thesavagepea

I'm back

2010-09-30T13:03:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back. After a 2 year hiatus from the Savage Pea I am back and I will try to add some thoughts to this blog (since nobody else seems interested in doing it) Or until Renee' finally creates my REAL blog/website.

Anyway, here I am again.

Brenda

The Big Bang Theory

2008-10-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

Something came from nothing then exploded.

hhmmm....

Coaster pinochle.

2008-04-28T12:42:00.001-07:00

My family are card players. Pinochle. We love a good game of pinochle. Pinochle is inexplicable to those who don’t play cards, let me just say that there is bidding, trump and meld. The deck has only aces, 10s, kings, queens, jacks and 9s, their value in that order. Anyway, my three year old , Sophie, has listened to us play quite often. One morning as I was clearing away glasses and napkins from the previous evenings card game Sophie picked up the deck and started slinging cards like a dealer and saying, “PASS!… PASS!” as each card slide across the table and onto the floor.

Not long after this the family was all together eating out at a burger place and the table had a stack of those cardboard coasters. Sophie handed a few to my brother, threw down a couple coasters and said, “I’ll take 3!“ Sophie and Uncle Brian happily played coaster pinochle until our food came. Ya gotta love kids.

Flood Stories

2008-03-27T17:43:00.000-07:00

The Genesis Flood

China Flood Legend
A flood story in China records that Fuhi, his wife, three sons, and three daughters escaped a great flood and were the only people alive on earth.

Hawaii Flood Legend
A flood story in Hawaii records that Nu-u and his family escaped a global flood by building a great canoe and filling it with animals. Only he and his family were left alive.

Sound familiar? To biblical believers, yes they should.

Similar global flood stories also appear in the ancient writings of Assyria/Babylon, Persia, Syria, Asia Minor, Greece, Egypt, Italy, Aboriginal Australia, Lithuania, Russia, India, Cree Indians (Canada) , Cherokee Indians (US), Papago (Mexico), Aztecs (Mexico), Peru, Leeward Islands, Fiji Islands, and the list goes on and on.

These are just a few examples of extra-biblical flood stories. Oddly enough, I never heard anything about this in high school or college history. Isn’t it strange that an event common to so many ancient cultures never appears in our modern text books? Most people have no idea that there are stories of a worldwide flood in almost every culture on the planet. Flood stories have been found in every continent on the globe. If the stories do appear they are usually used to try and discredit the biblical story as ‘just another legend’. As a biblical believer I am not surprised by this.

The reason we don’t hear more about these global flood stories is that it obviously lends credibility to the story of Noah in the bible. I suppose this makes a lot of people uncomfortable, particularly those who want to discount the bible as a source of accurate history. Because, let’s face it, if Noah’s flood really happened as written then the doubters would have to ask themselves, “If the story of Noah’s flood is true, what else in the bible is true?”

I see these many similar accounts as evidence that they originate from the same event in history. The people who were alive at the time the Tower of Babel was being built were all descendents of Noah and his family. These people all had a shared memory/history of the global flood. After the confusion of their languages these people all began to move off in different directions taking this shared history with them. The flood stories were slightly distorted over time, but retaining the basic elements of the Genesis account. Almost without fail, the stories all tell of a man and his family who took animals on a boat and who were the sole survivors after a terrible flood.

So, why does it matter whether or not the Genesis flood was a true event or just an allegory? Because Jesus talked about the flood of Noah in Luke 17. IF the flood was just an allegory then Jesus was a liar. Also, if the flood is just an allegory then so is the story of Adam and Eve, and if Adam and Eve is just a cautionary tale and they never really existed, then the death of Jesus is pointless and our faith is meaningless. For Jesus came to restore what Adam lost. 1 Corinthians 15:22 For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.

When this is all linked together no wonder it makes the secular scientists groan. If these stories are true, then evolution can not be, for the bible has a very different account of the origins of the earth and the life on it. If the bible is true then all the claims of Darwinists (goo to you via the zoo) can not stand .

Here is why: IF, the planet at one time was completely covered in sea water (and it was since the highest mountains have fossils of sea creatures) Then the receding of these waters would certainly have created our great canyons and other geologic formations, not over millions of years, but quickly. It is also a perfect explanation for the fossil record which necessitates that the animals who were fossilized had to have been quickly killed and buried in sediment before the bodies began to decompose. This quick burial would also explain why fossils are usually complete skeletons and why the bones were not scattered as happens in natural decomposition. The jumbled fossil layers would also make sense if the animals had been caught and piled up in a catastrophic event on the scale of the Genesis Flood.

When you add all these together it creates a big problem for evolutionists. And evolutionists do not want anybody to believe anything, but purely naturalistic, long time span, evolutionary origins of the universe. (ask any college student who tries to disagree with their professors in this area) Because anything else points to God. A God of the Bible who has plans for us and expects us to live our lives in HIS way, not our way.

References:
http://www.answersingenesis.org/
http://www.globalflood.org/
http://www.icr.org/

Bellydance

2008-02-04T12:44:00.000-08:00

I have recently become a student of Bellydance. This is something I have thought about doing for a long time and I am having more fun than I could ever have imagined. It is an ancient form of dance originally performed by women for women. Bellydance focuses on isolating muscle groups and was used to prepare women for childbirth by strengthening all the abdominal muscles. Here is a great example of great bellydance. (I have a long way to go)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YamDoDK71Ds

PS. there are photos of me debuting as a dancer in the photos link to the right

My 3 year old helper

2008-01-26T08:36:00.000-08:00

I have a three year old daughter, as most of you already know. This morning I noticed a small fossilized nautilus shell I had on display was missing. It is within the range of small children, but being too large to swallow and too hard to damage, I felt it would make an interesting and practical item of decor. I got it on my trip to Morroco and so I wanted to recover it. I asked my daughter if she had played with it and if she remembered where she put it? This is how our conversation went:

Me: Sophie, do you know where Mommy's shell went?
S: Rosie took it. (note: Rosie is Sophie's best friend who is usually blamed for everything and vice-versa on Rosie's part)
Me: I don't think Rosie took it. Did you and Rosie play with it?
S: We put it in the pool. (I walk all around pool looking for nautilus in freezing cold)
Me: Sophie the shell is not in the pool. Did you put it somewhere else?
S: McDonald's.
Me: Did you take it to McDonald's?
S: No, the dog ate it.
Me. I don't think the dog ate it honey, it is too big. Can you remember where it went? Is it behind the piano?
S. Yes. (while many items HAVE wound up behind the piano the nautilus was not there.
Me: The nautilus isn't behind the piano honey. Can you help Mommy find it?
S: (stares at Dora show seemingly not hearing me)
Me: (walks away)

Happy New Year!!!!

2008-01-01T07:08:00.000-08:00

Well, it has been quite a while since my last entry here, not that anyone noticed. I have been busy being a mom of two. I rarely have a spare moment to think, let alone type anything. When I do have a moment I usually try to do nothing at all - I know, but we all get by as best we can. hehe. All I really wanted to do is wish everyone a Happy New Year. I have an unusual sense of optimism regarding the upcoming year and I wanted to share that with you - whoever you are.

Global Warming

2007-10-20T07:06:00.001-07:00

http://youtube.com/watch?v=XDI2NVTYRXU

2007-10-08T11:25:00.000-07:00

John Lofton, a Christian, here interviews Craig Palmer, who, along with Randy Thornhill, is one of two evolutionist academic authors of the book, A Natural History Of Rape: Biological Bases Of Sexual Coercion (MIT Press). The book argues that rape is to be expected on the basis of our alleged evolutionary heritage. Many other evolutionists have attacked the book's thesis; this interview brilliantly spotlights the inconsistency between evolution and the idea of moral values in a society.
[Ed. note: This article may not be appropriate for younger readers.]

John Lofton: So, how would you sum up what your book is saying?

Craig Palmer: That there is obviously some evolutionary basis to rape just like there is some evolutionary basis to all aspects of living things. In the book we narrow it down to two plausible specific evolutionary reasons for why we are a species in which rape occurs. One is just a by-product of evolved differences between the sexualities of males and females. Or, two, rape might be an adaptation. There might have been selection favouring males who raped under some circumstances in the past. And therefore there might be some aspects of male brains designed specifically to rape under some conditions.

What do you mean when you say evolutionary reasons?

An evolutionary reason is also known as the ultimate level of explanation. It's really the question of why are we the way we are? And the evolutionary answer is what selective forces favoured those traits in hundreds or thousands of past generations that we eventually end up with today.

So, if men rape for evolutionary reasons then they are not responsible for their rape?

Oh, absolutely not. That's not—

How could they be responsible? To what?

Excuse me?

Evolutionary man would be responsible to what? To whom?

The question of causation is a different question from responsibility. Let me turn it around and say the typical explanation is that culture, your culture, causes you to rape. Why aren't people saying then, 'Oh, then the person can't be responsible because it's their culture, something else that caused them [to rape].'

I assume you think rape is wrong and should be a crime.

Absolutely. Yes.

But, if we just evolved, how can there be any right and wrong?

That's a very good point. But you need to avoid the naturalistic fallacy. What was favoured by natural selection is no more likely to be considered good or bad. You can't just make the assumption that if something is natural, favoured by evolution, that therefore it is good. That is the naturalistic fallacy.

But, you're a naturalistic evolutionist, right?

I've never heard that term.

I mean, you either think that God caused evolution, and that's the way people were created. Or it all just happened naturally.

Oh, oh. Then given those two options, I guess I'd be a naturalist evolutionist.

Then I repeat my question: Where would right and wrong come from in a completely natural world where things just happen?

It doesn't come from what was selected for. I suggest that where it comes from is that you look at the consequences; not the causes of a behaviour, whether it's evolved or not, but what are the consequences. And then you are free to choose which consequences you find desirable and good and which should be encouraged, and which consequences you find bad and should be prevented.

But let's take this conversation out of the realm of the abstract. I'm talking to you, Dr Palmer. You say rape is wrong and should be illegal, right?

Absolutely.

But, if there was no law against rape, why would you be for making it illegal? Why do you think it is wrong? By what standard is rape wrong?

Because it causes so much human suffering.

But this begs the question. Why is it wrong to cause human suffering? In naturalistic, evolutionary terms, what is a human that it is wrong to make one suffer? I mean, you believe that humans are accidents, they just happened.

I would go with that.

So, why would it be wrong then to make humans suffer if they just happened?

We're free to deem those things we consider wrong. Let me ask you: Are you a creationist?

I'm a Christian who believes the Bible.

Ahhhh, I see.

Are you a Christian?

No. I was raised Christian, a Congregationalist. I'm now an agnostic. I don't have any evidence that God doesn't exist.

The reason men rape is because of Original Sin. This very easily explains rape. But because you're an unbeliever, you have no real answer as to why rape is wrong.

You don't like my human suffering answer?

As I've said, this begs the question because you don't say why causing human suffering is wrong. I say, because I'm a Christian who believes the Bible, that rape is wrong and human beings ought not to be made to suffer, because God says this is wrong. God says rape is a capital crime. And making humans suffer is wrong because we are made in God's image. But, you can't say any of this.

That's true. I do not give that ultimate reason. You're right, absolutely right.

You still say rape is wrong, however. But, where would right and wrong come from in an evolutionary world where things just happen? Isn't there a problem here, from your perspective?

I actually think that what you say is basically true. I kinda like the view that we have free will to decide what's right and wrong and that we don't have to follow some scriptures.

But, if we have this free will that means that each one of us can decide for ourselves if rape is right or wrong. A rapist can decide that rape is OK for him. And a rape victim can decide that rape is not OK for this victim. If all this is true, then there is no right or wrong regarding rape. There are just different opinions.

But you have democracies and laws—

But you say individuals decide about rape being right or wrong according to their free will.

An individual can decide if cannibalism is fine or whatever. But others have the right to disagree and to enact laws and vote so that persons can't act on that.

But your free will, everybody-decide-for-himself-what's-right-or-wrong view, by definition, means that there is no transcendent, absolute argument against rape or anything else.

You also have the rule of the majority in law and that does figure into it.

Not at all. This doesn't, necessarily, bind individuals. In fact, what you just said is just one more opinion that I can accept or reject according to my free will, as you see it. Do you really think rapists respect majority rule?

Well, they might if they know the majority has passed laws that will lock them away for the rest of their life.

But see, the problem you have is that the way you reason—and the only way you can reason as a naturalistic evolutionist—is that everyone decides for himself, according to his own free will—which he does not have but thinks he does—what's right and wrong. And this means there is no right and wrong, that everybody just makes up his own religion, his own right and wrong. And this is exactly the situation we have in our society today, which is why we have moral chaos! In fact, this is what God talks about in the book of Judges in the Old Testament—a time in Israel's history when they, too, were in chaos because 'every man did that which was right in his own eyes' (Judges 21:25).

Very interesting.

It is. But, tell me this, please. For generations now, in our public, government-run schools, your view has been taught. Kids have been taught evolution, that they are animals who evolved from lower forms of animal life. How do you think this is working? I don't think it is working.

I would agree with you on that one. Absolutely.

So, why doesn't this shake your belief then? If you can honestly say that the teaching of your view is not working, why doesn't this shake your viewpoint?

This may surprise you, but I actually think religion has a good effect on people because it has been the way that generation after generation has passed down moral codes.

But, I'm not talking about just 'religion'. I'm not a religionist. I don't believe 'religion' saves anybody. 'Religion' is something people babble about and praise when they don't know what they are talking about. 'Religion' isn't, necessarily, good or bad. It depends on whether you're talking about a true or false religion.

Ahh.

But, again, why do you cling to a view that you admit has not worked when taught to our kids in the public, government-run schools? Do you care if reality refutes what you believe?

Could it be possible that my view of how living things came to be, would it be logically consistent—possible—that what I believe is true and yet the teaching of that truth has social consequences that we might consider bad? I think that is possible. And that your view—though not accurate—might have better consequences if taught? I think that's possible.

(Laughing) Oh, boy. One of the things I have on my resume is that I thank God I never went to college—which is why I am so smart. But, no, your view is not possible because it contradicts the Word of God. Your view is an interesting evasion to try and get you out of the corner you are in. But, it is not possible. The consequences of teaching your view are bad because what you believe is bad, is false! But, if you really believe that your view when taught has bad consequences, where does this leave you? And what should be taught in the schools?

I think there are aspects of religious teaching that have wonderful social consequences and particularly the encouragement of morality and self-restraint that does come with religion and—
Again, please, forget 'religion'. I'm not a religionist. I'm defending Christianity.

Sure. OK, this all comes certainly with Christianity. I've written a paper but never published it arguing that all types of sexual crimes increase when religion and moral traditions in general deteriorate.

You mean Christianity since there are no 'moral traditions in general'. The reason I'm so touchy on this matter is because God, the Lord Jesus Christ, is to be given the glory for all good things that happen. And He is robbed of this glory when one speaks of 'moral traditions in general'.

OK. I would agree that there is a correlation between powerful Christian traditions and the lowering of all kinds of crimes, maybe particularly sexual crimes. And I would agree that in our society we have seen Christian traditions weakened.

You're a master of the under-statement.

And that (the weakening of Christianity) is a factor responsible for the increase in rape and sexual crimes and violence, murder in our schools, which you've mentioned. So, there is maybe a small point of agreement here.

But, where does this leave you and what you believe? If the secular humanist order is collapsing all over the world—and it is—where does this leave you when you admit this view has bad consequences when taught? And what are these bad consequences of teaching naturalistic evolution?

The question is whether the benefit of teaching this outweighs the cost. My view can increase knowledge, generate predictions which can be tested and you discard the ones that aren't met and keep the ones that can increase knowledge. The downside is that my view tends to—you would say it has to—is that it diminishes the role of religion. And I think that religion does make people more co-operative, more self-restrained, nicer, altruistic …

But, we're back to 'religion'.

OK, Christianity, sorry. I'm an anthropologist and am used to talking in those terms. I'll try to stick to Christianity. [My view] turns people away from Christianity. Christians are nicer, more altruistic, more willing to sacrifice for someone else, more willing to restrain themselves for someone else than from someone who does not practise—I would say any religion—than in evolution. So, you have to choose and I've had to choose. What are the benefits of increased knowledge versus the cost of this loss of say Christian behaviour?

It's interesting that I actually started a dissertation in graduate school on religion. And what I found was that it was too close of a call for me to make. Yes, I thought I could increase knowledge about religious behaviour, its causes, etc. But in doing so it tended to have the effect on people I convinced of [this that they] would no longer practice their Christianity. I was not at all sure that was a good thing. In fact, I sensed that it was making them more selfish and less cooperative.

But, when you—as an unbeliever—worry about people falling away from their Christianity, when you are not a Christian, [it] makes you a hypocrite! Seriously, how can you do this when you, too, reject Christianity?

I understand perfectly. I would try to behave in a nice, caring, non-selfish, restrained way …

A Christ-like way, you mean. The Christ in whom you do not believe!

Yes. Exactly. Perfectly put.

Your problem is that you want Christianity without Christ.

Yes, the behaviour without having to…

But, you're not going to get it! You will not get Christianity without Christ! You will not get the fruit without the tree! See?

Uh-huh.

You remind me of a story that was told about the French atheist Voltaire (1694-1778). It is said that when he had atheist friends over for dinner they spoke openly, while being served, of their atheism. But, Voltaire told them to shut up, that he didn't want such godless talk in front of the hired help because if they believed this they might murder him in his sleep and rob him.

(Laughing) That's very good.

And it's very true, too, and applicable to you! What you need to do is repent of your sin of unbelief and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. You need to admit that your godless philosophy has been a dismal failure. But, you're not there yet.

No, not quite. But, I have enjoyed this.

A Parable - the limits of science

2007-07-09T09:44:00.000-07:00

It was a warm summer evening. Two people were walking along the beach listening to the gentle lapping of the waves and looking at the star-studded sky. They both spotted a light flashing out at sea. One of them was a professor of physics, the kind of scientist who thought of nothing but his work. Science was his life. He rushed to his car where, being the sort of person he was, he kept all kinds of scientific equipment. He got out a stopwatch and timed the flashes. He got out a photometer and measured the brightness of the flashes. He set up a spectrometer and recorded their spectrum. He noted the position of the light against the background stars. As he drove home along the coast road he stopped a couple of times and noted its position again as it appeared to move against the background stars, and did some triangulation calculations on his laptop. When he got home his wife said, 'You look excited dear, did you see something interesting tonight?' 'Yes,' he said, 'I saw what I deduced was a heated tungsten filament, enclosed in a silica envelope, emitting a regular pattern of flashes of visible radiation at an intensity of 2,500 lumens from a distance of about 850 metres offshore.'

The other person on the beach that night was a teenager going home from Sea Scouts. When she got home her mother said, 'You look excited dear, did you see something interesting tonight?' 'Yes,' she said, 'I saw a boat signalling SOS. I phoned the Coastguard, and they sent out the lifeboat.'

This 'parable' illustrates the fact that the same event may have more than one level of explanation. Science, by the very methods which it uses, is restricted to the study of material things - matter and energy - and so its explanations are always expressed in materialistic terms. As a result it explains the mechanisms of nature - in the parable, how the flashing light was produced. It cannot answer questions about meaning and purpose - in the parable, why someone was shining the light and the message it carried. The scientific explanation could only go as far back as the tungsten lamp (the secondary cause). It couldn't get back behind it to the mind of the person using it (the primary cause).

Excerpt from public lecture given by by Dr. Ernest Lucas, Trinity College Cambridge

http://www.st-edmunds.cam.ac.uk/cis/lucas/lecture.html

So, what happened on the Chattanooga?

2007-04-06T05:45:00.000-07:00

This is the Chattanooga story. This also happened while Matt and I were living in Georgia. One day we decided to take our raft and find a nice stream or river to float around on. We drove and drove and finally found a dirt road. We turned off and wound up in a forested section of the Chattanooga River. We had our lunch in a back pack and with the raft hoisted over our heads we walked towards the river. As we turned a corner on the trail we were using we saw a guy with his wife and two kids standing next to a VW bug. We said hello, but the guy looked at us like we were dangerous and never responded. It was weird. We shrugged it off and went on our way. We got to the water and pushed off from the bank and started paddling. Our plan was to paddle upstream for a bit and then just drift back to were we started. We had paddled a ways upriver when we saw this chick walking along the bank in the opposite direction. She was wearing a bikini and carrying a shotgun. We were a little freaked out, but kept paddling. Then behind us we heard three distinct gunshots. Matt and I both looked at each other with the same thought - that guy just shot his family!! I asked Matt if that was gunshot and he said yes and he thought that maybe we should get out of there. I agreed. We turned our raft around and paddled back to where we had gotten in. As we entered the clearing where the family had been with the VW we were relieved to see all four members still breathing. The dad was reloading his gun and we saw a target on a tree. Again, he just looked at us like we were dangerous intruders. We finally got back to our truck and headed towards the highway. We were quite relieved to see paved road ahead. As we were turning off the dirt road we were on we noticed a sign. “Private Gun Range. Trespassers will be shot”.

Carnie

2007-03-13T15:46:00.000-07:00

Years ago, when Matt and I still lived in Georgia, we were going to the price club one Saturday night. When we got there a little traveling carnival had set up in the parking lot. There was all the usual carnie attractions. On the spur of the moment I said, “Hey, let’s go on a couple of rides!” It was a wish from childhood. I remember seeing these same carnivals set up here and there in a parking lot or a field. I was always so disappointed that my parents did not share my enthusiasm. Let me just say here that this was one of many instances when Matt catered to me without complaint. So, Matt and I chose a ride. We decided on a kind of ferris wheel with spinning cars. The cars are like little cages that spin as the ferris wheel goes round. We bought a ticket and got in line, well actually we were the line. We were the only ones riding. As the carnie who ran this particular ride opened the gate for us to enter, I got a creepy feeling. At one quick glance I saw a lot of tattoos and something not quite right about his eyes. We stepped into the cage. We fastened a greasy seatbelt and the carnie shut the cage door and latched it with a rattle of chains. Just before he walked away to the controls he leered at us through the bars with a gold toothed grin and said, “I could leave you in here ALL NIGHT.” He chuckled in a frightening way and spun our cage so we were immediately upside down and rocking wildly. As the carnie walked back to his control panel I could see a dragon tattoo creeping up the back of his neck. I looked at Matt with a, “is he serious?” look on my face. Matt did not look happy. Our ride seemed to last a very long time before we were finally let out of our cage. The carnie did not smile as we left. We went silently to our car. We laughed hysterically as we drove out of the parking lot, but it was one of those nearly hysterical laughs. The whole thing sort of reminded me about that time on the Chattanooga river…

Answers & Questions

2007-02-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

I recently spent a couple hours at Yahoo Answers. Specifically the area dealing with ‘Religion & Spirituality’. I happened upon it quite by accident. I was surfing for something else and up popped this question. How this works is, someone asks a question and then waits to get answers from others. There is a specific time period for a question to be answered and then it is closed. At that time the asker decides which answer he likes best.

So, I read the answers to this question, (I don’t remember what the question was) and felt that none of the answers were really sufficient, so I added my own answer. After that first answer I just couldn’t stop. I must have answered over 20 questions, some sincere questions, some not so sincere. The fascinating thing was how many atheists were hanging out in this area. You’d think as an atheist the last thing they would want to read about was spiritual questions and answers. They seemed compelled to interject their viewpoint into every question about God, or faith. I found their intense vehemence very interesting. It was not just that they wanted to share their viewpoint, they wanted to crush the viewpoint of anyone who did not believe as they did. It seemed to me that there was a lot of pain somewhere behind their words. The anger was too intense.

I was once told by a psychologist that anger is a response to fear. At first I couldn’t see how this was true, but as I went along it made sense to me. I realized that most anger arises because we feel threatened by something. So what are these atheists threatened by? Possibly that God is who he says he is. If this is true, then they are in a very precarious situation. It is no small thing to thumb your nose at the Creator. So, the more people you meet who agree with you would be a comfort. What is interesting is that it does not seem enough for them to simply disbelieve, they want others to disbelieve with them. We all seek a consensus that agrees with our viewpoint I suppose.

So, what I am getting at is that what started out as an interesting time of questions and answers made me think more about people and why they believe the things they say they do. It is usually not about the words coming out of their mouth. The truth is hidden somewhere deeper. My husband, who is very wise, suggested that a lot of atheists may be angry with God because they have suffered a great loss that they cannot accept. So instead they blame God for their pain and reject Him. After all, God could have stopped it or changed it, right? And if God did nothing to stop it or change it, then God is not worth believing in.

In the end, after meditating and praying, about these people (who all seemed fairly young, judging by their own words) I was comforted that, unlike an agnostic, these individuals were actually closer to God than they realized. It seemed that they could not stop themselves from talking about God. A person who is dialoguing about God, even in the negative, is a lot closer to God than someone who just truly does not care. These ‘atheists’ obviously cared a great deal. So, whoever you are out there, “Me thinks you protesteth too much.” and that comforts me.

2007-02-03T07:59:00.000-08:00

I want to talk about why I believe the bible is true. People of faith are sometimes treated like gullible children, with an apparent lack of education and understanding, when their trust in the bible is found out. It is questioned how someone in today’s modern world could blindly believe in a book that has been copied and recopied so many times over the centuries? I myself have been asked how I can believe that this book, written by so many authors over so many thousands of years, has not been changed and rewritten to suit the whims and opinions of the writers. That is actually easy to answer. There are three good reasons to believe the bibles authenticity: Archeology, Manuscripts and fulfilled Prophecy.

Archeology:

The bible has never been contradicted by any archeological finding. In many cases archeology lags behind what we already know of history from the bible. For example the archeological world discredited the bible for a very long time over the Hittites. Over many years of archeological research there had never been found any reference, outside of the bible, of a people called the Hittites. Then in 1884 a monument was uncovered by Archeologist William Wright referencing the Hittite people.

Another biblical reference long doubted by archeologists was a king of Babylon named Belshazzar. Eventually in the remains of the city of Ur, carvings were found referencing Belshazzar, the son of the last king of Babylon, who was regent for his father and later was found to have signed many Babylonian documents and treaties. These are just a couple of examples of Archeological accuracy in the bible. There are many more.

Manuscripts:

Manuscripts are used by scholars to determine the accuracy of a modern translation of an ancient text. If a modern translation and its ancient manuscript are in agreement then it is considered a reliable translation.

The oldest surviving manuscript of the Old Testament of the bible (OT) is the Septuagint. It was written somewhere between 250 – 200BC. It is a Greek translation of the Hebrew and was the ‘scripture’ referred to in the New Testament (NT) by Jesus and his Apostles. The Dead Sea Scrolls are another important OT manuscript dating from approximately 200 BC to 68 AD. These scrolls are fragments of the OT text and were found to differ from the Septuagint and modern translations in only very minor ways, i.e. spelling and punctuation. A third important manuscript of the OT was written around 900 AD; it is the Massoretic text. The Massoretic text is written in Hebrew and again only differs from these older manuscripts and modern text in very minor ways; i.e. spelling and punctuation.

The New Testament (NT) was completed by AD 100. This means the NT was written out within 100 years of Christ’s death. In all there are 5300 copies and fragments of original NT manuscripts available today.

The bible has more than 24,000 manuscripts, either partial or whole, that can be compared to the modern texts. In all of the worlds ancient writing the next nearest contender is the Iliad by Homer. The Iliad has only 643 surviving manuscripts.

I also think it is very compelling that a book written over a 1600 year period, by 40 authors, in 3 languages over 3 continents, displays such continuity of message.

Prophecy:

The bible is the only religious text that has specific and detailed prophecy that can be shown to have come off exactly as foretold. The bible itself sets the standard for whether or not prophecy is acceptable. The bible standard for prophecy is 100% accuracy – no less. The OT is full of fulfilled prophecy. For instance there were 60 prophecies foretelling the life and ministry of the messiah. Jesus fulfilled all 60 messianic prophecies foretold centuries earlier in the Old Testament scriptures. The chances that one person might accidentally fulfill just 8 of these prophecies is 1 x 1,000,000,000,000,000.

The City of Tyre
In the OT Ezekiel predicted that the city of Tyre would be destroyed by the Babylonians. Then Ezekiel adds that a future invader would tear down the city and throw it into the sea until its bedrock was exposed and used to dry nets. This prediction took place around 586 BC; secular history records that the Babylonians attacked the city of Tyre from 585 - 573 BC. When the Babylonians broke through the gates of Tyre the city was empty. The people had escaped to an island city just off the coast.
Then in 332 BC Alexander the Great attacked the island city that the people of Tyre had escaped to. Alexander’s army needed to create a bridge to the island, so they tore down the remains of Tyre and scraped them into the sea to create a causeway. To this day the site of the old city of Tyre is barren rock used by fishermen to dry their nets.
Fulfilled biblical prophecy is a large topic. To read more extensively about biblical prophecy here are a couple good websites:

http://www.allabouttruth.org/bible-prophecy.htm
http://www.ucg.org/booklets/ME/fourempires.htm

This is just a very small look into this most amazing book. The Bible’s message is consistent from beginning to end. Its message has changed individual lives and whole countries. It has withstood many attempts to eradicate it and the people who keep it. It stands, unchanged, morally correct and spiritually freeing in its message. No other religious text can compare to it for its historicity, manuscript accuracy and fulfilled prophecy. It stands today as the most read, most talked about, most attacked, most hated and most adored and revered text in this world. It is God’s love letter to his children; and that is the best reason to believe.

Trek Quote

2007-02-01T17:19:00.000-08:00

Who said, "I believe there are many things in the universe that can't be scanned with a tri-corder."

Quote

2007-01-26T09:57:00.000-08:00

"If my mental processes are determined wholly by the motions of the atoms in my brain, I have no reason to suppose that my beliefs are true...and hence I have no reason for supposing my brain to be composed of atoms."

J.B.S. Haldane, Famous British Evolutionist

Mankind - a failed animal

2007-01-17T15:13:00.000-08:00

Mankind is a complete failure. We are highly intelligent animals. The role of animals is to exist primarily to procreate and possibly to contribute to the food chain. We seem to have over procreated and over eaten our way throughout our environment. We waste tons of resources creating art and literature. We use massive amounts of energy to transmit and disseminate information. We waste millions of dollars on higher education in order to do what? Train highly intelligent monkeys to continue in this fruitless and meaningless pursuit of what? Answers? Why? We have no purpose for being here we are a random convergence of astronomical particles.

If we are just the product of evolution and natural selection then we are a failure as a species. We have dangerously outgrown our place in the world. We have taken more than our share from other animals and from each other. We have destroyed and polluted. Humans alone have found it necessary to question and improve upon nature. We are most unnatural animals. We are not satisfied with simply surviving, we are driven to create and build. We feel a need to preserve history and look to the future. None of this is necessary for our survival. We have outgrown the bounds of natural laws and created laws of our own. We seek diligently for answers to why we are here and yet we know that we are accidental and therefore our lives are meaningless. Why all this stress and trouble?

Maybe it is because we have been designed, not just to survive, but to think and create. We were meant to love and to be loved. To live and to die. Because we die; life is precious to us. We were meant to feel things deeply, to rejoice and to grieve. Perhaps we and our world are made for a great purpose. How can we look at history and current life and see nothing of significance? We seek beauty and meaning in this life. We struggle against barriers and ignorance because we are not just animals, but much more. We FEEL within ourselves the spark of something greater. That we are more than genetic patterns for survival. We gasp at the wonders of nature and look with awe into the heavens. We ponder the nature of the cosmos and our place in it.

Our common sense tells us that accidents rarely, if ever, produce order of this magnitude. I do not believe we are an accident. I believe we are part of a great design. The very questions we ask should convince us, at the very least, that we are more than mere animals. And while mankind has failed in many respects to reach his full potential, I still believe we are wonderfully and skillfully made.

Happy Birthday Dad!

2007-01-08T06:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we celebrated my Dad’s 76th birthday. It was a surprise party that my mom and I had worked on for 2 months. Part of the surprise was a slideshow of photos of Dad with a musical background. This is what really took 2 months. Mom would smuggle pictures of Dad secretly in her crochet bag. Anyway, I put together this slideshow of Dad from his birth to the present day to show at the party. What most people did not realize was the crazy weekend my husband and I had trying to burn this project onto a DVD. For 3 days we literally tried everything we could think of. We bought different packs of blank DVDs, DVD-RW, and DVD+R and DVD-R all in a futile attempt to convince our computer it was OK to burn this project. The day before the party I resigned myself to the fact that my work was for naught and the slideshow would not be shown. My husband refused to give up. He searched the web looking for answers and finally found a little blurb about how you can save this kind of video project as an AVI file and then reinsert the whole thing back into Premier Elements. IT WORKED!!! It was a great hit. Dad loved it, the family loved it and the guests loved it. Thank you Matt for making it all work, and Happy Birthday DAD!!!

Virgin Birth?

2006-11-20T11:03:00.000-08:00

Recently a friend brought up all the ‘virgin birth’ stories found in ancient literature and myths, and how many people believe these stories shed doubt on the story of Jesus’ birth as described in the New Testament. I acknowledged that this is commonly believed. Of course this is not what I believe, but hey, it’s interesting stuff, so here goes…

When comparing historical and mythical stories it is not enough to look at obvious similarities, it is also important to look at the differences. The stories must also be put into their proper cultural and social settings.

In Greece, Rome and Egypt it was traditional to assume that a Pharaoh, king or Caesar was a god; so of course they almost all had miraculous stories about their conception. In most of these stories, a god approaches a human woman in a physical male form, or other apparition. These are conception stories of men who were born in mansions and palaces to wealthy, influential or royal parents. They were destined from birth to be kings and princes. No one would dare question them or their stories.

(Let me just say here that ‘virgin conception’ is a more accurate description of what we are looking for here; the story of Mary is a story of a ‘Virgin Conception’. She is not a virgin who then becomes pregnant, but is a virgin and remains a virgin until the time of Jesus’ birth. Many of the stories here are of (possible) virgin women who have sex with a god and then conceive.)

Here is just a short list of some supposed ‘virgin birth’ stories that are usually trotted out to discredit the New Testament story:

1) Alexander the Great
a. Mother was struck in her womb by a thunderbolt – not mentioned whether she was a virgin or not.
b. Later, mother is seen sleeping next to a snake while husband is away (is a snake sometimes just a snake?)

2) Romulus, Founder of Rome
a. Mother was raped and gave birth to twins – not a virgin
b. She blamed the god Mars for her pregnancy

3) Augustus, First Roman Emperor
a. Mother is married – not a virgin
b. Mother was found sleeping next to a snake
c. Regarded as the son of Apollo

4) Scipio Africanus, general who defeated Hannibal of Carthage
a. Mother was married, but infertile – not a virgin
b. While her husband was away a snake slept next to her (darn snakes)

5) Dionysus
a. Mother, Semele, daughter of a king – virginity is never asserted
b. Semele made love with Zeus who appeared as a shower of gold. Zeus’s wife kills Semele and he puts the baby in his thigh to finish gestating.

6) Pharaoh Amenhotep, (aka Amenkept or Amenophis III)
a. Mother was married, called virgin queen, but questionable due to married state.
b. Creator god, Khnum is depicted with his ram head, fashioning the child and his ka on a potter's wheel under the supervision of the goddess Isis. The god Amun is then led to Amenhotep's mother by Thoth, god of wisdom, after which Amun is shown in the presence of the goddesses Hathor and Mut while they nurse the future king. These things are depicted in the temple of Luxor built by Amenhotep himself while he was Pharoah. (a little self serving there)

The Romans, Greeks and Egyptians believed in every sort and kind of god. Rome had so many gods that I am sure if you walked the highways and byways you could eventually find a shrine to Grindus; god of pencil sharpening. They slept with temple prostitutes and participated in sexual religious rituals as a commonplace practice. For a woman to say she had been impregnated by a god was not an unusual story. A belief in gods, goddesses and half-god rulers was the norm. It was expected. Not so in the Jewish world.

The Jewish people were a thorn in the side of the Roman Empire. No matter how harshly Rome tried to get the Jews to abandon their ‘One God’ beliefs they failed. They refused to acknowledge that Caesar was a god or that Rome had any real gods at all. Even when threatened and intimidated they refused to budge. The Jews were unbending when it came to the Holy and jealous nature of their One God. The Jews were similarly unbending in issues of chastity and marriage. To be convicted of adultery, as a Jew, was a crime. For a young Jewish woman it was a very serious thing – punished, possibly, by being stoned to death and forever casting shame on her entire family.

Now here is Mary, a young Jewish woman. Her betrothed Husband, Joseph, is a Jewish man. Joseph, when he found out Mary was pregnant was going to divorce her quietly. (At this time in Jewish history an engagement was a much more formal affair than it is today and to dissolve an engagement required a divorce) You can imagine he did not want anything to do with a young woman who was pregnant before her marriage. Neither would he, or any other Jewish man, accept the word of a woman regarding the manner of her conception. He would assume she became pregnant in the normal way, by lying with a man, and want nothing to do with her. For a young Jewish woman to say she was pregnant with a child created by God was just as likely to get her killed for blasphemy as getting pregnant in the old-fashioned way. So, something amazing had to happen to change Joseph’s mind about Mary’s pregnancy; something VERY amazing. The Bible says Joseph was visited by angels; that would certainly change my mind.

The Christian story is also different in that Mary is not impregnated by seduction, or intrigue, but by God’s creative will. There is no physical contact of any kind. Also, Jesus’ birth is VERY humble. In comparison to the stories of the leaders above it is downright embarrassing. Jesus is born to a poor, young, Jewish girl, of no status or wealth. She gives birth in a stable and wraps him in ‘swaddling’ which was the same cloth commonly used to enshroud the dead. This stable was not the sweet hayrack with lambs depicted in our Christmas Nativities, but a shack for keeping livestock with all their attendant excrement and odors. Likewise, Jesus was not a great earthly ruler. He came not as a conquering Caesar but was, to all appearances, just an itinerant preacher who was tortured and executed as a criminal.

So, if Jesus’ birth story was borrowed from other ancient myths it is in every outward way an utter failure. It has no romance, no grandeur, no sprinkling of gold dust. It can’t compare to Dionysis for drama. The stories most commonly brought out and compared to the birth of Jesus may have miraculous elements, but they are also quite incredible. In the biblical story there are no strange apparitions or a god in physical male form. It is not sexy or titillating. No one in Rome would have been impressed with Jesus’ birth resume’. It is outwardly, pretty darn boring.

Some conjecture that the Apostles created this birth story of Jesus to convince people of his divinity. The Jewish people scorned ALL other gods, their beliefs and practices. It would not have been in any way a temptation for the Jewish Apostles to copy or borrow from pagan myths as a source for the Gospel story. This would only have created even more derision and hatred within the breasts of the Jewish people who the apostles primarily wished to convince.

There are many more views and opinions on this topic than what I have written here and I know I will probably not change anyone’s mind who is determined in their beliefs. I also admit that I do not have degrees and honors after my name that asserts my knowledge in this area. I suppose, in the end, without degrees and scholarship behind me; even I can see that sometimes, a snake is not just a snake.

Remastered Star Trek

2006-10-30T06:10:00.000-08:00

For those of you who didn't realize, Star Trek is being re-released into syndication to celebrate 40 years of Trek. The photo at left is one of the many remastered scenes being added to the original series. The new images of the Enterprise were created after painstakingly measuring the original model that hangs in the Smithsonian (which I, of course, have seen).

The series is still full of bad acting and all the kitschy stuff we trekkies love, but it is fun to pick out all the new changes too. Here is a website to look at more: http://www.startrek.com/startrek/view/news/TOS/article/28095.html

Show on?

2006-10-19T08:46:00.000-07:00

I have been watching Toy Story a lot lately. Toy Story has periodically been alternated with Toy Story 2, but both have been viewed far too often. In the past month I have watched these movies, I would guess, about 500 times. Yes, I have a toddler. Yes, she is obsessed with Buzz Lightyear. Just turn them off you say? Are you crazy? Are you insane? Years ago my husband got a Buzz Lightyear figure at McDonalds. He gave this toy to our 2 year old after recognizing how much she likes the movies. This just exacerbated an already volatile situation. I am sure I am a victim in this somehow. I think I am in control and then the voice starts in my head, "Show on? Show on? Show on? Show on? Show on? Show on? Show on?...ad infinitum" I tell myself this isn't healthy, that too much TV is a bad thing. I decide to turn it off, but the voice begins and then the screaming. (That would be me screaming) "Show on? Show on? Show on? Show on?"

My friends

2006-09-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

Is it possible that this is really how my friends see me? I know they say I am fly-paper for freaks, but is this necessary?

Andi, my 'friend', made this when she should have been hard at work doing her real job, but NO, she has to ridicule ME!! So, I just wanted to share this PROOF that I get no respect and I should not share photos anymore.

Banana Bread

2006-09-13T18:33:00.000-07:00

A lady who attends a bible study I am part of had recently lost her husband. She had 2 small children and was struggling with all the difficult changes in her life. At one point she became very ill with the flu and had to be hospitalized for a few days. When she came home, her young son was upset that she had been away. He told her the only thing good about her being gone was the friend who had cared for them had given him banana bread every morning. The mom, feeling a little bad that her kids had been through so much promised her son banana bread that next morning. When she woke that next day she was exhausted and had no ingredients for banana bread in the house. Her son accused her of lying and was very disappointed. Discouraged, she loaded her kids in the car, not knowing if she would go to bible study or to the grocery store for ingredients to make banana bread. She felt guilty for wanting to go to bible study, but felt she really needed a break. She turned towards the bible study and left her 2 kids in the children’s area. This little break did her good. After bible study was over, one of the ladies came up to her and said, “You have really been on my mind. I just wanted to give you something. I am afraid this is all I had.”

The woman handed her a brown paper bag. Inside the bag was 2 freshly baked loaves of banana bread.

God knows where we are. God cares about all our little needs. It is hard for most of us to really understand this. Our God is an awesome God. He holds the universe in his hands and yet he cares about a loaf of banana bread when it is really needed.

The Grunion Run

2006-09-11T05:36:00.000-07:00

One evening when I was about 10 years old, my Mom came home talking about strange things. It must have been a Friday night. My Dad was working swing shift at Lockheed, and Mom had just pulled in from work. It was just Mom, my brother Brian and me.

“Do you know what tonight is?” Mom asked very excitedly.

“No.” I answered with all my ten year old enthusiasm. (I am sure without looking away from Willie Coyote or whatever cartoon I was watching at the time.)

She answered with a conspiratorial grin, “Tonight the grunion run!”

I know, “the what; who?” You are asking. That is exactly what I thought too. Mom grabbed a couple flashlights and got us into our light blue, Datsun B210 station wagon. As she was backing out the driveway she began to explain, “The grunion is a little fish that crawls up on the shore to spawn. Tonight is the night they crawl out of the sea and we are going to go see it!”

Brian and I looked at each other, “What?!?” But it was too late Mom was heading for the freeway. At this time we lived in Cherry Valley, California and the beach was about an hour and a half away. I can’t remember exactly, but I imagine we went somewhere near Huntington Beach in Los Angeles. As we drove along, Mom’s excitement began to catch. As we drove over the pass, Mom looked over at Brian and me and added, “I think we should eat at the Spaghetti Factory. This is a special night!”

Now I was confused. I had images of a real factory with dried pasta running along conveyor belts. People would stand around the belts grabbing and munching dry spaghetti as it whizzed past. Now I was worried. “How can you eat in a factory?” I asked. (Bear in mind this would have been somewhere around 1976, the closest thing to a themed restaurant I had ever experienced was Denny’s)

Mom just smiled at my question, “You’ll see, just wait.”

This was a real adventure. I was going to the beach at night, to see a little fish walk up out of the sea, and then we were going to go eat in a factory. What could be better on a Friday night?

We finally pulled up to the beach. Mom handed out the flashlights and we headed for the shore. It was damp and slightly chilly. I could smell the salt and a slightly fishy odor. There were other people there, walking around with flashlights and buckets. They were wandering around scanning the sand at their feet. We joined them. I was determined to see a grunion. Honestly, I can’t remember if we ever saw one of those little guys that night, or not, but it didn’t really matter. I was just happy to be there.

After searching for grunion for about an hour we headed back to the car. “Anybody hungry?” Mom asked.

We were all hungry in the way that only comes on you when you have been walking on the beach, at night in the early spring. We pulled into a parking lot about 20 minutes away. We walked into this huge restaurant filled with antique furniture and a train down the middle of the room. There were people eating at antique bedsteads and waiters carrying trays loaded with spaghetti and lasagna. The smell of garlic bread was in the air. We ate in the train car (joy of joys!) and I ordered an Italian soda as my Mom suggested. I can’t remember what I ate, but it didn’t really matter. I was having the time of my life.

Obviously, I never forgot that night. Thirty years later, the thought of hunting grunion and eating with my mom and brother at the Spaghetti Factory, for the very first time, still brings a smile to my face.

Thanks for a great memory Mom.

http://www.dfg.ca.gov/mrd/grnindx3.html

Our trip

2006-09-02T14:31:00.000-07:00

We just returned from a 3 week road trip. We started in Virginia, and then went to Connecticut, then on to Niagara Falls, through a bit of Canada to Owosso, Michigan and from there to Des Moines and Agency Iowa to visit family. It was a great trip. Sophie was with us and she did great for such a long trip.

In Virginia we were visiting friends. While there we went to a nearby petting zoo Complete with Pony ride; the obvious highlight of Sophie’s visit. Mostly we relaxed with friends and played snooker. I have a confession though. A nearby restaurant serves flourless chocolate waffles covered in ice cream and heavenly chocolate sauce. Sally and I had 2.

We left Virginia early on a Monday and headed for Connecticut. Everything was fine until we hit New York. About 30 minutes from the George Washington Bridge we got stopped in a traffic jam. There is nothing like a NY traffic jam. We sat for 2 ½ hours. At one point we had to get off and make a 20 minute detour just to go pee. Then we had no choice but to get back into the jam. Eventually we got through and made it into Connecticut.

In Connecticut we again stayed with friends who live in Danbury. We walked around a lovely nearby colonial town and had some lunch – well almost. Sophie got tired and fussy so we made a hasty retreat with to-go boxes. Ah well.

After leaving Connecticut we were lucky enough to be directed onto the Taconic State Pkwy through New York. It was a meandering highway lightly traveled and overhung by gorgeous forest trees. We made it to Niagara Falls just before dinnertime. We were slightly disappointed with the falls. It was not nearly as big as we had always thought and I think all the good views are on the Canadian side. We ate at a nearby hotdog stand and then headed into Canada.

We were a little worried about getting through Canada since we had no papers for Sophie. Just forgot. Turns out it was no trouble at all and in a couple hours we crossed into Michigan.

We got in late to the Newton’s in Owosso, around 10pm. Sophie was screaming, Matt was screaming, I was screaming. It was not good. After we got inside and set up Sophie’s bed she had settled down. We read some books and she started chattering to Joanne and Becca. Becca, who is 12, was so good with Sophie. They played together a lot and Becca sprayed Sophie with the garden hose – one of Sophie’s favorite things.

The Newton’s live in a 3-story Victorian house. It is overflowing with handy-man projects and Matt just jumped in and got to work. He repaired oak chairs, unstuck doors, rewired lamps, and much more. He also found a need to purchase a new drill and the largest dremel set I have ever seen.

After Michigan we still had 2 stops in Iowa; the first with my Dad’s older sister in Des Moines, the second with his older brother and his wife in Agency, Iowa. While at my Aunt’s house her younger sister called to say she was arriving in a few hours, so we decided to stay another night with her. The next day we left after lunch to stay with Dad’s older brother. My Uncle and Aunt also asked us to stay an extra night and so we did.

In Agency we got the royal tour. We saw the cemetery. The grave of Chief Wa pel lo, for whom Wappello county is named. Then we were driven through Ottumwa and back through more corn fields to the farm where my dad grew up and finally to the grain elevator, where the farmers really just go to play cards. We took my Aunt and Uncle to lunch at the Agency Deli. My aunt leaned over and very conspiratorially told me that the deli was run by 2 homosexual men.

The next day we left for home. We started at 7am from Agency, Iowa and arrived in Dallas around 7:30pm. We were so happy to be home we were giddy.

17 days
3977 miles
75 hours driving
Average 26.9 miles per gallon
Average speed 57 miles per hour
2 year old in back seat saying “baby out” 30 times per hour

I can not express what a happy feeling it was just being in my own living room.

(check out photos at the top right)

Planned Parenthood

2006-08-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

The last couple days two people I know said that Planned Parenthood had called them for a survey. One friend had lamented her quick hang-up as she realized that she would really have preferred for them to know her opinion. I had this in mind when I received a call from Planned Parenthood myself. A woman asked me if I would mind answering 2 questions about abortion; which, she pointed out, was legal at this time. She did not wait for me to say whether I wanted to participate in her survey, just charged on ahead to the first question.

"Abortion is legal in the U.S. Do you believe that abortion should remain legal or do you favor changing the law?"

I answered that I favored changing the law. The caller thanked me and hung up without asking me the second question.

Obviously they were looking for a different answer. This says to me that their 'survey' was not really a survey or they would have been interested in my answer to both questions. So what were they really looking for? I am not sure, but I feel a little bit cheated. I want to be one of those people whose voice is heard. Obviously they are not interested in my opinion only those who agree with them.

At this time I am awaiting the adoption of a second child. A child who would not exist except that a woman chose to give birth in a difficult situation instead of have an abortion. There are so many couples waiting for a child to adopt, so please, if you know someone who is pregnant and not sure what to do - ask them to consider adoption.

It is the greatest gift one human being can give another.

Sammy

2006-08-05T03:09:00.000-07:00

I was looking through photos the other day and I noticed something; Sammy kept popping up in Sophie's pictures. As you may already know, Sammy is an unusual dog; possibly telepathic. (see: My Dog is Telepathic, March 2005) I am not sure, but I think this may be another form of Sammy communication. See for yourself. Here he is obviously trying to communicate something...

Almost from the day that Sophie came home from the hospital, Sammy was always right there whenever the camera came out. He seems to be drawn with an uncontrollable impulse to insert himself in some way or another.

Here.

And here...

Here he is harder to spot, but he is there.

Even when he is hard to spot, there will be an eye or more commonly a nose in view. An interglactic agent you ask? I asked myself the same thing.

What other conclusion could there be? I ask you? I've seen "Men in Black" I know the story.

You may doubt the picture evidence, but it is too much for me to overlook. He's almost always there. seemingly trying to communicate something...

Either that, or he just likes the baby...

Of puppies and Brontosaurus...

2006-07-21T08:04:00.000-07:00

I want to go back about a year and a half. Sophie is 6 months old and we have recently lost Missy, our red dachshund. Matt did a little research and found a dachshund breeder in north Ft. Worth. They had one puppy left, so we loaded the baby in the car and headed out. These breeders lived WAY out in the boonies on a dirt road, but we finally found the house.

The puppy was adorable, of course, and we decided to take her. We named her Lacey. We thanked the people and went out to the car. Matt put Sophie in her seat from the driver’s side. I was holding the puppy and had just put a blanket over Sophie in the back seat, from the passenger side and shut the door. I was reaching for the front passenger side door when the car pulled away. Perplexed, to say the least, I stood there, in the dark, in the driveway of total strangers, puppy in hand. My purse with my cell phone was in the car with Matt, now about half a mile away. I was wondering how to explain to these people that my husband just drove away leaving me in their driveway holding a puppy…

Meanwhile, back in the car, Matt is asking me questions and wondering why I am not answering. He is wondering to himself what he had done now and why I was not responding, when he turned and realized I was not in the car. I imagine for just a split second he wondered why I had jumped out of the car? It probably took another second for him to deduce that I might still be standing in the dog breeder’s driveway. (I get that childhood image of a Brontosaurus, depicting how long it took for pain stimulus at the tail to reach the brain) Apparently, when Matt heard the back car door shut, he assumed I was sitting in back with Sophie.

Just as I was turning to go to the door of the breeder’s house, practicing silly explanations about being abandoned by my husband in their driveway I saw car lights coming in my direction. It was Matt.

Haircut of Doom

2006-07-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

I think this picture speaks for itself.

Sophie, almost 2 years old

2006-07-04T18:13:00.000-07:00

Every night, at Sophie's bedtime, the two of us lay on her bed and read books. Recently I noticed that the covers on several of her board books had been chewed. Two had a nice cresent shape completely chewed away. It was obvious from the tooth prints that tiny human incisors were to blame. I decided to ask her about the books during reading time.

"Sophie honey, look at this book, did you bite your book?"

Sophie paused, looked thoughtful, then very emphatically responded, "Nooo."

I smiled to myself at the same time feeling a little surprised that Sophie, my precious nearly 2 year old, would so smoothly deny responsibility.

"Ahh." I said. Then I asked her, "Did Lacey chew it?"

Sophie again paused and looked thoughtful then responded, "D-yes." (Sophie for 'yes')

"Hmm." I responded, "Lacey must be a bad puppy then."

Sophie responded slowly with the face of a saint, "D-yes."

Whatcha been up to?

2006-06-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

As you all know by now we are adopting again. We are all finished with the paper work and interviews, but now we are on to the “resume". An adoption resume’ is a document that a prospective birth-mom looks at. It is filled with pictures and a letter that captures the essence of who you are as people and a family. Why is it called a resume’ you ask? Because that is exactly what it is. It gives the birth-mom an idea of what kind of people we are, what our interests are, what our tax bracket is. (just kidding) (sorta)

We actually already had a 12 page “adoption album”, but the agency changed the format and now we have a 4 page resume to tell all about ourselves. I understand. The idea is not to overwhelm the birth-moms, who are facing an excruciating decision. Matt is less relaxed about this change of format because we already paid for 20 copies of the previous album. So, we went to a class to learn how to put together an adoption resume’. It was very interesting, but you can imagine how it set my neurotic wheels spinning.

Voice of Social Worker: “The pictures should depict your lifestyle, a nice smile and clear eyes are more important than beauty or wrinkles! Don’t make it an homage to children already adopted (ouch). Be sure that your resume is truthful without being formal, no digitally retouched double chins and laughlines! Ha ha ha.”

I now have 4 perfect pages that show how splendid and slightly imperfect we are – without being too formal or overwhelmingly needy. I showed this resume’ to everyone we know to get their opinion. The only thing missing was a photo of the three of us for the cover sheet. We needed a photo where we are all smiling and not looking goofy or desperate. You’d think this would not be a big deal, but it was. When was the last time you tried to get a toddler to smile, when there are a million more interesting things to do? It took no less than 5 separate photo sessions with our digital camera and misc. family members, friends and Matt’s extended arm holding the camera.

Finally, we got that photo and I think we are all ready to get it printed, all I need now is the Spanish translation…

Borg Brother

2006-06-17T06:43:00.000-07:00

I invited my brother to a BBQ for father's day. I had asked if he would bring buns and drinks? This is how he responded...

"This is acceptable. We will comply. Split loaves for burnt ground animal flesh will be provided. Effervescent liquid regeneratives will be provided.

We are the borg"

Then I asked if they prefer chicken or beef or both?

"We are the Borg. We have accessed our internal data banks and collective memory and can find no reference to chicken as referred to being the previously articulated 'ground animal flesh'. Further research has revealed that a human assimilated on earth date 2003, now part of unimatrix 007, sub-section pair/triumvate Majlogon, designate 6th of 7, subdesignate Maynerd, refers to ground animal flesh as 'cow'. This designate has verbalized to the collective, however, that a combination of ground animal flesh/cow and skinned/deboned animal flesh/chicken is acceptable. We concur. We will adapt to assimilate both.

resistance is futile.
message/futile_borg=true then borg_response(resistance is futile)=1

Majlogon of Borg"

Night Out

2006-06-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I went on a date alone. Matt was called away for work stuff and so I was on my own. My evening plan was simple, shop a little, eat at the Chili’s in the mall, then go to a movie. I had brought a good book to read while I ate and was happily munching my salad and reading when 2 ladies came and sat near me. It was an older lady and her daughter. The older lady immediately leaned over and asked, “What’s that you’re eating?”

“It’s the Caribbean Chicken Salad.” I replied. I quickly described what all it had in it.

“So, it’s a sweet salad?” she asked

“Yes”, I replied, “It’s a sort of a sweet and sour salad.”

“Well, I don’t like a sweet salad.” She responded.

I turned back to my book and tried to find my place. I was reading the same paragraph over again when I heard, “Have you ever had this?”

I looked up and she was pointing to a picture in the menu. It was of the triple play appetizer that has southwest rolls and 2 kinds of wings. I said I had not had it, but heard it was very good.

“Why haven’t you had it?” She asked.

I explained that I was allergic to wheat and couldn’t eat it. She looked confused.

“Point out to me what has wheat in this picture.” She ordered.

I pointed to the rolls, and the breaded wings. “They are all made from flour; I can’t eat anything made from flour.”

“Oh.” She responded, and grew quiet. “That sounds hard; I don’t think I could do that.”

I tried to find my place again. I was just finishing that same paragraph and almost back to where I had lost my place when I heard, “What about Cream of wheat? Can you eat Cream of wheat?”

I looked up and smiled, “No, I can’t eat Cream of wheat, because it is made of wheat.”

“Oh, yes, right, right.” She said. Then her daughter piped in, “Can you eat sugar?”

“Yes, I can eat sugar; it is not made from wheat.”

She quickly came back with, “But it’s processed.”

“Yes, true.” I agreed, “But I am not allergic to sugar, just to wheat.”

Her mother turned to her daughter and explained to her how I was not avoiding wheat for a diet, but that I was allergic. I went back to my book and found that same paragraph.

“What does the wheat do to you?” The woman was back.

“It makes me very sick.” I calmly replied.

The ladies waiter came and took their order. I was paying my bill and getting ready to leave. I turned back to the ladies, now supplied with martinis, before I walked out.

“Have a nice evening ladies.”

“Oh, thank you, you too.”

Smooshies

2006-05-30T20:21:00.000-07:00

The other day I discovered that I had somehow gotten jam in my hair. I apparently went about to several public places with said jam visible on back of head. I have no recollection of how the jam got there. At the risk of jumping to conclusions without direct evidence, I suspect that Sophie, my 2 year old daughter, may have had a hand in it. Since becoming a mom I sometimes go into public with food and other substances on my person; hereafter called, ‘smooshies’.

I used to see mothers of small children out in public with evidence of recent meals liberally applied to shirt fronts and faces. I vowed that “I” would never, when I became a mother, let my child be seen, let alone myself, in public with such smooshies on clothes and hair, but alas, reality is a hard task master. There are too many food smooshies to keep up with these days, and after awhile you just give up under the constant onslaught. I am sure that I sometimes have smooshies and don’t even realize it – like the jam day.

Sophie is not troubled by having strange food substances on her clothes and in her hair, so it follows that it would not trouble her to share these with me. Sophie usually finishes a meal by trying some foodstuffs in her hair – just to see if it will stay I suppose. Why just eat food when it sticks so nicely to hair, clothes and walls?

My husband Matt has very low smooshie tolerance. Sophie was recently eating yogurt and Matt was supervising. When she finished she had yogurt just around her mouth. Matt suggested she needed a bath. He doesn’t get it. I pushed the yogurt around her face a bit with a napkin, just to make him happy and let the dog finish up whatever she didn’t rub in the carpet and on the furniture.

I have been beat down by smooshies. I am a smooshie casualty. For those of you who remember the Brenda who wiped everything down with 409, I think she is gone. The smooshies have beaten her.

The Da Vinci Code

2006-05-22T08:15:00.000-07:00

"The Da Vinci Code" has been in the news quite a bit lately. A lot of people are up in arms about its message, or incorrectly applauding that the ‘truth’ about Jesus has finally come out. I want to remind everybody, IT'S A NOVEL! To find the “Da Vinci Code” in a book store you must search in the FICTION section; Fiction (from the Latin fingere, "to form, create"). It is important that Christians do not run around being fearful and upset about this book. Remember, “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and self-discipline.” 2 Tim 1:7. With that said I want to mention some things all Christians should understand.

First, Constantine did not deify Christ in the 3rd century (325 AD), as Dan Brown asserts, at the council of Nicea. Jesus was treated by his followers from the beginning as God. From the writings of Ignatius of Antioch in 110 AD to Clement of Alexandria in 210 AD and many more in between; there are many early references to Christ’s divinity being expressed by Christian leaders.

Second, Constantine did not destroy any books of the bible to hide the ‘truth’. Those books are available to anyone, at any book store today. They are called the Gnostic Gospels. They were not accepted as scripture because they teach that Jesus was not fully human and fully God as the gospels teach, but some kind of ‘angel/god/creature’ who flits in and out of different spiritual realities and who teaches that women need to become 'male' in order to reach spiritual truth - unlike the feminist bent Dan Brown credits the gnostics for. The Gnostics believed matter was evil therefore denied that Jesus had a mortal human body at all. The Gnostic gospels were also written long after the New Testament books. The Gnostic Gospels were not written by anyone who lived during Jesus ministry on earth, or his Apostles, or under their direct teaching. This was the criteria set up for all the gospels that are now included in the New Testament of the bible. The early church rejected the Gnostic Gospels long before Constantine.

Third, The Priory of Scion was actually founded in 1956, not 1099 as asserted by Brown. It was fabricated by a Frenchman named Pierre Plantard. It has been repeatedly exposed as a hoax. Plantard created false documents of the history of the priory and hid them in a library in order for them to be found. And ‘who’ do you think these documents revealed as the lost but rightful heir of Christ and rightful King of France? Pierre Plantard. (hhhmmm)

There are many more fallacies and fabrications in Dan Brown’s book. The underlying thing to remember is that it IS a NOVEL. While some of the things the book asserts are annoying to those of us who know better, we must remember that this is not the first, nor will it be the last attack on the Christian faith. If there ever was any reason to doubt the veracity of the bible it would have come to light eons ago. There are those who have been trying to debunk the bible, from Genesis to Revelation, for centuries, all to no avail. There are no chinks in the biblical armor. So, let’s give a collective groan for bad scholarship and pass the popcorn.

http://www.worldinvisible.com/library/ffbruce/ntdocrli/ntdocont.htm
http://www.xenos.org/essays/deconstruct_davinci.htm

Something to consider: The whole Christian faith could have been halted almost before it began if either the Jewish leaders or Roman authorities could have produced the body of Jesus. If you believe that the disciples stole the body consider this:

The stone that blocked the entrance to Jesus’ tomb took at least 20 men or several oxen, to budge. The idea being that once the tomb was in use the stone would become permanently fixed in place. Roman soldiers, who were punished by death if they failed in their duty, were guarding the tomb from the moment Jesus’ body was laid in it. Jesus’ body was covered in 100lbs. of spices and wrapped tightly in multiple layers of shrouding. These were a daunting amount of barriers to get through in order to steal a body.

Far from planning a daring rescue of Jesus’ body the disciples were in hiding after his death for fear that they might be next. They believed it was all over. They were dismayed, confused and frightened. They must have doubted if Jesus was who he said he was, the I AM. They had seen him die. They had seen him laid in a tomb and the stone fall immovably across the opening. But then something happened that changed them – dramatically.

Peter went from strenuously denying Jesus 3 times during his trials to being a bold and undaunted preacher of his words. Peter eventually died on a cross himself, hung upside down, for preaching the Gospel of Jesus. This kind of transformation and willingness to die, horribly, for the truth does not happen when someone KNOWS they are promoting a hoax and a lie.

Three of Seven

2006-05-18T19:33:00.000-07:00

Ok, I have to write something about my brother, Brian. Brian is older than me by two years, but many people think I am the older one. I am afraid to know why that is. We did not always play well together as kids, or even like one another a lot of the time, but we always loved each other and we were loyal. Just let some kid try to give one of us a bad time, we would tag team them until they gave in and left us alone. Never hitting or anything, just verbal jabs and insults. When we were little kids we played marathon Monopoly games that lasted for weeks at a time. We had a system to recall whose roll it was when we came home from school. We took our board games seriously.

We watched Star Trek together every Saturday; right after “20,000 Leagues under the Sea”. At one time we tried to build a hover craft thinking it was just one step away from having our own Starship. Little did we know how those Saturdays watching Trek would stay with us. As I have mentioned previously, I am the only one of us to have a uniform, but Brian is the Techno-Trekkie.

For example:

Brian knows all the Star Trek trivia and has an entire bookcase of Trek reference material including the "Ferengi rules of Aquisition". His Christmas tree is covered with miniature light up starships. He regularly finds Klingon swear words in the ‘word verification login’ on my blog comments and he long ago began calling our family by Borg designations. I am “Six of Seven” (or am I five of seven?) He is Three of Seven. As a gift I created for him 2 tins of tea. One was Vulcan Spice Tea the other was Klingon Tea (to be drunk with the blood of a Targ freshly killed). He loved it.

For a long time he would leave messages on my answering machine in a fake KGB accent warning me that he was watching me. These days you can find him riding around Dallas on a huge motorcycle looking like a big scary biker guy, with a shaved head and lots of leather. To look at him you’d never guess he was really a trekker geek who plays guitar, writes poetry and can build computers with his eyes closed. I know my friends would say that they are not surprised at any of this. Their only question would be who was a geek first; me or him? I would have to say him; definitely him.

Cottontail

2006-05-09T06:03:00.000-07:00

There is a cottontail rabbit that lives in my yard. He seems to be quite at home. I frequently see him in the mornings casually nibbling at the grass, or meandering about the yard. He does not seem to be nervous about the fact that there are two vicious wiener dogs that also live there. This morning I watched the cottontail as he hopped slowly around, sniffing and nibbling. He eventually wound up under the kitchen window sitting on one of my stepping stones. I made this stepping stone out of extra concrete when Matt was building our fence in Seattle. It is covered with marbles and colored glass and seashells. The cottontail sat on the stepping stone and scratched his ears and rubbed his nose and just sort of hung out. He seemed to be following his morning routine. I was glad he liked my stepping stone. I like it too.

Electric Dog

2006-05-05T10:13:00.000-07:00

I have, in my home, an electric wiener. Yes, I know what you may be thinking…’where can I get one?’ Well, I got mine from a breeder in West Texas. She was not always electric, just since Wednesday. Her name is Lacey and she is a habitual chewer. Nothing escapes her; baby toys, kitchen chairs, shoes, carpeting, Mr. Potato Head – she’s done it all. Well, what happened on Wednesday is that she apparently found an irresistible object that she decided to try out for a good chew. It was orange, long, and slender and covered by a nice rubbery coating. It was also plugged into a wall socket. Yes, it was a big orange extension cord. Let me just say here that it was Matt who left this object in a place where Lacey could chew it; he was also responsible for leaving it plugged in. The first I knew about Lacey’s new toy was her racing around our pool yelling, ‘yip, yip, yip yip!!!’ When I went to investigate I saw the slightly chewed cord lying, not quite lifeless, by the back door. Lacey seems to have come through this experience unscathed, but we now call her, Elektra.

Matt, again...

2006-05-03T16:25:00.000-07:00

OK, I am writing about my husband again. He is just an amazing source of material. Matt, my husband, never thinks he is asleep. He frequently takes naps in the evenings and on weekends, as most people do, but claims he was NEVER asleep. He could be out for 4 hours on a Saturday afternoon, on his hammock, and when I wake him, he would say, “let me sleep a little longer, I never went to sleep I was just laying here thinking.” Matt must be the only person alive who snores while they are ‘just thinking’.

One morning Matt slept late. He had gotten up at 8, had breakfast and lay back down with his Su do ku. At noon I finally shook him, “You better get up or you will never sleep tonight.”
“Was I asleep?” He asked.
“Yes, since 9am.”
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes, snoring and all.”
“Really, I was?”
At this point I gave up and walked away.

Confession

2006-05-01T17:03:00.000-07:00

I have a confession, no, not about Star Trek; a real confession. I am afraid of telephones. More precisely, I have a fear of making phone calls. I know it sounds crazy, but that is what phobias are. It is not a serious phobia, since I do make phone calls when I have to, but that’s just it, if I don’t have to, I don’t. I avoid the phone with a vengeance. I don’t remember being this way as a child, but somewhere as an adult something happened. When I know I need to make a call, I go through a long session of talking to myself, getting up the nerve to dial the number. I set the phone on the counter and walk past it several times, before deciding I should clean the house first. Even if it is just to ask about my cable service it is just the same. When I know I have to make a call I have feelings of anxiety and a fear of rejection. Maybe they don’t want to talk to me? Maybe I will be interrupting them? Maybe they never really liked me? Well, that’s probably true, but that’s not the point. People I don’t like call me all the time and I don’t reject them. Well, unless they are trying to sell me magazines or gym memberships. So, that’s it; my confession. It’s not very interesting, but Renee’ said I had to write about it.

Bird houses

2006-04-22T07:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I saw a falcon attack a bird in its birdhouse and drag it bodily off its nest and kill it. I could not get this image out of my mind. At the same time I felt that it was somehow no accident that I witnessed this. I kept asking myself, “If man had not interfered in this bird’s decision of where to build its nest, would the bird have been so vulnerable to the attack? Would the falcon have been able to penetrate the branches and leaves of a tree as easily as he attacked from the perch of this man-made house?”

What was horrible to see was how desperately and vainly the smaller bird tried to protect itself from this attack. So, what am I supposed to learn from this? Maybe that, sometimes, in our perceived wisdom we only lead others to perish needlessly? It seemed quaint and sweet to provide a home for birds, so that they might serve us by eating bugs from our yards. We build and create to serve our own needs, sometimes without considering the whole picture. The bird was cornered and killed because he now had walls.

I was very troubled at the violence of this attack. I must ask myself; is the falcon’s eating of the bird any more gross than the birds eating of the bugs? Both have young to feed. Both are following the dictates of survival. Both cause the death of another living creature. I suppose it is my perception of what is more valuable. What is more deserving of life? A bird or a bug?

Do we make similar choices in dealing with one another? Deciding who is more or less deserving of life? To squash a bug is acceptable. To kill my neighbors dog is not. To kill a murderer is considered immoral. To club baby seals is horror. To abort a living child with fingers and toes is a right.

For me it is a source of grief. I can not have a child of my own. I am dependant on the generosity and great love of another woman who will give a child through adoption. God’s plan was for birth to follow conception. God had a plan for birds and for babies. He selected a home designed for their nurture and survival. Then came mans wisdom...

My trip to France

2006-04-10T05:03:00.000-07:00

I just returned from France; Paris, France and Euro Disney. I saw all the usual sites, Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Arch de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Small World, etc, etc. What I really came away with from this trip was how the French restaurants needed wiener dogs.

I was sitting eating lunch and noticed how much food wound up on the floor. It occurred to me that a small contingent of wiener dogs could take care of that. In most places one or two would be plenty. I could see their little fat bodies tripping happily on ridiculously short legs from table to table snapping up bits of braised duck and fine cheese. There would be little else for the staff to clean up after the wieners had done their work.

I had images of these consummate beggars, sitting on their haunches with upturned faces; masks of near-starvation, while their overstuffed sausage bodies and soulful brown eyes were trained irresistibly on the beef florets, hoping to be rewarded for their performance. It would be a treat for the customers to have these little thespians waddling to and fro during their meal, creating floor theater table by table. There would be no danger of untoward dog noise. Wiener dogs would never bark – not when food was near. It is too sacred an experience for them.

I think wiener dogs would be the perfect French restaurant animal-worker. Maybe I’ll write to the French President and suggest it. I think he might consider it, they would work for scraps and they would never go on strike.

How Renee' and I became friends...

2006-03-17T15:51:00.000-08:00

I want to talk about how I met my friend Renee’. I met Renee’ at work; we had both just been hired at this manufacturing plant as drafters. I was put into a tiny cubicle. The carpet in my cubicle had a huge tear running down the middle repaired with duct tape. Let me just say here that duct tape is the magic bean of all tapes. Sadly this carpet needed more than magic. My chair was so old all the foam cushioning had left for another land where foam was treated better and given benefits. It was like sitting on a stack of plywood (I brought a cushion from home). Right across from my cubicle was ‘Swearing Man’. This man could not speak to anybody about anything without swearing (heavy on the ‘F’ word) in a rage. I waited eagerly everyday for him to go into an apoplectic fit. He never did.

On my first day I had been given an impossible job to complete and it remained impossible for the next week or so when I gave it back to the engineer. The engineer sent this document directly to the customer without ever looking at it. The customer sent it back (obviously without looking at it) and the shop began building it before they realized it was total crap. I had obviously landed in some kind of ‘crazy land of make believe’ job where they think everyone knows automatically how to design ammonia injection grid catalytic reduction systems for cleaning factory exhaust.

So, I was trying to figure out this new job while listening to Sarah McLaughlin on headphones turned up very loud to drown out ‘Swearing Man’ when this little pixie popped into my cubicle and sat in the extra chair (also hopelessly uncomfortable - I checked). “Hi” the pixie said. It was Renee’. We started chatting that day and never stopped. Renee’ had been hired not long before me and had found that even after a few weeks the job was still inexplicable. She was routinely yelled at by the shop manager about her drawings. No one there ever seemed to think the engineer was responsible for anything. Working in this place was a little like Dungeons and Dragons. You could only go forward by finding clues to the work hidden here and there in files or on the company intranet. Either that or you had to go see the old ogre named Mike who would flirt with you and ask you to pose in a bathing suit on his race car before he’d answer any questions. I was there for more than a month before I found out there were spec pages (magic orbs of information) for each job that helped immensely when you were trying to draw pictures of it. Up till then I was just guessing. (Roll dice here to determine probability of positive outcome)

Renee’ and I started spending time together and eating lunch everyday. We also spent large portions of our day emailing each other. We asked all kinds of questions about each other. We were constantly emailing even though our cubicles were 5 feet apart. When we were first getting to know one another I explained to Renee’ that I was really not interested in making new friends. I went on to explain how I had moved so much and had left so many friends behind that it was not worth it to me any more to make new friends. She just nodded her head and asked where we should eat lunch. Lunch was a big deal for us. Our job was completely chaotic and nonsensical, so lunch was our only outlet. Well, except for the ladies room. (You have found the key to the sanctuary, roll dice for addition to life expectancy) The ladies room at this place was set up during the 1950s. It had a little daybed just in case some little lady needed to lie down and rest. I think ladies in the 1950s must have done that a lot. We sat on the daybed in the bathroom and took extended breaks just to chat. All the men we worked with were scared about what went on in the ladies room and never asked us about it.

One day I heard some shouting and scuffling coming from the next cubicle. The next thing there was a HUGE crash against my cubicle wall and it almost came down. At about the same moment Renee’ came around the corner looking a little white and said, “I think we should leave now.” It turned out the crash was two guys fighting; an engineer and another drafter. They nearly landed on Renee’s lap and were throwing coffee mugs. (An Orc has attacked the Paladin, roll dice to determine the victor) We went outside for an extended break and walked around until we thought the coast was clear. Later we found out that this was an old problem between these two and the drafter had quit in a rage. I got moved into the now empty cube, right next to Mike the ogre and a little further away from ‘Swearing Man’. I was now across from fighting engineer, but he was actually a nice guy named Grady. (Roll dice to determine chances of falling into ogre’s cave)

Frequently Mike the ogre called me into his cube to ‘talk about drafting’. Renee’ knew that when I was gone into the ogre’s cave her job was to take up the sword of lying and her magic tape measure to come in and save me. She would walk into Mike’s cubicle and say something like, “Hey, Brenda remember you said you would help me measure the pressure vessel thingy, you know the one in the shop, where they build the thingys?” I would gratefully grasp hold of the magic sword of falsehood and climb to safety. We would usually go out into the shop with our hardhats and goggles and walk around purposefully with a giant tape measure and a clipboard. Sometimes we really did measure stuff.

Renee’ and I only worked at this place for about 3 or 4 months. The workload just gradually dried up. One morning we got these strange phone calls from the CEOs secretary asking us what we were working on. I very truthfully said ‘nothing’. Renee’ got a similar call and immediately came and asked me about it. I said, “Just wait, around 3 o’clock they’ll tell us we’re fired.” This was not a big surprise since we were temps, but still not great news. Sure enough, 3 o’clock we were told we had to leave. Grady gave us the news because our lead engineer was a coward and didn’t come to work that day. (Leader has been eaten by dragon, roll dice to determine if dragon dies of indigestion)

Renee’ and I went home, but we remained friends, even though I was not really interested. She sort of stalked me until I got used to her being around. This also started our careers as international artists. In order to go on Oprah….and eat tacos.

My Birthday Gift

2006-03-13T05:27:00.000-08:00

As you all know, I just had a birthday. It was a great birthday with my family and friends. I got lots of great gifts (including the book of Brenda-isms). Let me just say Matt went above and beyond this year. The picture here is of my most impressive birthday gift. A Sonare’ 7000 flute. I have been playing the flute since the 5th grade and I finally decided it was time for something new. This flute is amazing. It is solid silver with a professional Powell head joint. The tone and the effortless way it hits every range is stunning. My previous flute was silver plated over a brass/nickel body. The composition makes a big difference in the resulting tone. It is like the difference you hear when you tap a fine crystal goblet compared to a glass goblet. The material makes all the difference. Let me just say, it’s good, it’s real good. Playing this flute is like waking up one day and realizing that one can sing opera. Even Matt could hear a difference between the Sonare' and my old flute. He said it sounds, "more echo-y".

I know that this is boring and meaningless to most people, but I just wanted everyone to know what a tremendous gift Matt gave me. Turning 40 can be a little hard and Matt understood when I said I thought I wanted a new flute. I am not a professional, and I really felt that I was being a bit extravagant. But Matt told me to go and look around and see what I wanted. Even when he saw the price (ouch) he never flinched and even tried to give me more in case I wanted something even better. I just wanted to share that with everybody. This is really about Matt and how he always wants to make me feel that I am worth it. That is the real gift I got for my birthday. Thank you Matt.

Book of Brenda. aka brenda-isms

2006-03-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

(This is a booklet that was given to me on my 40th birthday. It consists of things I have said in emails, [that I thought were private] that my 'friends' apparently find amusing. I thought I should give others the opportunity to ridicule me.)

For our birthday girl, Brenda “Bingdon” Savage. We never thought someone’s 40th birthday could be so entertaining for the rest of us…

With love,
Renee’, Andi & Amanda

“Do what Renee’ does; quash all my obsessive ravings by stomping them into submission with ridicule and personality attacks.”

“As soon as the paint and tools get a little out of order, I begin to panic and need to stop and wipe everything down with 409.”

“I have ‘0’ ambition. I just want to sit and do nothing. What is wrong with me?”

Japanese Death Poem
Till now I thought that death befell the untalented alone.
If those with talent too must die, surely they make a better manure?

“I have green army guys. I have a lot of them.”

“Sophie and I are just hanging out in our pajamas.”

“I have been eating cake every day since you were over.”

“We just finished lunch and soon we will take a nap. GOODIE.”

“HI!!! I DO have friends, I think you like me, you really like me…”

“I try to be calm and serene, but usually fail completely.”

“I will be obsessing for a day or two.”

“(yes I am still obsessing)”

“The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that we finally have someone to blame for the hurricane damage.”

“Oprah talked about poop.”

“She repeatedly asked me to do things for her and then she would hit me on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if I said ‘yes’.”

“I am on my own today and just trying to hold on until nap time. I will definitely take one for the team.”

“I wanted to meet too but just did not have the energy.”

“That means I have to clean my house.”

“I wanted to email you since I only have a few weeks before I buy that walker. I am feeling better today. I think just talking about my impending old age helps me to put it in perspective.”

“I had a bunch of ideas a couple weeks ago and forgot to write them down, now I can’t remember.”

“Um, I want it. I don’t know what it is or if you can take it in public, but I want it.”

“I had a great time last night not eating…I forgot to eat anything when I got home.”

Monday: (at least I think it’s Monday)

“Um, can I say I’m scared here?”

“I hope I have not screwed this up, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“I had a great flight – no urinary issues or bad tempers or personality flaws.”

“There are many green things in the world that make us shudder. Green things with bulbous eyes and creepy spindly legs; green things that jiggle and slime, but I must today discuss a thing so green, so revolting, so insidious that I hesitate to continue. Of all things green, the worst of all is PEAS; English peas.”

“We wanted to go on Oprah of course, but more importantly than that, we need tacos, not just any tacos; we need tacos from Angelina’s.”

“Their salsa is like a beautiful sonnet about fresh tomatoes and onions that have fallen in love and want to co-habit in my tummy.”

“So, I’m addicted; I freely admit it. This is really a plea for help.”

“Let me just start by saying, you are an idiot.”

“I believe my dog is telepathic. I am not, so I can’t really prove this theory.”

“I’m just rambling here with nothing really to say.”

“I want some magical underwear too.”

“Renee’ said to send this reminder to look into the baby shoe I left.”

“I have one question;
Am I fly paper for freaks?”

“Wow, my own social illness…
Hmmm,
Right, OK.
Goody?”

“I have been awake since 4am. I watched an episode of Star Trek Voyager (it made me cry) then I finally gave up trying to sleep around 6am and got online to see what you are up to. I never heard back from you, so maybe you have finally decided to ditch me. I wouldn’t blame you after all.”

“If I don’t see you I’ll probably just spend time hiding in a dark place thinking about all my neurosis.”

“I have been thinking about it and I think that this whole, ‘Oh, I’m so sick’ thing with Renee’ is just an excuse to ditch me.”

“Hey, I was thinking yesterday that I should put Andi’s number in my phone. I may need it in case I have to stalk her at some time in the future.”

“Oh my! I hope it is nothing serious. If the foot comes off, I’ll buy her an ice cream.”

“I am awake early this morning, thinking about polishing furniture.”

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout, this is my handle, this is my spout…oh, I didn’t know anybody was listening…”

“Isn’t there a bible passage about there being, ‘…days for whining’?”

“I awoke this morning with Commander Data’s, ‘Ode to Spot’ running through my head. ‘Felis catis, is your taxonomic nomenclature.’”

“I never got an email from you…”

“I know you had really planned on ditching me this week.”

“Why do I keep going on about this? I don’t know. I will try to relax and let it go.”

“Yes, I hear the whole exit thing is pretty dramatic.”

What more can we say? She is a FREAK.

Funny things my husband does in his sleep…

2006-02-20T08:21:00.000-08:00

Most of you have already read one or two stories about my husband Matt. He is a funny guy. He gives me a lot of material to write about. Recently something happened that made Matt and I recall some strange incidents. (Yes, he said I could write about him again)

The first incident I recall happened while he was still a mechanic at Delta Airlines, in Atlanta. I am a light sleeper, so when Matt awoke me with a stern command; I was immediately awake. I looked over and Matt, lying flat on his back, had his right arm and hand extended towards the ceiling. I asked him sleepily, and a bit irritated, what he wanted? He repeated his request, "HAND ME THE WRENCH!" I was a little confused having just awaked and it being around 3am. "WHAT?"

"HAND ME THE WRENCH."

At that moment I realized he had his eyes closed. He was dreaming or something. I tried to wake him up. He was in a deep sleep. I lay back down. I looked over and his arm was still pointed rigidly skyward. It was a bit unnerving, so I turned over and tried to go back to sleep. I took one more peek over my shoulder, the arm was still there. I had just begun to drift off when, WHACK! Matt hit me on the back of the head. That was IT! I turned over to ask him what the hell he was doing. He was sound asleep. His arm had relaxed from the wrench position and hit me on the head.

Next, move ahead about sixteen years to just the other night. I am an early to bed type of person and Matt likes to stay up late. I was not surprised to wake up late at night to see Matt frenetically fiddling with his alarm clock. He seemed to be having trouble getting what he wanted from it. He was lying flat on his back with the alarm clock extended above his head. He was spinning it around like a squirrel with a nut; pushing buttons and turning it this way and that. I wondered why he didn’t turn on the light so he could see what he was doing. I didn’t really stay awake, just saw what he was up to and went back to sleep. The next morning I woke up and my stirring about woke Matt as well. He sat up and said, "Did you put this here?"

"Put what where?"

"This alarm clock with the flower on top?"

"Excuse me, what?!?"

"The alarm clock was on the bed digging into my back and it had this flower on top of it."

I started to giggle. "Um, what?"

Matt had awoken because something was jabbing him in the back. Upon investigation he discovered it was the alarm clock. On top of the alarm clock was a flower. The same alarm clock that had given him so much trouble that night. It appeared that after subduing the alarm clock Matt had put a silk flower, wrenched from a bedside arrangement, on top as a symbol of his victory. When he awoke to find the alarm clock in the small of his back with a scratchy flower on top he naturally assumed I had done it. I asked him why on earth I would do something like that? He said he thought I was trying to give him some kind of message about getting up with the baby.

I assured Matt that I had not left the alarm clock in the small of his back with a flower on top. I related that I had seen him last night with the alarm clock and that he apparently had done it to himself. He looked perplexed and not quite certain that I was telling the truth. I assured him it wasn’t me.

Matt was thoughtful and quiet for a moment, "This is kind of like that time I woke up with my shoes on the wrong feet."

What is Right?

2006-01-24T05:20:00.000-08:00

What is Right? George Bush? He’s right, but what about Bill Clinton? I suppose even he is right sometimes. Osama Bin Laden is considered right by his followers. But how do we know what is REALLY right? What does right mean? If it means morally and ethically correct then ‘right’ is a larger concept than party politics or social opinion. C.S. Lewis has stated that mankind has an idea of ‘right’ stamped on his very make-up. Regardless of our ethnic, social or religious beliefs we all share basic concepts of right and wrong that all of mankind agrees with. They are basically this:

No one should kill his neighbor without justifiable provocation.
No one should steal or harm his neighbor’s family, goods or crops.

Our idea of right is intertwined with our concept of justice. We all agree that it is unjust for one man to steal another man’s goods. It is not right. It is not right that one man should kill another man just because he is angry. It is not just. These are basic principles that all men agree with - even those who do not abide by them. The meanest criminal alive is angry when his own house is broken into and his belongings stolen. The worst adulterer walking is devastated upon finding his neighbor sleeping with his wife. We all acknowledge what is right, even when we do not live by what is right.

This is how I know we are not just advanced mammals. A lion has no law against stealing his neighbors meal. Whales will stalk and kill other whales without guilt. Even the highest primates will kill one another’s young for food. You may say that this is not so very different from the human experience. You are right, but we KNOW better.

Humans understand that taking something that belongs to someone else is not right, whether it be a potato, a spouse or a life. We understand right and wrong. We all agree and make laws to define right and wrong and punishments for those who choose to live outside the law. Human beings then, have been given a different set of commands than his animal cousins. We know right from wrong.

So, what is right? Mankind seems to already know; even if he does not consciously acknowledge it. A thinking person’s next question should then be, “If we are born knowing what is right; Who was it that stamped this understanding on our collective souls?“

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T05:04:00.000-08:00

Well, here it is; New Year 2006. It is amazing and strange that we have gotten to the year 2006 without having flying cars or self-propelled dishwashers. By now, weren't we supposed to be already living on Mars and making interstellar space flights? Ah well, it has been a good year for me anyway and I did get the two seasons of Star Trek I wanted for Christmas (hehehe). Some good things that have happened this year are: my parents have moved to Texas, Sophie has turned one year old without any major traumas and we have begun the process to bring another baby into our family by adoption. I have spent many hours with family and friends and I am looking forward to this New Year. Most importantly of all, Sophie has her first Harley-Davidson outfit from Aunt Jan and Uncle Colin who recently visited from California. (photos soon to follow) I know there are many nay-sayers out there that would have us bemoan our lives, but I choose to celebrate instead. While I admit the world we live in is far from being free of sadness and strife, I feel very fortunate and I just wanted my friends and family to know that I love them and I am happy they are part of my life. Thank you for all the years before and have a Happy 2006.

Home Study

2005-12-20T08:51:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday Matt, Sophie and I had a Home Study. This is a required part of the adoption process. Yes, we are adopting again.

The home study is basically an interview. Imagine a job interview. Imagine a job interview for the biggest, most important job of your life. I worried and cleaned and obsessed for two days. (I know Lo) At 1pm on Wednesday the social worker knocked on our door. She came in and I asked her if she wanted anything (a bribe maybe?) she just wanted some water. We sat down and she questioned us about our marriage, our parenting style, our views on open-adoption, how we get along with Sophie’s birth-mom, how I feel about my infertility, etc. The whole time she continually wrote notes on a yellow legal pad. I’m sure I looked like some kind of Stepford Wife, answering everything in a plastic positive tone with a fixed smile in place. As she began to talk about how we answered our questionnaire I could see Matt’s face getting dark. The questionnaire is about what health issues we will and will not accept in a baby and or birth-mother. It lists everything from diabetes to drug-addiction, aids to asthma. She said Matt was too narrow in his expectations, that no baby is perfect. Matt assured her he didn’t care what she thinks. I jumped in and said we would reevaluate our answers and be more open.

Matt hates this process even more than I do. He takes it personally. We try to remember this process is in place to protect children. Matt has a hard time feeling good about having his whole life examined and questioned in every way and put in someone’s file. It is like being in a beauty pageant, after the initial judges then we parade before birth-moms hoping they think we are attractive, fascinating and successful enough to adopt their child. The Home Study is only the beginning of the process though. We still have to get physicals, fingerprints (that go to the FBI), financial and legal background checks, several classes on parenting and adoption and more interviews.

It is hard to remember that you are a normal, kind, responsible, human being while going through this process. It makes you question whether or not you really are good enough to have a child in your home. When the social worker was asking me questions, my mind was running three steps ahead of her wondering what was next, wondering if what I already said made any sense and whether or not she could see I was just saying whatever I thought she wanted to hear. I know this will all be worth it when the baby comes home, but it just doesn’t feel like it now.

Sophie and Matt

2005-11-08T14:58:00.000-08:00

I recently spent a weekend away. This was an unusual trip because it was the first time I ever left my 15 month old daughter, Sophie, over night. My parents took care of her while Matt was at work, but Matt had her all by himself in the evening and over the weekend. This was a first time for Matt as well. Matt had never had Sophie alone for more than a few hours at a time. I recieved an email from Matt on Saturday giving me an idea of how things were going...

"...after that, Sophie and I went shopping at Home Depot. I had her in the cart with her little cart cover thing. I was feeding her pretzels I brought from the pantry, but what I didn't know was that she wasn't swallowing them. She just kept putting more in her mouth and crunching them just enough to fit more in. After a while, she started making vomiting gestures and I put my hand out and out came a mouth FULL of pretzel bits. I was in the garden area pushing the cart with one hand and my other hand full of 1/2 chewed baby pretzel/saliva bits. I pushed cart nonchalantly to other side of store and into the family restroom and flushed the handful of quasi vomit and washed my hands. That was that. We left Home Depot and went home for her afternoon nap."

This is a pretty normal Sophie surprise, but Matt has not had the daily conditioning I have. Matt is very sensitive about poopies and spit-up, (things like that) so I know his weekend with Sophie really tested his mettle.

At the end of my weekend away I was ready to see Sophie and Matt again. I had a GREAT time, but I missed Sophie and Matt a lot. I was not prepared for what I saw. My first view of Matt was that of a man who had been through a terrible ordeal. His face was haggard. His posture was stooping. He looked like he had not had any sleep. It was truly a sad sight. Sophie had really given Matt a good run. Over the weekend Matt had told our neighbor that he didn't think men were equiped for full-time childcare. I think he may be right.

Sophie was bright and cheerful. Do you think she knows?

Christians and Crazies

2005-10-28T07:41:00.000-07:00

Recently on an episode of "Trading Spouses" one of the 'moms' was this scary, crazed, screeching woman. She was shown repeatedly on promos for the show shrieking and tearing up paper and throwing it out the door. She seemed a bit unhinged. "Hmm, sad." I thought to myself. Only later did I find out this woman proclaimed herself to be a Christian. (ouch)

http://www.fox.com/tradingspouses/recaps/201.htm I went online and read the brief bio from the show. (I don’t watch this show) After reading the bio it seemed that she was really just an ignorant and fearful person who did not appear very familiar with the scriptures. For instance, she was very unnerved by the spiritual beliefs of her ‘Trading Spouses’ family. The bible tells Christians that we have, "not been given a spirit of fear but of peace and love and a sound mind". (she obviously missed that part) What I hate about this is that she made ALL Christians look bad by her antics and hysteria. Sadly, this is an ongoing theme in Christianity.

The trouble is that the Christians who are crazed hysterics seem to get all the limelight; making fools of themselves and us by displaying their ignorance. The quiet and respectable Christians are not interested in such things. Most of the Christians I am acquainted with are level-headed, kind, non-hysteric, people of faith. But, Christianity, like ALL groups made up of human beings has its share of crazies and hysterics. As I always say, “no matter how simple, pure and beautiful a message is, when you mix people in, they will make a mess of it.” It is not the message that is the trouble, it is people who sometimes get it wrong.

For instance; all you Christians out there who have, 'fish symbols', "I love Jesus" and "God loves you" bumper stickers on your cars I have something to suggest. If you are determined to proclaim your faith, on your car, for all to see, PLEASE, be a polite driver. And, if you MUST have a fish symbol or other evidence of your faith on your car, PLEASE make sure that anyone else who may drive your car does not drive like a jerk. If your cousin Ed drives your car and you can not guarantee his polite and safe driving. Please, take the bumper stickers and fish symbols OFF your car. It is embarrassing when the kid cutting in and out of traffic and enraging and endangering others has a "Know Jesus, Know Peace" bumper sticker. It makes us all look bad.

I personally stopped putting those symbols on my car because I could not guarantee that I was always at my best on the highways. I hate to admit this, but it is true. I sometimes have small moments of road rage, like most people, and I did not want someone looking at my car and thinking, "Oh yeah! you're a GREAT Christian! Ya Jerk!" (I am striving to do better) Besides, think about it, is it good to put a message as important as that on the backside of your vehicle? It’s a little like tattooing it on your butt. It is an important message we have been entrusted with. I think we can do better than car bumpers. The same thing holds true when you are in a restaurant or other public place wearing a big cross or Christian t-shirt, don't be a jerk there either. Even if the service you receive is truly shoddy, please think about how your actions may effect the people who witness your ugly outbursts of temper. Is it really worth making Christianity look bad because your fries were cold?

It is easy to forget that everything we do may have far reaching consequences. It's time we thought about it. There may be more riding on your car bumper or your t-shirt than you realize. While it is true that we Christians are far from perfect; we can at least be polite.

I know there are a lot of bad things going on in the world because of ‘religion‘. But, Christianity does not condone these evil things. It is the crazies and hysterics who are doing it. Just because someone says they are doing something in the name of Jesus, does not make it so. If I said I was a brain surgeon would you let me cut your head open? NO, because I do not have the credentials to back up my claim. Similarly, just because a person says “I am a Christian” does not make it so either. I once met a guy who claimed he was a boiled egg. I didn’t believe him. My point is; claiming to be something does not necessarily make it so. There are signs that show a person to be a Christian. A Christian must have these ‘fruits’ in their life: "love; joy; peace; patience; kindness; goodness; faithfulness; gentleness and self-control." (Galatians 5:22) So if you see someone who claims to be a Christian and is shreiking and hysterical, please give us the benefit of the doubt and remember they do not represent the majority.

So, to the shrieking crazed woman of “Trading Spouses”. You need to do some work my dear. Read your Bible, get some spiritual instruction and, please, try to stay off the television.

Birthday

2005-10-27T20:00:00.000-07:00

I have some photos I keep on my refrigerator. They are pictures of the first moment that I ever held my daughter Sophie. That moment was a joyous climax of a journey through adoption as well as all the trials and struggles of infertility that came before. But what I really want to tell you is how that day transpired.

On July 12th, 2004 I got up and got ready for work just like any other day. The week before we had met Dawn. Dawn was due in one month. Dawn liked us and asked us to parent her child. She very kindly volunteered to call me after her next doctor appointment to give me an update on the baby’s development. I am out at lunch when I get a call from Dawn. She says she is still at the doctor’s office, the doctor is pleased and the baby is healthy. Dawn tells me that there is just one thing I should know; the doctor has decided to do a cesarean section in two weeks. Well, I panicked. I could not believe it; I only had two weeks to prepare for a new baby!! My mind went into a whirl, what do I need? Where should I go? How should I proceed? Somehow I managed to drive back to my office. As soon as I walked in the door I told everybody the good news. The whole office was in an uproar. In two weeks I would be a mother.

I called Matt and then I think, I emailed Renee’ and told her that the baby would be here in 2 weeks so she could give her boss an update. Then I tried to settle down and begin to get my mind back on work. My phone rang. It was Dawn. Her voice was shaking. She said, “Brenda, you and Matt need to go to Parkland hospital, the doctor just came in and told me he decided to go ahead and take the baby today.” Dawn was on her way to Parkland as we hung up. I stood up at my desk and looked around me for a moment to try and get my bearings. Everything had started whirling again. My co-workers looked up at me expectantly. “I have to go. She’s having the baby today, I have to go.” My co-workers started to squeal and jump around while I did a good impression of the three stooges all inhabiting one body. I stumbled around saying “I am having a baby today, I have to go, I have to go”. I called Matt and gave him the information. He asked me if I was OK to drive. I said I thought I was and I would come and pick him up.

Next I called Renee. Our conversation went something like this:

R: Hello?
B: Renee? We’re having a baby.
R: I know dear, we ARE having a baby in a month.
B: No, no, today. We are having the baby today.
R: OH! Oh, I need to go then.
B: Yes you need to go.
R: Where?
B: Parkland Hospital, do you know where that is?
R: Yes, I think so
B: OK, see you there.

We hung up. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew Renee’ gets lost going to the end of the street, but I pushed that aside and hoped she would make it.

I grabbed things from my desk. I got my purse; I think I got a stapler and some white out and a contour map of Lewisville, just in case. I told everybody once again that I had to go and I went. I should have had someone else drive me. I made it to Matt’s office in one piece and just a couple of broken laws, unintentional, of course. Matt and I went straight to the hospital. We didn’t go home where we could have changed into more comfortable clothes or picked up our camera. Yes, that’s right. We were on our way to the most momentous occasion of our lives to date and had no camera. We realized this about half way to the hospital. “That’s OK,” I said, “we can buy one in the gift shop.” Silly me, thinking that a hospital gift shop would have cameras.

We arrived at the hospital and had an uncomfortable half hour with Dawn in her room. I couldn’t help thinking how our happiness came at a heavy cost for her. Then we left so she and her social worker could talk. We went looking for Renee. Renee had found the hospital. We explained that we didn’t have a camera and there weren’t any in the gift shop. We asked her if she would mind finding a drug store and buying a disposable camera? Now to put this in perspective, Parkland Hospital is a county hospital. It is not in a good part of town. We were sending Renee out into the night where drug dealers and prostitutes hung out to find a camera. Renee’ said it was no problem and she ran off. Matt and I waited worried that we might see Renee’ on the news later that evening. Finally Renee’ returned. She could not find her credit cards. She was in a panic thinking they had been stolen. A quick call to her house confirmed that she had just left them on her dresser. So, Matt pulled a huge wad of cash out of his wallet and stuffed it into Renee’s hand. She left again.

Just a note here: For those of you who know Matt well, you will have a glimpse into the condition of his mind by this time by the mere act of taking money out of his wallet in large amounts without considering it and just handing it over.

Renee’ made it back to Parkland in one piece with a disposable camera. We all went back up to the maternity ward and settled into the waiting room. The three of us were all in a row each on their own cell phone calling everybody we could think of to tell them the news. We had been waiting about an hour when I heard someone calling “Phelps? Phelps?” Phelps was Dawn’s last name. It took us a moment to realize that was US! We all three jumped up and the nurse turned in our direction. I thought she had an update about how long it would be, etc. Then I saw she had a bundle in her arms. She asked who was carrying the baby to the nursery. Matt and Renee’ both pointed to me and said, “her”. Then the nurse was handing me this little tiny bundle. I never knew babies could be so small. Right there in the middle of the waiting room I held Sophie for the first time; tears of joy streaming down my face. I couldn’t stop crying or shaking. It was wonderful. And that was the first moment I met Sophie.

I wish everybody that kind of joy at least once in his or her life.

(to see more pictures from that night click on my photos link on the top right of this page)

2005-09-16T05:59:00.000-07:00

I am an artist. Not everyone may know this about me. I paint with my friend Renee’. I am not any good really. I think I am too concerned with cleanliness to be a true artist. As soon as the paint and tools get a little out of order, I begin to panic and need to stop and wipe everything down with 409.

Renee and I are driven on by something more than the need to create art. We wanted to go on Oprah of course, but more importantly than that, we need tacos, not just any tacos; we need tacos from Angelina’s in Lewisville, Texas.

A few of you have been fortunate enough to eat there yourselves. Most of my out of town friends and family ask about Angelina’s as soon as they arrive. Angelina’s is not very attractive as a restaurant. It does not look trendy or even very interesting, but they are good; real good.

Their salsa is like a beautiful sonnet about fresh tomatoes and onions that have fallen in love and want to co-habit in my tummy. Their chicken enchiladas are bliss with cream sauce. Their tacos overflow with shredded meat cooked to perfection.

So, I’m addicted; I freely admit it. This is really a plea for help. I started my art partnership (with Renee’) in order to pay for our taco needs. Now I am asking you to support me in attempting to improve my life, give it new meaning. If we sell paintings, I can buy more tacos. The paintings are not very good, (most are just plain crap) but remember it is for a good cause.

You can find our paintings at our online store. There is a link to the right “BGros Painters”. Please help, think about Angelina’s, and think about… the tacos.

Anniversary Memories

2005-09-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

My husband and I just celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary. It started me reminiscing and I remembered a previous, memorable, anniversary.

I think it was our second wedding anniversary. Coincidently, my husband and I were being visited by his younger brother Kurt. We were living in Michigan at the time, actually living at Wurtsmith Air Force Base in Northern Michigan. Not the U.P., as some may ask, but just in Oscoda, Michigan. It may as well have been the North Pole for all the difference I could tell in the weather.

So, anyway, Kurt was visiting us and we decided to drive the 2 hours to Saginaw where there was a theater and a mall. We decided to see a movie and I wanted to window shop at the mall and then later we would go to dinner.

I don’t recall what movie we saw, but my story really begins at the mall, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t remember all the particulars (I’m sure I’ve blocked them out), but almost as soon as we walked in the door it all began…

I was probably looking at a nice pair of slacks or a blouse, when suddenly Kurt goes hurtling past me and into a rack of clothes. As he goes down all the size larges come down with him. He was propelled into the rack by his brother, my husband. They were both laughing hysterically. Mortified and embarrassed, I said something like, “Ok, guys that’s enough.” And walk on.

I can hear behind me more laughter and the sound of stumbling and tripping. This time Matt is down. More clothes hit the floor followed by more hysterical laughter. I pretend I don’t know them. I nonchalantly look at some shoes. I hear some startled exclamations from other shoppers. I don’t want to look. When I do look my husband and his brother are doing wrestling holds in the middle of the aisle while middle-aged ladies try to walk around them with shocked expressions on their faces. I decide I better leave the store before they call security and head for the mall entrance.

On my way out I stop and look at a jacket, or maybe it was a handbag. Out of the corner of my eye I see my husband and his brother twirling the wigs on mannequins and removing their body parts. The hands are put in the shirt pockets, of course. I hiss at them under my breath, “Knock it OFF!” They are totally oblivious and/or completely ignoring me.

I can’t believe this is happening, it is my anniversary. I expected my husband to, maybe, hold my hand, or suggest I buy something pretty, instead there are mannequins with hands missing and clerks glaring at me like I should do something.

This continued the entire time we were in the mall. My repeated requests for normal behavior went unheeded. My husband and his brother were only on their feet about 50% of the time. The rest of the time they were in racks of clothes or wrestling on the ground under the astonished stares of mall patrons. At one point, I’m pretty sure; someone had coke come out their nose. I finally gave up and demanded that we leave and just go to the restaurant. I thought that maybe if I got them away from the mall they would settle down.

We had decided to go to the Red Lobster. I was really looking forward to having a nice meal out. There was a bit of a wait, so, it being a nice evening, we decided to wait outside. We were there for less than a minute when my husband suddenly pushed his brother into the bushes outside the restaurant. That was it, my patience was gone. I turned to my husband and said, “That is IT! Will you please stop messing around?”

My husband in total sincerity turned on me and responded, “Keep your voice down, I can’t believe you are embarrassing me like this!”

"Ode to Spot"

2005-09-10T05:06:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning with the first line of Commander Data's, "Ode to Spot" running through my head. I decided to share it with all of you in its entirety. I think it really speaks for itself.

Data's ode to Spot, in the episode "Schisms."

“Ode to Spot”

Felis catis, is your taxonomic nomenclature.
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature?
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

(Riker awakens and applauds)

{Commander, you have anticipated my denouement. However, the sentiment is appreciated. I will continue}

O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

SPAM

2005-08-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

I was writing back and forth in the comment section of ‘Green Army Guys’ with “reserved for new occupant”. As the discussion progresses, I said if you want to make me angry put SPAM in my comment box, because these low-life spammers have been infiltrating the comment box on my blog with their crap. (what is wrong with these people?) “Reserved for new occupant” sent me this picture. It made me want to write something about SPAM, but I don’t have anything interesting to say about SPAM since SPAM is not that interesting. I must correct myself here and say that SPAM must be interesting or I wouldn’t be spending all this time talking about it. SPAM is an icon of sorts. It is the ultimate canned meat. I don’t think we have enough canned meat in the world.

Of course I could never write about canned goods without mentioning Butter Beans. I do not eat Butter Beans, but I have a can of them in my special reading room displayed alongside all my other favorite things, because no collection of beloved items is complete without a can of Butter Beans. Of course I must admit that the Butter Beans are not original to me. Renee was the first person to display a can of Butter Beans with all her Matrix collectibles. Actually, it was someone else who put the Butter Bean can into the collection just to see if Renee would notice. GO Rob.

So, I guess that’s all I have to say about canned goods for today.

2005-08-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

I am in love with New York City. I want to live there in an apartment in an old brownstone with huge windows looking out on an interesting street. The only catch is that I am not in love with the real New York; I am in love with New York from the movies. I want to live in New York as it is in, “You’ve got Mail”, or “When Harry Met Sally”.

I have been to the real New York and I didn’t see all these charming streets like I see in the movies. I did go to the top of the Empire State Building though, just like in "Sleepless in Seattle", but it didn't look anything like the movie. I think it would be fun to live in New York for a little while. In the movies it always looks so charming. There are streets with vendors of every kind and restaurants with tables on the sidewalk.

Of course reality is never as charming and interesting as the movies, so I am not sure what that means for my fantasy. I suppose if I really had to live in New York City I would experience all the trials and irritations that we all experience as a part of our daily lives. I just wonder if I could live next door to Meg Ryan?

Mall-stalker

2005-08-24T13:21:00.000-07:00

I had a mini-stalker at the mall. I saw this guy looking at me as I entered the store with my 13 month old daughter. I ignored him and went to the shoe section. We tried on a couple pair of shoes and then went to the baby section. As I turned down an aisle there was mini-stalker, again, giving me a significant look. I got a creepy feeling and turned in another direction. For a moment I wondered if this guy was security, watching me to see if I would shop-lift. I decided it would be better to leave the area, so I went to the other side of the store to look at handbags. As I turned around a corner in handbags, there he was again. Again he was giving me some look that seemed meant to convey something. I gave him my meanest look and decided I better leave. I left the department store and went out into the mall. I continued to look behind me periodically to see if he was following me. I didn’t see mini-stalker again.

I called my husband; he said I should report the guy to security.

I told Renee’ about it and she said I don’t have a mean look.

I have one question; am I fly-paper for freaks?

My Husband

2005-08-02T20:08:00.000-07:00

My husband is color blind, well partially color blind. He strongly denies this. But, he can not tell the difference between khaki and grey. He is also confused by the idea of ‘earth tones’. To him any color present on the earth is an earth tone. I have repeatedly explained that ‘earth tones’ is a euphemism for ‘dirt colored’ i.e. brown, tan or brown, or perhaps brown. My husband manages multi-million dollar projects, but he is never certain if his neutral earth tone slacks really do match his blue shirt. One time I tried to explain the difference between a ‘bright’ and a ‘muted’ color, when he began to panic and breathe in a bag I gave up.

He has selective hearing. Often when I begin speaking, his eyes glaze over and he repeatedly mumbles, “uh huh”; I know he does not hear me. He has fallen into the well of husband deafness. This is the place where men go to continue, undisturbed, whatever they were doing when their wife began talking. I sometimes see how long I can talk nonsense before he notices. “…so then the store was overrun by winged monkeys carrying earth toned satchels overflowing with Twinkie coupons...” Sometime after ‘winged monkeys’ he usually snaps out of it. Now, if I begin a sentence with, “I bought the extra…” he immediately forgets the final play in the World Series to ask me intense questions about how much money for how long and for what purpose and whether or not I tried to negotiate a lower price.

My husband is one of the smartest people I know. I have a theory about smart people. I think they are so smart because they conserve their brain power by not noticing superfluous data. My husband is constantly pointing at a building or a shopping mall and saying, “Is that new?” or “Has that always been there?” It might be a housing subdivision that we actually looked through when we moved to Dallas or possibly a bank built in 1953. Even in our own house he sometimes asks, “Has that always been there?” I reply, “No, just since we moved in.”

My husband gave me permission to write about him. I wanted to write about him because he is a very funny guy and not just because he doesn’t know what earth tones are. He used to woo me by doing Steve Martin routines. I never ‘got’ Steve Martin before meeting my husband. I still giggle when I hear him do the ‘Tuna fish sandwich’ thing. I’m just glad he never threw dog poopy on my shoes.

Green Army Guys

2005-08-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

I have green army guys. I have a lot of them. They go on maneuvers periodically around my office in squads of twenty.

I started out with just one green army guy. He came to us on our drive from Seattle to Dallas. We were driving down the Pacific Coast Highway and somewhere in Northern California we stopped at a state park for the night. While trying to decide on a camp site I found green army guy poised with his rifle at the ready on the picnic table. I knew this would be a safe place to camp.

Green army guy joined Sasquatch on our dashboard for the rest of our trip to Dallas. Well actually Sasquatch was on the dashboard and green army guy held onto the heater vent with his rifle arm. Sadly green army guy lost his arm to a viscious and unprovoked wild animal attack. No, not really, it was just our dachshund Sam (see, “I think my dog is telepathic”).

When we finally made it to Dallas I put green army guy in our hotel room where we could see him. Not long after, I was cleaning our hotel room and found, yes, another green army guy, under the sofa. I knew then that it was a sign. I don’t know what kind of sign, so don’t ask me. I put ‘new green army guy’ next to ‘one arm green army guy’ on a shelf in our room next to the fake fern.

A few days later I thought that green army guy and second green army guy looked lonely. After all, army guys are usually found in large groups. When I came across a huge bag of green army guys at the grocery store I bought them. My husband would think this was a silly thing to do so I didn’t tell him. I began putting the green army guys in three man squads about the room.

After a week or two my husband asked me how all the green army guys got there. He noticed that green army guy was showing up in one place after another with perplexing rapidity. He admitted it took him awhile to figure out there were about 30 green army guys placed strategically about the room.

When we finally found a house and moved in green army guy and his troops came with us. They settled in the office were they continue maneuvers to this day. A few have taken leave in a drawer, and a few have had unpleasant mishaps with household pets, but there is always at least one squad watching over the place with guns at the ready.

Evidence

2005-07-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I was asked how I could believe something without evidence. In other words, how can I be a Christian without evidence of God or evidence that the bible is true? I have been thinking a long time about this question. Evidence; what does it mean to have evidence of anything?

“…If the universe is really completely self-contained, having no boundaries or edge, it would have neither beginning nor end: it would simply be. What place, then, for a creator?” -Stephen Hawking-

Several years ago I read Stephen Hawking’s book, “A Brief History of Time”. Mr. Hawking wrote an incredible book, filled with very exhaustive and brilliant observations of our universe and its make-up, only to say in his final statements that according to his theories and observations the universe is boundless and has always existed; therefore there was nothing for God to have done. Therefore, there was no reason for God to exist. It was a fascinating book and Stephen Hawking is a brilliant astrophysicist, but did he really prove anything? I’m not sure.

(Let me just interject here that I am not picking on Stephen Hawking, but he has made statements about God that are considered by a lot of people to be pretty conclusive; so I am treating him as the spokesman for the, ‘those who want evidence’, party)

Stephen Hawking would certainly qualify as an expert in terms of his knowledge of the physical universe. But, it seems to me that before we can even begin to prove or disprove something we must first understand its nature. The most obvious place to find out about God’s nature is in a book about God – for instance the Bible.

The bible describes God as spirit, eternal and unlimited by time and space. God is not limited by the boundaries of our physical 3-dimensional universe. God is ‘supernatural’ or existing above the natural ‘observable’ physical universe. How then can anybody’s observations about the physical universe prove or disprove anything about God? How can any human standing upon the earth and using human tools make statements about a being that exists above and beyond our observable physical universe?

To me, it is like a small, (but very advanced and brilliant), sea anemone in a tide pool. This anemone says to his fellow tidepoolians, “I have examined the world. I believe that the universe consists of this pool and this pool has always existed because I have observed that there is nothing else besides this pool.” Then one day, to the anemone’s great surprise, he is snatched up by a great hand and put into a fish tank in the hand’s living room. Meanwhile, back in the tidepool there is a huge debate about whether the hand exists or not. There is no observable evidence that the hand took anemone, so the remaining tidepoolians develop the “Theory of Radical Disappearance” to explain where anemone went.

Humans are, by nature, limited in understanding. We have limited life spans and can not survive outside our physical universe without extreme mechanical aids. Time masters us. We measure everything by time and use time to make judgments. We are captive to time and will surely run out of time each in turn. God, as the bible describes him, created time and space and holds it all in his hand. God is so far above our understanding that we can not even fully or accurately describe him. It seems a little arrogant to me that any human would make such broad and sweeping statements about a supernatural being (God) who can not possibly be measured by any means available to man. Stephen Hawking has a vast amount of theoretical evidence and intellectual weight in which to wield it, but he still only has evidence of this physical universe. He is inside the fish bowl and can not know for certain anything existing (or not existing) outside it. So does Stephen Hawkings “evidence” hold any weight in our understanding of God? Not really.

So, the question was, “How can ‘I’ believe something without evidence?” I can’t take a picture of God or get his fingerprint, so how is it that I can believe with such certainty? The closest I can get (in a form that might be generally found interesting) is this: There are things in the bible that cannot, be explained except that the information came from God. For example:

Many religious writings say that the earth is carried on the back of an elephant or a giant goldfish or on the shoulders of a minor god. It is obvious that these early people did not have a clear idea of where the earth was or how it moved. Even as recent as 300 years ago the world was believed to be flat. But the bible tells us in the book of Job (thought to have been written as early as 1500 B.C.) that God “hung the earth over nothing”. (Job 26:7) The bible also describes the planets as spherical in shape. This ancient book is stating that the earth is a sphere, that it is not flat, but round and hanging upon nothing. This is why Columbus sailed to America because he believed the bible was true. He believed the earth was round, not flat.

Another example: 3200 years ago (more than 3000 years before the advent of modern medicine) the bible alone set forth proper hygienic practices in regard to the proper handling of disease, dead bodies and human wastes. Burning contaminated clothes and bedding, extensive quarantine and washing of those handling the dead or being in contact with those diseased and burying of human wastes far from habitations. These guidelines were all laid out long before “modern” man came close to observing similar practices. The worst plagues in Europe may have been avoided if these biblical precautions had been observed. This shows an understanding of germs and viruses that these early biblical people could not have known on their own.

These are just two examples of how the bible shows an intellect far above those who were jotting down the stories. The Israelites did not have telescopes or microscopes to figure this stuff out. Someone else who knew told them. While this is all fascinating; is it evidence? Most people would say no.

The real answer to the question of evidence is that it is really an unanswerable question. There is no evidence of things spiritual. I believe in God because all the other things I tried in order to make some sense of my life failed. God touched me and I knew that he existed; because when I opened my eyes my heart was no longer broken. My pain was gone. I was at peace and I had no explanation except that God had done it. I felt His love all around me, like a mother’s embrace. God touched me even though I had rejected Him. I began a journey that day to figure out what had happened and why? I have had other struggles along the way, but always when I would pause and be still, that love was there, that touch was there.

So the question was: “How can you believe in God without evidence?” I’m sorry to say there is no evidence that would satisfy even the most mediocre scientist. All I can say is that it’s like being in love; you can’t explain it to someone who has never been, but that doesn’t make it less real.

“Thou hast touched my heart with your Word, and I loved thee.” -Anon-

Monkeys, flights, red, date, question

2005-05-30T15:44:00.000-07:00

My friend Renee’, who I have mentioned before, sent me a list of five words. The words were: monkeys, flights, red, date question. She said I was supposed to write something using these five words and she would do the same. Later we would compare what we wrote. This is what we came up with.

This is what I wrote:

I was watching the monkeys at the zoo. Their eyes are strangely unsettling to me; so conscious; so human; seemingly aware that they are imprisoned. I feel like I should apologize to them for staring. I move on ready to connect with a less human inhabitant.

I wind up in an aviary full of budgies making short flights and chirping happily to one another. The aviary also holds cockatiels and small red-headed parrots being fed by other zoo visitors. I can’t help comparing these budgies to their cousins in pet stores, living in cramped wire cages. No wonder these budgies seem happy.

I reluctantly leave the aviary and wander aimlessly from one faux environment to the next. I stop and watch some kind of tropical creature munching contentedly on a date. My time at the zoo is always enjoyable, but I always question if the animals would agree.

This is what Renee’ wrote:

A woman wearing a red dress is standing in her living room. She is feeling a bit anxious and so she begins to pace. As she is pacing she notices the newspaper she needs to throw away before she leaves. She tries not to look at the picture but it keeps haunting her. She steals a glance and a smile creeps in but she suppresses it. Grabbing the paper she hurries into the kitchen to stuff it in the trashcan.

She goes into the office to log on her computer to check the flights. She notices she has an email and hopes it is not yet another cancellation. The flight is on schedule and she will keep her date. It is too late for a cancellation and so her pulse quickens. How will it turn out? Which answer is better, yes or no?

As she gets in the car she makes a decision. The question will not be asked over dinner. It will be asked at the location of its’ origin. She will take it full circle. It will be asked at the zoo in front of the monkeys.

2005-04-22T06:50:00.000-07:00

I had a little dog named Missy. I adopted Missy from a family in Georgia when she was six months old. This family had an overabundance of animals for people who appeared so poor. Missy was quite thin from competing with three large dogs in the backyard. She was, after all, just a miniature Dachshund. I paid $60 for her and took her home.

She was skin and bones and ate everything I put in front of her. This never changed the rest of her life. Missy was afraid of men – at first – until she fell in love with Matt. We took Missy everywhere with us, hiking, camping, to the dog park we even flew her to California and Utah once.

Missy felt very tough for a dog who weighed 12 lbs. My friend Sina had a Rottweiler named Buddy. Buddy was very sweet. Buddy was a big softie. Buddy weighed a lot more than 12 lbs. Missy felt she needed to be his boss. One day they got in a fight over who should eat Buddy’s food. Missy would have lost if Sina and I had not intervened. We got her out of Buddy’s mouth before any blood was spilled. Missy had a rep for fearlessly taking on dogs much larger than her.

Missy was a smart girl. I taught her to pick up her toys and put them in their basket. She loved doing tricks – but only for treats. She would ask for treats even when she had not done any tricks. She would ask in such a way that I could rarely resist. She would run towards me and stop suddenly with perked ears and then she would run towards the kitchen and back again. It was as if she was saying, “Wouldn’t it make you happy to get me a dog cookie?” It usually did make me happy.

Missy hated the UPS man. I don’t know where this hatred came from, but it stayed with her all her life. She did not have a problem with Fed Ex or the mail man, they were OK. But let a UPS truck even come within her visual range and she would get very angry and stay angry for at least ten minutes. I think her first owner was a UPS man. Maybe she was saying, “You can’t take me back.”

This past January she stopped caring if the UPS man came. She began to wander slowly around the house. She stopped jumping up on the couch with me. I tried to make her comfortable, but one day I knew there was nothing more I could do. Missy went to heaven in February. She was 15 and she had a happy life. Missy was a good dog and I am glad she came to be my friend.

India

2005-04-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

My husband Matt loves new experiences. So when his brother, Kurt, called and asked us to meet him in Mumbai, India, my husband immediately said yes.

I am not an adventurous person and I do not do well in new situations. I need to know what is going to happen and when. I need to know that I have a safe place to retreat to with clean towels and a private bathroom.

My first experience in India was at the Mumbai airport. After a seventeen hour flight and making it through customs, my first thought was to use the bathroom. When I entered the ladies restroom I was followed by a thin Indian woman that smiled and spoke to me enthusiastically in Hindi. She did not seem to be troubled by the fact that I could not understand her. “Baksheesh, baksheesh” she repeated hopefully over and over; I did what any normal American would do I ignored her and hoped she’d go away. (Later we found out she was asking for a tip. A tip for what I don’t know)

When I opened a bathroom stall I was shocked to see, not a toilet, but a basin in the floor with footrests at either side. I opened the next stall and the next; all the same. I began to have that sinking feeling that this was not going to be a fun trip. What I didn’t realize this early on was how grateful I should be that there was toilet paper. Finally the ‘baksheesh’ lady pointed to a stall at the end; Thank God, a toilet!

It was the middle of the night and outside the airport was thronging with a huge jostling crowd. Our Indian host Narij walked right up to us outside the airport from among the throng of seemingly thousands of people. I asked how he knew it was us. He said, “Look around, you are the only white people here.” Narij was a funny guy.

Bright and early the next morning, we set off to sight see around Mumbai. Let me just interject here some observations I made while being driven through Mumbai.

1. All roads are divided into as many lanes as the number of cars that can fit abreast on that road at any given moment - this number can change for any reason at any time.

2. All road signs are considered suggestions.

3. Passing is allowed at any time and under any circumstances.

4. There is no speed limit.

5. Using brakes is a sign of weakness and should be avoided at all costs.

6. The safest place to be on any given Indian road is near a cow. (A pedestrian on the sidewalk is not safe. A cow in the middle lane – completely safe)

7. The horn should be used as much and as often as possible. The more high pitched and nerve rending your horn is - the better.

8. Headlights are optional.

The truly frightening thing about this is that it is completely true. We rode through all kinds of heart-stopping Indian traffic and never once did we ever come in contact with a seatbelt.

The air in Mumbai was truly filled with spices. Faeces and the scent of wet animal were the overwhelming winners in the odor contest with a noticeable patina of curry. We found the people we met to be kind, friendly and curious. Mostly they were curious about why would we want to visit India.

One interesting place we saw in Mumbai was Elephanta Island. Elephanta Island Temple is carved out of solid rock. The temple is reached by boat. The boats appeared to be held together by tar and string. They were loaded to maximum capacity with no sign of any kind of lifesaving equipment. I asked my husband if these boats appeared safe; he told me not to think about it. In the event that a boat did sink and you were rescued from the water before drowning, you would probably contract a deadly virus from exposure to the highly polluted water and die anyway.

The next day we left Mumbai and headed into the mountains to Mahableshwar. The drive to Mahableshwar took 6 hours in the stifling heat; breathing heavy exhaust all the way. (If you are ever in India in August and someone says the air-conditioned car is $50 extra – pay the $50) Our driver Barfang, (that was his name) frequently went head on with buses and huge trucks while passing slower vehicles. I believe Barfang may have felt his karma needed improving and was hoping for something better. These near misses were more terrifying for someone who believes they only have one life. I decided to just keep my eyes closed.

Amazed and grateful to reach Mahableshwar alive, we checked into the hotel Frederick. The facilities dated from the Victorian era; our rooms were entered through 8 foot high French doors with ceilings of about 20 feet. At one time these rooms must have been quite lovely, but over time they had a worn out; run down appearance, similar to a gulag. I think the hotel may have once been an army barrack. I think this because the shower was tin and could hold 8 people.

We had no hot running water (though the hotel owner repeatedly assured us that we would) we did have a shower, but not sufficient water pressure to operate it. So we took showers using a bucket of heated water, brought from the kitchen, and a small water can (resembling a spittoon) to pour the water over our heads. All our towels smelt as though they had been washed in dirty dish water (which was probably exactly the case). Strangely this was all somehow romantic and exotic.

After freshening up with a bucket and spittoon we asked the hotel owners what restaurant they recommended. They asked if we wanted “Indian Cuisine or Continental Cuisine?” We said that Continental cuisine sounded good. They replied, “There are really no good continental restaurants in Mahableshwar.” So we left to find something on our own.

Our hotel was only a couple of blocks from the bazaar so we decided to walk. Our walk into town was full of sights, old women sweeping garbage into heaps to burn, women washing their babies in buckets, cows and dogs wandering the streets, rainbow hued Saris and all sorts of amazing trinkets for sale. As we were basking in the stifling heat and the exotic sights we were nearly killed by a swerving car. When we looked up in amazement (that we were not dead) and terror (not knowing what to expect next), it turned out to be just a carload of smiling Indian youths handing us a rose. It was a kind gesture, but lost some of its meaning by being nearly killed.

We found a restaurant in the Bazaar called the Silverene. One of the most adventurous activities in India is eating. The obvious problem for most westerners eating in India is two-fold; the stomach searing spices used in Indian cuisine and the lack of proper sanitation. The latter being by far the most hazardous. By the end of our week in India my husband and I were resigned to eating nothing but rice. We ate at the Silverene repeatedly while in Mahableshwar. When you find a restaurant in India that does not give you stomach cramps you stick with it. Our favorite dish was ‘saambled eggs’. I have no idea how they ‘saambled’ their eggs, but they were great.

When we returned to our hotel at dusk, we sat outside our rooms in the shade of a large tree and had tea. While drinking our tea a troupe of monkeys, similar in appearance to a Gibbon, came over our roof; jumped to the tree over our heads and continued slowly down the hillside into the valley. Each group of monkeys would pause long enough to look us over and see if we would offer any food, then they would continue on their way.

We stayed in Mahableshwar for a few days and finally returned to Mumbai. We experienced more near collusions with Barfang at the wheel and shortened our life by breathing so much raw exhaust, but we made it. The flight home was grueling because I wanted to be home so badly. I remember on my first day back in the US becoming very emotional and almost crying at the sight of a gas station – because it was so clean.

India was one surprise after another and even though I felt my comfort zones stretched to breaking I was left with an overall feeling of having experienced something quite remarkable. Unbelievably I would recommend a trip to India for everyone at least once in their life. I think this quote from Lonely Planet sums it up:

“No matter how willing you are to step outside cultural bias and give up the joys of using toilet paper, India will still manage to sideswipe you with its size, clamor and diversity. Nothing in the country is ever quite the way you expect it to be, and the only thing to expect is that the unexpected comes in many forms and it will always want to sit next to you.”

The Tennis Shoes of Death

2005-04-06T20:28:00.000-07:00

(note to husband)
(read in the voice of Dr. Evil)

Ahhh, MIS-ter Savage. Your evil plot has failed! I fell into your sinister trap; the tennis shoes of DEATH! But I have escaped with only minor injuries and bruises. The next time you try to destroy me you’ll have to do better than that!! Leaving your devilish tennis shoes in the floor to trip over in the middle of the night, was sublime, but futile.

Bwoo HA HA! (sinister laugh)

You tried to kill me once before with the Kenneth Cole boots of destruction, but I escaped THAT trap as well!

Ha ha ha (sinister laugh)

I suggest NEXT time you try something more LE-thal, like a pit of ill-tempered razor sharp scorpions.

Sincerely,

Dr. Savage
Aka wife

(BwooHAHAHAHA,BwooHAHAHAHAHA,bwoohahaha..aha...aha)

(evil laughter fading into the distance)

Trekkie

2005-03-21T20:55:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am a “Trekkie”. When people find this out about me they are usually surprised. “You don’t look like a Trekkie.” they say. I wonder what Trekkies are supposed to look like? “Like big fat geeks” my friend Renee’ would say. I think I enjoy Star Trek because it appeals to my need for order. I also appreciate the idea of self-cleaning space ships.

I used to watch Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock when I was a little kid. It came on Saturdays at 3 o’clock right after “20,000 Leagues under the Sea”. My older brother, Brian, and I would never miss it if we could help it. Captain Kirk always fixed whatever was wrong with the alien people he encountered. Kirk always had the answer and Mr. Spock was just cool. My brother and I spent many weekends together trying to build our own hover craft. I don’t know what that has to do with Star Trek.

My brother is a much bigger Trekkie than I, but I am the only one of us two to own a uniform. I don’t have a uniform because I feel a need to wear it at conventions or for jury duty or anything like that. I made it for Halloween. It was just for fun.

This past summer I went to the Star Trek Experience in Vegas. It was great. While I was there I bought my daughter a baby-size uniform. My friend Renee’ thinks I need help. I think she needs help. When we met she didn’t even know what a Borg was.

So, this sounds like some kind of confession, but I don’t know what I would be confessing? Maybe that I am a big fat geek…

Young Punk Driver

2005-03-18T11:47:00.000-08:00

How often has some young punk in a ‘fast and furious’ street racer cut you off? How often have you spluttered and cursed futilely as they sped off heedlessly cutting in and out of traffic? How often have you fantasized about seeing them getting some form of just consequence for their reckless and irresponsible driving? These bad drivers always seem to get away without a hitch; well read on dear friend…

I, my husband and infant daughter were leaving a parking lot and traveling down the main access lane. From our right, out of a side aisle of the lot, one of these young street punks shot out without looking and cut us off. My husband slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting this kid driving his little red sports car. The kid of course sped away without a thought, possibly thinking how cool he was driving so fast through a parking lot and discomfiting those old geezers in their Camry.

We were angry, of course. Quite coincidentally we pulled up next to this kid at the 4-way stop just outside the parking lot. My husband rolled down his window. The kid’s window was open in order to share his loud music with everybody as well as his bad driving. My husband leaned over and yelled at the kid, “Hey, You cut me off. I have a baby in here!”

The kid answered back with a smart-alec grin; “Then drive carefully.” The kid’s girlfriend smiled with pride at his overwhelming coolness. As a slick end to this scene the kid thought he’d speed off leaving us old folks in his dust. Still grinning at my husband he hit the gas and plowed into the Ford Expedition two feet in front of him.

We went to eat Mexican food.

My husband and I were happy the rest of the day.

Driving

2005-03-10T15:20:00.000-08:00

I have observed a certain phenomenon while commuting. I noticed that no matter how much I tried to rush through traffic, I never could seem to get more than one or two cars ahead of where I started in traffic, or arrive more than five minutes ahead at my destination. Now, I suppose I must clarify what I mean by ‘traffic’. What I mean is; slow, heavy, city, rush hour traffic, through signals and congested highways filled from curb to curb with overpowered vehicles and drivers pumping Starbucks coffee and diet colas through their fevered brains. I’m not talking about highways like Interstate 15 between Barstow and Las Vegas where you may meet another car every twenty miles. I mean bumper to bumper, fender to fender highways like Interstate 35 E heading north and south through Dallas every morning and evening. Highways where our very American traits of independence and competition combine with images from the Matrix Reloaded and the Italian job and everyone thinks they are a ‘good’ driver.

Back to my point, I tried to out-drive this phenomenon while commuting in several traffic congested cities. Atlanta, Los Angeles, Seattle, Denver and, of course, the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex. I speak from the experience of slogging through some of the heaviest, cruelest and most grueling traffic from the Rocky Mountains to the Olympic Mountains and from the Orange Belt to the Bible-belt … Ah, the Bible-belt, Atlanta; I must digress for a moment and share with you my most cherished traffic memories. Ah, Dixieland; look away, look away….

In Atlanta; the traffic lanes are divided by drivers into speed zones. The right lane is for those who plan on traveling somewhere within a 10 mph range of the posted limit. Each successive lane goes up in speed by 10 mph increments. By the time you manage to maneuver into the far left ‘fast’ lane, don’t think that anything below 95 mph can possibly preserve you from certain death. Added to this speed delirium is the presence of overloaded trucks filled with scrap metal, tires, and ladders, driven by men with names like Bubba and Scooter. These loads are balanced 20 feet high and sway back and forth in a drunken, top-heavy fashion like something from the mind of Dr. Seuss. These rolling road hazards are riding 2 inches off the ground because their loads are roughly twice the recommended maximum for a 1975 Chevy pickup with struts and shocks cannibalized from an abandoned El Torino. These loads are NEVER secured in any recognizable fashion. Tires, ladders and miscellaneous scraps of metal may at any time come flying at your vehicle while you are frantically trying to get ahead of the guy who passed you in the black Fiat. Ah, Dixieland.

So, back to my original point; Increasingly feeling fatigue, frustration and defeat in the face of the daily driving onslaught; I gave in to the inevitability of it all. I gave up the fight and the struggle through traffic. I just stopped engaging the pack. I moved over to the far right lane, turned off the Eminem CD, put down my super-caffeinated drink and slowed down to a reasonable and legal speed. Strangely, I felt this sensation of peace envelope me. I had discovered something magical. I could drive in a sane and reasonable manner and arrive at my destination at almost exactly the same time as I did before. When I arrived, five minutes later than usual, I was calm and relaxed. It was a miracle. I had somehow stumbled into a commuting nirvana. Like a novice in a religious order I became a zealot for legal driving speeds. You can see me now serenely cruising down the slow lane, Tibetan prayer beads swaying from my rearview mirror, SUVs and huge pick-up trucks swarming past like giant vengeful locusts.

After a few weeks of this more relaxed pace I began to notice the speeding cars around me never got too far ahead of their competitors. I realized the same phenomenon I had struggled fruitlessly against was at work all around me. Regardless of the number of times other drivers sped up to pass, the vagaries of lane speed and traffic would hold them back; frequently ending up behind me after all their effort and fuel expenditure. I saw my previous self in their faces, trying to beat their own personal best time; desperate fish swimming upstream only to be caught in a net of pacing tractor trailers.

Like the young woman in the white Camaro. Blissfully unaware that she was a menace to other drivers, she cut me off three times during our shared 4 miles of driving. Gunning her engine from lane to lane; sucking fuel like a turbo-charged camel, never once observing her position relative to the vehicles around her hadn’t changed. Too engrossed by her lipstick and hairdo reflected in the rearview to notice the souls she was endangering. After the third cut-in, she remained just in front of me until we went our separate ways, and she roared off to annoy other drivers in her pursuit of first place. One car; she never got more than one car ahead.

Every day I see at least one or two road warriors trying to beat the one car phenomenon. I watch them in fascination as they change lanes to pass me. They gun their engine to make it through that distant green light and have to decel for a slow vehicle pulling out in front of them. They speed up again make an aggressive pass around the offending slow driver and end up sitting right beside me at the next signal their glazed eyes bulging; watching the signal with animal tension until the green sets them loose to pass again; strangely unaware that they never seem to gain much ground.

Coincidence you say? I thought so too, but over many years seeing the phenomenon at work again and again I am convinced. The headlong rush at top speeds, for the place you consider your finish line, on average may only net you a few minutes. All the years of commuting frenzy has not added very much precious time to our lives, but conversely shortened life expectancy from raised blood pressure, elevated stress levels and an expensive caffeine addiction. Observe if this phenomenon is true or not. Besides, it can be entertaining…And…remember, please drive courteously.

What really happens to electronics...

2005-03-09T10:25:00.000-08:00

My husband was away on business; so, when I got a bee in my bonnet to rearrange the TV cabinet in our family room I was on my own. I knew he wouldn’t want me to move the TV by myself, but I knew I could do it. All I had to do was take out the 36” TV so I could move the heavy oak cabinet that housed it. No problem.

I opened the cabinet and looked at our TV. Not so big, I thought. I can do this. My arms barely went around the front of the TV. I hesitated; should I wait for help? No, I’m pretty strong, I thought, so I just grabbed the TV and pulled it out. As soon as the TV cleared the cabinet shelf it dropped straight down on my toe like a 36” piece of slag iron. As the TV rolled off my toe I heard scrunching sounds from inside the TV box followed by a prolonged gentle tinkling of small mysterious bits as it tumbled slowly to a stop. I thought, “Oh, Lord I’ve broken the TV!”

So now I’m standing balanced on one foot, holding my other foot; the one with the smashed toe, in my hand, wondering how I am going to get the TV back in the cabinet. In a fit of denial I pushed the TV aside thinking I'd just deal with it later.

The cabinet, a lovely solid oak antique wardrobe reproduction, was still too heavy to budge, so I decided I needed to lighten it some. I unhooked all the stereo, VCR, dish antenna and DVD equipment and moved it all out of the way, trying to keep a mental image of which wires went where. The cabinet was now a little lighter and somehow, I managed to slide it into the corner where I wanted it; about 6 inches to the right. When I finally got the cabinet in the place I wanted it my arms and legs were like spaghetti.

I could see the TV glowering at me from the floor just outside my peripheral vision; I again put it out of my mind. I cleaned and dusted everything while I regained the feeling in my limbs and got ready to put everything back. While dusting, I had given myself a mental pep talk so now I was ready to put that TV back in the cabinet. One good lift and I was in the clear! I could do this!

I went to pick the TV up off the floor and couldn't budge it. I suddenly had images of Olympic weight lifters, with knees buckling. A gentle panic began to nudge itself into my mind. I tried again and lifted the TV a couple of inches off the floor before it crashed back down. I decided I needed an intermediate height so I could lift the TV a little at a time. I got my two big floor pillows thinking if I managed to get the TV up on top of these pillows I'd have it a few inches closer to my goal. I made a huge effort and managed to lift the TV onto the pillows.

I was quickly reaching the end of what little strength I had left. I took a deep breath, put my arms around the TV and somehow got it off the pillows and barely onto the cabinet shelf. The TV hung precariously on the edge of the shelf for a few seconds and then I began to feel it sliding slowly downward out of my grasp. My arms were trembling like a sign in a gale. I could feel the TV slipping. Utterly powerless to stop it I watched as the TV again went crashing to the floor; screen first. I could hear more tinkling and rattling sounds from inside as it rolled heavily to a stop. "Oh Lord", I thought, "Now, I've REALLY broken it."

I was shaking all over. The gentle panic had now become a full-fledged panic. I put my arms back around the TV. This time, with the added benefit of adrenalin, I managed to get the TV all the way into the cabinet. "Oh, thank God and all that is Holy" I thought.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The hard part was behind me. Now all I had to do was plug everything back into the proper places and I was done! My relief was indescribable. Relief flowed over me like a river. I took a deep cleansing breath. Everything was going to be all right. The world was a good place after all.

I pushed my way into the corner behind the cabinet and started pulling on the TV cord to plug it in. It was caught under the TV and being held down by its weight. I gave the cord a gentle firm pull; the front heavy TV tipped gently out of the front of the cabinet and in slow motion, I watched it crash – again - screen first on the pillows and roll back onto the floor. I could hear more tinkling and scrunching sounds coming from inside as it came slowly to a stop against my coffee table. Now, I was in a full-blown, all-out panic and just beginning to wonder if this was all a bad idea.

I had now dropped the TV a total of 3 times. In a state of denial my mind began wandering. How old was I when I first read Nancy Drew? Did I have any of those books in the attic somewhere? Was the Brown Titmouse on the endangered species list? Should it be? Then I found myself wondering if TVs were tested somewhere by being dropped repeatedly and rolled around by burly testers named Jorge and Cosmo. I doubted it.

I pulled my mind painfully back. I knew the TV was definitely broken, but I had to; somehow, put that TV back as if nothing had happened. By some miracle of superhuman effort and the aid of heavenly beings; I picked up that TV and got it back into the cabinet. I very carefully pushed it back as far as it would go into the cabinet. I stood frozen for several seconds, breathing like a spent racer, desperately gripping the TV until I was certain it would not move or slide out somehow. Hands outstretched toward the screen I slowly backed away. It stayed. I kept my eyes on the TV for a few moments just to make sure it wouldn’t leap out like something possessed. I got back behind the cabinet and quickly hooked up the dish antenna, stereo and DVD cables and, holding my breath, turned the TV on.

Snow.

At that moment I felt the same as I did 30 years earlier when I broke a statue of my mother’s with a broom I had been swinging around in our foyer. I don’t know why I was swinging a broom in the foyer, but I was. Seeing the broken statue I did a very reasonable thing; I very carefully stacked the shattered statue pieces in a neat pile with the broken head balanced on top, as if the statue had just suddenly collapsed under its own weight. Of course, no mom would be fooled by this for long. My mom was barely inside the door before the fateful words came. “What happened to my statue?” I had similar images of my husband standing; remote in hand in front of the TV, “What happened to the TV?”

I stared brokenly at the snow on my TV screen. Resignation began to coat my synapses. My mind was being washed by a strange peace. I knew now how criminals felt hearing their sentence read out after a long trial; sort of numb and warm with a throbbing toe.

With a sudden surge of hope, I noticed I hadn’t yet turned on the satellite dish box. That was the problem! I turned on the dish box and a thin picture about one inch tall appeared across the middle of the screen. I could see people walking around like 3 inch Oompa-Loompas. "Well, that’s it. It’s REALLY, REALLY broken."

Then, I noticed the TV was on channel 2 instead of channel 3. Somehow from drop number one to that moment the TV had mysteriously switched channels. I changed to channel 3 and a perfectly clear picture appeared.

I knew I could move the TV by myself.

I think my dog is telepathic

2005-03-09T04:36:00.000-08:00

I believe my dog is telepathic. I am not, so I can’t really prove this theory. He sits and stares at me, tilting his head sagely to one side, as if trying to penetrate the thick cranial plates of my human skull with his thoughts. Sometimes, he places both his front feet on my chest and puts the tip of his nose just millimeters away from the tip of my nose and motionlessly stares into my eyes as if the closeness of our heads might help my feeble brain receive his mental transmissions. Periodically his tongue flicks out with lightening speed to give me a kiss on the nose to encourage my telepathic efforts.

When he is not attempting telepathic communication, Sammy, that’s his name is a tuneful singer, but only to very specific music. His favorite tunes are Happy Birthday, the theme song from Law and Order and Star Trek the Next Generation. You may ask what this has to do with his being telepathic, well I’m not sure, but it does show a certain amount of taste on his part. I first discovered Sammy’s singing talent when he was only a few weeks old as I practiced my flute. With an expression like a Greek scholar Sammy tilted back his 8 week old puppy head and sang, “woo, woo, woo”. I haven’t been able to practice my flute at home since then without at least two rooms of closed doors between us. Even then I can still hear Sammy’s distant “Awoo, awoo, awoo” echoing through the house.

While still a young dog, Sammy used to pull up newly planted shrubs and artfully display their shriveling forms upon the lawn in unusual geometric patterns. At first my husband and I thought this was just bad dog behavior, but it soon became apparent that it must be more than that as the patterns of dying shrubs became more and more complex. I believe this may have been an early attempt at a higher form of communication; something akin to crop circles. He seemed to have an especially strong feeling about young watermelon plants. After planting said seedlings in carefully formed mounds of earth, we came home to find craters in their place, as if they had been hit by small meteorites. We concluded that Sammy’s message to us was that he didn’t like them. One day Sammy suddenly changed his form of communication by leaving the shrub in the ground, but chewing off all the branches until only a tiny stick finger was left pointing significantly skyward.

As Sammy grew his behavior displayed other unusual bents. He never seemed to bond with other dogs; suspicious. Sammy’s back legs always ran faster than his front legs. Of course his front legs are about four inches from shoulder to pad. He refuses to eat dog food. He also has an irrational anger towards cats on the television and television announcers with dark hair. That has to mean something.

Sammy likes sitting on our second story landing; from there he can look out the front window at all the activity in our neighborhood. He sits and barks at nothing in particular. He sometimes varies this barking activity by looking silently down at us as we sit in the living room. He will stare intently at us until we speak to him or throw him a toy. Communication is obviously very important to Sam.

I can’t say that any of this qualifies as evidence of Sammy being telepathic, and if I could hear his thoughts he might only be telling me the low-fat doggie treats are not as satisfying and I should take more walks.

2005-03-08T18:32:00.000-08:00

Dippin Dots

Peas

2005-03-06T09:45:00.000-08:00

Peas.

There are many green things in the world that make us shudder. Green things with bulbous eyes and creepy spindly legs; green things that jiggle and slime, but I must today discuss a thing so green, so revolting, so insidious that I hesitate to continue. Of all things green, the worst of all is PEAS; English peas.

At an early age I knew; by smell alone, that peas could never have been meant by God for little children. Meal times were a trial almost unbearable to recall. I lived in fear of seeing the hideous spheres sitting in apparent innocence on our table. My father; a child of the depression era, was convinced that with enough urging and firmness that I would learn to “eat my peas”. He would sit with me for hours, until I had consumed some small number of the offensive globs. My mother helpfully reminded me that there were starving children in Africa. I suggested that she should send the children in Africa the peas; they were in cans and should travel well. I very logically argued that no one made Dad eat peanut butter when he didn’t like it. My father just looked stern and pointed at my peas with his fork.

My grandmother was an unwitting accomplice to my father. She believed that if you tried something once and didn’t like it, you need never try it again. The problem was that she never remembered if we had tried something or not. So every time she served peas she made me try them again.

Eventually, in self defense, I became desperate. Around the age of 8 or 9 years old I learned how to swallow an aspirin with water. Not long after, peas were again served. I looked at the horrid things and thought, “I could swallow them like pills and not ever taste them.” This was a great solution, the only solution. I got through about 15 before my father asked me what I was doing. He thought I was trying to be funny. Could the man not recognize desperation when he saw it?

My next step was to discover ways to conceal the peas leaving the casual observer the impression that they had been eaten. My first attempt at concealment was the “drop them in the milk glass” tactic. This has now become a favorite, tried and failed, vegetable concealment technique attempted by generations of children. I had dropped about twenty into my milk before noticing their little green bodies stacking up against the walls of the glass. I quickly concealed my glass with a casually placed crumpled napkin. I hoped my parents would not notice and make me put my napkin back in my lap. I asked to be excused; I received permission. I grabbed my glass and plate to take them to the sink. That was my undoing. My parents wanted to know why I was so quick to clear my own dishes all of a sudden. (Parents are so suspicious) I was found out.

My second attempt to conceal peas was, I think, truly inspired in its simplicity and effectiveness. I would put the peas in my mouth; pretend to chew and politely wipe my mouth and deposit the offending peas into my napkin to be thrown away after dinner. My grandmother discovered me this time. This had been an effective ploy for months. I had become too comfortable; I let myself begin to feel secure. I did not carefully place the pea laden napkin under some other garbage to ensure that they were not discovered. I slipped up and left the napkin on top. Grandma saw one pea peeking out of the napkin and investigated further. I was undone.

I was again at my Grandmother’s table when my next bit of pea disposal brilliance hit. We were strangely having peas and mashed potatoes in the same meal. Now I always liked mashed potatoes so I was not required to eat them. I could leave my potatoes completely untouched without any fear of reprisals. I saw a perfect plan materialize in my mind. I carefully hid the peas underneath the mashed potatoes. The one flaw in my plan was neglecting to offer to scrape the dishes and load the dishwasher. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. Grandpa got me as he scraped the dishes after supper. He thought it was funny. I was not amused.

I was quickly running out of ideas. I tried slipping the peas to the dog, but he wouldn’t eat them either. After dinner there was a litter of peas under my chair. I tried to explain that it was the dog that was wasting food, not me; they didn’t buy it. I even tried holding the horrible things in my cheek and then asking to be excused to use the restroom. I found out peas won’t flush.

Eventually, like an animal being hunted by wild beasts, I stood my ground and refused to budge. There is a point at which every human being must stand alone… or sit in their place at the table. I refused to eat my peas – period.

It was that very night that the pea issue came to a head. I had been told I would sit at that table until I had eaten ALL my peas. I was ready to wait Dad out. I sulked in place and shuttled the peas from side to side on my plate with a spoon. I tried stacking them and making interesting shapes to pass the time. The tension was rising because my aunt and uncle were expected for a visit that evening. I had been sitting at my place for two hours when I heard the bell. Dad ushered my aunt and uncle into the great room where our dining room was situated. Just as they stepped under the arch from the entryway I somehow flicked a pea with my spoon. The pea flew through the air. It hit the wall above their heads and slid down to land at my father’s feet. It was an accident. To this day I don’t know how it happened. Dad never believed me. The truth I realized later was much worse – the peas are evil.

I wish I could say that the pea dramas ended there, but they didn’t. My Dad and I went many more rounds in the saga of the peas. I tried more inventive ways to hide my peas and Dad countered with a heightened awareness of my tactics. At some point whether I was eating peas or not lost its importance. Dad now admits that eating peas was not worth the struggle, besides I never did learn to eat my peas as a child, but at least now we can laugh about it. As happens in most peoples lives my tastes have changed. I now like many things that I did not care for as a child. I now have a home of my own and I prepare the meals; which do not include peas.