Of buckets and lists

I don't really have a bucket list. Mind you, when one of my friends from LA was last at my house, and we stayed up until about 3:00 am simply because we didn't want the fun to end, we sort of came up with a bucket list. It went along the lines of, "And then we're going to go see Disney on Ice, and then HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA we're going to learn to skate it and pretend that we can actually skate and  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I don't even know!!!! It'll be hilarious!!!!!!" and then basically we made up a bunch of stuff about doing shows on ice because we are both not the best of ice skaters. I think that's why we were talking about it, anyhow. Honestly, I don't even remember.  Anything that happens after about 11:00 pm isn't exactly going to stick too well in my head.

But I do sort of have things in mind that I'd kind of be super excited about, should they ever for some reason come to pass. Isn't that what Bucket Lists are all about? Stuff you've always wanted to do? My actual bucket list, were I to make one, would be fairly simple.  Besides learning to knit (how have I still never learned to knit? I learned how to crochet, and knitting seemed way harder, so I didn't even try. One day I shall), and having a passport with stamps on every page (how AWESOME would that be?) I'd also like to *dun dun dun* ride in a blimp.

I've taken a lot of forms of transportation--bus, train, plane, subway, water taxi, etc.--but they've all been kind of regular-type. I want to ride in a blimp. I've heard it's kind of boring, but hey, I'm a boring person. And that's okay. But seriously, even more than a hot air balloon (also never been up in one), I would choose a blimp. So if I ever get cancer or something, and they confuse me for a child and let me do the Make-a-Wish thing, now you all know what I'd wish for. A blimp ride. Just because it sounds pretty swell.



Oh, and that blue house contains those neighbors you're supposed to be praying for.



I got to thinking about this the other night when a blimp flew over our house. We get a lot of blimps--hullo, Goodyear--but not usually directly over our back porch. We were sitting at supper and it approached and we were like hey hey, a blimp. And then it flew right over us, and we acted like tourists who'd never seen blimps before, instead of a family who has had blimps flying by for years. So I snapped a few photos and I'm sorry to say that there's no way to capture the size of the things. I mean seriously, blimps are gianty creatures. In the photos they look small here, but trust me, they are big.



It was getting a bit dark, so it's not the best picture ever.  Also, it's so large that when it flies over your head you don't really have a lot of options as far as swell photo-taking goes.



Anyhow, if any of you know someone who can hook me up with a ride in a blimp, please let me know. Thanks. : )

PS, I'm not discontent with such things as I don't have, but I just sometimes like to potentially dream about adventures I may or may not have down the road.  But please, don't think I'm being snobbish or something, just because I think a blimp would be a cool way to travel.

I've flown the coupe, or some other lame title

Sometimes I'm kind of a nerd.  I don't just mean that I like to safely eject my flash drive from the computer, or that I love making lists about any and everything, or my blind devotion to Google, but sometimes I like car-related things.  I don't think that's the correct definition of nerd, but it's one of those things where I don't remember what people who taking a passing interest in cars are called.

So anyhow, for reasons unknown, I've always really liked Nissan.  One year my brother gave me a birthday card with a picture of the 350Z because he knew how well I liked Nissan (haha, shows you how long ago that was!  They don't even make the 350Z any longer!)  Still have that card.  So anyhow, imagine my surprise when I saw the Altima Coupe and hardly even recognized the thing!  I was at my sister's and we were driving to, well, somewhere, I don't even recall where, and suddenly I saw a two-door Altima and was just confused.  I sort of blurted something unintelligible about what the Altima was doing with only two doors? and everybody potentially thought I was insane.  Not like I blame them.  But anyhow, isn't it pretty?  I think so.

I just want to specify that I really know nothing about cars.  I just happened to see another Altima Coupe and remember afresh my shame at not having noticed this in the past four years since it came out.  How had I never seen one before?  What is wrong with me?

In other news, I was at a stoplight last week sitting behind the VW Eos, and... I sort of loved the tail lights.  Seriously, it's like the car had personality.  Loved.

Anyhow, I'm done talking about cars for like... a year.  Possibly two.  Thank you for your kind attention as I got all of this said.  Although, come to think of it, I do have quite a bit I could say about pickup trucks.  My dad has always said that he could see me driving a pickup, and while I agree, I rarely agree with his choices of pickups.  Anyhow, I don't even remember why I started talking about cars.  Oh, yeah.  Altima.  Two doors.  Shame.

I'm actually done this time.

Spring hath sprung!

For some people, spring means flowers and birds and other happy things.  That sounds good.  I mean, those are spring-like things.  There's this bird that has it out for me and chirps outside of my bedroom window starting at 3:30 am (my family argues that it could be different birds, but I know better.  It's one bird, and for some reason it hates me and wishes me great harm.  It accomplishes this great harm by chirping SO LOUDLY that not even a pillow over my ear blocks out the sound entirely.  True story), so trust me, I'm getting well acquainted with every aspect of spring, but to me spring is about other things.

For one, weather (which admittedly leads to things like flowers and such, but if it's still snowing, it doesn't matter if the 20th has come or not, it just doesn't feel like spring until the warmth arrives).  I love when the crocuses decide it's warm enough and pop up.  When I can finally sleep with the windows open again.  When I feel like I'm getting a sunburn just by sitting on the back porch.  In the spring we have supper outside nearly every evening, which is swell.  Also, on Saturday we have breakfasts outside.  And most lunches.  Anyhow, yeah, many meals outside.

So, besides the weather and all of the holidays (Dr. Seuss's birthday, Pi Day, St. Patrick's birthday, the Ides of March, first day of spring, etc.) there's one other thing that signals spring.  That is... Reuben Sandwiches.  I love Reubens.  Which is odd, because I think rye bread is gross.  Ditto Swiss cheese.  Also, most things on a Reuben.  But I LOVE Reubens and was so excited when we had our first Reubens of the year.  And when I say "first of the year," I mean that we have them about three times a spring.  Mmm.



Slightly burnt Reuben with a side of fresh tomato.  DELISH.



We had our Reubens on the first day of spring, actually, and I could pretend it was a happy spring celebration, but really, we just happened to eat them on Tuesday.  Spring just happened to start on that day.  After supper we were going to go to our local ice cream place, because they were giving away free ice cream in honor of the first day of spring, so after supper (and after my dad showed me how to charge up the car battery--it had died and my sister and I just sort of pushed it out of the way until my dad could come home to show me how to fix it next time) we piled in the car (the newly charged battery getting a chance to feel useful) and went down to the ice cream place, only to discover that about 100 people had thought of it before we did.  So... we came home.  And made our own crushed ice creations.  Basically we crushed up ice and put on random flavors (lemon, vanilla, cherry, lime, any other flavors we could find) and ate it.  We had some misses (the almond was gross) and some hits (lime.  mmm), and in general had an amusing time standing about in the kitchen flavoring cups of ice.

Our array of flavors.  Also, my family.

We were going to have leftover pie from Pi Day celebration times at eating meeting on Lord's Day, but we forgot.  Also, we were full of Reubens and... ice.

Oh, spring.  How do I love thee.  Thee minus that bird who hates me, but you know what I mean.

PS  I see, thanks to the Google Doodle of the day, that today is Juan Gris's birthday.  If you all recall, he was the one who made me realize that I was okay with Cubism after all.  So happy birthday, Juan.  Thank you for expanding my horizons.

Some neighbors are easy to spot

There's that age-old question about who exactly your neighbor is.  Obviously, in the context of Luke 10, it's talking about more than just the guy who lives in the house next to you.  Well, today I'm talking about neighbors.  Specifically, the kind who live right next to me.

So, I have these neighbors. I shall call them... Wendell and Michelle.  Those aren't their real names, but I don't want to be that person who's outright gossiping about neighbors so that next time you come to visit me and we casually howdy them as they take out their trash you recognize the name and think, "THAT'S who she was talking about?" So their real names shall forever remain a mystery to my fair readership. Anyhow, I write about them because they are the least happy couple ever. Now that spring has sprung, the storm windows are off, and our house has warm breezes gusting in the windows, carrying the scent of freshly mown lawns (mown? is that how it's spelled?), sunshine, and... yelling from next door.

Now, here's the deal. I'm not foolish enough to think that anyone can coexist without disagreement (unless one of the persons is in a coma, in which case the other person still might be upset, but that's beside the point), but yelling at each other every single day? And I'm not just talking about "Well, it's YOUR turn to take out the trash!" I'm talking about ugly arguments. Trust me, I've heard both sides of their respective stories, and it's always ugly.

What I don't understand is how they can possibly have any sort of foundation in their relationship. Honestly, with what goes on over there, I don't know how they can stand to be around one another.

So if anyone thinks of it, maybe pray for my poor neighbors, Wendell and Michelle. The neighbor on the other side of their house came to talk to us one day, and both of our houses decided that when we heard them fighting, we'd be putting in extra prayer time for them, sort of like they're sandwiched by prayer. I'm sorry to report that I haven't noticed it helping, but anyhow, we do what we can, my friends. We do what we can.

Things I learned in 2011

I made this list sort of a while ago.  You know, back when 2012 was pretty new and exciting.  But since I recently started blogging again, I thought it might behoove me to dig up the list and share.  Before I begin, allow me to say that these might not be things I learned for the first time, but they sort of presented themselves to me again.  So, without further ado, a list in no order.

1)  People can use scripture to back up anything they want.
2)  There are an astounding number of people who don't know how to properly say Jobs.  As in, Steve.
3)  Miracles do happen.
4)  Friendships that are supposed to last for a long time sometimes don't.
5)  Which is a good reminder that good friendships are awesome.  Also, worth keeping around.
6)  I should never pretend to know what I'm talking about.
7)  You can say Occupy for anything.  I heard of more Occupy Movements in 2011 than I could possibly keep track of!
8)  It's funny.  We don't always want the things we think we do.
9)  I'm still fairly awful at spelling.
10)I like yellow cake better than chocolate cake.

Anyhow, like I said, a random assortment.  Most of those things have stories behind them, but most of the stories are probably better left untold.  So.  Welcome, 2012.  Only 76 days into it and I'm finally wrapping up with 2011.  Not bad, not bad.

Gross food (and other reasons I'm glad I'm not an OT prophet)

I'm reading through the prophets right now.  I do love the prophet part of the Bible--always a little eyebrow-raising, not to mention that prophetically I often don't know what's going on, and generally I have no idea if things like "the tower of Syene" are important--and all the extra question marks compel me to do extra homework, which is sort of fun.  Mostly because I'm a nerd and I like to do fun research.  But I was thinking the other day:  I love reading the prophets, but is it because I like to learn from them, or because it's sort of like watching a train wreck?  I know stuff is crazy and I feel undeniably sorry for those prophets, but I just can't seem to look away. So bear with me as I ponder some of the many, many, many reasons why I think being an OT prophet was pretty much the least desirable job.  Ever.

Gross food.  I know I've referenced Ezekiel 4 in my blog in times past, as being wildly misunderstood by my brother and I for way too long, but seriously, regardless of the fuel, or the ingredients of Ezekiel's bread (sorry, but any combination of lentils, millet, barley, etc. sounds gross to me), the fact that he had to eat it for more than a year is enough to make me dislike it out of hand.  There's nothing that could possibly be desirable after more than a year of intake.  Sorry, Ezekiel.

Indecent exposure.  Dear Isaiah had a very strange assignment.  Although the barefoot part sounds reasonable (those would be some serious callouses, though, after three whole years of barefootedness!), the zero clothes is just weird.  Those prophets were really willing to do whatever the Lord asked of them.  Hard core is the word that comes to mind.

Arranged marriage.  Honestly, marriage is already a somewhat tricky business, but for the Lord to ask Hosea to take Gomer to wife to be a picture of Israel?  Yikes.  There is almost nothing happy about poor Hosea's story.

The opposite of marriage.  Ever wonder why there aren't any Biblical fiction books about Daniel like there are about King David and Isaac and Rebekah?  One word.  Eunuch.  I'm sorry, Daniel.

The occasional no-tears policy.  We all know Jeremiah as the weeping prophet, but what about poor Ezekiel, who couldn't even cry when his wife died?  That's just... depressing.

Doom and gloom.  I'm not going to cite anything specific, because we all have read the verses about blood flowing in the streets and pestilence and ripping up women with children.  Suffice it to say, I can't imagine that the prophets slept very well at night.

Time fails me to tell of miry pits, tales of captivity, and disturbing visions.  I'm sure you all agree that happiness abounds in the thought of not being a prophet. 

I'm guessing that's a pretty common rejoicement amongst most people who don't live in the Old Testament.

The Princess Complex

I love fairy tales.  Worlds where girls grow up to be princesses, have some sort of adventure, and live happily ever after.  I'm sure a lot could be said about the happily ever after, but I'm not going into that right now.  Also, I wan to go on record as saying that when I was a kid I never had any interest in being a princess.  I just liked to read about them.  Anyhow, I just read an interesting article on Christianity Today's website (well, I want to be clear that it was actually on the blog Her.meneutics, which I like a lot better than CT itself, because CT has issues and I have issues with CT, but anyhow, yes, I read the Her.meneutics blog from time to time) about Karen Kingsbury's book The Princess and the Three Knights.

Now.  I know I've said it before, and I'll probably say it again, but I don't think Karen has the most... varied imagination ever.  Most of her books have the same plot, and they usually center around stories of her family. Thinly veiled, of course, but since I read her dedications (all eight pages of them) I can follow her family enough to see through the veil.  I'm on to you, Karen.  Anyhow, I've solved that by not reading her books any more, so I'm over it.

But anyhow, I've read the book in question, and... I didn't think it was terrible.  I thought the story wasn't that creative (a young girl stands aside as young men vie for her hand, and one shows that his love for the Princess would never endanger her, thereby gaining the approval of kingdom and king and winning her hand), but I had nothing against it.  Does it lean towards arranged marriages?  I suppose, though let's be honest, which country has the least divorces?  India?  I thought so.

As a side note:  On my way home from California in January I sat by a couple in the plane who LifeStory'd (TM) me, and they asked a few times if I was married, and when I was getting married, and why wasn't I getting married?  I tried to explain that marriage was going to involve some young man who hasn't shown up and, quite frankly, isn't showing up very swiftly, as far as I can see.  We tried some other topics, but eventually they again shifted the subject back to marriage (we'd been talking about the Lord, actually.  They were Hindu, and so we discussed the Bible and virgin Mary and various related topics) by asking, "Haven't your parents heard of arranged marriages?"

I said that they had, but such things aren't so much done these days.  Then I heard further their LifeStory (TM) and their saga of their own arranged marriage, and how they ish-arranged marriages for their children, though with a way out if the kid thought the spouse was unsuitable.  They told me I could pass that along to my parents.  Which I did.  We all got a good laugh over their dismay at me being more than two decades old minus a husband.  Anyhow, they were a nice couple.  I gave them a calendar with some Bible verses on it, but they explained that they appreciated the gesture but weren't interested in converting.  We talked about it for a while, and Salvation, and what it means according to the Bible, but they seemed less than impressed.  So.  I hope they get saved.  The end.

Anyhow, the Her.meneutics article has a problem with the Karen Kingsbury story.  More than one, actually, but basically the author of the article is worried that girls will read the tale and become a wallflower who cannot think for herself.  Or speak for herself.  Perhaps a valid point (though really?  a little girl will grow up unable to think for herself because she one time read a picture book wherein the princess did nothing other than gasp and be happy that a husband had been found?), but what I thought was funny were the comments on the article.  Most people seemed to agree with the author, stating their reasons as to why such princess books were bad for children, and something about a funny scene in Shrek 3.  Never seen it, but apparently all the regular princesses (Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella) think that help will come if only they act accordingly (act sleepingly, and scrub floors, for instace).  Anyhow, I have three things to say, both in response to the article, and also to the Shrek thing (which I haven't seen so I probably shouldn't be discussing, haha, but I'm only speaking for the scene in which the princesses do their sleeping/floor scrubbing).

1)  Uh, the man's job is to protect.  There are still some girls who assume that there is some guy who will act as her protector.  Not naming any names, for fear of being branded as, you know, having a Princess Complex, but I'm just putting that out there.

2)  While I agree that girls shouldn't sit about doing nothing, and dreamily saying that someday their prince will come, I have to say, is it so bad to be just doing your thing whilst you wait?  I mean, maybe you excel at mopping floors (a la Cinderella) and help out a lot of people by doing such... did that make Cinderella hopelessly inept because all she knew was cooking and cleaning?  Okay, so she'd never had to [fight/get out of tricky situations/whatever else may have happened in Shrek] but she was doing what she knew how to do. While I doubt she was doing it heartily as unto the Lord, I'd like to think it's kind of the same concept.

3)  My final point is that many of the comments in response to the article centered around the fact that the readers were upset that the book seemed to make marriage be the happily ever after.  "We are going to teach our daughter differently," the comments seem to say.  Uh, so you're worried that your daughter will read this book and then get the terrible idea that marriage is a great career choice (to borrow from my sister's phraseology)?  You and your husband are married, ma'am.  Do you worry that your daughter will see that you and your husband are (hopefully) contentedly married and then get the frightful idea that *gasp* she might want that, too?  I'd just like to point out that most people who are married with children will probably give their children the idea that marriage is often what you do with your life.  So... there's that.

Anyhow, I didn't mean to wax so eloquent.  I just read the article whilst I was reading up on things (that's another thing--I sort of didn't look at any blogs or anything while I was away, so now I'm looking back to see what I may have missed over the last three months) and thought I would share it.  The actual point of this entire long-winded point was mostly to say that if you do want a good picture book about Princesses, I HIGHLY recommend the book The Princess and the Kiss.  As far a picture books about princesses go, it's pretty much my favorite.  So.  You should all read it.  And your children should read it.  It focuses less on the happily ever after and more on purity.  Which I guess leads to the happily ever after, in this case.  But anyhow, as far as storybook lessons go, it's a good one.

PS, if any of this has offended you, as not being empowering enough to women, I'm... sorry?

Also...

I sort of forgot.  I went to the Rose Parade this year--

--I say this year like it's something I've always meant to go to and just didn't get a chance until this year.  False.  I didn't even know what it was until I was informed the people we were staying with were going, and that meant that I was going, too.  I had to have it explained to me.  Yeah.  That's how much I know about things related to sports.--

--and took some photos.  As you can see, it is a parade.  Called the Rose Parade.  People carried around those letters stating such.  So... that was exciting.  Actually, it was very interesting.  All of the floats were made from natural things, such as, you know, roses or whatever.

The actual interesting part was that we camped out on the sidewalk before the parade.  And when I say, "before the parade," what I mean is "for the entire NIGHT before the parade."  Not my idea.  But anyhow, one of those blue lumps is me, sleeping soundly.  I slept pretty much all night, because I have magical sleeping abilities, pretty much.  I'm sorry for everyone else who apparently can't sleep on sidewalks, but when I'm tired, I sleep.  It's awesome.

This last photo was me waking up in the morning.  I don't know if you can tell, but I look... like I just woke up.  I literally rolled out of bed and ta-da! there was the parade.  We were right on the street, so when all the police cars came by and stuff started happening, I woke up and got a front row seat.

I... will probably never do that again.  Even though I did sleep fairly soundly for six hours, I didn't think it was worth the six hours.  Then again, I was the girl at the parade who was saying, "Wait, the Rose Bowl is today? I've heard about that!  Football, right?"  I had no idea who was playing in the Rose Bowl or even that the Rose Parade was somehow related to the Rose Bowl.  Truth be told, I probably didn't deserve to be there.  Other, more worthy sports fans will cry at this account.  I'm sorry, sports fans.  It just sort of... happened.

Remember me?

So... I've been avoiding this blog for a while.  I went on a trip in December, and then in January I was busy literally all the time, and then in February, well, I was gone all month, and now that it's March I kept thinking that I should update this, but then I thought, well, it's not vital, besides, I have nothing to say, and so finally I put it on my to-do list.  I love to-do lists, and I hate to have items unfinished.  So, apparently, I should have put it on my to-do list long ago.  Perhaps you would have heard from me sooner.

Back to the trips I took.  One might think, me being a reasonably smart girl, I would have brought my camera with me on my various trips.  You would be correct.  One might assume, being that I went to (I think) 21 states and one Canadian province, that I might have actually used my camera.

In that, my friends, you would be wrong.  I took some pictures in Texas.  And... that was all.  And the only reason I took pictures in Texas was because I saw a sign stating that the area was under CCTV surveillance.  Anyone who has been to England will laugh, because if there's one thing England knows how to do, it's now to surveil its people.  True story.  The average Briton, they say, it photographed 300 times a day.  You'd believe it, if you saw how many camera they have over there.

Anyhow, all that to say, I laughed, and had to take a picture of the sign.  Some random rest stop in Texas is allowed to keep tabs on me, I don't care, but I thought it was a good timey throwback to days in England.

Anyhow, other than that, I have no interesting pictures to share.  Oh, except I did take a picture of some art of Texas at the same rest stop, simply because I was, you know, taking pictures.  So please, accept this last picture of Texas and accept my apology for not updating this for the past three months or so.