Time for a change

Blogger has a lot of cool new templates, but they mostly look boring on my blog thanks to my complete lack of pictures or anything interesting on my blog.  Other than words.  I do have plenty of words.  So anyhow, I figured a new background was the least I could do.

So welcome to my new "travel-themed" blog.

I'll probably change it again next week.  Just so we're clear.

Bibley words

I love words.  Truly I do.  I one time read Fly By Night not so much for the plot but because the author so clearly loved words and knew how to use them with finesse.  I read Reading the OED not so much because I applauded the guy who had no job so he could read a dictionary, but because anyone who spent a year reading the Oxford English Dictionary has a level of Word Love I could only hope to one day reach.

 

All that being said, I was thinking about words in the Bible.  It, obviously, is full of the Words of Life, which is very important, but I was thinking specifically of the fact that since I read the King James Version, I run across so very many fun words.  Even if they're not traditionally "fun" words, it's still amusing to run across them in the KJV, like when it references "stuff" in the Bible, discusses the belching of heathens, or those times it talks about taverns or aliens (well, there's only one reference to taverns, as I recall), it just seems amusing because, well, they seem more amusing in the context of the Bible (don't laugh, but I still am amused when I run across references to frying pans in the Bible--which potentially goes to show that I should get out more).  Not to sound irreverent, but it's true.

 

But any words in the Bible ending in -some, like noisesome, or burdensome... don't you wish we still used those words?  I know I do.

 

This isn't a complete list, and PLEASE let me know if you have favorites that aren't on this list, but anyhow, here's a vague off-the-top-of-my-head list of words I like to run across in the Bible.  And I'm sure these words aren't even necessarily all obsolete, but they're obsolete enough to make me wish that more people read their Bibles so we could hurry up and get these words back into the common vernacular.

 

Ladeth.  Because I think we should still use it.  I wish the "eth" thing hadn't gone out of style so long ago.  "Why are we letting him road trip with us?  He ladeth our car down with his longboards and it's just getting annoying."

 

Magnifical.  Because WHAT AN AWESOME WORD.  I use it sometimes and was derided once for it being made-up.  "Not-uh.  It's in the Bible."  "Is not."  "Is too."  "Where?"  "The... temple stuff somewhere.  You know."  "You're making that up."  "Am not!"  You get the idea.  But it's good for any or all occasions.  The "magnifical cheesecake" works as well as "the Colosseum was magnifical."  It's sort of appropriate for any situation.

 

Anything ending in -ish.  When I read the Law of the Leper chapter and it describes things as being greenish and reddish, or when Job talks about something being "blackish" it just cheers my soul.  I went through a multi-year phase where everything ended in an -ish.  A friend of mine finally started calling me Joish.  But you can imagine how cool it would be if we brought back the color -ishes.  "You just repainted, right?  What color?"  "Reddish."  "Oh, like... more pink."  "No, I mean reddish.  That's the color."  "Yeah...  that makes SO much sense.  Or not."

 

Gazingstock.  Because it seems to so nicely combine being put in stocks as an example and a much-stared-at curiosity.  "My Sunday School teacher made me the gazingstock of the class when he caught me texting, which is NO FAIR because the other kids do it all the time and don't get in trouble!"

 

Bountifulness.  "The bountifulness of this Thanksgiving feast reminds me yet again of how much I have for which to be thankful!" And also, costliness.  Because all words deserve more than one suffix.

 

Solemnities.  This isn't obsolete, I know, but I feel like the number of occasions which could be referred to as "solemnities" are dwindling in our society.  But who knows?  Maybe they use this all the time in England or something.  "The solemnities of the past week reminded us that the queen isn't getting any younger, and some changes are surely coming our way."  Heh.  I don't even really know how you'd use solemnities properly.  I'll think of something.

 

Worthies.  Every time I stumble across this word in Nahum I can't help but think of the word "homies."  "F'real, what's he doin'?"  "Oh, he had to talk to all his worthies about their excessive stumbling, yo."

 

Troublous.  "These are troublous times we're in.  First they came for the users of blue pens, but I wasn't a user of blue pens, so I didn't stop them.  Then they came for the ones who left the trash cans on the curb for days but I was above that, so I didn't step in.  Now they've come for those of us who spend altogether too much time trying to slide words like 'insomuch' and 'notwithstanding' into everyday conversation, and there's nobody left to stop them!"

 

Holily.  I'm not going to lie: I didn't even notice this word until a few months ago when I was Bibleing in Thessalonians with my Bibleing buddies.  I'd obviously seen it before, but somehow missed it.  Clearly, since then I've delighted in the word, but honestly, I haven't found many things that can be described as having been done "holily."  I'm still working on that.

So, help me out here.  What do you like to run across in the Bible?  Do you enjoy running across words like sheriff?  parlours?  darling?  silly doves?  when people in the Bible say 'aha'?  the brief Santa Claus feeling you get when reading Zechariah 2:6?

 

And I have the feeling that nobody uses the links I sometimes provide for Bible references and such, and I really didn't feel like spending half of my evening looking up these places, so if you're curious as to where these words are in the Bible, just go to blueletter or Biblegateway and look them up.

 

Thanks for bearing with me.  When I started thinking about this last night I had no idea I'd think of so many! 

Airborne hogs

Pigs flew last week.  Honestly they did.  Just in our own household there were two reasons that caused that old proverb about pigs flying come true.

First.  Our family got *drum roll, please!* Air Conditioning!  If I knew how to make the font all glittery and do a little dance, I would.  My parents have notoriously held out on getting A/C because we like fresh air and such.  But over the summer as the temperature climbed to the high 90s with at least one brief foray into the double digits, and the humidity topped 100% more than once, it was just... not a fun summer to rely upon the power of fans and fresh summer breezes.

So.  We have A/C.

Second piece of mind-blowing news.  I discovered a piece of Cubist art that I liked!  WHAT?  After years of shuddering at the very name Picasso (we were once going to name a cat Picasso and my brother and I vetoed it in favor of Billy Josephus because we couldn't stand to have a Picasso in the house), I found an artist whose work not only could I stomach, but enjoy.

Yes, please.  Take your time.  Let it sink in.  I said it:  I enjoyed the art.

Wow.  It's hard to even write.

Anyhow, Juan Gris is the artist who turned my anti-Cubism work upside-down.  Not all of his stuff (I looked him up after I came home from the museum at the which I saw some of his artwork), and in fact, the two I saw were two of my favorites of his work in general, and I certainly don't prefer a lot of his stuff.  But I saw the work called Pen and Pipe and really enjoyed it.

So.  There's that.

Also, I have a whole new level of respect for Alexander Calder.  I read a book about him once (well, sort of.  Some kids like his art and have adventures based on stuff about mobiles) and thought, meh, he's not that cool, but recently had seen a bunch of his stuff and liked it, in that "Oh goodness, I actually know what I'm looking at!" kind of way, but over the weekend when I was at the museum there was a display where you could create your own mobiles a la Calder, and it was a lot harder than it looked.  I am officially impressed with his vision.

I'm sure you all really wanted to hear about art today, right?  Ahem.  Yes.  And now I leave you to your own life.

I don't seem to have a title for this

I was reading last week's offering from PluggedIn, and saw this statistic:

"Nielsen estimates that Americans currently spend 53 billion minutes a month on Facebook, a number spread among 150 million users. When you add up all those minutes, it equals a whopping 100,000 years of Facebook time per month by U.S. users. Individually it averages out to 11.6 minutes per day."

Needless to say, I was flummoxed.  The thought of so very many minutes spent on facebook just... I can't even fathom.  I'll admit, I have facebook.  I go on about once a week, or every other week, if I have the inclination.  When a big event just happened I tend to go on more often in order to see photos and what-not, but that much time is just too much time.

Then again, it's people like me who make the average so low.  You know there are some people out there who use more than their average of 11.6 minutes a day.  In fact, when I DO go on, that's probably about how long I spend.  I look at all the birthdays I missed, write cutsey little messages, and click on some of the most looked at photo albums.  Done and done.  The whole chatting thing makes me want to cry, and the whole looking through everyone's status updates thing makes me feel like my life is slowly slipping away.

I have nothing against facebook (when used properly), so don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying you shouldn't have it (unless you don't want it, in which case you should stand strong in opposition thereof!), but what I am saying is that it shouldn't be such a big part of so many lives.  That's all.

As for me, I think I'm going to go spend 11.6 minutes napping.  Ciao!

Judge not

This has nothing to do with judging in the traditional manner.  It's just that sometimes I need to examine my own beam before I look at my sibling's mote.  I have a sister who has some unusuually named children.  Which is fine.  I'm just saying.

However, you know Thomas?  Remember him?  One of his train pals is a friend named Skarloey.  And... I like the name.  I'd spell it differently, and use it as a name for a girl, but honestly, I kind of love it.  Say it a few times.  It grows on you.

So anyhow, it's just a good reminder for me to, you know, stop raising my eyebrows at all the Apples and Moons of this world.

No, seriously.  Say the name again.  Skarloey.  Mm?  Also, Skarloey is a very helpful train, and a good friend.  Good role model right off the bat.  Yay!

Pirates

I think I could be a Pirate Who Doesn't Do Anything.  Some days I think I could be lazy full-time.  But... I don't know.  Chances are, I'd miss doing stuff.  So I guess the pirate's life is not for me.

Alas.

I wonder

Do you ever get really curious about things while reading the Bible?  Because sometimes when I read, and especially the Old Testament when the stuff that happens is mostly drama-full (I'm in 2 Thessalonians right now, and as much as I love Paul's stuff, it doesn't have quite the same flavor as in the time of the Kings and such), I have questions that aren't important, but that I'm looking forward to having answered in Heaven one day.

For instance, does anyone else wonder what happened to Goliath's sword?  In 1 Samuel 21:9 it was given to David to protect against Saul (again) and we know the results of that: Saul had the priests killed.  But what happened to it after that?  One might assume that a weapon of such size might be slightly difficult to conceal.  But (as far as I remember, anyhow) it's not mentioned again in the Bible, leading one to assume that it just disappeared somewhere.  Maybe beaten into a plowshare at some point or something, haha.  But it's always been curious to me.

Speaking of, in the next chapter it talks about David going to the King of Moab to help hide his parents.  All good and well, we know David did a lot of weird things to prevent being killed off by Saul, but when he went to Moab was it with a specific purpose?  Because when you hark back to the story of Ruth and Boaz, you see that Jesse was actually their grandson, making David a great-grandson to a Maobitess.  But that's what I wonder:  did the king of Moab know that when David brought Jesse and the Mrs. to him for protection?  Did he partially do it because they were kind of related to his country?  Or did he just like the whole political intrigue of hiding high-profile parents?  

Those are just two examples.

I totally can't wait for Heaven.

Something borrowed, something new

There's that phrase that an apple a day keeps the doctor away (I guess if you keep throwing it at him he'll eventually never come back, so it could make sense?  haha, just kidding, I know what it means), but my dad is a firm believer in the "learn one new thing a day to keep the old age and empty mind away," philosophy.

In fact, he used to ask, "what's something you should do every day?" and up until probably six months ago my siblings and I would confusedly answer, "pray?  read your Bible?  brush your teeth?" and now we're finally smart enough to know the answer.  Phew.  But anyhow, it's a good philosophy.  I approve.

Which makes it nice when I read my magazines.  I know I've gone over this before, but yes, I read children's magazines.  Muse and Cricket are my go-to publications, especially now that I've decided that Time and Christianity Today probably weren't worthy ways to spend my time.  True story.  

I've been feeling recently like maybe I'm growing out of Cricket (it's aimed at 9-14 year-olds, if that's any sort of clue), but this month's issue had a really interesting article about Louis Braille.  Everyone knows who Louis Braille is, and I always thought he was pretty brilliant (when I was a kid, braille seemed like the best thing ever: reading in the DARK?  how much better could life get!?) but I didn't realize until I read the article that he was basically shunned for inventing such a "travesty."  After all, thought the world in those days, wouldn't a series of dots just magnify the differences between the seeing and the sight-impaired?  The sentiments were so strong against braille that the blind school where Louis was taught as a child (the same place he developed braille between the ages of 13 and 15) and taught as a teacher in his adult years actually banned braille.  True story.  The school had a book-burning and said that braille was absolutely not to be used.

Yikes.

But after years of championing his method, the school finally allowed braille to be used, and the world at large became more accepting thereof.  Of course, Louis died shortly thereafter of TB, but hey, at least he saw it happen in his lifetime, right?

Anyhow, I thought it was fascinating.  And it made me glad to be reading magazines for small children, because they have useful information packaged up in easy-to-read articles.  Oh, and last month?  Muse had an excerpt from a book about that computer, Watson, who won Jeopardy.  It was really good and did a good job of explaining how algorithms work.  Never thought I'd be able to say that.

So anyhow, my piece of advice is this: if you're aiming to learn one new thing a day but haven't a lot of time or motivation, learn from those who have already dumbed it down for children.  It's more fun that way.  And, in the case of Muse, just might involve a hefty dose of pie-throwing.  It's just their thing.  Trust me, it makes more sense then their obsession with hot pink bunnies!

Huh?

As I was purging my room recently I ran across a file of stuff I'd written a while ago.  A while being "within the last probably five years but long enough that I don't have any recollection of actually writing such things."  But I literally have no idea what I was trying to say in half of them.  I imagine poets encounter the same problem when they find poems from the olden days, or artists who look at their young work and think, "did this mean something?"

Not like I'm comparing my words to those of a poets, or the brushstrokes of an artist (because, um, no, I do not wield that sort of power with my pen, I tell you what!), but it's just a feeble comparison.  For instance, apparently one day I was watching people who stride through glass sliding doors and felt a little bit jealous because I always have to pause before I go through them, or run into them.  Seriously, listen to this:

"That’s what annoys me about confident people, they make such bold assumptions. I mean, I sometimes just look at the person who confidently strides towards the sliding glass doors, not slowing down even a step, because somehow they know that the door will open for them. How do they do that? I stop for a painful second before believing that the doors will open sufficiently for me to pass through. I am not that person.

And people who have the appearance of being calm at all times. How does that even work? I see people, often, those calm-types, the type who, when it’s raining manage to merely walk through the parking lot, not caring that it’s raining with such ferocity. They don’t mind getting wet, and heaven forbid they should just make a run for it. They keep going, even pausing to find the correct key, and then they will calmly climb into their car, enter their house, or tape the door shut on their cardboard box of a home. I’m the type of person who has to run through the rain to get where I want to be. I rush through a store if I feel I’m late, even though others might be amazing enough to just walk purposely, as though that would be enough."

Admittedly, not much of that makes sense, but kudos to me for using the word ferocity.  I don't find much occasion for that word.  Also, the chances of me having seen someone tape themself into a cardboard house are pretty much zero.  I do not know what I was talking about.  Also (part 2), I have no idea why walking through a store purposely was considered "amazing."

You thought that made little sense?  Read this one.  Your brain will hurt.

"Either way, I haven’t gotten a piece of this to take with me the whole time. I don’t understand where in the world we could take these thoughts from. We always make things us: we assume we have all the answers, though we rarely have so much as a clue. Answers? Not so much. We wish we could change things, yet we don’t try. We don’t put effort into anything; we don’t attempt to alter the course of things that cannot rightfully be ours to begin with. How can we change pieces of history that weren’t ours to make? How can we switch courses that aren’t planned through our own free will? We take no thought for what we may do with His power, we seek those things that are "our own destinies." We don’t understand that our destiny, once yielded to His, is no longer our own. And destiny? As if the word commands more power than does His will. We haven’t a thought for the things we disown. We merely seek those things that own us. We seek the things beyond our reach, closer to the stars than our humble dwelling we call home. We don’t look for those things which are above: to do such would be to seek Him in the truest sense. We, as humans, merely seek the things that are above us. Our feeblest senses cannot seem to enter into the purity that could be ours, should we divest ourselves from the enemy that is our own flesh. Why is it, that one of our three mortal enemies should be ourselves?"

Is there a word for "quite possibly hadn't slept for days when writing that," do you think?

As much as I'd like my posterity to be able to have stuff of mine to get a sense of what it was to live in 2011, I'm sometimes afraid of what they'll find.  Because seriously, WHAT?

Not to mention--did I never start my thoughts at the beginning?  Both of those pieces of whatever they are start as if they're following something else.  Why would I jump into a rant about confident people?  why the confusing paragraph about free will and stars that begins, "either way" when there is nothing coming before to answer such a question?

I found one about Lewis Carroll as well.  Apparently I gave him the benefit of the doubt as to not being on drugs and figured he just wrote words at random and gave them to a publisher who was asleep (?) the day they published Alice in Wonderland.  I guess I wasn't too keen on Lewis Carroll.  Good to know.

I like to think of it as sentimental

So basically I try to throw things out appropriately.  By that I mean, I like my life to be at least vaguely uncluttered.  I consider it a good week when my waste basket is full of things I used to want to keep, but have now successfully detached myself from and am able to toss without undue sorrow.

 

That being said, I've been working extra this week on de-cluttering my life.  I had some extra time and thought it best to scour my belongings for things I no longer needed.  My walls are still covered in photos and I still have a regrettable assortment of knickknacks (but only if they have some sort of sentimental value to me--I don't just keep stuff around for the fun of it.  Usually), but my closet and drawers are looking much better.

 

But what I have found so amusing this week is that I have tended, throughout the years, to label things surprisingly well.  While looking through a box wherein I had papers I thought were important (all dating at least nine years back, containing notes I'd written to my older brother, a memento I got from a family reunion we had, etc.) I found an envelope carefully labeled as candle wax from the memorial service we went to on the one year anniversary of September 11th.  Ironic, considering that that was just this week, but I don't think that the envelope had seen the light of day for the past nine years.

 

I'm sure I'll end up throwing it out (candle wax?  seriously?) but at the same time, if little twelve-year-old me went through all the trouble of saving the wax, labeling the envelope, and putting it into my memory box, shouldn't Present Day Me be allowed to feel sentimentality both towards the memory of September 11 as well as Shorter Me?

 

I think I have issues.  I should feel free to throw things away.  Ugh.  I wish Shorter Me hadn't labeled it so well.  Then I wouldn't have known what is was, wrinkled up my nose at unidentified candle wax, and thrown it away without regret.

 

Sigh.

Ten years

On September the 11th, 2001 our family was going to go to the zoo.  It was our field trip, and my mom was wrapping up some things on the phone with the airline (wouldn't have dreampt of booking online in those days!) working out some details for our flight to go out to California for Christmas.  Half way through her call, the Southwest operator put her on hold.  And kept her waiting for several minutes.  Eventually the woman came back on the phone, apologized for the delay, and proceeded to book our flights.

My mom called my dad at work to confirm that the flights were booked.  To which he said, "Haven't you heard?  The country is under attack!"  The poor woman at the airline had no doubt gotten the news as it was happening, but without a tv, we were a bit clueless.  We decided to head off to the zoo, I mean, what did two airplanes crashing into New York towers have to do with us?  But we'd gotten about three blocks away from home when, after listening to the radio, we realized that the situation truly was as serious as my dad had made it out to be.  We turned around and called the zoo, to confirm that they were still open.  They weren't.  The whole country shut down that day.  A wounded nation unsteady after such loss.

I remember listening to the radio coverage all day, even though I couldn't follow most of what was going on.  Taking pictures of all the flags that were put up around town.  Going to the memorial held at our University for the families affected by the loss.  Having a special prayer meeting.  Wondering if things would ever be the same.

So basically, what everyone else did on that Tuesday, and the following days and weeks.  And here we are, ten years later.  Who would have thought?

I wasn't personally affected by the tragedy.  Our family knows people who were in the area, but I don't know them well.  And I didn't lose anyone in the attacks.  But I still pray for them sometimes.  In our local cemetary is a monument to one of our locals who died in the Trade Towers that day.  As I pass I pray for his family and wonder how things are going.

This wasn't very deep, but sometimes you just want to acknowledge it.  So today I'm praying extra for those whose lives were changed in ways I can't even fathom.  May they lean on the Everlasting Arms for comfort.

Bordering on Sorrow

Went to Borders today.  Again.  For about the 12th time since they announced their doors were closing for good.  It was sad.  Everything good is gone, and most of the bookshelves are sold (3 book cases for $99?  they'd better be sold!) and it feels like the end of an era.  I appreciate Barnes & Noble and all, but Borders was always my favorite.  I feel bereft knowing my children will never know the store as anything other than "that store that's been out of business for FOREVER but Mommy just won't let go of."  Sigh.  (I'll teach them the no-preposition-at-the-end rule at some point.  For some reason they just won't follow it when finishing that sentence.)

I befriended one of the employees, and he cheerfully gave me the scoop, which is to say, this last price break (everything 70-90% off) is going to be the lowest they go (as far as he knows) and that the two stores near us are closing officially next Thursday.  We also discussed the liquidation company that now technically owns Borders (and if by that I mean that there is no such thing as Borders any more--they don't exist...) and Books-a-Million (we don't have any in the vicinity, but one just bought the location of one of our Borders and so we'll finally have one.  Silver lining, I guess...), and why this particular employee has decided to retire instead of try to find a new job after Borders shuts down for good.  All in all, it was fascinating, albeit a bit sad, and then he gave me some extra discounts at the cash register.  I love when people start telling their LifeStory (TM) to me and next thing I know we're friends.  Or something.

But seriously, I'll miss Borders.  I've had such good times in there!  I used to compel people to go into the kid's section and read Children's books to one another, just because it seemed funny.  I met some Christian teenagers in Borders one time who were looking for the "perfect Bible" for one of their friends, and we ended up discussing why they thought Arphaxad was such a cool name and the merits of bringing shovels with you when you went camping.  I one time lost a cell phone case in Borders.  And parked too close to some lady (so she says--I maintain that I was within the lines of my parking space) who called me to the front courtesy counter to have me move my car.  My brother and I would field trip there to mock vampire books.  My friends and I would go and covet their expensive craft books.  I got my first copy of Pride and Prejudice at Borders.  I went to Borders after the third book in The Giver series came out (Messenger) and looked at it sadly, right after my brother died, because he'd so been looking forward to it coming out.  I read it for the both of us.  My friend and I went to an Apolo Ohno booksigning there.  Borders was where I always deliberated over my journal choices, debating which one had the best line width and appropriate bindings.  I bought birthday gifts there, and prizes for my Sunday School class, and generally enjoyed smelling their books.

I'm going to miss that.

Borders, I'll miss you.  Thank you for 40 years of bookish awesomeness.

Oh, Euty

Last Sunday we were talking about Eutychus in our Sunday School class, and I was talking to the girls about being examples.  I brought up Euty because I was reading the story the other day and it made me ponder more about examplehood.  Not that that's a word.  But what's interesting to me about the story of Euty is that he wasn't paying attention to Paul, or got tired, or whatever happened, and fell asleep and ended up taking a tumble into the yard.

How this relates to examples:  So, say Eutychus had a younger brother or something who saw the severity of what happened to Euty (whether or not Eutychus actually died or was just presumed dead was a matter of some debate at the breakfast table this morning, interestingly enough) but then thought, "Hey, it's okay, he ended up alive.  I'm going to sit in that window sill where I can breathe some fresh air and I'll just make SURE to not fall asleep, since I know what could happen if I did, but even if I did, obviously nothing too horrible happens if I get all Humpty Dumpty."  All good in theory, but what happens if said younger brother actually does have a great fall and can't be brought back up alive again?  What then?

That's the thing.  God in His graciousness gives second chances, and sometimes someone takes a fall, as it were, and it works out fine, but sometimes things don't work out so well for the faller.  And that's why Christians have to be careful to not be the ones to make it seem like it's okay to fall in the first place.  Because the guy who follows (FALLows?)  after might not escape unscathed.

I don't think my Sunday School class necessarily got what I was saying, but hey, they got the gist of it.  I think.  I hope.

Also, I call Eutychus by his way-cooler nickname "Euty" because when I was a youngster I used to have a book of Bible poems by someone named John Knapp, and it's AWESOME.  Seriously.  You slash your children slash any person would love it.  He writes poems about several obscure persons from the Bible (Ethan the Ezrahite for one) and writes ditties to help you remember the lineage of Abraham's offspring, the churches of Revelation, and why Miriam got leprosy in the Bible instead of being turned into a pillar of pepper.  Trust me, it makes sense.  Anyhow, in one of his poems it references Eutychus and endearingly calls him Euty.  Ever since I first read that I've taken to also calling him Euty.  It has a much nicer ring to it.

Blame it on September

September started out very, very warm.  Like, 90s warm, plus 90 per cent humidity.  True story.  But then we all complained, and so September went all March on us, and right now it's low 60s and sort of rainy all the time. 

Weather is so confusing.  On the plus side, my dad always taught us that the first rule of driving was to leave the windows up, so we're pretty good at making sure we don't inadvertently let rain in the car as the weather turns odd for the fiftieth time.

Also, I'm planning on a cross-country road trip with my aunt and grandma come December, Lord willing, and while I'm sure a lot of folks wouldn't prefer to travel across country with their aunt and grandma, I think it'll be hilarious.  We tease my grandma that we're going to hit up every casino across country, just to get her all riled up about it.  At this point I think we have to lay off the jokes, because now she's getting worried that we'll be inveterate gamblers in no time.  Oops.  Either way, it should be fun.

Be thou an example

My younger sister is learning how to drive.  Which is a good thing for her, and the rest of us, because extra drivers are always useful.  But I've noticed something about myself recently.  Not that she practices her driving with me or anything (I don't have the iron constitution required for coaching new drivers), but when she's been in the car with me as of late I find myself being much more careful about how I drive.

Not that I'm a terrible driver (others may have different opinions...) but rather that I find myself with my hands in the 10 o'clock and 2 o'clock positions, and silently mutter "hand over hand" when turning corners.  Stop bars see such complete stops they're probably confused, and I try not to just hang my arm out of the window, as per my usual preference.

Which made me start thinking about that verse in Timothy about being an example.  As Christians we're supposed to be an example to the world of what a follower of Christ is, but also an example among Christians as well.  And does being an example help us keep ourselves on track, so to speak?  By consciously remembering and choosing to show others what it is to live for Christ, does our life benefit?  I suppose so, though I'd never thought of it in so many words.  When someone is watching what we do, it seems to make sense that we'd be more cognizant of what we did.

Nothing profound, but I tell you, checking my rear view mirrors with great frequency has made me think about this a little more than I typically might.

Addictions

I always was pleased that I wasn't addicted to coffee or sniffing sharpies or anything like that.  Honestly, I feel like addictions are something I can do without.  But the other day, as I surveyed my many library cards (six in my wallet at last count, and yes, I use them all) I wondered if you could have an addiction to library cards.  Or libraries.  Is that possible?

I think I may have to rethink my position on reading and/or books.  Maybe I should take a reading break.  I've taken those before with success and felt more productive for it, but still, I like my half hour (erm... 45 minutes?  an hour?) of reading before I go to bed.  And I know that one day, Lord willing, I'll be a crazy busy mom who doesn't have time for such luxuries, so doesn't it make sense that I read while I may?

I must needs give this some thought.

PS, this wasn't purposeful at all, but as I write this I happen to be sitting at the library.  Good times...