It's the Hard-Knock Life...

The past couple of weeks we've been house sitting. Such a hard job, let me tell ya. The pool and hot tub every night. The bike path behind the house. The tasty food and wine she leaves behind with permission to consume. The FANtastic washer that takes only a tiny amount of detergent for one load of laundry, and the dryer which dries clothes ultra fast. The service that mows the lawn. The piano. The very fast internet that doesn't crap out on us every two days, like the ridiculous TV Max cable internet we were forced into using because of our silly apartment complex. Ugh. Did I mention the wine?

Of course, house sitting does come with responsibilities. I mean, don't get the wrong idea. It's not complete utopia here. I do have to water the plants and feed the eleven-year-old-boy's snails upstairs. And if you've ever seen me with green things that grow, you know that it takes some effort on my part. I fret over whether I should water them today or tomorrow, and once I've watered them, if I've watered them too much. And the snails. Well. I don't know if you've ever fed snails, but...gross. That food stinks. Or is it the snails? Water snails in a tank rarely cleaned by its eleven-year-old owner....probably the snails. Why snails, I wonder? I get fish, or lizards, or even tarantulas. But snails? Not seeing the entertainment or companionship factor there, not even the nurturing factor. I was only instructed to feed them on the weekends. They don't feel like pets when you feed them only once a week. BUT, to each his own...

Oh, and the light from the windows in the morning. WAY too early. =-)

Finished

Finally done. Stayed up until the wee hours of the morning Tuesday night/Wednesday morning to finish. I couldn't get around to reading the week of my show.

After many tears shed over what Harry had to do in the end and what happened to many of the characters that I love, (trying not to give it away here) I can't believe that I'm saying this, but I thought it was a little too long. She really strung this one out. And so when it climaxed I wasn't as affected as in the previous books.

I didn't get into the Hallows idea. In the end it just seemed unnecessary to the book. Like she thought she'd do more with it, but changed her mind in the end. So again, less words would have been fine for me. I loved what she did with Snape. Loved it. I'm a little mad at Dumbledore, for being weak and mortal. But I suppose that was Rowling's intention. Even the greatest among us are mortal and flawed.

I can't say anything else without ruining it for anyone still reading.

A fond farewell to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

To Be Known

I made a trip to the bank the other day to make a needed deposit, and upon driving up to the nifty, vaccuumed, tubed device I heard from the speaker,

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Ward. How are you today?"

Surprised, I glanced at the teller in the window with a look of elated astonishment. She knew my name. How did she know my name? How nice. My day brightened in an instant, and I smiled back and said,

"I'm good, thank you. How are you?"

And I thought as I drove away, how good it feels to be known. And I remembered how much more God knows me, and how glad I am for that.

Tunesday: Glosoli

Song: Glosoli
Band: Sigur Ros
Album: Takk

The Sound of Music

Forget few and far between. The posts this past week were pretty much non-existent. The Sound of Music went very well, I think. A big thank you to those who came out to see the show!

I had such a good time. It was probably the most fun I've ever had doing a show. I've missed my Van Trapp kids today. The day after a run ends is always somewhat bittersweet. You're happy for a job well done, but there's a sense of loss. It's like waking up from a dream. The goal for which you've worked so hard is gone. Done. The moment vanished. Glimpses only in pictures. Quiet. No music, no lines. No applause. It's still, and it's healthy. It reminds me it's a job, something I do. Not something I am. I'm incredibly thankful for a husband who not only encourages me, but leads me, to do the things I love to do.

There have been some requests for pictures, so here ya go!
"Van Trapp children don't play. They march!"
Do Re Mi
"I am 16 going on 17..."
"Um...you want me to wear...that?
My new mother
The Festival
Kids taking a bow. It doesn't get much cuter than this.
The Cast
Now that's one handsome guy right there.
The Van Trapp Children

Tunesday and Other Things

The posts will most likely be few and far between this week. Crazy rehearsal schedule and stressful last minute details to work out for The Sound of Music.

There's a great discussion still going on here, if anyone wants to jump on board. Baptism required or not required for salvation? Church fathers. Who holds the authority to interpret Scripture? Alot in one thread, really. But if you haven't been following and would like to, go for it.

Staying true to Tunesday, I MUST post this find by my new blogging friend, Shelley. Anyone ever watch Neverending Story? You won't want to miss this. Who knew the tune was sung by this guy? Ha! And if Shelley doesn't mind, and I hope she doesn't because I didn't ask her permission, I'm using her question. What's your favorite part of this video? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.

Song: The Neverending Story
Artist: Limahl

Embedding is disabled. Click here. Please!!!! Just do it. Click. You won't regret it. I promise.

Get Ready. It's Contagious.

Many of you have probably already seen this. I found it on Brant's blog, and I loved what he had to say about it.

It's Here...

The release of Book 7.

Potter fans crowded into Barnes and Noble at midnight tonight to pick up reserved copies. And oh yeah, we were there. One copy for Seth. One copy for me. I can't write much. Need to go read. Harry better not die. Snape better not be evil. And Dumbledore better...oooh I better not give it away if you haven't read Book 6.

Catholicism: Beginnings

I wrote earlier that I believe it beneficial to look at the ways Catholics and Protestants agree. So, I quote here two statements from the Catholic Catechism, which is basically a very long and detailed statement of faith. They are both taken from the prologue to the Catechism. The very first statement of the prologue, before getting into the thick of it all, is a prayer of sorts. It reads:

"FATHER, . . . this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent." (Jn 17:3) "God our Savior desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." (1 Tim 2:3-4) "There is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved" (Acts 4:12) - than the name of JESUS.

I find it stunning, this statement. Already, it dispells widely held misconceptions of Catholic belief. From this prayer alone, we can conclude that:

1) The Catholic Church views Scripture as vital and meaningful for the instruction and direction of their faith.

2) The Catholic Church does not view Mary as Redeemer of mankind, nor as equal to the nature of God.

3) The Catholic Church does not view the Pope or/and the priests as Redeemer of mankind, nor as equal to the nature of God.

And then, Section I:1 of the Prologue reads:

"God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself, in a plan of sheer goodness freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life. For this reason, at every time and in every place, God draws close to man. He calls man to seek him, to know him, to love him with all his strength. He calls together all men, scattered and divided by sin, into the unity of his family, the Church. To accomplish this, when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son as Redeemer and Savior. In his Son and through him, he invites men to become, in the Holy Spirit, his adopted children and thus heirs of his blessed life."

Again, beautiful. Already we see the appropriations of the Trinity, or the different operations given to the three persons in one nature/substance of God. We see God initiating salvation by drawing close to man. And to accomplish such a salvation, God sent his Son as Redeemer and Savior, that in the Holy Spirit we would be placed into an inheritance of eternal life as children of God. And that it is all done out of His goodness.

This is an important agreement. It means that Protestants cannot view Catholics in the same manner that they can view Mormons. The nature and operations of God are believed to be the same between both P's and C's. How many times have I heard, in the same breath, both Catholicism and Mormonism given as examples of cults. Catholicism and Mormonism are not the same, not even close.

Tunesday: Danny Boy

I've shared it with you before. I bring to you, again, my most favorite tune to be sung by Muppets.

Tales of a Big Sis

Like I said, it's great being a 16 year old, with all the games and giggles and family fun. There's another perk I haven't experienced in a long, long time...until today.

Theater etiquette demands that while waiting in the wings for an entrance onto the stage, the actor is silent, or at least as quiet as humanly possible. For multiple reasons, the obvious one - so people in the audience can't hear you. But another reason, so that you focus on what's happening on stage so as to not miss your cue.

So tonight at rehearsal, my brothers, sisters, and I have just exited stage right and are waiting for our next cue. Rather, I'M waiting for our next cue. Which is for sure the most stressful cue of the whole show and entirely up to me. I have to, with a pitch pipe, give our pitches to begin "The Sound of Music" in 3-part harmony, acapella, from off stage, at exactly the right time during the ongoing dialogue on stage. And then we walk on singing. Uh, that's really hard. For multiple reasons.

1) Children can't always hear 3-part harmony when there is no accompinament.

2) I don't have a pitch pipe yet, so I'm guessing.

3) These children haven't learned yet how to BE silent off stage in the wings, and they are dramatically hyper.

4) Most children haven't a clue as to how to WHISPER.

So here's how it went down today:

We exit after Captain Van Trapp orders us to STOP PLAYING AND CHANGE OUR CLOTHES. (I will hereby refer to the children by their Van Trapp names...)

Brigitta and Marta (off stage): Ah HA HA HA! Ah HA HA HA HA! Did you see when....? hee hee hee (squeal) I know! HA HA HA!

Kurt (off stage to Friedrich): Would you PLEASE keep your head down when we're leap frogging! I can't jump over your big ole' head!

Friedrich: I'm sorry, Geez.

Gretl (hits Friedrich): I don't LIKE YOU very much!

Friedrich: Stop HITTING ME!

Me: Guys, please stop talking. This is important. I need to hear my cue.

Brigitta and Marta: Hee hee hee! (squeal) Hee hee hee!

Me: Seriously guys, you really should NOT be talking right now!

Brigitta: (stops, looks at me, then at Marta); hee hee hee hee! HA HA HA!

Me: OK, here we go. Pitches....

Friedrich: No! That's too low!

Me: Shhhh! Friedrich, just do it!

Brigitta: (sings an entirely wrong pitch)

Me: No! Guys listen. I just gave you your pitches.

Everyone: What? No! hee hee hee! Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm, is that right? No, it's too low!

Director: (from audience): THAT WAS IT! LIESL!!!! THAT WAS YOUR CUE! HELLO? GUYS!

So. What did I do? You bet I did.

I told on them all.

If you're not gonna listen to me, you're gonna be in trouble. That's how it goes. I marched myself right out on that stage and said, "Excuse me. Would someone please come back here and remind us that we can't talk off stage. Because everyone's talking and NOBODY's listening for the cue or to my pitches. NOBODY. I tried giving them 3 times. But NOBODY was listening."

That pretty much did the trick. They were scared of me for the rest of rehearsal. It was awesome. Tattletaling kicks major A.

Sound of Music Update

The Van Trapp ChildrenMinus Friedrich (who wasn't at rehearsal for some reason or another)

Rehearsals for Sound of Music are going well. I'm not sure what could be more fun than spending four hours a day pretending to be 16 years old. Life doesn't get much better than that. I have the best little brothers and sisters in the world. Today during break we formed a line, joined hands, and did "the wave" back and forth for a whole five minutes. Then we played "Down by the Banks," that game where you make a circle and sing and slap each other's hands...OK, I have no idea how to explain it but it's great fun when you're allowed to act 16. I even get in trouble for talking during rehearsal because I forget that I'm an adult and that I should know better.

Seth says I come home from rehearsals glowing. You would, too, if your only care for the evening was how to act like a kid. My little sister, Marta, is a friend of mine from church. She's in 2nd grade. Her mom told me that when she started acting a couple of years ago, she came home from rehearsal, laid down on her bed, and said, "Mom, where has this been all my life?" I know exactly how she feels.

If you're around these parts, come on out and see the show! Here are the dates, times and info:

Friday, July 27: 8 PM
Saturday, July 28: 8 PM
Sunday, July 29: 3 PM

Buy tickets online at www.fortbendtheatre.com or call 281.208.3333.

The performances will be here, directions to the theatre here.

Hope to see you there!

Airport Scene

I flew to Tulsa today to help my parents move and unpack and whatnot. They've just moved from Dallas to Tulsa. Traitors to Texas! It's alright, though, because we're from Oklahoma anyway. I was born in Oklahoma City, but only lived there for five years. It's weird how Oklahoma people have the same look about them. It could almost be considered plain, but pleasant. Bright, kind eyes set against thin, sharp facial features. Maybe it's all that Indian blood. While I haven't lived in Oklahoma for years, I always feel completely at home when I come back here. Awful, isn't it?

Of course, the trip to the airport was eventful. Flying is always eventful. One event particularly enjoyable:

I saw a young, blonde woman in a business suit, wearing too much makeup, sitting on her carry-on suitcase as she waited in the "B" line to board our plane. I was in the "A" line. (Yesss.) After waiting for about 5 minutes, she halfway stood and reached forward for her purse. Upon sitting back down on her luggage, she unknowingly pushed it back with her bum before placing her entire weight on the suitcase. She sat, but the suitcase was no longer available. Poor girl made a ruckus falling onto her luggage rather than sitting on it.

I tried not letting on that I saw. I quickly looked away, glancing furtively at the scene whenever I thought it was safe. A bushy-eyebrowed, rosy-cheeked man with gray thinning hair atop his large round head stood behind her, and when she fell, yelled with an unforgettable Oklahoma twang, "Woah!", while extending his arms to break her fall. He failed at his admirable task, but being the country gentleman he seemed to be, the man helped the girl and her luggage off the ground.

"Aw, nobody saw ya but me. I sure saw ya, though!"

A bright red glow attempted to rise to the surface of the girl's caked on face. "Oh, I'm sure plenty of people just saw me completely fall on my ass. But it's Ok. It's ok, I don't mind. I'm fine."

She turned around, once again, sitting on her luggage, the round-faced man standing silently behind her. With each stealthy glance that I dared take, I noticed the man's mouth ferociously fighting an upward turn, finally quivering into a pinched smile, his eyes glittering with laughter. I dared not take any more liberty to look. I dared not make eye contact with the man. I stood straight ahead and wondered if the look on my face resembled his.

That was my favorite part of flying today. My least favorite part was when, hurrying into the airport, my heel slipped off my lady bug sandals, thus breaking a strap and making it impossible to avoid walking with a limp, or barefoot. I tried walking both ways today in the airport. Barefoot was much more fun.

Catholicism Yet Again Misunderstood

God has gifted me with a kind disposition, a smile that comes easily, and a relatively positive outlook, save for the normal depressive seasons of an artistic soul. I am thankful for these personality traits. They come with no human effort, but through God's goodness and creativity. But with certain good gifts come certain tendencies that work to my disadvantage, and at times, to my advantage.

One tendency being, when I display any irritablility, any anger, any sadness, any tiredness, with my facial expression or actions or words, the emotions come across rather...dramatic. It's beneficial whenever I teach high school choir, because it knocks students into a sort of healthy fear. I have a secret weapon. They don't see it coming. They think, oh she's gonna be a real pushover. We're gonna be able to get away with anything. But, they soon learn that I have a look from Hades that sends them into the utter recesses of despair and repentance. I love it. I would assume it will prove useful with my own children as well someday.

But the tendency can become an obstacle. Take for instance, yesterday, when I taught a piano lesson at an hour much too early for an actor who rehearsed until midnight the previous night, and suffers from a severe case of insomnia, or, as C-ham'n'eggs reminds me, a whacked out sleep schedule. The disadvantages ensue when said piano student's mother calls me as I am driving to the lesson to tell me she'll be late, and already exhausted and perhaps...grumpy?...all I can think is how I could have slept precious few more minutes. My tone in response to her must have shown my irritability, for she responded back with such curtness in her own tone, and then proceeded to tell me later, after the lesson, that I haven't been myself lately. I don't know what that means...haven't been myself....because it seems only fair to me that I would be allowed the irritability that anyone else is allowed, and it could still be considered "myself", that I was being myself, just an irritated self. But! Such cards I am dealt, and as Kddub's grandfather reminded us in a recent post, it's not what cards we have, but how we play them that counts.

I have a point to all this.

Tuesday I reacted strongly to an AP article about Pope Benedicts's document addressing Protestant "eclessial communities." I hope that you read the comments which followed, because it turns out my reaction was premature and unnecessary, and that the article was misleading and erroneous on many accounts. And I fear that my reaction came across as stronger than I intended.

Pope Benedict was present at the Second Vatican Council, though at the time known by the name Ratzinger, and since the council, he has done much work to dispel false interpretations of the Unitatis Redintegratio, a Decree of Ecumenism issued by the Council. I encourage anyone interested to read it. It is beautiful and encouraging, when seen in the correct light, that is when viewed in light of unity of all Christians. Keeping in mind that Catholics view the Reformation as sinful in regards to a separation from what they know as "the true Church," consider the following quote from the Decree,

"The children who are born into these Communities and who grow up believing in Christ cannot be accused of the sin involved in the separation, and the Catholic Church embraces upon them as brothers, with respect and affection. For men who believe in Christ and have been truly baptized are in communion with the Catholic Church even though this communion is imperfect."

When re-reading the Vatican II decree, I came across this admonition, directed to Catholics but relevant to me as well.

"We should therefore pray to the Holy Spirit for the grace to be genuinely self-denying, humble. gentle in the service of others, and to have an attitude of brotherly generosity towards them. St. Paul says: "I, therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and meekness, with patience, forbearing one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace".

My attitude and tone in my previous post did not reflect such a worthy calling. I am sorry for any confusion or misunderstanding that my dramatic ranting inspired, or for any offense taken at my anger.

Another example of how Catholicism has been wrongly conveyed, and how if we as Protestants don't take the time to dig further, we will be in danger and at fault for accepting what is untrue.

Backwards

Pope: Other Christians Not True Churches
By NICOLE WINFIELD, Associated Press Writer

"Pope Benedict XVI has reasserted the universal primacy of the Roman Catholic Church, approving a document released Tuesday that says Orthodox churches were defective and that other Christian denominations were not true churches.

Benedict approved a document from his old offices at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith that restates church teaching on relations with other Christians. It was the second time in a week the pope has corrected what he says are erroneous interpretations of the Second Vatican Council, the 1962-65 meetings that modernized the church.

On Saturday, Benedict revisited another key aspect of Vatican II by reviving the old Latin Mass. Traditional Catholics cheered the move, but more liberal ones called it a step back from Vatican II.

Benedict, who attended Vatican II as a young theologian, has long complained about what he considers the erroneous interpretation of the council by liberals, saying it was not a break from the past but rather a renewal of church tradition.

In the latest document — formulated as five questions and answers — the Vatican seeks to set the record straight on Vatican II's ecumenical intent, saying some contemporary theological interpretation had been "erroneous or ambiguous" and had prompted confusion and doubt.

It restates key sections of a 2000 document the pope wrote when he was prefect of the congregation, "Dominus Iesus," which set off a firestorm of criticism among Protestant and other Christian denominations because it said they were not true churches but merely ecclesial communities and therefore did not have the "means of salvation."

In the new document and an accompanying commentary, which were released as the pope vacations here in Italy's Dolomite mountains, the Vatican repeated that position.

"Christ 'established here on earth' only one church," the document said. The other communities "cannot be called 'churches' in the proper sense" because they do not have apostolic succession — the ability to trace their bishops back to Christ's original apostles...."

Go here to read the complete article

Excuse me for being so blunt, but

What the hell?

..."Therefore did not have the 'means of salvation.' Because we don't claim apostolic succession? Last time I checked, Christ said He loved the whole world and whoever believes in Him should have eternal life. Not whoever believes the Pope succeeds directly from Peter and that Rome holds authority over all believers.

I'm mad. I'm mad because here I am reading about Catholics, finding the faith beautiful and meaningful, attempting to understand what I don't believe, and all in the name of Christ. And now...I have no means to salvation? That makes me want to stop. That makes me want to put all my books away and quit.

So is that document considered ex cathedra? I know there are liberal Catholics who believe otherwise. Are all Catholics now required to believe what that document says? I haven't read the entire document. I should read it. I don't know where to find it, but I should read it.

Vatican II was a positive step, in my opinion, and this is backwards. I don't understand this. I apologize for the ranting and raving but.... One of the things I admired about the Catholic faith was the interpretation by the Magisterium. I feel that we as Protestants think we can interpret Scripture any way we see fit, and if it's different, we just start another church, and it's all good. I appreciate the standards of authority put in place by the Catholic church. But I can't respect this. I have a really hard time respecting this. I just don't understand.

Maybe I'm misunderstanding something here, like I've misunderstood Catholics in the past. I guess I'll try to find that document....Any clarification on this would help...

Tunesday: Eva Cassidy...Different Song than Before

Ohmygosh. This is so irritating. I can't get the thing to embed. Trying something new that didn't work. I wanted to show you one song, but I can't.

For all of you who've already been here and listened, I'm sorry. I'm changing the tune again. The link below wasn't working for me. Nothing's working! I'm irritated.

Anyway, here is Eva Cassidy's "Over the Rainbow." No one sings it like Judy Garland, but Eva's a close second. I'm sure most of you have heard of Eva, but if not...she was relativily unknown outside of her hometown of Washington D.C. when she died of melanoma in 1996. Since then her records have sold more than 4 million copies. She's one of my favorite singers.

This version was played at our wedding - voice and classical guitar. Beautiful. The tune was also a part of Seth's proposal, but I'll share that later...someday...maybe.

DISCLAIMER: This track contains awful synthesized sounds toward the middle of the track. PLEASE IGNORE.

Song: Over the Rainbow
Artist: Eva Cassidy
Album: Songbird

Listen here. For real this time.

Patriotic Plans Gone Awry

This year's Independence Day, I was particularly looking forward to the underlined activities below:

Taken from Fort Bend Now, July 4, 2007

"Sugar Land invites the entire community to celebrate America’s 230th birthday, at the 21st annual Red, White and Bluefest, from 5-10 p.m. on Tuesday, July 4...

The evening begins with a Faces of America parade featuring Sugar Land’s culturally diverse residents displaying their various patriotic roots, followed by the Patriotic Pet Parade contest in which pets dressed in their finest red, white and blue get a chance to compete for the title of Sugar Land’s most patriotic pet. Throughout the event, the city will provide more than a hundred acres of food, games and good old-fashion American fun with jugglers, magicians and stilt walkers....

The evening closes with a 20-minute fireworks spectacular...."

Wow! That's some celebration right there. I was very much looking forward to it.

Sugar Land's "parade featuring culturally diverse residents displaying their various patriotic roots" could be translated as, "We here in Sugar Land are proud of our Indian population. We diplomatically strive towards inclusion when celebrating our country, so hey! Why not include theirs in the celebration!" But I'm OK with that. And the Patriotic Pet Parade. What a show that would have been! I was equipped with camera and all to snap my favorite pictures and share them with you. Who cares about the games. Free food and stilt walkers. Does it get any better than that?

We packed our car with two $8 folding chairs we had bought for but were not allowed to use at the Ben Folds concert and headed to the park. But alas, our local event was canceled due to a previous rain and a few leftover clouds. Seth was convinced there was a terrorist threat. Why else would they cancel flippin fireworks on the fourth of July! he exclaimed. Perhaps they were scared of rain, I calmly reasoned.

After a brief walk in a park whose existence was previously and sadly unbeknownst to us, we left hungry and dissappointed, the use our nifty folding chairs equipped with cup holder left for yet another day.

Can't Sleep

Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep.

Can't sleep.

I'm trying a new cure for insomnia. Type the same words over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over

I think it might be working. I'm getting sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired sort of tired

It's an alternative to counting sheep. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Except that I'm sitting up at the computer so I won't be able to just fall asleep.

Sleep is a funny thing. I mean, isn't it weird that we just have to shut down for hours at a time. That we're still alive but our whole body is unconscious. Shut down to such a degree that I don't even hear things or remember things, except for dreams of course. And those are weird too. That my whole being is barely conscious but my subconcious is creating something in my mind. Crazy. What if right now I were sleep-typing instead of sleep walking or something? No, I'm not. I promise. Just can't sleep.

I've been having insomnia for about a week now. I hate it. At least I usually get to sleep pretty late in the morning. Which always makes me feel like a lazy ass, but I've reconciled that by now. I'm a musician and that's just how it goes. Musicians get sleep late passes. It's just how it goes. Has anyone ever heard that Ben Folds song, "Not Tired." That is one rad song. He played it at the John Floofyhair concert, but I also heard him play it with the Houston symphony and that was friggin amazing.

OK, so I'm gonna try to go to sleep again. G'night.

Riddle Me This (4)

Fancy: If it rains one more time in this forsaken town...I swear it's gonna be like that movie...what's the name of that movie?...The one with Kevin Costner...Aqua Land? Somethin' like that.

Seth: Um. Water World?

Fancy: Yes.

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

I can't remember the context of this next one, but it's the newly created word "submotage" as in:

The office employee brainstormed ways to "submotage" his co-worker competing for the raise.

Dangerous Prayer

I found these quotes from The Anchoress.

Once conform, once do what others do because they do it, and a kind of lethargy steals over all the finer senses of the soul.
- Michel Eyquem de Montaigne

Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired.
- Mother Theresa of Calcutta

There is just one life for each of us: our own.
- Euripides

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
- e.e. cummings

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.
- Oscar Wilde, De Profundis, 1905

How much easier is self-sacrifice than self-realization.
- Eric Hoffer

If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise.
- Johann von Goethe

"One of the most dangerous prayers to make, in a world full of dangerous prayers: Lord, help me to be what you have made me to be. Lord, help me to be myself, in all the vulnerability that comes with authenticity." - The Anchoress

Catholicism: Where To Start?

The science of the voice has much to do with the utility of breath. When one learns to sing properly, the singer understands that breath is essential to creating beautiful sounds. However, when the singer first begins to use the fuller capacity of the lungs and executes rapid exhalation procedures for more challenging phrases, or to reach that fearful high note, the singer can often become dizzy or light-headed.

I am inhaling the Catholic Church at a rapid rate and find myself a bit disoriented.

And I haven't even skimmed the surface.

Where do I even begin? Thousands of years of doctrine and history, all of it fitting and weaving together, one doctrine depending on another, and leading to yet another. Colossal movements of history defining where Christianity is today.

A bit overwhelming, really. But! I stay the course. Well, first I should decide on one...a course that is. And I think that it would help us all to first look at areas in which we agree. It may be safe to say that we are not all assured of where those agreements lie. It's tempting to get right down to it and throw darts at the statues of St. Peter and the Blessed Mother, Queen of Heaven. But I'm not sure our aim would be skillful, or we'd find ourselves aiming at only illusions of what we suppose our intended targets to be, our darts passing right through, and the attempt, ridiculous.

If, along the way, dialogue ensues that reaches into those depths of differences, then by all means, please proceed forward. Or if questions arise or topics change, good. Most assuredly, I will post on the most desired of topics in time, those which highlight our differences, but I welcome any such discussion that occurs before, as it only helps me as I learn.

Which brings me to an important point. I believe it is necessary, while studying the Catholic church, to remain open minded when faced with theological ideas foreign to the thinker. Not to do away with judgement altogether. Of course not. But to realize that one cannot make an educated conclusion on anything without considering there be truth somewhere in that thing before excluding it.

I thought I would make a new blog for all of this, but it seems the success rate in the multi-blog area is low. What's the point really? I'll post here. If you're interested, then read it. If you're not, then don't.

So there we are. Rules stated. I'll get on with it soon. I promise.

Things I Learned From My Husband...

How to make the most kickin'A ham and cheese sandwich:

**Of your two pieces of whole wheat bread, spread one with equal amounts of mayo (Miracle Whip in our house) and mustard.

**Sprinkle salt, pepper, and oregano on top of the mayo/mustard combo. (Yes!, she exclaims gleefully. Oregano!)

**Add desired ham. Try brown sugared ham for the best results

**Add swiss cheese. Cheddar or Pepperjack will suffice.

**Add sliced deli pickles. For best results, use Claussen Sandwich Slices. I like good 'ole dill. He likes dill or hearty garlic.

**Close sandwich with other piece of bread.

**Enjoy

And Things My Husband Learned From Me

How to replace the above items to the proper place from which they came:

**bread, complete with twisty tie, thus sealing its freshness

**ham, tightly sealed in container and in the drawer of the fridge, not just anywhere in the fridge

**cheese, contained within ziplock baggy, in the drawer with the ham

**salt, to the cabinet

**pepper, beside the salt

**oregano, likewise

**mayo, with lid screwed completely on

**mustard, without excess yellow splurts dripping down the side of the bottle

**pickles, with lid screwed completely on, so as to prevent pickle juice from spilling on hand, fridge, and floor at next sandwich opportunity

**knife, rinsed and placed in sink

Tunesday: Folsom Prison Blues

Johnny Cash is a hero of sorts to me. I loved his autobiography and highly recommend it.

I read somewhere else of his beginnings with his band, the Tennessee Two. Johnny had come back from the Air Force and wanted to start a band. He met these guys, Luther and Marshall, and so they'd all get together to play. Problem was they all strummed a guitar, and that's pretty much it. Not much of a band there. Johnny had the voice, and that was OK with everyone, so he'd sing. But they needed a bass player, and they needed a lead guitarist. So Marshall buys a cheap upright somewhere and finds a friend who could teach him how to tune it. Since none of them knew how to play an upright bass, Johnny, Marshall, and Luther sat around finding where the notes were on the strings, and marking them with noted sticky tape. Johnny'd play a note on his guitar, Marshall would find it on the bass. He'd mark it, and onto a different note.

So lead guitar went to Luther. He'd practice for hours and hours, day after day, weeks upon weeks. It didn't come easy, and when it finally came, it still wasn't easy, so he'd stick to the same line every time, methodic, simple, direct, but clear and precise.

It was this fumbling that brought them the sound for which they became famous. A train-like boom-chuck-boom kind of sound. I love that: the sincerity in music, stripped of its pretense, played by guys whose weaknesses became their corporate strength. The idea that what you have to give, nothing more, is good enough. It's liberating as a musician. So here is:

Song: Folsom Prison Blues
Artist: Johnny Cash and The Tennessee Two

Father's Day Flub

I mailed my dad a Father's Day card that never arrived at my parents' house. After cursing the American mail system, and amicably arguing with my mother, insisting that it is highly unlikely someone would have intercepted the card along the way in hopes of finding cash, I decided that I would send my dad a card that couldn't be lost. At least not in the immediate future. Here it is.

Dear Dad,

Remember when I was 6, and Grandmother gave us her piano, and when it arrived at our house in Corpus Christi, I stood behind you and watched you play.
Remember the family "rassling" matches where our chief objective was to find out how in the world to tickle you without getting tickled first, and how you could somehow pin me, Eric, and Mom down with one arm and tickle us all at one time. We won on occasion, but only because mom got free and was the only one who could make you laugh.
Remember how you taught me to pitch in slow-pitch softball, and how we would practice in the front yard for hours. I could strike 'em out because you taught me how to pitch with an arch high enough to fool the batter, but drop right behind the plate. It got'em every time.
Remember how I could usually get out of a spanking with No daddy No daddy No daddy, pleeeeeease!
Remember that game we used to play, where I tried to match my footsteps to yours.
Remember how you could always help me with my math homework.
Remember how I used to show all my friends that came over this picture of you:
because I thought it was so cool that my dad used to have an afro, and "he even got it permed sometimes." (Heh heh)

I remember how you never missed a show, or a solo, or a game, or a recital, even if you had to drive miles and miles. That you've always encouraged me to follow my dreams, that you've always been right behind me, smiling, nodding, helping. That mom is the love of your life, that your work gave me opportunity, that your worry was my security. That I could look at you and know that my husband should be like that. And he is.

Thank you for loving me....
for better....

or for worse...

I love you, Dad.

Happy Father's Day,
Your One and Only Daughter....

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!