I remember reading the Chronicles of Narnia. I was a tall, lanky kid, more arms and legs than anything else. I was awkward and smart and my glasses were too thick for their own good. I had a bookbag, but I carried everything in my arms and I was the only student allowed to check more than two books out of the school library. I devoured books, but I always returned them the next day, none the worse for wear.
The first time, I only checked out The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I watched on PBS the weekend before. I read it through and instantly regretted only checking out the one. I went back the next day and loaded up on the rest of the series and after homework, methodically read through them all into the wee hours of the morning.
I was not a Christian. I had only heard of God in big, blue books that grace dentist and pediatrician offices everywhere. The story that impacted me the most was the story of God telling Abraham to kill Issac. I worried myself silly wondering if God would ever tell my mother to do that to me. I was the first born, after all. I wondered if she would have listened if He did. And despite the ram in the bush, I thought I could not trust God to be good to me. Then I met Aslan. I wondered what God would be like it He were fierce like Aslan, but willing to speak, because I needed to know. I wondered if God could not be safe, like Aslan, but good. I thought, if God were like Aslan, I think I could come to love Him.
Now, as I see the images for the movie that is being made, the fresh, open faces of the innocent children who stumble into the spiritual realm without realizing it, who fight all kinds of evils and live this whole other life that intersects with the real in so many different ways, when I see the face of the King of that world, I can't help but be moved to tears remembering my first encouter with Aslan, with that world and with the possibilities of God. I remember, years later, going to God in tears for a change in my life, a change that I thought only He could make. A whirlwind course through life that has not been safe, but has been good.
So, Chronicles of Narnia, do not disappoint. Paint the truest picture of this beautiful tale. Create rich imageries. And do not skimp on Aslan. He is my favourite part of the tale.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Right Now
I'm eating peanut butter covered waffles in syrup with 2% milk. I thought The Honey was looking at me in awe of the gift that God had given him (me), but in actuality, when I turned iTunes down, he was looking at me in irritation because I was smacking.
When the cat's away...
Charades is a funny game. I believe that, in many ways, it's like playing Jeopardy! at home vs. actually being on the show. When the other team goes, you see things so clearly. Sun... dance... kid... Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!, but when it's your turn, you don't know why your teammate keeps strapping something over his shoulder, pointing at you, touching his ear (you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear!).
So The Honey and I had a delicious dinner with The Friends number one (being there are two sets of The Friends that we hang out with) and started a game of charades. Couple vs. couple. We lost. So then, we decided to play girls vs. boys. The Honey remarks that it may be unfair to pit two people who have known each other for ten years against two people who have not even known each other a full year. And for a while he was right.
The game was 2-1, them. I pulled one I thought would be easy. The category was Words of Wisdom. The proverb was When The Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play. Their cat, Charlie, was in the room, so that was easy. She started saying things with cat in it, but none of them proverbs. I pantomimed "going away". I knelt on the floor and had my fingers scamper across the hardwood. I stood up and danced. She called out any and everything but proverbs. "Cat!" she said. I waved goodbye. "Cat in the hat! Cat waving! Cats!... Cats going into the computer room! Cats... get out of here!" I pantomime mice. "Crawling on the floor! Cats playing on the floor! Cat scratch the floor! Cat scratch fever!" I dance. "Cat's dance! Lord of the Dance! Do a little dance!" At this point, I break the rules a bit to remind her that the category is words of wisdom. The boys painfully allow this. I wave and leave. She gets up to follow me "away". I get back on the floor. I do the mice, I dance, time is running out, I get back down to do the mice. She yells, "Somebody dances like cat's feet!" and I laugh so hard, because, really, what kind of words of wisdom is that. She eventually got mice, but not the entire proverb before our time was up.
Another time, we are tied 2-2 and it's our time. I'm up. It's a song: The Hokey Pokey. I figure that I would just do the Hokey Pokey. She guessed everything but Hokey Pokey and finally, 30 seconds in, as she's watching me and trying to figure it out, her husband says, "It's the hokey pokey" with such exasperation that I laugh in the middle of turn yourself about. Everytime I remember how he said it, I laugh. "The Hokey Pokey isn't a song." she says. We all start to sing. "Well, remember, I went to religious school. We didn't sing the Hokey Pokey." What's so funny is that she almost always knew what the other team's charade was, except for the Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog one which involved the other guy stabbing my husband with his imaginary bull horns and some tongue flicking - and noone got that one. In the end, the two people who knew each other the least won. It was very satisfying.
So The Honey and I had a delicious dinner with The Friends number one (being there are two sets of The Friends that we hang out with) and started a game of charades. Couple vs. couple. We lost. So then, we decided to play girls vs. boys. The Honey remarks that it may be unfair to pit two people who have known each other for ten years against two people who have not even known each other a full year. And for a while he was right.
The game was 2-1, them. I pulled one I thought would be easy. The category was Words of Wisdom. The proverb was When The Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play. Their cat, Charlie, was in the room, so that was easy. She started saying things with cat in it, but none of them proverbs. I pantomimed "going away". I knelt on the floor and had my fingers scamper across the hardwood. I stood up and danced. She called out any and everything but proverbs. "Cat!" she said. I waved goodbye. "Cat in the hat! Cat waving! Cats!... Cats going into the computer room! Cats... get out of here!" I pantomime mice. "Crawling on the floor! Cats playing on the floor! Cat scratch the floor! Cat scratch fever!" I dance. "Cat's dance! Lord of the Dance! Do a little dance!" At this point, I break the rules a bit to remind her that the category is words of wisdom. The boys painfully allow this. I wave and leave. She gets up to follow me "away". I get back on the floor. I do the mice, I dance, time is running out, I get back down to do the mice. She yells, "Somebody dances like cat's feet!" and I laugh so hard, because, really, what kind of words of wisdom is that. She eventually got mice, but not the entire proverb before our time was up.
Another time, we are tied 2-2 and it's our time. I'm up. It's a song: The Hokey Pokey. I figure that I would just do the Hokey Pokey. She guessed everything but Hokey Pokey and finally, 30 seconds in, as she's watching me and trying to figure it out, her husband says, "It's the hokey pokey" with such exasperation that I laugh in the middle of turn yourself about. Everytime I remember how he said it, I laugh. "The Hokey Pokey isn't a song." she says. We all start to sing. "Well, remember, I went to religious school. We didn't sing the Hokey Pokey." What's so funny is that she almost always knew what the other team's charade was, except for the Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog one which involved the other guy stabbing my husband with his imaginary bull horns and some tongue flicking - and noone got that one. In the end, the two people who knew each other the least won. It was very satisfying.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Comment Spam
They suck. For two reasons. They get your hopes up, as in "oh my! someone commented!" and they serve no good purpose, as in, "VIAGRA!"
The alternative, having someone type in a bunch of letters for word verification is just irritating for the people who really have something to say.
The alternative, having someone type in a bunch of letters for word verification is just irritating for the people who really have something to say.
In other news...
My hair does not like me. It is doing some sort of Dan Rather side sweep thing, which is expressly what I told it not to do. My hair has not liked me for the past few days. Yesterday, it looked like I was wearing a really bad 70's pageboy wig. My hair hates me. I think it is my frequent attempt to tame it with a flat iron. I know, each morning, we are both planning our attacks. It truly stinks that my hair normally wins.
10 years
In my 19th year, I discovered that my father was not the man that reared me. I discovered I would not be able to return to school. I lost my childhood home in a fire. I accepted Christ as my Lord and Saviour. It was not unexpected. I'd been going to church since I was 17. I knew that it made sense. I'd been looking for God since I picked up my first book of "mythology" in the third grade, the Bahgavahdgita. I devoured mythology and I loved bible stories, just not the bible. The bible was a cumbersome tome that stated truths in a way so convoluted, you wondered how anyone could choose it as religion. When I was older, when I started seeing the bible the way the Baptist church taught me to see it, I could sort of make sense of it, better sense than my fellow sunday school classmates.
When I accepted Christ, I couldn't make much better sense of the bible than I could when I was 10. It was almost a year before I didn't dread reading any words and at once, I started on a path different from my contemporaries, because I devoured the old testament and it was probably 3 years before I became as enamoured of the new testament. I especially loved Elijah. I loved the work of God through him, his weakness and his strength. I thought he was funny, a worthy role model for me because he was so strange. I once kept a friend awake and cognizant through a drug overdose (unfortunately, a doctor perscribed one) by telling her the stories of Elijah. I fell in love with Isaiah and Samuel and Daniel and would read these over and over again. Of course, when I read new testament, I gravitated towards Paul, although John was a standout. I was confused by David and he remains, to this day, my biggest example that God doesn't necessarily want what church says He wants from us.
I have been with God for 10 years. It's amazing to me, to look back through my life and see the places where he's touched. I believe some disappointments were scheduled by God into my life for the purpose of making me who I am. I believe some of my failings were to bring me to my knees before Him. I believe that my anger was to show me that I could talk to God in any state, that he would not strike me with lightning for daring to accuse Him of not caring, of not loving, of this all being for nothing. I believe His comfort in those times were purposeful, because I see that comfort extended to others in my testimony, through my words. I have no wisdom but what God has shown me in the life He has let me live. I have no joy but that He has given me the freedom to make choices and He stands behind me through the bad choices as well as the good choices. I knew no love until He showed me His Son and when my little mind had understood all it could, He plucked my husband from his life and dropped him in mine to show me an even more understandable model of His outrageous love. My encouragement is that He is always there, that only my emotions can be far from Him, my feelings can be far from Him, but I never am for He is always with me. He has saved my life and protected me in ways I could not fathom. He has put His angels around me and though I do not see them, I see the results. I would praise God from the heavens, through all joys and tears because He has been good to me. He has not promised ease, and in that, He is clear. I have not had an easy life. I did not come to Him when all was easy. I have suffered ridicule for my stance, I have been misunderstood because of my love, I have been hated when I would not budge, I have been judged for understanding. I also have been wrong, I have been hateful, I have been judgmental, I have not loved. I was not perfected in my salvation, but even in this, I praise God. My humanity still calls to others, to hear what God has done, even if they won't accept, to acknowledge that something happens when I pray, because an answer has always come. God has done this all, the exultation and the heartache and for one end. His glory. I am expendable, but in a good way, because when I am exhausted, then I will be with Him, but while I am here, I will work to exhaustion because God is good. There is so much I have forgotten about His goodness, there is so much I have pushed away because of His care, but I will remember your goodness, oh Lord, and I will sing your praises forever.
When I accepted Christ, I couldn't make much better sense of the bible than I could when I was 10. It was almost a year before I didn't dread reading any words and at once, I started on a path different from my contemporaries, because I devoured the old testament and it was probably 3 years before I became as enamoured of the new testament. I especially loved Elijah. I loved the work of God through him, his weakness and his strength. I thought he was funny, a worthy role model for me because he was so strange. I once kept a friend awake and cognizant through a drug overdose (unfortunately, a doctor perscribed one) by telling her the stories of Elijah. I fell in love with Isaiah and Samuel and Daniel and would read these over and over again. Of course, when I read new testament, I gravitated towards Paul, although John was a standout. I was confused by David and he remains, to this day, my biggest example that God doesn't necessarily want what church says He wants from us.
I have been with God for 10 years. It's amazing to me, to look back through my life and see the places where he's touched. I believe some disappointments were scheduled by God into my life for the purpose of making me who I am. I believe some of my failings were to bring me to my knees before Him. I believe that my anger was to show me that I could talk to God in any state, that he would not strike me with lightning for daring to accuse Him of not caring, of not loving, of this all being for nothing. I believe His comfort in those times were purposeful, because I see that comfort extended to others in my testimony, through my words. I have no wisdom but what God has shown me in the life He has let me live. I have no joy but that He has given me the freedom to make choices and He stands behind me through the bad choices as well as the good choices. I knew no love until He showed me His Son and when my little mind had understood all it could, He plucked my husband from his life and dropped him in mine to show me an even more understandable model of His outrageous love. My encouragement is that He is always there, that only my emotions can be far from Him, my feelings can be far from Him, but I never am for He is always with me. He has saved my life and protected me in ways I could not fathom. He has put His angels around me and though I do not see them, I see the results. I would praise God from the heavens, through all joys and tears because He has been good to me. He has not promised ease, and in that, He is clear. I have not had an easy life. I did not come to Him when all was easy. I have suffered ridicule for my stance, I have been misunderstood because of my love, I have been hated when I would not budge, I have been judged for understanding. I also have been wrong, I have been hateful, I have been judgmental, I have not loved. I was not perfected in my salvation, but even in this, I praise God. My humanity still calls to others, to hear what God has done, even if they won't accept, to acknowledge that something happens when I pray, because an answer has always come. God has done this all, the exultation and the heartache and for one end. His glory. I am expendable, but in a good way, because when I am exhausted, then I will be with Him, but while I am here, I will work to exhaustion because God is good. There is so much I have forgotten about His goodness, there is so much I have pushed away because of His care, but I will remember your goodness, oh Lord, and I will sing your praises forever.
Katrina
I not much for watching tragedies on television. It may seem calloused, but I like to wait until it ends to see how it all turns out. I talked to friends who lived in New Orleans who evacuated before the storm and I watched a little bit of new coverage. I would have been fine with all of that, fine to see, when help finally came, what happened. It would have been fine to hear the next week of rescue stories and hear the triumphs and tragedies of finally finding missing families.
What I did not expect was to get mad. Steaming angry is a better way to describe it. I couldn't believe that the people didn't have at least food and water. I mean, they sent in big buses to help people get out until they filled the Houston dome, why couldn't they have sent those same buses with food and water in lieu of taking them away. I know it was scary to have the buses drive off with noone inside because there was no where to take them, but dang, it's worse when you're not even sure who's going to die beside you the next day, hoping it won't be you or your child. It was heart rending watching the condition that everyone was in. And every day in the news, you saw people blaming other people and people trying to cover their butts. You saw the best and worst of humanity.
The other day I was praying about what I could do for the people who so desperately need so much help. I wanted to just cook a bunch of food, put it in containers and drive to New Orleans, to Mississippi and Alabama and pass out food. It couldn't have been impossible, no matter how much we were made to believe it was. But I don't have enough money to do any of that stuff and I felt defeated until I was reminded that, more than anything, prayer works. So I've been praying. For shelter, for relief from the heat, for food and clothes, for diapers and restrooms, for rescue and for finding loved one. I've been praying for those whose properties weren't damaged, that they can go back to houses that haven't been looted, that they will be a shelter to those left behind.
People seem so surprised that people from New Orleans didn't want to leave their houses, their land, everything that was everything to them. I confess, if we had to evacuate, I would easily leave this place with only a twinge of regret to what we have built here. But I also understand the strength of history, how it compels us to preserve it. I would be loathe to leave a home we'd built from scratch, a home we'd lived and loved in for 50 years. That would make me sad. I understand why they don't want to leave. I understand why they should. I pray they will too.
What I did not expect was to get mad. Steaming angry is a better way to describe it. I couldn't believe that the people didn't have at least food and water. I mean, they sent in big buses to help people get out until they filled the Houston dome, why couldn't they have sent those same buses with food and water in lieu of taking them away. I know it was scary to have the buses drive off with noone inside because there was no where to take them, but dang, it's worse when you're not even sure who's going to die beside you the next day, hoping it won't be you or your child. It was heart rending watching the condition that everyone was in. And every day in the news, you saw people blaming other people and people trying to cover their butts. You saw the best and worst of humanity.
The other day I was praying about what I could do for the people who so desperately need so much help. I wanted to just cook a bunch of food, put it in containers and drive to New Orleans, to Mississippi and Alabama and pass out food. It couldn't have been impossible, no matter how much we were made to believe it was. But I don't have enough money to do any of that stuff and I felt defeated until I was reminded that, more than anything, prayer works. So I've been praying. For shelter, for relief from the heat, for food and clothes, for diapers and restrooms, for rescue and for finding loved one. I've been praying for those whose properties weren't damaged, that they can go back to houses that haven't been looted, that they will be a shelter to those left behind.
People seem so surprised that people from New Orleans didn't want to leave their houses, their land, everything that was everything to them. I confess, if we had to evacuate, I would easily leave this place with only a twinge of regret to what we have built here. But I also understand the strength of history, how it compels us to preserve it. I would be loathe to leave a home we'd built from scratch, a home we'd lived and loved in for 50 years. That would make me sad. I understand why they don't want to leave. I understand why they should. I pray they will too.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
I'm not the only one!
If you think my beanie weenie and white merlot was bad, then check out this guy's fast food wine pairings.
TACO BELL
BURRITO SUPREME
Wine: 2003 Vina MontGras Cabernet Sauvignon Syrah Reserva
Why it works: This blend, which would go nicely with just about any food with a bit of kick, seems especially designed for the spicy grilled smack-in-the-taste-buds that this wrap's hot sauce provides.
Yay for the weirdos. And the people who don't want to cook or go to a restaurant where they will be forced to pay more than $10 for their meal.
Taken (spoilers)
In 2002, Steven Spielberg produced a miniseries for Sci-Fi called Taken. I was so excited, I couldn't wait to see it. And do you know what happened? I missed every episode. I was pissed. I really wanted to see it. I mean, who could do aliens better?
Last week, I found the DVDs at my local Blockbuster. Someone had taken the 2nd disk with 4 hours worth of show on it, but I wanted to watch it anyway. I'm smart, I can figure things out. And I was excited.
I have to say that, although I watched ever DVD I had and cried at the end, it was the most disappointing show I'd ever watched. I probably would not have watch more than the first two shows. It started in the 1940s when a pilot was taken by aliens when his company of planes "crashed". When they were awakened, they were discovered by their allies and taken to safety. The pilot was the only one to survive. he was a fighter. We follow the tales of aliens abducting all the men in his line and each man fights. Also, it is in the 40s that the alien ship crashes into Roswell. So, and alien survives, pretends to be human, makes love to this woman an begats a baby. The guy in the military (he's a bad man) covers it all up, kills to get and keep all the information and marries his wife to force his boss (his wife's father) to give him the alien project. In a nutshell the three families. So, we see the military family be ruthless over the course of the 10 hours, the pilot's family of men fight every alien abduction, and the alien's family just be a bunch of weirdos. I sat through hour after hour of whining, crazy looking carnies, bright lights taking people away and decades passing and then we get to present day.
It is when Dakota Fanning is thrown into the mix that things start to get interesting. The one thing I liked about the writing is that we don't know what the aliens are up to. So when we realize Dakota Fanning (masquerading as Allie) is the end results, we are instantly drawn in to the story because we all want to know one thing: what can she do? Then they try to bore us again, but the one sustaining force is: what can she do? We see her bend time, we see her read minds, we see her project images, thoughts, we see her heal a bullet wound, we see her make everyone lose time as if they were taken. She willing goes to be researched so that she can do something to make them convinced that she was taken by the aliens and they will leave her alone. But the military figures out she pulled the wool over their eyes when she escapes pretending to be the general (or, at least that's the highest title I know, but it may not be his). So they keep tracking her down and there is kind of a man hunt (all of this is surrounded by boring-ness, by the way) by the citizens of the U.S.ofA. and we see that first alien that survived again. His earth name is John and he explains, over the next three hours (after being shot and being old as hold) that he is an alien scientist and he was just doing experiments. You know, pick up the humans, tag them, see how they live in the wild. We see that every day on Animal Planet. And I think, so that's it? You studied humanity in the wild over the course of years, put this little girl together just to study her? That's all I get for 10 hours of my life? I mean, it could have at least been that the earth would implode unless we always had a bispecies entity on the planet, or if they had not bred her through alien abductions, her parents would have never stayed together, sort of an alien eharmony. "We put marriages together based on the implants we painfully put in your head, tracking your every move over decades until we finally find the right one for you." Even though the ending was sad (Dakota Fanning was great) and emotional, it stil wasn't worth the price of admission. The writing bogged me down. Did it win an Emmy for best miniseries because there were no other shows, or because noone had writing as good at Ms. Fanning's acting. Either way, I wish for at least 9 of those hours back including the hours I didn't watch because it was taken.
Last week, I found the DVDs at my local Blockbuster. Someone had taken the 2nd disk with 4 hours worth of show on it, but I wanted to watch it anyway. I'm smart, I can figure things out. And I was excited.
I have to say that, although I watched ever DVD I had and cried at the end, it was the most disappointing show I'd ever watched. I probably would not have watch more than the first two shows. It started in the 1940s when a pilot was taken by aliens when his company of planes "crashed". When they were awakened, they were discovered by their allies and taken to safety. The pilot was the only one to survive. he was a fighter. We follow the tales of aliens abducting all the men in his line and each man fights. Also, it is in the 40s that the alien ship crashes into Roswell. So, and alien survives, pretends to be human, makes love to this woman an begats a baby. The guy in the military (he's a bad man) covers it all up, kills to get and keep all the information and marries his wife to force his boss (his wife's father) to give him the alien project. In a nutshell the three families. So, we see the military family be ruthless over the course of the 10 hours, the pilot's family of men fight every alien abduction, and the alien's family just be a bunch of weirdos. I sat through hour after hour of whining, crazy looking carnies, bright lights taking people away and decades passing and then we get to present day.
It is when Dakota Fanning is thrown into the mix that things start to get interesting. The one thing I liked about the writing is that we don't know what the aliens are up to. So when we realize Dakota Fanning (masquerading as Allie) is the end results, we are instantly drawn in to the story because we all want to know one thing: what can she do? Then they try to bore us again, but the one sustaining force is: what can she do? We see her bend time, we see her read minds, we see her project images, thoughts, we see her heal a bullet wound, we see her make everyone lose time as if they were taken. She willing goes to be researched so that she can do something to make them convinced that she was taken by the aliens and they will leave her alone. But the military figures out she pulled the wool over their eyes when she escapes pretending to be the general (or, at least that's the highest title I know, but it may not be his). So they keep tracking her down and there is kind of a man hunt (all of this is surrounded by boring-ness, by the way) by the citizens of the U.S.ofA. and we see that first alien that survived again. His earth name is John and he explains, over the next three hours (after being shot and being old as hold) that he is an alien scientist and he was just doing experiments. You know, pick up the humans, tag them, see how they live in the wild. We see that every day on Animal Planet. And I think, so that's it? You studied humanity in the wild over the course of years, put this little girl together just to study her? That's all I get for 10 hours of my life? I mean, it could have at least been that the earth would implode unless we always had a bispecies entity on the planet, or if they had not bred her through alien abductions, her parents would have never stayed together, sort of an alien eharmony. "We put marriages together based on the implants we painfully put in your head, tracking your every move over decades until we finally find the right one for you." Even though the ending was sad (Dakota Fanning was great) and emotional, it stil wasn't worth the price of admission. The writing bogged me down. Did it win an Emmy for best miniseries because there were no other shows, or because noone had writing as good at Ms. Fanning's acting. Either way, I wish for at least 9 of those hours back including the hours I didn't watch because it was taken.
Friday, September 02, 2005
I have wireless internet at home!
Which means more *not getting anything done* at home. I'm so happy that my sweet, smart, handsome, clever, generous husband agreed that getting a cable modem was where it's at.
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