they are "so f'in cool" because of what they're "rockin'." I don't understand the lingo either, but that's another post.
I remember a time when I was concerned with brand names. Yes, there was a time when I had a problem with "mixing" name brands. It's called high school. It's called being a superficial, stupid, mentally underdeveloped little teenager. The importance of brand names lessened for me when I started having to pay my own way; that really brings things into perspective.
But since then, I've realized how unimportant things are in general. I won't deny that I like STUFF just as much as the next gal, but I certainly don't base my stuff-preferences on what is or isn't going to be a status symbol. I admit that I have too much stuff, but I just buy the things that make me happy... never what I think is going to make me fit in or whatever.
Good silver is tested by fire and the dross (the stuff that isn't "good silver") is consumed by the fire. Someday, we're all going to be tested by fire and the only thing that will last is what has been forged by the Master. Everything else will just burn.
*Written on 9/23/2006
females
How many times have I, after observing a typical female random act of stupidity, turned to my husband and said, "Man, I'm glad I'm not a girl,"? Of course, I AM a girl, but I do my best not to act like one.
I should say before I begin my list that EVERY female out there is not so bad; I consider myself and few others to be "ok." I will also concede that I am capable of the things about which I'm going to complain, as I think every woman is. So there's my disclaimer.
Here's what bothers me about girls, women, etc.:
1. I'll start with the one that puzzles me the most. Last night David and I went to eat at a little Mexican restaurant that was particularly overrun with high school girls at the time we were there. We walked in the door and a table-full of girls all turned and looked at me like I was something they had scraped off the bottom of their shoe. Maybe they thought I didn't look fit to be out in public because my midriff wasn't showing. Maybe they were disgusted by the obvious lack of sequins on my outfit. Who knows? It's not just me, though; I've seen girls look at OTHER girls the exact same way before. So what is it? I think it's because in some girls' minds, every other living, breathing, female human is competition for... something. Guys? Attention in general? Who knows? Thus, "I don't know you, but I hate you."
2. I remember when I was little, I was playing with a friend of mine and I said something like, "This My Little Pony is sooooo cool! Where did you get it?" And she responded with something like, "Well, my mom got it from Wal-Mart, but she said it was the last one." That's all fine and great. It's possible that her mom got the last My Little Pony at Wal-Mart, but when that started being her response about EVERYTHING of hers that I liked... well, let's just say I got suspicious (actually I was too little to get suspicious, but I'm pretty sure my mom did). Likewise, I remember one Easter when another little friend of mine came to church saying, "My mom got me a chocolate bunny that's 14 and a half inches tall and it cost $30!!!" This same line of thought extends into adolescence and even adulthood. In high school, I remember a certain week when one of the girls practically did a running commentary (prices and all, of course) on the eBay auction where she was spending wads of her parents' money to get a microscopic Louis Vuitton purse. Adults do this too (women as well as men). Why? People like exclusivity. People like to feel like they got something special and that nobody else in the world has something as specal as they do. Personally, if I want something, I don't care if everybody I meet on the sidewalk has one just like it; however, there probably aren't too many things that everybody on the sidewalk has that I would want.
3. This is a big pet peeve of mine. My high school alma mater is tiny, a church affiliated private institution. Very good and lovely if everybody is friends, very bad and miserable if not. One situation that caused misery no matter where it takes place is anytime there are 3 girls stuck together. Almost always, two of the three will, as my mom says, "pair off," leaving the third girl to be the awkward odd gal out. Unfortunately, it's not usually enough for the two to just be friends. They normally insist upon, whispering in front of the third girl, purposely making it seem like their talking about/laughing at her, and so on and so forth. I was once friends with the two girls who forced me to be the awkward odd gal out until I finally figured out that neither of them were good enough to be called human beings, much less my friends. I count those few months as some of the most miserable times in my life and thoughts went through my mind that should never go through any good little Christian girls' minds. If I ever have a daughter, I will do everything within my power to keep her away from situations like this.
4. I think this had better be my last one, since this is already long. Why is it that a whole lot of, not just young women, but grown adult women think that "having cramps" is a viable excuse for anything? I've heard it used as an excuse for everything from screwing something up at a professional level job to getting out of going to school/church when you actually have a hangover. Even worse are the ones who claim they aren't themselves for around two weeks every month because of PMS. I'm sorry, but PMS is a figment of your imagination. Yes, I have the occasional cramp at certain times, but as far as having a headache, being moody or emotional, blah blah blah... guess what, girls! If that's PMS, I have it 24/7 365 days a year! And I'm so sorry that you started two days early and now you can't go camping. Shut up, you can go camping while you're on your period. The way I look at it is this: Long before there was Midol or Pamprin, long before there was birth contrl pills to make you more regular and lessen your symptoms, heck... long before there were such things as pads and tampons, women were GETTING IT DONE... full onset of symptoms, still having to take care of babies, clean the house, do the farm work, and, at the end of the day, WASH THINGS OUT BY HAND. Come on, ladies. Grow a set, already.
*Written on 8/26/06
I should say before I begin my list that EVERY female out there is not so bad; I consider myself and few others to be "ok." I will also concede that I am capable of the things about which I'm going to complain, as I think every woman is. So there's my disclaimer.
Here's what bothers me about girls, women, etc.:
1. I'll start with the one that puzzles me the most. Last night David and I went to eat at a little Mexican restaurant that was particularly overrun with high school girls at the time we were there. We walked in the door and a table-full of girls all turned and looked at me like I was something they had scraped off the bottom of their shoe. Maybe they thought I didn't look fit to be out in public because my midriff wasn't showing. Maybe they were disgusted by the obvious lack of sequins on my outfit. Who knows? It's not just me, though; I've seen girls look at OTHER girls the exact same way before. So what is it? I think it's because in some girls' minds, every other living, breathing, female human is competition for... something. Guys? Attention in general? Who knows? Thus, "I don't know you, but I hate you."
2. I remember when I was little, I was playing with a friend of mine and I said something like, "This My Little Pony is sooooo cool! Where did you get it?" And she responded with something like, "Well, my mom got it from Wal-Mart, but she said it was the last one." That's all fine and great. It's possible that her mom got the last My Little Pony at Wal-Mart, but when that started being her response about EVERYTHING of hers that I liked... well, let's just say I got suspicious (actually I was too little to get suspicious, but I'm pretty sure my mom did). Likewise, I remember one Easter when another little friend of mine came to church saying, "My mom got me a chocolate bunny that's 14 and a half inches tall and it cost $30!!!" This same line of thought extends into adolescence and even adulthood. In high school, I remember a certain week when one of the girls practically did a running commentary (prices and all, of course) on the eBay auction where she was spending wads of her parents' money to get a microscopic Louis Vuitton purse. Adults do this too (women as well as men). Why? People like exclusivity. People like to feel like they got something special and that nobody else in the world has something as specal as they do. Personally, if I want something, I don't care if everybody I meet on the sidewalk has one just like it; however, there probably aren't too many things that everybody on the sidewalk has that I would want.
3. This is a big pet peeve of mine. My high school alma mater is tiny, a church affiliated private institution. Very good and lovely if everybody is friends, very bad and miserable if not. One situation that caused misery no matter where it takes place is anytime there are 3 girls stuck together. Almost always, two of the three will, as my mom says, "pair off," leaving the third girl to be the awkward odd gal out. Unfortunately, it's not usually enough for the two to just be friends. They normally insist upon, whispering in front of the third girl, purposely making it seem like their talking about/laughing at her, and so on and so forth. I was once friends with the two girls who forced me to be the awkward odd gal out until I finally figured out that neither of them were good enough to be called human beings, much less my friends. I count those few months as some of the most miserable times in my life and thoughts went through my mind that should never go through any good little Christian girls' minds. If I ever have a daughter, I will do everything within my power to keep her away from situations like this.
4. I think this had better be my last one, since this is already long. Why is it that a whole lot of, not just young women, but grown adult women think that "having cramps" is a viable excuse for anything? I've heard it used as an excuse for everything from screwing something up at a professional level job to getting out of going to school/church when you actually have a hangover. Even worse are the ones who claim they aren't themselves for around two weeks every month because of PMS. I'm sorry, but PMS is a figment of your imagination. Yes, I have the occasional cramp at certain times, but as far as having a headache, being moody or emotional, blah blah blah... guess what, girls! If that's PMS, I have it 24/7 365 days a year! And I'm so sorry that you started two days early and now you can't go camping. Shut up, you can go camping while you're on your period. The way I look at it is this: Long before there was Midol or Pamprin, long before there was birth contrl pills to make you more regular and lessen your symptoms, heck... long before there were such things as pads and tampons, women were GETTING IT DONE... full onset of symptoms, still having to take care of babies, clean the house, do the farm work, and, at the end of the day, WASH THINGS OUT BY HAND. Come on, ladies. Grow a set, already.
*Written on 8/26/06
church attire
I am a female and I wear pants to church. Shoot me.
I know a lot of people probably think that this is not a big deal at all (which it isn't), but to some people it's obviously a huge deal.
OK... let me start off by saying that, yes, I am aware of a verse of scripture that says something along the lines of a woman shouldn't dress like a man and a man shouldn't dress like a woman. The first thought that pops into my little brain when I read that is this: What did the men wear in biblical times? Robes and sandals. What did the women wear in biblical times? Robes and sandals. So, unless they had gender specific colors they had to stick to, I'm thinking that a couple could pretty much share a chest of drawers.
Next... yes, I am aware of the common argument that nearly always beams in at this point in the conversation. "The Bible is God's word for ALL ages... not just Bible times." And I couldn't agree more. BUT... doesn't that mean that it would have had to be applicable THEN as well as NOW? And besides that... the verse doesn't say that women shouldn't dress like men (and vice versa) WHEN THEY GO TO CHURCH. If it's wrong for a gal to wear pants at church, it's wrong EVERYWHERE.
Therefore, I am lead to believe that the particular verse of scripture in question is speaking to transvestites, drag queens, and other various and assorted circus folk.
I don't mind wearing skirts and dresses in the summer time, my main complaint is with the requisite hosiery necessary in the winter time. You haven't been uncomfortable until you wear a good pair of panty hose. And knee/thigh highs are no better.
I do, however, have just a few particular arguments against skirts and dresses:
1. They can be indecently too short. If pants are too short, you might show your ankles (gasp). And in my opinion a nice pair of dress slacks is dressier than a too short skirt or dress any day.
2. While too tight pants are tacky, a too clingy dress is going to show things that ought not to be noticeable no matter where you are.
3. You're never going to see a slip hanging out of a person's pant leg.
4. If you want to be really prudish about it, a dress shows off the feminine figure moreso than a nice pants suit. I'm not that prudish... I like to wear dresses now and then.
5. And finally, when a woman crosses her legs, you're never going to see up her pants leg.
G'day
*Written on 8/20/2006
I know a lot of people probably think that this is not a big deal at all (which it isn't), but to some people it's obviously a huge deal.
OK... let me start off by saying that, yes, I am aware of a verse of scripture that says something along the lines of a woman shouldn't dress like a man and a man shouldn't dress like a woman. The first thought that pops into my little brain when I read that is this: What did the men wear in biblical times? Robes and sandals. What did the women wear in biblical times? Robes and sandals. So, unless they had gender specific colors they had to stick to, I'm thinking that a couple could pretty much share a chest of drawers.
Next... yes, I am aware of the common argument that nearly always beams in at this point in the conversation. "The Bible is God's word for ALL ages... not just Bible times." And I couldn't agree more. BUT... doesn't that mean that it would have had to be applicable THEN as well as NOW? And besides that... the verse doesn't say that women shouldn't dress like men (and vice versa) WHEN THEY GO TO CHURCH. If it's wrong for a gal to wear pants at church, it's wrong EVERYWHERE.
Therefore, I am lead to believe that the particular verse of scripture in question is speaking to transvestites, drag queens, and other various and assorted circus folk.
I don't mind wearing skirts and dresses in the summer time, my main complaint is with the requisite hosiery necessary in the winter time. You haven't been uncomfortable until you wear a good pair of panty hose. And knee/thigh highs are no better.
I do, however, have just a few particular arguments against skirts and dresses:
1. They can be indecently too short. If pants are too short, you might show your ankles (gasp). And in my opinion a nice pair of dress slacks is dressier than a too short skirt or dress any day.
2. While too tight pants are tacky, a too clingy dress is going to show things that ought not to be noticeable no matter where you are.
3. You're never going to see a slip hanging out of a person's pant leg.
4. If you want to be really prudish about it, a dress shows off the feminine figure moreso than a nice pants suit. I'm not that prudish... I like to wear dresses now and then.
5. And finally, when a woman crosses her legs, you're never going to see up her pants leg.
G'day
*Written on 8/20/2006
clothing
I've hit a stage in my life where I don't like clothes too much.
Not that I want to go nude or anything although it has its pluses as long as there are no mirrors around.
Anyway, here's my list of rants:
1. Sizing: Has anybody but me noticed how skewed sizes are these days? I'm no pixie, but I'm not exactly obese either and if I go into a fitting room with size 9, 11, and 13 pants and NONE of them fit me, there's something bad wrong. The sizing scale is aimed at these anorexic fetuses who have the figure of a scare crow. And I'll tell you right now the birds just LOVE me.
2. Jeans: Don't get me wrong on this, I'm not interested in the "mom jeans" looks; I'd rather my jeans hit me a little below my belly button, but my gosh. Jeans are labeled almost exclusively as "low," "superlow," "too low," or something along those lines. There's practically no point in having a zipper in these things as they are only about an inch and a half long anyway. And I'm sorry, but blue jeans should not require special hair removal techniques.
3. T-shirts: They don't make real ones anymore. The only comfortable tshirts I own are men's tshirts. Women's tshirts are too short, too tight, and the sleeves are too short. Now I understand that sometimes these shirts are suitable, but most of the time when I want to wear a tshirt, I want a real tshirt not something that shows me midriff if I move and hikes up into my armpits as the day progresses. The possibility of sweaties is all too real anyway.
4. Catch phrases: I saw a tshirt a while back bearing the phrase "Parties Well With Others." As stupid as that is in the first place, they added insult to injury with a grammatical error. "You've been a bad boy, go to my room," "I like big stONES," "Date Cute, Marry Rich," "Vote for Pedro." Need I say more? Yes, I did, at one time, own a tshirt bearing the phrase "50% Single." Granted, I only wore it about twice considering I didn't make a habit of staying single at any percentage. Still, a fashion choice I regret to this day.
5. Sequins: We are not Porter Wagner. Come on...
6. Heels: If you insist upon wearing these wonderful corn inducing pointed shoes with the sky scraper heels on them, do some calf exercises first. Nobody likes to see a chick stumbling and wobbling on her way because she doesn't know how to walk in heels.
7. Tightness: This goes along with sizing and the skewed idea of what's attractive these days. This I-obviously-don't-have-all-the-organs-I'm-supposed-to look is, for some reason, considered to be out of this world sexy these days. This problem, of course, leads to girls who very obviously have all of their organs dressing like the ones who obviosuly haven't hit puberty yet. Dressing for whatever size you are is much more flattering than dressing for whatever half your size is. Look in the mirror before you leave the house. Nobody likes to see pasty white lower belly hanging out from under your "blondes do it beter" tshirt over the top of your too superlow levis. After all, it hides your pink sequin belt.
That's all for this time folks...
*Written on 8/18/2006
Not that I want to go nude or anything although it has its pluses as long as there are no mirrors around.
Anyway, here's my list of rants:
1. Sizing: Has anybody but me noticed how skewed sizes are these days? I'm no pixie, but I'm not exactly obese either and if I go into a fitting room with size 9, 11, and 13 pants and NONE of them fit me, there's something bad wrong. The sizing scale is aimed at these anorexic fetuses who have the figure of a scare crow. And I'll tell you right now the birds just LOVE me.
2. Jeans: Don't get me wrong on this, I'm not interested in the "mom jeans" looks; I'd rather my jeans hit me a little below my belly button, but my gosh. Jeans are labeled almost exclusively as "low," "superlow," "too low," or something along those lines. There's practically no point in having a zipper in these things as they are only about an inch and a half long anyway. And I'm sorry, but blue jeans should not require special hair removal techniques.
3. T-shirts: They don't make real ones anymore. The only comfortable tshirts I own are men's tshirts. Women's tshirts are too short, too tight, and the sleeves are too short. Now I understand that sometimes these shirts are suitable, but most of the time when I want to wear a tshirt, I want a real tshirt not something that shows me midriff if I move and hikes up into my armpits as the day progresses. The possibility of sweaties is all too real anyway.
4. Catch phrases: I saw a tshirt a while back bearing the phrase "Parties Well With Others." As stupid as that is in the first place, they added insult to injury with a grammatical error. "You've been a bad boy, go to my room," "I like big stONES," "Date Cute, Marry Rich," "Vote for Pedro." Need I say more? Yes, I did, at one time, own a tshirt bearing the phrase "50% Single." Granted, I only wore it about twice considering I didn't make a habit of staying single at any percentage. Still, a fashion choice I regret to this day.
5. Sequins: We are not Porter Wagner. Come on...
6. Heels: If you insist upon wearing these wonderful corn inducing pointed shoes with the sky scraper heels on them, do some calf exercises first. Nobody likes to see a chick stumbling and wobbling on her way because she doesn't know how to walk in heels.
7. Tightness: This goes along with sizing and the skewed idea of what's attractive these days. This I-obviously-don't-have-all-the-organs-I'm-supposed-to look is, for some reason, considered to be out of this world sexy these days. This problem, of course, leads to girls who very obviously have all of their organs dressing like the ones who obviosuly haven't hit puberty yet. Dressing for whatever size you are is much more flattering than dressing for whatever half your size is. Look in the mirror before you leave the house. Nobody likes to see pasty white lower belly hanging out from under your "blondes do it beter" tshirt over the top of your too superlow levis. After all, it hides your pink sequin belt.
That's all for this time folks...
*Written on 8/18/2006
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