Consumer Craze

I heard an interview on NPR the other day while I was driving to rehearsal. The interview was with this water specialist whose name I don't think I even heard, but wouldn't be able to remember anyways. He was talking about the consumption of bottled water instead of tap water. He said that Americans now consume more bottled water than any other beverage, including coffee. When asked about the reasons for why we enjoy drinking bottled water over tap water, he replied that it had to do with the perception consumers had about the bottled water. That it was somehow more elite to drink it. Back in the 80's, before what he called "the fitness craze" took place, there was Perrier and Evian. He reminded us of what a big deal it was when Madonna appeared on stage with a bottle of Evian, which I don't remember but maybe you do. Since then, with other brands available like Dasani, owned by Coca-Cola, and Aquafina, owned by Pepsi, it has become a consumer frenzy to drink bottled water rather than tap water. His point was that this consumer frenzy is wasteful. It's an unnecessary use of facility, transportation, resources, and money spent. Our water system in America is incredibly safe and healthy. And that Dasani and Aquafina were nothing more than regular tap water filtered and bottled. The craze didn't have anything to do with the fact that the bottled water tasted better than the tap water.

I wondered if he'd ever lived in Houston, TX.

Church That Calls Itself Catholic

This church that calls itself Catholic, what's it all about? It's a topic that has intrigued me for some time now. As many of you know, unity through Catholic and Protestant dialogue interests my husband as well. If you've ever been to Seth's blog, and the majority of you have, you know that Catholic ideas are discussed frequently there. My interest in the Catholic church goes back to pre-Seth days. Since most of you have only known me since I've been married to Seth, it might seem that I merely adopt the Catholic interests of my husband and call them grand. On the contrary, I enjoy thinking for myself, which leads me to my post today.

I should stop here and share with you my spiritual upbringing in regards to church and such. I was raised Church of Christ. My mother was raised Church of Christ, and if you've ever been raised Church of Christ, you know that it's considered a grievous sin to leave the Church of Christ. Strangely enough, we did. The elders of our congregation felt that our preacher taught too much on grace, and so he was asked to resign. He did, and a number of families left with him, one of those being ours, to start a new church: a non-denominational church. Our preacher could preach on grace as much as he desired, and we could have as many instruments as we wanted, and we all loved each other very much. But my mom's parents weren't so happy about it, and to this day, as gentle and loving as they are, they refuse to speak of God or church or Jesus with my family.

Our non-denom church was a happenin' place to be, until our preacher announced he no longer believed in hell and that the whole world would be saved. So most families left, my family being one of them. By this time I was in high school and had some best friends that went to the Baptist church. The big one that had everything to do, that took cool trips, and had the cool kids. So I told my parents I wanted to go there, to the Baptist church, with my friends, and my parents said OK.

At this Baptist church, I attended a Bible study on Tuesday nights led by a man I highly respect, that taught me the Catholic church was a cult. I didn't really believe it, but I also didn't challenge it. I was told the Catholic church worshipped Mary, and so that's why I should consider it a cult. I was led on mission trips to Mexico to witness to Catholics, because they couldn't be saved. "Why? I thought they believed that Jesus was the Son of God." Because, well, they're Catholic, they don't really know what they believe. That's what I was told. So I handed out my tracts, and I felt really spiritual.

And then I went to college and tried to interpret the Scripture on my own with some other friends. I studied and studied, hours and hours at a time, by myself and with my friends. We came up with some ideas we thought were really smart. We thought we could start our own church because we knew how to use a Strong's concordance. But we only invited certain people to our meetings. People that wouldn't question our studies. People that we felt were saved enough, that were called out enough. But we were wrong. And when I realized we were wrong, I didn't pick up my Bible for a very long time.

Along the way I read wonderful writers like Chesterton, St. Francis of Assisi, and Brennan Manning: Catholic writers, introduced to me by my brother (who, like me, isn't Catholic). My brother and I would share ideas and we'd read things to each other that were beautiful. These writers' love for Christ was strong and deep and full of adoration. Surely they were Christians....

And then I met Seth. And he knew these writers, too. We liked to talk about them, and did quite often, before we were dating. He had this other girlfriend at the time. (A story for another day.) He had Catholic friends and even tried to set me up with one. (Another story for another day.) I remember a lunch Seth and I shared together. We were discussing Chesterton's Orthodoxy, and were debating what Jesus meant when he prayed in John 17. The prayer goes like this: (v. 20-23)

"My prayer is not for them (Apostles) alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me."

So it's only natural I wonder about this church that was supposedly a cult, but seemed to love Jesus so very much. I wonder where many of their beliefs come from. Tradition, Mary, the Pope, the Eucharist, Purgatory. I wonder at the church history. That they claim an apostolic line succeeding from those like St. Peter who walked with our Lord. I've wondered for a long time now, but have known that learning all of this would take a great deal of effort, and I guess I wasn't ready to exert that effort.

I would like to learn more of what my Catholic brothers and sisters in Christ believe. I think I'll blog about it. It makes it easier for me to learn. So...if you want to learn along with me, or discuss, or question, or tell me what you know, please do. My intent is to start another blog and when I post, I'll direct anyone who's interested to link over. I'm looking forward to it, and I'd love your input. Thanks for enduring this long post.

Tunesday: My Doorbell

Song: My Doorbell
Band: White Stripes
Album: Get Behind Me Satan



This might be my favorite music video of all time.

Heroes For A Day

I've never actually seen a kitten trapped high in a tree. You know, the kittens that firemen rescue and Superman saves.

Until today.

Between loads of laundry, as I walked in my park, I kept hearing the wailing cry of a kitten, but was for the longest time unable to find it. I eventually looked up, and there it was, high, high in a tree. A tiny little black smudge against the green blur. (I hadn't put my contacts in yet.)

Oh no, I thought. What do I do? Well, what could I do? I'm not a fireman with a great big ladder. And sadly, I don't fly. So I ran in to get my cell phone...and camera, of course. Because it's not every day that you actually see a kitten trapped high in a tree. I placed a call to our apartment complex alerting them of my newfound friend trapped high, high in a tree. Seth, curious of the sight, accompanied me outside to see what could be done.

Can you see him?

We called to it. I used the best, annoyingly squeaky kitty call voice I could muster. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! C'mon kitty! Ohhh, you can do it. I know it's scary, but just try. Heeeeere, kitty, kitty, kitty!

Meooooooow! It stared at us like we were insane. You want me to WHAT?

C'mon kitty!

Meooooooooow!

C'mon!

Meooooooooooooooooow!

And then...He did it! He started a vertical climb down, falling bits at a time onto branches to which he clung for dear life.

Before we knew it, he was right above our heads.

We did it! We saved him! Heroes for a day! Hooray!


And this is how we left him.

No, we did not wait for him to make it completely to the ground for fear of taking him home against our will. We like our couches and would like for them to remain unscathed. We also like our bathrooms free of kitty litter and our clothes worn without the aid of a lent brush.

I am terribly afraid that the kitten might have climbed back up the high, high tree once we departed unto our home-without-animals. But as heroes, there is a price that must be paid. Attachment leads all heroes into trouble. Superman would have been just fine without Lois Lane tempting him to go all human and everything. No, no. We resist the urge to befriend our subject. Goodbye, dear helpless, homeless, darling kitten. We will always think of you fondly. Farewell, and farewell. Your humble servants and heroes always.

Ben and His Pants

Seth and I went to the Ben Folds/ John Mayer concert last night. I have since made a deal with myself. I will never again see Ben Folds in concert unless he is headlining AND I have premium seats. I am too big of a fan to be seated miles away on the wet, muddy grass with cigar smoke being blown in my face and into my hair, around people who couldn't give a rat's boohiney about Ben Folds. Nope. Not doing it again. Just wait for the right time and spend the big bucks, I have since said to myself. It's better than watching Ben leave the stage to be followed by Mr. I Love My Guitar Almost As Much As Myself So Sit And Watch Me Play This Solo....Over and Over...In Every Song. And wonder why everyone around me cares so much.

So that's really how I feel about it. It was like this.

Ben Folds

John Mayer

Which, yeah I should have expected but didn't for some reason.

But hey, Ben climbed up and stood on top of the piano. And then dropped his pants. So that was fun. Don't worry, he had boxers on, really long ones. And don't worry, I was too far away to see anything anyway. And don't worry, I wouldn't have wanted to see anything even if I could, and had I been closer I would have shut my eyes and screamed, "Ben, you sinner!" So thank goodness we were so far away, huh?

OK, so I wouldn't have said Ben, you sinner, but I would have definitely closed my eyes and screamed. But seeing as we were miles away I just stood there and laughed with Seth and said, "Oh my gosh! Seth, he's unbuttoning his pants!"

Favorites Game (3)

Favorite fruit.

Ready?

Go.

"When the dog bites, when the bee stings....."

Tagged By Kat

Kat tagged me a while back and I'm finally getting to it. Here it goes:

8 things you don't know about me:

1. I was just cast in a production of The Sound of Music here in Houston.

2. I'm crazy excited.

2. I will be playing the role of Liesl.

3. In the musical, Liesl is 16 years old.

4. I'm 28.

5. What I haven't told anyone is that I have a magic ring that I keep in my coat pocket....

5. Just kidding. Let's try #5 again. I have a love interest in this musical whose character name is Rolf. Rolf is 17.

6. His real name is Mark and he is really 17.

7. I think I have to kiss him.

8. That's really messed up.

8. That wasn't about me so let's try #8 again. I love theater and used to be very involved in it, which people here in Houston don't know because since we've moved to Houston, I haven't done any theater.

6. #6 wasn't about me so let's try that one again, too. My past credits include Maria in West Side Story, Rosemary in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, The Witch in a semi-staged production of Into The Woods, Nellie in South Pacific, Susan in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (7th grade), and Spring in Old Man Winter (3rd grade), in which my arch nemesis was Winter. I wore a pink, frilly dress that was really itchy. I defeated Winter by refracting the sun's rays upon his face with the aid of a mirror. My lines as I defeated him were, "Old Man Winter's got to go! He's got to go! He's got to go!" And then the little spring flowers joined in...."Old Man Winter's got to go! He's got to go! He's got to go!" Glorious!

I am really excited about doing a show again. Rehearsals start this week. Woo hoo!

And I tag....anyone who is reading that....has never seen The Sound of Music.

Tunesday: Nessun Dorma

I cannot watch this video without being moved to tears. It's not just because it's my favorite aria of all time. Nessun Dorma, the most beautiful song ever written for man to sing. The song whose most well-known singer, Pavarotti, was introduced to me by my grandmother. It's not just that Nessun Dorma is the song that we played at her funeral because she adored Pavarotti. It's not because this man in the video has the most perfect vocal technique....He doesn't really...again, just listen to Pavarotti. It's not that.

It's....well, my words cannot do it justice yet. Perhaps I'll attempt in the comment section. But please watch. This is from the show, "Britain's Got Talent."

Toxic Fame

What is it with famous people? Why do I care? Why, when I'm in the grocery store, do I furtively glance at US Weekly while standing in the check out line? I was ticked off at Brad for ditching Jen and getting with Angelina. I was irritated at Tom for eating the placenta of his new born child, or however that story goes. I stayed up last night and watched the longest E Hollywood special on Britney Spears just to see why she shaved her head. I didn't get to that part though, because after 2 long hours of staring at her midriff and a jirating rear end, listening to her say,

"Oh my gaw! I mean, like, the media, was just, like oh my gaw, just after me, like every time I turned around." and

"(Gasp) Madonna, she is like, I mean, I never knew what it was like for my fans when they were crying all after me and everything, until I realized how much I worship Madonna." or

"It was just a kiss. That was no big deal. I mean, at first, I was like, you want me to WHAT? And then I was like, it's just acting, I mean, c'mon! And so we just did it. It was totally Madonna's idea. But I watched the play back and thought, 'Hey, that wasn't so bad. That was pretty hot."

I finally turned it off so that my nausea would subside. But I watched it for two whole hours even though the whole time I didn't want to, and the whole time my face was curled up like a dried apricot.

So what is it that makes me care about the lives of these people any more than the lives of anyone else around me? Why is the media so faschinated with them? What's so different about them? It's not their careers really. Is it their wealth, their beauty, the glam? We know their lives aren't perfect. In fact, we're more fascinated when they screw up. Is it just the allure of fame? Of the whole world knowing who you are? Do we all just secretly want to be famous?

Why?

Riddle Me This (3)

Some riddles for you. Have at it, fancied friends. I think you'll find these....simpler...than others.

The following is a conversation between me, Seth, and Seth's dad, last week on the way to see Seth's sister, (OpMom).

Seth's Dad: Oh, I know I shouldn't be worryin' about those things, but I do.

Seth: Dad, you worry too much.

Me: You're like my dad. Both of you are Papa Hens.

Seth: AGHH HA HA HA!

Seth's Dad: Aww, that was pretty cute.

Me: Dammit! I KNOW hens are girls!

And here is a conversation once we get to OpMom's house. (whose permission I have not received to post this, but I'm sure she won't mind.)

Me: Your house looks great, OpMom!

OpMom: Thanks! I hated the way the previous owner left it. So I stripped the wallpaper in the kitchen and painted, and I'm about to paint the walls in the living room and dining room.

Seth: Wow, OpMom, that's alot of work.

OpMom: Yeah, but I decided it was time to take the ball into my own hands. (Upon saying the word "ball" she holds out her hands in front of her as if she's holding a basketball.)

Silence.

Seth: AGHH HA HA HA!

OpMom: What?

Me: You switched your phrases. It's OK. I do it all the time.

On Sleeping and Waking Up

The other night, Seth was out of town, and I had a nasty cough that made my chest feel like a thousand knives were scraping the insides of my lungs every time I inhaled. So I took a couple of Mucinex DM's, and settled into my cozy bed with a book. The bedside lamp cast its soothing light as I read with head and shoulders propped up by my double-pillowed rig I use for such late night reading occasions.

I was doing just fine.

And then, all of the sudden, my room was lit up by the morning light pouring in through my windows. Glancing over at my alarm...7 AM...I noticed my lamp was still on. Huh? Why didn't I turn my lamp off before going to bed? And then I became aware that my head was propped up in old-woman-sleeping-poistion. It didn't register until I noticed my fallen book on the floor.

Watch out for that Mucinex DM. It'll knock you out.

*********************************************************************************

This morning I woke up and groggily made my way into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. It's important that coffee be the first thing of which I partake when I arise.

A minor problem.

The water that came from the tap as I filled the Brita filtering thingy was yellow. Pale, nasty yellow.

I don't know about you, but I LOVE yellow water. I LOVE that I couldn't brush my teeth this morning without wondering how many germs and how much dirt was entering my body. I think it's so great that, in order to take a shower today, I have to be OK with pale nasty water being my cleansing medium. I am so glad that my coffee was postponed as I let the water run, thinking the yellow tint would just go away, when in fact it did not.

Thank you, Houston TX, for such a wonderful morning surprise. How delightful.

Tagged by Mz. J

I've been tagged by Mz. J. And man, am I late doing this. Here it goes:

1 person who has changed the course of your life for the better:

The man from Reading Rainbow

2 teachers who have contributed to your learning:

1) Mr. Rogers

2) Grover

2 colleagues who make your job worthwhile:

My only colleague right now is Seth, so...

4 people who make you feel special:

1) Trish McEvoy

2) Whoever makes Bigstar Jeans

3) Whoever makes Aldo shoes

4) My pedicurist

5 people you need in your life and why:

1) A housekeeper

2) A personal chef

3) A chauffer

4) A masseuse

5) A pedicurist

....for obvious reasons


I'm also a little behind on a tag by Kat. Will be coming soon....

Oh, and I tag...whoever is reading that has ever....swallowed a bug.

Tunesday: Eleanor Rigby

The Beatles! It's a Beatles Tunesday today. It's pretty much impossible to pick a favorite Beatles tune. For me it changes with almost every single listen. I can hardly pick a favorite Beatles record. Right now it might be "Revolver." But I don't know, so I've decided that I'll try to pick a favorite from each record. At least the later records.

Ah ah ah...tut tut. Patience, fancied friends. One at a time! I will not disclose them all in one sitting!

I've heard it said that once you've caught the Beatles bug, there's no stopping the rave listening frenzy. It's true, very true indeed. I didn't grow up listening to them. I would hear avid Beatles-lovers go on and on, but I didn't get it. Seth kept saying, "Oh just wait, Fancy. Just wait till it hits you at the perfect time." I thought...eh, whatever.

But lo and behold, it hit me! And in the strangest of circumstances. A high school show choir production of all places. Now before you go getting all huffy puffy about how a show choir singing Beatles is lame (and OK, you might have a point), hear me out.

I choregraphed the show, which as you can imagine, is very difficult. You just shouldn't choregraph The Beatles, but if I wanted to get paid, which I assure you, I did, I had to persevere, attempting to creatively rework various Brit pop rock tunes into musical theater madness.

In the midst of it all, I sat down, exhausted, in one of the auditorium seats as the students worked on stage. They finished a choreographed, cheeky, rhubarb-filled "When I'm Sixty Four," (which actually ended up working, amazingly enough) and assembled into what the musical theater buffs call a "picture," which is just a nicer way of saying "a staged arrangement of bodies." They began to rehearse an acapella version of "Long and Winding Road," and as I sat and listened to these lyrics fitting perfectly into this beautiful melodic line, I was in awe. I HAD to hear more Beatles. REAL Beatles.

Then this kid got up with his guitar and played "Revolution" with the band. That was it. I was sold. I thought, this is INCREDIBLE. Why don't I know this music? And so into Beatles land I went, where you find me now.

This is Eleanor Rigby
Band: The Beatles
Album: Revolver

Arrival

I think the "coolest" kind of people are the people that are so into what they're into, that they have no reason to care what anyone else thinks about them. It's the gangly 15 year old who just wants to play his violin. Maybe it's the lawyer writing novels in his spare time. Maybe they're professors imagining and creating entire other mythical worlds. Something tells me these are the kind of people that go on to do great things. The rest of us stay in one place trying to please each other. Trying to be what we think everyone else wants us to be.

That's a torturous place if you give a flip about being honest. Until you're lulled into thinking that place is what you want, because everyone's telling you that you want it. And then, you wake up and remember to dream. And then you remember to pray. You begin down the long road of hope amidst surrender and then, once you've experienced fear and failure and falling, you try again.

And again.

And again.

And you begin to see that the joy is in the doing, in the going about it. That what we're given is a gift. And then a peace equal to contentment, not lacking motivation, guides you into being who you were created to be. To some this comes easier than to others. For some of us, it takes a while longer, but we arrive, when we realize the arrival is the journey itself.

Today's Headlines

Quite a bit of buzz in the news today.

As I'm sure you've all been informed by now, as I was when a "Breaking News" story interrupted my T.V. movie, Honeymoon in Las Vegas, that Paris Hilton is now back in jail. Previously released to house arrest due to medical conditions by the sheriff, a crying Hilton was taken back into custody today and hauled to court, crying the whole way there. Upon being sentenced by the judge to her original sentence, Paris bellowed, "Mom!....It's not right!" and was escorted from the court room in hysterics.

And in other news, Isaiah Washington has officially been fired from ABC's hit show, Grey's Anatomy, for being rude to gay men.

These are the headlines of our day. And as interesting and enticing as they are, we surely can't overlook the story below. When something like this occurrs and is hardly noticed....what is the world coming to?

Michigan Man in Wheelchair Takes Wild Ride

By JAMES PRICHARD, Associated Press Writer

"A 21-year-old man got the ride of a lifetime when his electric wheelchair became lodged in the grille of a semitrailer and was pushed down a highway for several miles at about 50 mph.

Ben Carpenter was unharmed but was taken to a hospital as a precaution. He had been secured to his wheelchair by a seat belt. Carpenter, who has muscular dystrophy, told a television station that he thought he might not make it through the ride.

"I was probably thinking that this is going to keep going and not stop anywhere, 50 or 60 miles somewhere," he told WOOD-TV of Grand Rapids.

Ben Carpenter's father, Donald, told The Associated Press that his son had started to cross at an intersection Wednesday afternoon in Paw Paw, about 140 miles west of Detroit. The light changed to green while his son was in front of a semi, which started moving.

The wheelchair's handles became lodged in the grille, the father said, and the wild ride started.

Motorists called 911 on their cell phones, and a pair of undercover police officers who happened to be nearby saw what was happening. They pulled the truck over and told the disbelieving driver, Donald Carpenter said.

The chair was undamaged except for losing most of the rubber on its wheels, he said.

"It's a very bad story that ended very well," he said. "We're just thrilled that he's still around." "
*******************************************************************************

It's hardly believable and while I shouldn't laugh and have so far refrained from doing so, can't help but gape in wonder at the circumstance.

Dreambores

That is what I am renaming this movie. Dreambores.

I am sadly dissappointed, folks. I seriously thought I would be more impressed. The only award that the academy should have offered this movie was Best Costume Design, or whatever the academy likes to call it. Those girls' costumes were freaking amazing. Wow.

But I am very sorry to say... that this musical was boring. Of the 15 million cazillion songs, I fast forwarded through half of them, because the songs were so dadgum long. And c'mon. If you're going to tell the story of the Supremes and James Brown, and especially if you're going to throw in Jackson 5 look-a-likes, then at least use the real songs! Not some fake crap that sounds like the white man writing it is trying too hard. I know, I know. They probably either couldn't get the rights or it was too expensive or WHATEVER, but seriously. Jersey Boys is doing it on Broadway right now, aren't they? Real songs, real names, all that good stuff? Sherry Baby? Big Girls Don't Cry? Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons?

Yes, Jennifer Hudson was good. She can out sing anyone, and yeah, she knows how to sell a song. But beating out Cate Blanchett for Best Supporting Actress? No. Jennifer sold the same song wrapped in different packages 5 different times. She's mad and she deserves better. We get it. We got it the first time.

Beyonce was actually alot better than I expected. I've seen her in other movies and always thought it was a joke. But I actually liked what she did here, and in some ways, I thought it had more depth than Jennifer's character. And she's just so strikingly beautiful. All those different hair styles and make overs. Very cool.

Now I will say that I think it is extremely hard to make a musical work on film. Musicals are made for the stage. It's almost impossible to make a good movie musical. I think some have pulled it off in the past. Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and Chicago come to mind. But they all throw you off guard because they have that bust-out-in-song-instead-of-the-spoken-dialogue-you-expected element. It works on stage because...well it's the stage! You've got a freaking orchestra in between the audience and the actors! It just works. But it's hard to do in film. So with that in mind it was well made. It was a good looking film. Lots of glitter. Cool sets.

But unfortunately...boring.

"Z"

When I first met Carol, I thought she didn't have any friends, because she was dying to talk everytime I passed her in the park. But it seems that Miss Carol has made quite a few friends in our apartment complex.

We sat at the picnic table at our park yesterday evening, and Carol brought more pictures. Pictures of her "animal kids" as she calls them, including a pet Ball Python named Rex. And her parrot Pebbles, and her parakeet, Oscar, and of course Misty. It's been almost two weeks since Carol had Misty put to sleep. Pebbles is the only animal child left. Carol has always told me that she used to be fat, but since she never eats or drinks anymore because of her PTSD, she'd lost over 100 pounds. It was always hard for me to believe until I saw the pictures yesterday. It's true. She was hardly recognizable. And then, there was a picture of a pretty middle aged blonde woman playing with Pebbles. I inquired who she was. Carol said that used to be her best friend when she lived in the house. They lived on the same cul-de-sac. But she was dead now. Her husband killed her. That was a little harder to believe....

As I looked at the pictures, Carol was busy talking with friends. She jumped up to go see Jackie. Melody came over to say hi. But Carol was quick to point out those I shouldn't trust. She informed me of the troubled kids running around. She pointed out one of their mothers and told me of how this woman would stand on the street corner at night and get into men's cars.

One Indian woman, in regular street clothes rather than the traditional Indian garb, who introduced herself as "Z", came over while her four-year-old grandson played on the playground. Speaking through a thick accent, she told Carol of how sorry she was that Misty had passed away. That she knew how hard it was to watch a loved one suffer. Z remembered the time when her father was bedridden for years and had to care for him. It was hard to watch, Z said. She suddenly stopped talking as her eyes filled with tears. Carol immediately stood and hugged her. I watched as Carol comforted this older woman. Then Z told Carol that Misty was with Jesus. Now whether or not you believe the spirit of dogs experience life after death, is inconsequential. The thing I found odd, that took me by surprise, was that this Indian woman believed in Jesus. Did she really, I wondered, or was she just saying that?

Carol sat back down, and we all continued to talk for a few minutes. As Z said goodbye she reached down to touch Carol's face, the way a mother does to a daugher, and told her it was good to have friends like me. Z looked over knowingly, almost as if she knew my insecurities, like she could read my mind. And somehow, without saying anything, assured me to keep loving Carol.

I know, it's so strange, and sounds like maybe I'm imagining things. But seriously, it was weird. And I really can't ignore it.

/To be continued/

Tunesday: Hide and Seek

When I first heard this song I was blown away. I sure hadn't heard anything like it before, and I still haven't.

Here it is: Hide and Seek
Artist: Imogen Heap.
Album: Speak for Yourself

Happy Listening.

Here's me and Seth at her concert:

And here's that crazy lady, Imogen, singing Hide and Seek, with that crazy instrument whose name I always forget:

Netflix

It fuels our addiction to 24, but on the other hand, saves us a whole heck of alot of money. I highly recommend this nifty little service.



We started using Netflix only two weeks ago, although the company has had a strong go at it for quite a while now. Strong enough to cause Blockbuster the humility of matching the deal or calling it quits. Except with Blockbuster you don't have to wait for it in the mail. You can either use the store or the mail for the same low price...yeah yeah yeah, you've seen the commercials.

But we don't have a Blockbuster near us, only a Hollywood Video, unfortunately, and Hollywood Video's the biggest scam since 60 cents a minute long distance. No one's ever in there when we go, and upon asking the cashier if Netflix is running them out of business, she replied, "Shoo' yeah. I gots me some Net-flix." as she sheepishly grinned and demagnetized our 3 movies at 3 bucks each. That's 9 bucks for only half a season of 24! Yeah, right! Like I'm gonna keep going there when I can get a whole month's worth of movies (that's probably 2 whole 24 seasons, 3 if you're insane) for 15 bucks!

AND, checking the mail has never been so much fun! Today I got Dreamgirls in the mail, and I can't wait to see if Jennifer Hudson deserved that Oscar she got for Best Supporting Actress. (I mean, c'mon, she beat out Cate Blanchett. Really?)

Hooray for Netflix!