“Don't feel entitled to anything you didn't sweat and struggle for.” --Marian Wright Edelman

So I have a problem at work.  Well, not necessarily a problem, but a frustration.  There is one employee who hinted yesterday that he would really like some jam or preserves to be provided for his toast in the morning, as we already have butter.  True, the company does provide basic condiments from time to time like butter, ketchup, mayo, and mustard, but beyond that, it's pretty much up to everyone else.  Well, he asked yesterday, and this morning, there was no jam, jelly, or preserves available for his toast.  Therefore, he griped about it under his breath while I was heating up my hot-pocket.

This is also the same person who gripes about running out of coffee and sugar, when he drinks at least a pot of coffee every day, while everyone else has one or two cups.  What he can't seem to understand is that the only thing the company is required to supply is good drinking water--which we do.  There is a water cooler with no fewer than four FULL bottles sitting next to it at all times.  All requirements have therefore been met.  If the company runs out of coffee, it is unfortunate, and will soon be rectified, but it is nothing to have a hissy fit over.  If we run out of sugar (as we do every week because someone is stealing 2.5 pounds of sugar at a time), it is again unfortunate, but nothing to raise a ruckus for days over.  And if the company does not provide you jam, then oh well.  That is not the company's obligation.

My frustration, I think, is his sense of entitlement.  Actually, I think it's the overall sense of entitlement around here.  Everyone here, who works for a construction materials testing lab, feels entitled to 8-5 hours.  The construction world doesn't work 8-5 so neither do we.  Each feels entitled to the cush jobs that require almost nothing of you, and then complain about how much they get paid when they get them.  Of course, on the flip side, every contractor feels entitled to have his job placed at top priority on the books, because we have "a contract with them."  They know very well that we have a contract with all of our clients, and that we have a "24 hour notice" stipulation in every contract.  If we are not notified 24 hours in advance, we are not obligated to supply them with a tech.  So technically, if they have a nine a.m. pour, and they call at four p.m. the day before, we are not contractually obligated to make that job.  But they're entitled to one an hour from now.

Then again, I come from an entitled generation.  I blame the parents, not video games.  Well, I also partly blame the internet for instant gratification, which leads to entitlement, but mostly I blame parents.  Your kid is not entitled to everything.  They are entitled to live free of abuse with plenty of food, and if you can't provide that for them, then they are entitled to get it from a caring foster parent.  Of course, I believe that you are not entitled to take them back, but must earn them back, but I'm not in charge.  Otherwise, your kids are not entitled to anything.  They are not entitled to go to the best school.  They are not entitled to go to college.  It's unfortunate but true.  By "entitling" kids to things they have no right claiming, we are robbing them of their natural talents and capabilities.  God did not create us with no purpose.  We all have one, but we also all have to work to fulfill them.

God also did not promise us comfort, so we are not entitled to a comfortable life.  Those who promise that you will have wealth if you just follow God are lying.  What God does promise, is to never leave you (Matthew 28:20).  He is always watching you (Psalm 33:18). And he does promise that HIS joy, not the world's joy, will come to you (Psalm 30:4-5).  THAT, beloved, is what God promises those who seek him.

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas" --Bing Crosby singing Irving Berlin's classic

That's a lie.  I am doing no such thing.  I would never dream of a white Christmas at such a southern locale.  I have decided to never go through a snow in a place not equipped with snow plows ever again.  It really stinks.  And since I'm dreaming of spending Christmas at my parents house (in scenic Mobile, AL), I am decidedly not dreaming of a White Christmas.

Had Christmas early with my friends on Sunday night since Kim left yesterday.  Kim had picked out and received her present when we went shopping on November 14, so there was nothing for me to wrap up for her. I got Hayden a tank for Munson his fish along with some black rocks to go along the bottom (Munson is Georgia red, the rocks are black, and apparently somebody Munson is the "Voice of the Dawgs" or some such name).  For Justin, I got a Blockbuster gift card, as hardly a week goes by when he's not going to Blockbuster.  I picked the one with a heat sensitive spot that is supposed to help you pick out what kind of movie you wanna watch.

Justin got Hayden WWII the complete DVD set (from History Channel or something) and Kim got him the Office DVD game.  Hayden didn't go shopping yet, what with graduation and entertaining family members and whatnot.

Kim got me the hardware I wanted for my chiforobe (or however you spell that ridiculous word).  They're bronze-finished and they look like they have green glass handles.  Justin got me Beatles glasses which rock.  He remembered that I liked the Beatles, which is true, though, I'm impressed because I've mentioned it maybe twice ever in our acquaintance.  It makes me want to hunt up that episode of the Power Puff Girls where they speak in nothing but Beatles lyrics.  That's my favorite episode.

“Most hard-boiled people are half-baked.” --Wilson Mizner

I make phenomenal cheddar-garlic biscuits.  No, really, I do.  They taste a whole stinkin' lot like Red Lobster's, but are actually way easier than the recipe that Red Lobster published.  Want it?  Okay.  Here goes.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flower
• 2 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 heaping tablespoon white sugar
• 1 stick chilled butter, chopped into little chunks
• 1 1/4 cup whole milk
• 2 teaspoons garlic powder (plus a pinch)
• 1 1/4 cups of shredded cheddar cheese

Steps:

1. Preheat an oven to 450° F or 230°C
2. Mix all powdered ingredients together (flower, baking powder, slat, sugar, and garlic).
3. Toss in the little chunks of butter and stir them into the dry mixture.  Don't worry about them blending, just make sure they're roughly evenly dispersed.
4. Pour in shredded cheddar cheese, and mix evenly.
5. Pour in ALL the milk, and stir until mixture is consistently sticky throughout (note: cheese and butter should still be distinguishable, but evenly dispersed).
6. On a baking stone or a greased cookie sheet spoon dollop-sized globs (or whatever size you prefer), making sure to leave room between them (they may double in width).  
7. Cook at 450° for eight minutes (for littler biscuits) or ten minutes (for larger biscuits).  Pull out of the oven when cheese is brown and bread is a dark yellow/light gold color.  

Caveats:

• I have never made these on a cookie sheet, so watch them carefully.  I only use my stone, and I know it cooks differently.
• If you have a stone, let it sit on the stone a little while after taking the stone out, to let the bottom cook more thoroughly.  Then, you should be able to lift the biscuits easily with a fork (works so much better than my spatula).
• You may want to go a little heavier on the garlic (depending on your affinity for garlic), or you may want to substitute some with seasoning salt (to give flavor without all the garlic).

And that's it.  You may have never made biscuits without Bisquik before, but this recipe is almost as easy as making regular Bisquik biscuits.  The ONLY time consuming thing is dicing the stick of butter, but it's still pretty easy.  Dicing the butter is best in this recipe, because as the butter melts, it gives that fantastic taste.  The official "authentic" Red Lobster recipe calls for you to baste the tops of Bisquik biscuits, which is honestly no fun. And yes, Red Lobster really did release that recipe themselves.  If you'd like to try it, here it is:

Dough:

• 1 1/4 lbs. Bisquik
• 3 Oz. freshly shredded cheddar cheese
• 11 Oz. cold water

Garlic Spread:

• 1/2 cup melted butter
• 1 teas. garlic powder
• 1/4 teas. salt
• 1/8 teas. onion powder
• 1/8 teas. dried parsley

Steps:

1. To cold water, add Bisquik and cheese, blending in a mixing bowl.
2. Mix until dough is firm.
3. Using a small scoop, place the dough on a baking pan lined with baking paper. 
4. Bake in 375 degree oven for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. 
5. While biscuits bake, combine spread ingredients.
6. Brush baked biscuits with the garlic topping.

Told you mine was easier.  

"Is not the festive season when families and friends exchange gifts in memory of The Gift...to send forth the good tidings of great joy into all the earth?' --Lottie Moon

I was talking one day with a Christian friend about Lottie Moon, and she didn't know who Lottie was.  I was scandalized.  It took me a moment to remember that Lottie was a Baptist, so if you're not Baptist you probably don't know who she is.  Of course, there are many Baptists who were never GA's or in the WMU so they never learned WHO Lottie was, they just heard her name at Christmas time when the church was begging money for the foreign missionaries.

The whole concept of not knowing who that amazing personage was is a bit traumatizing to me.  I hold her on high as a beacon.  I know we should strive to be like Jesus, but sometimes we need a flesh-and-blood model to watch.  For me, it's Lottie Moon.

She was a single missionary to China in a time when no single lady did anything.  She was born in Viriginia in 1840, and was a rascally young lady.  She was a prankster who hated authority and loved fun.  At eighteen, her mother's prayers were finally answered and she surrendered to God.  She went to college and became a teacher, before finally at age 33 accepting the call to go to China.

She stuck out sorely when she first arrived in China, despite the fact that she was only 4' 3" tall.  She still wore her American clothes.  The Chinese people, afraid of her differences, called her the "Foreign Devil."

Lottie was perplexed on how to make friends with the Chinese people.  She took two major actions to help bridge that gap.  The first, was to dress like them.  Paul said that he became all things to all people so that he might reach some.  Lottie did no different.  By donning the clothes of those around her, she was able to show them that she was willing to meet them were they were.

Her second major action, was that she won the hearts of the Chinese children.  How does one do that?  You feed them yummy things.  She started to make tea cookies for all the children in the villages she worked with.  After making pals with the children, they would invite her home to meet their mothers.  Through these relationships, she won people to Christ, and people stopped calling her the "Foreign Devil."   They started calling her the "Cookie Lady," instead.  And I don't know about you, but I can deal with being called the "Cookie Lady."  In fact, I have been called the "Brownie Lady" before.

She served the people of China for nearly forty years--through hardships, wars, and famine.  In fact, at one point she was giving away all of her food to her Chinese friends, knowing that she could do with less.  Unfortunately, her heart was larger than her needs.  In 1912 her missionary friends found out that she had nearly starved herself to death (she weighed only 50 pounds).  They put her on a ship against her will to take her back to the states to see proper doctors.  She died, though, on the ship while they were docked in Kobe Japan, still close to her to beloved China, on Christmas Eve.

What an awesome testimony.  In 1912, 72 wasn't particularly young.  She had lived a long, full life, and she had lived all but eighteen years of it for God.  Nearly forty were spent sharing with those who had never heard the Good News of Jesus.  And then, she died on the day before we celebrate the Lord's birth, after starving herself to death for others.  I think we could all do worse than Lottie.

Every year, the WMU (Women's Missionary Union) has a special offering time in the month of December to take up money for the International Missions Board.  In 1887, Lottie wrote to a foreign missions journal, asking for a time of giving to be set aside for foreign missions.  The ladies of the Baptist world took this as a rallying cry and formed the Women's Missionary Union (an auxilliary to the Southern Baptist Church), with the purpose to educate women and children about missions.  They also set aside the Christmas season to collect money for missionaries--just as Lottie asked.  The very first Christmas Offering was collected in 1888, and the grand total rang up to $3,315 (which would be worth about $77,000 today).  This was enough money to send three new missionaries to China.  Ever since then, the WMU has hosted a Christmas Offering.  In 1919, Annie Armstrong, the founder of the WMU, suggested that the Christmas Offering be named in Lottie's honor.  In 1926, the name change was official, and ever since then, the WMU has sponsored the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering.

I think about her alot this time of year.  I grew up in GA's, the WMU's program for young girls, and Lottie and Annie were our heroes.  They changed the world in a time when women didn't change anything.  They reminded us that our contributions, large and small, mattered--to God if to no one else.  Lottie was a miscreant and a trouble maker that no one ever thought would amount to anything.  But she did.

We're going caroling as a church next Wednesday, and returning for hot-cocoa and cookies.  I think I'll make some of Lottie Moon's tea cookies, though I think I'm just going to modify the measurements of her original recipe instead of making the "redone" recipe that the WMU provides.

Sources: 
IMB's Letter Archive (archives some of Lottie's letters)
Measuring Worth (value of money conversion)
Article on Lottie Moon (Wikipedia--the internet's most reliable resource.)
WMU's Lottie Moon Focus (Facts about Lottie, the Christmas Offering, and Cookie Recipe)

"Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 -- a date that will live in infamy..." --FDR

Or maybe just a date that sometimes flutters across the consciousness of America whenever the latest movie depicting the attack on Pearl Harbor comes out, and even then, the headlining actors are more memorable than the actual date.  I dug out my "Remember Pearl Harbor" pin, which is my favorite because it has an actual pearl in stead of the word pearl on the pin.  I pinned it on, and no one noticed.  It's frustrating.  Unless you're the History Channel or Turner Classic Movies, the day just slides right by with absolutely no notice.

I get upset, and I don't really know why, because I shouldn't expect any different.  I mean, it's not this generation's cause, and all those who remember are dying.  My grandfather was there, and he was an active member of the Pearl Harbor Survivor's.  Now their sons and daughters are taking over, but it's petering out altogether.  I don't expect people to know that army bases, like Fort Benning, were also attacked, not just the naval ships.  I don't expect them to know about both waves, and how the island was completely cut off from the main land out of fear, or how the people were half starving and the army lived off of pineapples in pineapple plantation.

I just wish they...remembered.  Though, I completely less 9/11 and the anniversary of Katrina pass by without acknowledgement.  It's not that I belittle their experiences...they just weren't mine.  Yes, I was alive for both, but I feel completely removed.  Even living in New Orleans, I felt removed from Katrina.  It wasn't my tragedy, and I can't put those shoes on.  However, I have a little Hawaiian dust that's nearly seventy years old on my shoes.

My grandfather died when I was eight.  Only eight.  I remember how much he loved me, though.  One thing he never talked about was the war.  A church member asked him to talk about it while he recorded it on video, which he did before he died.  To my knowledge, it was the only time he talked about it.  I watched the video, and my heart was torn in two.  That wasn't just a man on a TV.  That was MY grandfather.  He watched the skies rain down fire for two hours.  He was so close to his attackers that he could see their mustaches.  He lived illegally off of pineapples from a plantation because he was dropped there with the rest of his unit, and told that someone would return for them.  But no one did.  Not for a long time.

Maybe that's it.  Maybe it's the personal connection.  Even still, though, I know plenty of people whose whole worlds were changed by Katrina.  Is it because I walked in expecting that?  I never expected to be so moved by my grandfather's story, so when I was, it floored me.  Maybe because I loved him so much before I was aware.  I love my friends who survived Katrina, but they were already survivors in my eyes.  My grandfather wasn't until after he died.  Then again, maybe because no else has forgotten Katrina, I don't get offended, as I do with Pearl Harbor.

In Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South, Margaret Hale befriends those beneath her class in a mill-town in late nineteenth century northern England.  The inner city is horrid and crowded.  But as she makes friends, her opinion changes of the town.  At one point, she rushes to the rough side of town, running late for a visit with one of her new friends.

"As she went along the crowded narrow streets, she felt how much of interest they had gained by the simple fact of her having learnt to care for a dweller in them."

I guess that's why no one cares about Pearl Harbor survivors anymore.  They just don't know any.  I suppose I'm the last guard.

"Dawn: when men of reason go to bed." --Ambrose Bierce

I can't sleep.  Not really.  For some reason, it is fifty percent elusive.  I'm just awake enough to not be able to sleep, but I can hardly get anything done sensibly--like typing.  I apologize in advance for any mistakes ahead of time.  I'm just sleepy.  But not sleepy enough to sleep.  So I'm wakey?  Slakey?

One thing I've noticed is that I'm mostly frustrated right now, which makes me want to cry, which is totally unproductive in this case.  Crying will do nothing for me at this point.  My eyes are already sore, and that doesnt' help me sleep.

Kim and I found a Christmas tree today.  We found a fifty dollar tree at Big Lots that I quite like.  It's full enough, though a little thin, and plenty tall enough.  Too much taller, and we wouldn't be able to fit it in the living room.  All in all, it's the best thing for that price.

"Santa Claus has the right idea: visit people once a year." --Victor Borge

I was thoroughly traumatized as a child.  For some reason, I have always been afraid of people dressing up as other people/things.  For example, when we first moved to Pinson, Alabama, a Little Caesar's Pizza opened up on the same strip as our grocery store.  One day, my mother took me on what should have been a boring and mundaine grocery run, and it turned into one of the most traumatic events of my life.  As part of their grand opening, they hired someone to dress up in a Little Caesar's mascot costume thing (like Mickey Mouse but Little Caesar), and pass out pizza coupons at the nearby grocery store, namely the grocery store we went to most often.  And then, horror of horrors, he tried to touch me!  Not in a creepy way, just in a "Hey there little kid who normally likes giant characters" kind of way.  But I spazzed.  Mom said that for weeks after when we would get close to Food Giant, I would say, "No Caesar Man?"  And she would say, "No Caesar Man," and pray that she was right. 

Therefore, it should be obvious that I didn't like Santa.  But Momma had to have her Santa picture every year.  The results are hysterical.

That was my first Santa picture.  I look so pleased.  Look, they even tried to get me to hold a teddy bear to distract me.  Didn't work out.  Mind you, I was nearly a year old (my birthday isn't long after Christmas), so I knew that he was a creeper.

That's my mom trying to hold me down.  You can see her black hair if you look closely.  Notice how I tried to run away from Santa, yet she determinedly held me down.  I was nearly two and that was only a few months before the "No Caesar Man" incident.

Nearly three-years-old and I'm still not happy, though, not screaming.  The truly traumatic part came after this picture.  You see, at our church, Mr. Jim was the one who always dressed up every year as Santa (in fact, that's him in the picture).  He loved kids, he was the right size (tall but portly), and he had the costume.  So, we would have a Santa photo night at church.  That was the first year that I really understood, though, that Santa would come into my house.  So, for a few days after the photo, I would periodically panic about Santa coming into the house.  My mom PROMISED me he wouldn't come when I was awake, and he wouldn't bother me while I was asleep, so I never had to look at him.  She also promised that he would only come on Christmas Eve while I was asleep.  That was the year, though, that Mr. Jim started spending his Christmas Eve paying visits as Santa at the homes of various church members with children.  Most parents and children found this delightful--the children because they got a surprise from Santa, and the parents because the surprise was from a friend they could trust.  Mother said her heart dropped when he showed up on our doorstep.  I.  Flipped.  Out.  Santa had come while I was awake!  And it wasn't even bedtime yet!  Fortunately Mr. Jim had the good sense to drop the charade and took off his hat and beard to show me that it was just him. I calmed down appropriately as he told me that he was just one of Santa's helpers, and dressed up to pass out messages from Santa to all of the kids in Pinson.  He was just one man, after all, and couldn't be everywhere at once.  I calmed down, gave him a hug, and then clung to my mother after he left.  I think she had to lay down in my bed with me until I fell asleep that year.

Almost four here, and we finally got a smile.  I knew it was Mr. Jim, though I was sworn to secrecy, so I didn't spazz.  To my knowledge, that is the best Santa picture of me ever.  I can still remember that year being at preschool and not wanting my picture made.  At my preschool, every year they would take us into the small auditorium (my preschool was at a large church), and they fed us donuts and milk while we waited for our turn to get a picture with Santa.  After you got a picture with Santa, they gave you a candy cane for being such a good boy or girl (they really wanted us to be hyper, didn't they?).  I can remember mom and I discussing the fact that I didn't have to get my picture made with Santa, and that she wouldn't be sad if I didn't.  I can also remember waffling, because I wanted to be like the other kids and come back with a candy cane (even though I didn't like peppermint then).  I can remember getting in and out of line a half-dozen times.  I don't remember what I actually did in the end, though.

Oh childhood Christmas memories.  How traumatic.

"Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade." --do I really have to tell you?

So, Norco definitely has the greatest parades ever.  I mean, truly.  I know, I know, you're thinking, "but Norco only has like on road!"  Well, that's not entirely the truth.  We have two, and the parade goes up one and down the other.  So there.

But seriously, it was fantastic!  We had the parade staples like marching bands, floats, local festival queens sitting on convertibles, shriners in dune buggies, fire trucks, Santa Claus, dance schools, horses (though, ours had fleur-de-lis painted on their hooves), and so on.  BUT Norco had some other fantastic additions to the Christmas parade.  Such as...

A taekwondo school!  And...wait for it....

Darth Vader.  Yes, Darth Vader.  Apparently the Bast Alpha Garrison of the 501st Legion made an appearance at the Norco Christmas parade--because nothing says "holiday special" like Star Wars...

Ugh.  Now I have to block that movie out all over again.

Anyway, the 501st Legion (otherwise known as "Vader's Fist") is "The World's Definitive Imperial Costuming  Organization."  Epically.  Awesome.  I didn't get a shot of them, but there were also storm troopers and like a grand moff or something (whatever grand moff Tarkin was).  It was incredible.  According to their website, the Bast Alpha Garrison is committed to "Protecting Louisiana from Rebel Scum."  Does it get any better?

But, after seeing them walk down Apple Street, I thought, "The next best thing to happen at a parade besides ninja vs. pirate, would be taekwondo kids vs. imperial troops."  It should happen.  I'm making a petition for next year.

Besides the beaucoup beads, I caught a three black and gold cups, a bendable Christmas tree, a do-it-yourself edible snowman kit (a.k.a. a package of marshmallows), a rubber tomahawk, and an alien cow.

Jury's still out as to his name.  But look at him!  He's green.  And on Farmville, green cows are alien cows.  So that obviously means that this one is, too.

If you'd like to check out the websites for the Star Wars folks, here they are:
Bast Alpha Garrison
501st Legion

"The burned hand teaches best." --J.R.R. Tolkien

No, dear Tolkien, not in my case.  I don't think I shall ever learn.  Yes, I have burned myself again.  I endeavored to take a photo of it for the world to see.  It's mediocre at best, and since I forgot to take it last night, not quite as impressive.

The pink swooping mark that is easier to see on the side near the pencil is my latest burn.  I made it on the sandwhich maker last night.  I wanted grilled cheese sandwhiches for dinner, and for whatever ridiculous reason, I closed it at a funny angle, and it grazed my arm as it shut.

I held in a cry, Kim asked me if I wanted ice, I nodded, and Justin was confused.  He asked me what I did, and I said, "What I do best!  Burn myself."  He told me, quite logically, to stop burning myself.  If only it were that easy!  I don't do it on purpose.  I just do it often, and never on the same thing twice.  So, sandwhich maker, check!

The burn starts at about an inch below my wrist and continues for another inch.  Fortunately, it doesn't hardly hurt today, which could be because I sat with a lunch-box cold pack on it while we played board games last night.

"And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovah-jireh. As it is said to this day, In the mount of Jehovah it shall be provided." --Genesis 22:14

A long time ago, there was Abraham.  And God promised Abraham that he would make his family into a great nation, so long as his family followed God.  There was one little problem, though.  Abram and his wife Sarah were old, and they had never had babies.  It's kind of hard for God to multiply your family into a nation when there are no children in the mix.  After years of waiting and mistakes, though, God gave them a baby named Isaac.  And they loved him.

One day, God asked Abraham to take Isaac to the mountain to sacrifice him.  Isaac, his precious boy whom he had waited decades for.  But Abraham trusted God.  He knew that God would provide regardless of what happened.  When Abraham placed Isaac on the altar, and brought the blade to his throat, God stopped him.  You see, God was testing his faithfulness, and Abraham had passed.  God told Abraham that there was a ram in the bushes.  He took it to the altar and sacrificed it instead of Isaac.  And he was so happy.

"And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovah-jireh. As it is said to this day, In the mount of Jehovah it shall be provided." Genesis 22:14

The very site where he nearly killed his son became a place of great rejoicing for Abraham.  God had provided, as he always shall!

Now, I don't have a son, or a daughter, and I don't offer sacrifices like Abraham did under the new covenant of grace.  I do, however, have needs.

Money's been a little tight lately.  Not "I can't pay my rent" tight, but tight enough to make me sweat, and not eat out.  Well, I made my lunch last night, and popped it in the fridge, so I wouldn't have to go out for lunch (I normally bring my lunch just because I hate going out at lunch time, but this week, I couldn't really afford to anyway).  I remembered when I walked into the office this morning that I forgot my lunch box.  I asked God to provide my lunch, and if he did not, I knew that he would make my paycheck stretch that far.

At 10:45 a.m. Tommy, one of our techs walks in and beelines to my desk.  I look up at him, and ask if I can help him.  Tommy's a great guy.  He works hard to support his son (he's divorced), he always shows up on time, he never gripes about early hours, and I know that I can count on him.  He also moonlights at Papa John's.

So, as I was saying, he walks in, and stands at my desk, and I ask him what I can do for him, and he says, "There's some pizza in the break room."  How about that!  From time to time, Tommy brings leftover pizza to the office for us.  He hasn't done it in a while, and I had almost forgotten, but God, in his provision, sent Tommy with pizza.  He brought in buffalo wings, chicken tenders, applie pie pastry pizza stuff, pepperoni and mushroom pizza (my favorite!), and chicken/sausage/pepperoni/jalapeno pizza.  Tell me my God isn't awesome!  He even sent my favorite pizza.

You might think it's silly to get so excited about a meal, but I don't want to overlook the little things.  And right now, even the dollar menu isn't that little.

Thank you God for providing my "daily bread"!  Thank you for giving me what my heart desired, not just the bare essentials.  You are an awesome, wonderful, and loving father who not only wants me to be fed, but happy, too.

Location : 4300-4398 Seminary Pl, New Orleans, LA 70126,

"But the Lord said to him, 'What are you doing here Elijah?'" --1 Kings 19:9b

Tomorrow night at church, I'm talking about one my favorite Old Testament stories.  Many people look right over it because you see the Lord's hand working more overtly in the section before and after it.  It takes place in 1 Kings 19:9-18.

In 1 Kings 18, the Bible relates the story of the contest on Mt. Carmel.  In an outward show of God's power, Elijah challenges the prophets of Ba'al to a contest.  They set up two altars with wood, and, both sides call on their respective God to light the wood on fire.  Ba'al, of course, does not answer the petitions of his people, but God does answer Elijah--so much so that the very rock of the altar is consumed in the flames.  Elijah then leads the people in the destruction of Ba'al's prophets.

At that time Jezebel was the queen, and she was adamant Ba'al worshiper, and vindictive to boot.   She sends a message to Elijah and tells him that he will before the next day comes to a close.

Then, Elijah, the last prophet of God, the one who has been faithful, the one who was fed by ravens in the wilderness, the one who had just seen that very day God's power exhibited through fire, got scared and ran.  He ran back to the southern kingdom, out of Jezebel's reach, and then went into the wilderness, most likely making it harder for her agents to find him.

Unbelievably tired, he sat down underneath a single broom tree, and asked to die, like all of God's faithful workers who had come before him.  But God has a better idea.  He sent an angel to Elijah with food and water.  He told him to eat and drink, and then Elijah went to sleep.  After he woke up, the angel told him again to eat and drink so that he could be strong for the journey ahead.

Elijah walked for forty days, and finally arrived at Mt. Sinai.  The thing you need to know about Mt. Sinai is that it's were God hung out in those days, and Elijah would have known that.

He found a cave on the mountain and went inside.  While he was in the cave, God asked him, "What are you doing here Elijah?"

Elijah responded by saying, "I have zealously served the Lord God almighty.  But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars and killed every one of your prophets.  I am the only one left and now they are trying to kill me, too."

God then told Elijah to come out because he was going to pass by.  As the Lord passed by Mt. Sinai, there was a mighty and terrible windstorm that tore rocks down from the mountain.  But God was not in the wind.  Then, there was an earthquake that shook the entire mountain, but God was not in the earthquake.  Then, there was a fire that licked at the rocks of the mountain, but God was not in the fire, like he had been at Mt. Carmel.  Then, after the windstorm, after the earthquake, and after the fire, there was a gentle whisper.  Elijah took his cloak and covered his face, and finally walked to the mouth of the cave as God had asked him to.

A voice asked, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"  And again, Elijah replied, "I have zealously served the Lord God Almighty.  But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars and killed every one of your prophets.  I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me, too."

You see, God was not in the windstorm, and he was not in the earthquake, and he was not in the fire.  He was that small, gentle voice, so eager to talk to his child.  Up until Jezebel's threat, Elijah had been a doer.  He had moved, moved, moved, and moved, with God's direction.  He listened, even when he didn't know how God was going to work things out.  But when Jezebel threatened him, it shook him up.  He forgot all that he knew about God, so God had to reveal himself in a new way--one that Elijah had never looked for.  God was the still small voice reaching out to him.

So often, we look for the writing on the wall, and we miss the whisper in our ear.  Both are ways that God may choose to talk to us.  In fact, he often chooses the quieter ways to speak to us, but many times we are too busy or too worried or too scared to listen.

After Elijah answered the second time, God told him to go back the way he came, and do certain things like anointing kings and picking a successor.  Elijah obeyed, and finally got back on track.  God had always had a plan for him, but Elijah was so upset, he didn't stop to listen.  So, God had to do some radical things to grab his attention.  And after the dust settled, God was in the small voice, and Elijah was ready to listen.

I'm going to challenge you do something knew.  The next time you pray, or have your quiet time, I want you to sit straight up in your chair, focus on a wall, and be completely silent.  Let your thoughts be quiet,and listen.  Just listen.  If a thought about your surroundings distracts you (like that crack in your wall above the window), acknowledge the thought, let it pass, and continue to listen.  One whole minute.  Set a timer if you need to.  Do that every day for a week.  Then , the next week, do it for two minutes every day.  That's all.  Just ask God to reveal what he would like you to know, and sit still and listen.  You might be surprised what he has to say.

When God asked Elijah what he was doing there, he already new why Elijah had run.  What he wanted Elijah to see, though, was that he ran without consulting God.  That in a moment of fear, he stopped listening to God's instructions.  God had never told him to run to the wilderness.  Where are you right now?  What has God been asking you to do?  Are you running when you should be staying?  Or are you staying when you should be leaving?

What would you say if God asked, "What are you doing here?"  He may ask you that even when you're right where you need to be, just to make sure you understand where you need to be.  Then again, he may ask you because you need to rethink your path.  So, what are you doing here?

"I burn, I pine, I perish." --William Shakespeare

So, I've decided to keep a log of every time I burn myself.  In the last fifteen months I have burned myself more times than I have in the 22 years prior (excluding sun burns).  Last year I burned myself on hot glue (twice), a hair straightener, a bag of steamed vegetables, a fresh batch grits, water from the sink (not the stove), and my iron.  Thusfar, this school year, I have burned myself on the oven, my cooking stone, and yesterday, the Corningware.  I was making cinnamon bread for the kiddos at church, and had an unfortunate run-in with the surface.  At this rate, I am not going to have finger prints.  Forget sun damage, life damage is going to be the end of me.

"The language of truth is simple." --Seneca

Louisiana Lingo time!  Today's word is: "hum."

hum (hŭm) v. 1. to throw with great force.

This may be my favorite word that I've acquired  since moving to Louisiana, and  unlike "come see," this one is actually on UrbanDictionary.

One night at church, I told the kids they could play with the water baton with the stipulation that they not chuck it across the room (my own Alabama term for "throwing with great force").  They were greatly confused, but fortunately Mrs. Jackie was there to help us understand one another.  After explaining what I meant, Mrs. Jackie said, "Oh, we would say, 'don't hum it' instead." 

Apparently "hum" comes from the sound an object makes when thrown with great force--like you threw it so hard it hummed.  It is a standard verb in these parts, and I love telling my kids at church, "Don't hum it," or "Johnny, you can sit out this round for humming the ball." 

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn." --C.S. Lewis

So, I fancy myself a moderately experienced adult, who is capable of doing many things and making many different decisions with an acceptable amount of success.  Nothing to brag about, but certainly capable.  I have learned, though, several things today.

• The best way to carry one's new cranberry colored tweed knee length jacket to one's second floor apartment is to wear it.
• The best way to carry one's new blanket to one's second floor apartment is to strap it to one's duffel bag.
• The best way to carry one's 17" x 32" framed print to one's second floor apartment is not to carry it wrapped up in one's favorite pink bedspread, but sometimes you just have to.

Being born in the mid-eighties, I have absolutely no adult experience with paper grocery sacks.  By the time that I had any purchasing power, the choice was not "paper or plastic" but "plastic or cloth bags you brought with you."  As such, I've made interesting discoveries after visiting the Aldi in Trussville, Alabama.

• Double bagging is a good thing.
• Carrying paper bags full of cans up to one's second floor apartment is neither easy nor pleasurable.
• Carrying paper bags full of cans up to one's second floor apartment is hazardous as there is nothing by which to grab on to said bags except for paper sides.
• Regardless of how sturdy of a grip one feels one has when one starts to carry paper bags up to one's second floor apartment, the bags will always slide down one's new cranberry colored tweed knee length jacket towards the ground.
• Sequined zebra ballet flats do not protect one's toes from 30 oz cans of pinto beans.

Aldi is one of those places with great prices, but you have to pay for bags.  As I had no more empty cloth bags, I thought that I would be both more economic AND greener if I used paper bags (which were four cents cheaper than plastic).  I now have a greater appreciation of both plastic bags and cloth bags--both for their strength, and one for it's ecological impact.

However, my pantry is now stocked, and cheaply so.

Oh, and I had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

"I am thankful..."

I am thankful for many things...

-my mom and dad who tell me I'm awesome and who taught me who Jesus is.

-my grandmother who lets me pilfer through her house for stuff and shows me how much she loves me by making my favorite food whenever I come over.

-my best friend who has been my best friend for 13 years and across three states.

-my church that loves me like I'm family.

-my kiddos at church even though they throw markers.

-my roommate because she's the perfect roommate.

-my friends even though they tease me.

-my cousins--even the one who stole my cake.

-my Jesus who loves me, warts and all.

"Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make life so, right in the middoe of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, drop a jar of applesauce." --Natalie Goldberg

Two important announcements:

1.) Applesauce is, in fact,  one word. I did not know this until today. Barbeque sauce is two words. I suppose that this is so because apples grow on trees and barbeque grows on lots of things.

2.) I have found a new love. Materne's GoGo Squeez Applesauce. It makes my heart happy and does NOT taste gross.

It also comes in an assortment of flavors, such as applepeach and applecinnamon.  I'm eager to find both in grocery stores.  This particular pouch of applesauce (see?  one word!) came from the impulse buy section while I was checking out at the grocery.  (I'm going native--instead of "the grocery store" I shall here on out refer to the establishment at which I purchase groceries as "the grocery" like the rest of south east Louisiana.)  There was only the original applesauce flavor in the pouches, but for 67¢, it was worth it. 

The roommate loves putting cinnamon in her applesauce, so I'll have to hunt down more flavors!

This particular pouch has additional decoration to make sure that no one else decided to eat it.  It is Karen's applesauce from the grocery.  Not anyone else's!

What's really neat is that it's resealable and spoon-free.  You can eat it with no hands!  It looks like it will be great snack for the next time I go kayaking.  You don't have to refrigerate until after you open it.  It's only sixty calories per package, but it's full of the healthy sugars your body needs when you're playing outside.  It has only two ingredients: apple and apple juice concentrate.  That's it!  Tiny pieces of apple and somewhat dehydrated apple juice.  Perfect for low blood-sugar attacks and over-tired muscles.

I just realized that I've been gushing about a little package of applesauce for 5+ paragraphs.  I need to go on vacation.  Rescue me Thanksgiving!

"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his love endures forever!" Psalm 107:1

It's almost Thanksgiving, which is my very favoritest holiday of all.  Don't get your holy panties in a twist, yes, I love Christmas, and yes, I love Easter, but I think that Thanksgiving encompasses the spirit of both.  Look at the pilgrims:

“The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.”  (H.U. Westermayer)

Let's face it, their first year in America was terrible.  They had no idea what they were getting into.  They were expecting the climate to be farm more similar to that of England's, but instead they found hotter summers, and colder winters.  That one fact served to unravel all of their preparations.  And yet, they were thankful.  Thankful to God for what he provided.

Thanksgiving is the least commercialized of all holidays (even though the day after Thanksgiving is the most commercial day of the year).  The only things you can spend money on is food and a pilgrim costume for your kid.  That's about all that can be done with it.  Do some people still overspend?  Yes, but that is not at all the spirit behind Thanksgiving.  At Thanksgiving, we gather together around the same table (or living room), and eat and bond.  Then we move on to watching football and bond over touchdowns and tummy aches.  That's it.  We get to hang out with our family and be thankful. 

And yes, I do quite enjoy Black Friday shopping.  No, I'm not one of those nut-jobs who would maul a lady for a Cabbage Patch Kid.  I just enjoy the hunt.  I don't even have to be buying anything for me or my Christmas list.  I enjoy helping my best friend find that "it" gift for her nephew.  I've been seven out of the last eight years, and I haven't been scared off, yet.  It helps, though, that my mother is equally thrilled by the hunt, and she's good at keeping morale high.

"There are 10 kinds of people in the world. Those who can read binary, and those who can't." --classic Geek joke

I am very sad that I missed Binary Day (10/10/10).  I know, fellow geeks, that more binary dates will occur, but 101010 is 42, so it was also 42 day.  However, I found this pic online, and nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

It's a binary birthday cake.  If you don't get it, I'm sorry, take solace in the fact that you are less geeky than I am.  If you're still curious, though, it's a 34th birthday cake.

Major shout-out to Oskay for this phenomenal project!  Check out how to make your own binary candle here.

"The whole thing about the women is, they lust to be misunderstood" --Will Rogers

Overheard this conversation today:

Mrs. Mary: I'm leaving early Friday.  I have a date.
Monique:  With Walter?
Mrs. Mary:  No, Walter's my son.
Monique:  I thought that was your husband's name, too.
Mrs. Mary:  My first husband, yeah.
Monique:  Oh, then you don't want to go with him.
Mrs. Mary:  He's deceased.
Monique:  Then you really don't want to go with him.

I love the office.

"You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." --CS Lewis

I'm venting some frustration again.  This time I've aimed a little lower--those who write children's curriculum for churches.  We all love the kids of our church, even those who don't like them.  Everyone wants to see them succeed (whether or not they have any desire to be a part of the process), and everyone wants to see them saved (see previous note).  I may be only speaking to the Baptist crowd at this point, so bear with me.  We know that there's a window from 4 to 14 that typically decides whether or not they are going to choose to follow God's plan for their life, and let him save them from their sins. In churches, those who actually bother to work with the children act in one of two ways: 1) they preach at them like they would adults, allowing the message to go completely over their heads, or 2) they dumb it down so that it's simple to understand, and sounds deceptively easy to boot.

I believe the first choice is the reason for the second choice.  Someone who has at least had one conversation with a kid thought, "Hm.  Kids are kinda concrete thinkers.  They don't get words like 'salvation' and 'repentance.'  They probably don't get this gospel message I'm trying to give.  I should use different, easier to understand words."  Their spirit and hearts were in the right place, but the result is less than pleasing.  They've managed to turn a seven-course meal into the little crackers with the cheese pit and the red stick to spread it around with.  Yummy, satisfying, healthier than most things, but not actual sustenance.  I'm not saying that "getting saved" is particular hard.  But being a Christian is hard, so it's therefore a tough decision with a simple process.  Yes, it is as easy as saying a prayer, but that's only the first step.

Think of when you were first learning to drive, and join me in this scene.  You buckle up, which is easy, because you've been doing that since you got out of your booster seat when you were five.  Sticking the keys in the ignition is cake, because you had seen your parents do it before, and they may have let you do it from time to time.  Finding the switch to turn on the lights is a little difficult, but Dad is there to guide you.  You adjust the mirrors just like he tells you to, revealing so many things you couldn't even see earlier.  Now, you are ready for the one glorious moment you've waited for since you were seven, and your sister started driving your mom's mini-van--you get to crank the car.  You hold your breath in eager anticipation of the rumbling beneath you, that is in your control entirely.  Dad's in the seat beside you, but you, yes you, with your braces, awkward knees and elbows, and volcanic zits are in control of the car.  The engine turns over, and you reach a level of ecstasy that is as frightening as it is invigorating.

Now, imagine Dad saying, "Okay, that's good.  We're done here."  You protest, "But Dad, we haven't gone anywhere yet?"  Dad replies, "That's okay.  You've cranked the car, and that's all there is to it.  Now you are free to enjoy your learner's permit."

You can know the driver's manual front cover to back, pass the written exam with flying colors, get in the car, crank it up, and still have no idea what to do, or what all is entailed in driving.  That scenario sounds dumb, because it is.  Cranking the car is simply the first step to driving.  Praying to "ask Jesus into your heart" is simply the first step to Christianity (after, of course, learning more about "the manual").  We get so focused on helping them make the first step, that we dumb it down, and reduce "becoming a Christian" to "saying a prayer" which is like reducing driving a car to cranking it.

Is it possible for a kid to figure out his way on his own?  Yes, just like it is possible for a kid to figure out how to drive on his own.  But think of all the wrecks, mishaps, and tickets a kid who is teaching himself to drive is likely to incur.  A fifteen-year-old boy is not very patient, and is ready to leap from "Caleb Smith" to "Mario Andretti" in fifteen minutes.  In the same way, many kids may try to jump to saint-hood, or, not even be aware that more is required of them than "cranking the car."

If you are teaching your kid to drive, you are going to make sure he understands all the responsibilities that are entailed.  He has to be aware of how much speeding tickets cost, what his insurance is going to cost, how much it will go up if he wrecks his car, how much he will have to pay for a new car, how valuable his life is, how valuable the lives of those around him are, and how he is responsible for all of those things.  A car is not just freedom, but responsibility.  It is not for him to misuse, but to use wisely.  Driving himself to school is a great idea, but driving himself to parties where he will simply get in trouble is not a great idea, and not why he has the car.

However, when it comes to salvation, the same child will be taught that Jesus wants to take his sins away because he loves him no matter what, and all he has to do is his ABC's--Admit that he has sinned; Believe that Jesus Christ died for him; and Confess his sins to God, and confess Jesus as his savior.  That's it.  And he will probably accept this message to make his parents happy and to clear his conscience of his guilt.  In fact, all he thinks that "confessing Jesus as his savior" means is "saying Jesus is his savior."  No commitment, no responsibilities, just reward.

Why on earth are we doing this to our kids?  I remember when the ABC's stood for "Admit, Believe, and Commit," which honestly I prefer, because it actually does imply some responsibility on the Christian's part,  but it still watered down the most important message in the world to three words.  When I ask kiddos at church how to become a Christian, despite our best intentions, they still yell "Admit, Believe, Confess!"  That's it.  Three words that don't even form a sentence.  Three words that in a vacuum can mean anything--admit that your sister has cooties, believe that her cooties are deadly, and confess your belief of her cooties to everyone you come into contact with.  I can only assume that their parents latched onto the ABC's years ago, and that they're hearing it at home, because none of us in the kids' department teach them that message.

We treat the salvation of our children as either a matter of course, or a nursery rhyme.  We've all been taught "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep," but that's hardly a confession of faith.  So why do we expect the ABC's to be much better?  This is no trifling matter, but the single greatest, most miraculous change to happen in any one person's life.  C.S. Lewis had this to say about Christianity:

"Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important."

There is no middle ground.  We either do what it takes to make sure the kids in our lives understand "salvation," or we don't.  Refusing to simplify the message and refusing to portray it for what it is because we want to make it as easy as we can for the kids are simply unacceptable.

Step up people!  Step up parents!  Step up nursery workers, Sunday School teachers, Awana leaders, GA and RA leaders, children's choir directors, and sweet little old ladies on the back row!  The single most important job any of us have is to make disciples, not make converts.  It's to teach and facilitate and be useful vessels for God.  Make sure they know.  Make sure they understand, because if they don't get this, then nothing matters.

Exhortation over, and practical advice to come.

“Now we sit through Shakespeare in order to recognize the quotations” --Orson Welles

Okay, so I'm not actually addressing Shakespeare today, though, a contemporary: The King James Bible.  I say addressing, rather than attacking.  I read an article yesterday dedicated to attacking other versions, and uplifting the King James.  Are all versions equal?  No.  Is the King James fallible?  Heavens, no.  Is it the only version of value?  No, absolutely not.  Let's address some of the objections that I've heard either from people, the pulpit, or from people dedicated to writing about the superiority of the KJV.

●The King James Version is the only TRUE version.
One summer at camp, my friend Emily, a fellow camp counselor, had a camper who asked her what language Jesus spoke.  She replied that he probably spoke Hebrew, but she wasn't exactly sure.  Another camper, Sarah, piped in and said that her mother had a Hebrew Bible.  It said "thee, and thou, and thine, and stuff like that."  The child was completely serious.  I come from a region where the King James Version, is the ONLY Version.  Verily, verily, when I was but a babe, I didst think that mine Lord spake Elizabethan English.  I tell you the truth, though, now I know he spoke Aramaic and Hebrew.

● The King James is the only version translated from the Greek and Hebrew.
Some people still say it is the most true translation as it was translated from the Greek and from the Hebrew, and all subsequent versions are rephrased from the King James.  This is false.  Check the preface of your modern versions, and the "Translation Teams" and their sources are clearly listed.  They check through MANY different versions, trying to find the most common words--because what is most often written is more likely to be true.  They also note when a different translation or when several texts had different words altogether at the bottom margin of t he page.

● The King James is the closest translation to Greek and Hebrew
After consulting many of my seminary professors, they all say that the closest literal word-for-word translation of the Greek and Hebrew in English is the New American Standard Bible.  Greek and Hebrew professors also gave me this answer.  The King James is not the closest.  It is, indeed, VERY close, but not actually the closest.

● The King James is the closest in essence to the Greek and Hebrew.
That may have been true once.  However, some of it is lost as we do not natively speak Elizabethan English.  I  have to translate my translation, and therefore, some things get lost.  For instance, Jeremiah 4:19a in KJV:
"My bowels, my bowels! I am pained at my very heart."  It sounds like someone needs some pepto.  That sounds very irreverent, but let's face it, I was born in the 1980's, not the 1580's.  That's where my mind is going to go.  Check it out in the New American Standard Bible:  "My soul, my soul! I am in anguish! Oh, my heart!"  Wow.  That changes everything!  It's not a bad case of 4th-meal-from-Taco-Bell-coming-back-with-a-vengeance", but someone crying out from their very soul!  I know what the King James is talking about, but it simply does not have the same impact, because it makes me think of irritated bowel syndrome.

I didn't do a lot of research for this random blog post complaining about the state of Biblical affairs in America.  My strongest argument, though, comes from the preface of the 1611 King James itself:

Translation it is that openeth the window, to let in the light; that breaketh the shell, that we may eat the kernel; that putteth aside the curtaine, that we may looke into the most Holy place; that remooveth the cover of the well, that wee may come by the water, even as Jacob rolled away the stone from the mouth of the well, by which meanes the flockes of Laban were watered. Indeede without translation into the vulgar tongue[here meaning vernacular or common language], the unlearned are but like children at Jacobs well (which was deepe).

The original translators were removing the veil of mystery from about the Holy texts so that every man could understand its meaning.  They "put the curtain aside," like the veil was torn before the holy of holies.  They made "the water in the well accessible to all."  The original Greek of the New Testament is called "koine Greek" which simply means "common Greek."  The writers of the New Testament wrote in a dialect that no one had ever seen before, until the advent of modern archaeology.  Then, the archaeologists found it on shopping lists, book keeping ledgers, and personal journals.  It was the language of the people.  To quote one of my professors, God "put the cookie jar on the bottom shelf," like the writers of the KJV drew water for Jacob's children from his very deep well.  They, like God, were trying to help the common man understand the most extraordinary message of all.

I.  Do.  Not.  Speak.  Elizabethan.  English.  I understand it mostly because of my Lit Minor.  I've read a lot of Shakespeare, and a lot of the King James because it was beneficial for class.  Do I find beauty and understanding in the King James?  Absolutely.  Do I love to read it?  Yes, I do.  Is it the right choice for everyone?  No, absolutely not.

I teach Sunday School and on Wednesday nights to the fifth and sixth graders.  I could beat them senselessly with the King James, but they're simply not going to get it.  They don't have the background in English literature necessary to get it.

We don't ask French-speaking African natives to learn to read the King James.  We give them a French Bible.  We don't ask Chinese people to read the King James.  We give them a Chinese Bible.  Why?  Because they wouldn't understand.  So why should we require our congregation to read it?

One dear friend said that people should be willing to try and understand it, because it's the word of God.  She almost has a valid point, but that's not what God required of us.  He put the New Testament into the most common language available at that time.  He placed his new covenant in the empire famous for building roads to connect all the known world.  He reduced it to the lowest common denominator.  And if we are to follow God's example, as he commands us to, shouldn't we do likewise?

“My sinuses suddenly went berserk, and my throat got really raw, ... I'm like a canary in a coal mine. So I know what that means.” --Ken McBride

I don't feel good, which is an understatement.  It's my annual fall sickness which usually comes on in October, but occasionally waits until November or December to come on and bother me.  But come it always does.  It's starts with a sore throat, and moves on two days later to congestion, and then a day later to a cough and hot flashes, and three days later, I lose my voice and all is faded within three days of that.  If I don't attack it at the beginning, then I will get very sick and have to go to the doctor.  But attack it head-on I did.  I've taken in turn Claritin, Bennadryl, vitamin C, Tylenol sinus, and Dayquil.

I went to church today, and I taught Sunday School, but I didn't have to go to the preschool for after-care.  I did nothing strenuous yesterday, and mostly lounge.  Today after church, I laid around and took a nap.  I was feeling pretty decent, but then right before church for Bible Study, I felt quite unwell, but I trudged onward.  Halfway through, I got kicked out.  I was having a hot flash and sweating.  All but two of the ladies in my class have at least one child, so the momma-caps whipped on with lightning rapidity.  I even had to text them when I got home, because they tried to drive me home, but I wouldn't let them.

I called my mom, whom I was certain I had told I was getting sick on Friday, but I guess she forgot, so she got concerned when I told her that I got sent home from church.  She apparently conveyed a little too much concern, so my dad told her to ask me if I needed him to come.  I had to laugh.  I'm four steps away from a sinus infection, and he wants to come and rescue me.  It makes my heart smile.  He's not always been the most affectionate, especially when I was sick.  I guess I always seemed too happy to be sick, and he thought that if I was sick, I needed to act like it.  Now, I guess he figures that if I act sick, I must really be sick.  I don't know.  It's basically been the bright part of my day.

Anyway, I have work I need to do, but I solemnly swear that it's just typing, and nothing worse.

"To err is nature, to rectify error is glory." --George Washington

Apparently I messed up the required percentage of compaction on this report. Chinh left a face to express his distress.

Location : Address not available

"The stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping off our desires, is like cutting of our feet when we want shoes." --Jonathan Swift

I have wanted shoes like these for 6 years. I originally wanted the Tevas, but my feet are just too thick for them. But I found these at Target. For $3.24. Woot! It's been a good bargain weekend.

Location : 4738-4798 S Carrollton Ave, New Orleans, LA 70119,

“Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would I'd never leave.” -- Winnie the Pooh

I forgot my project at home.  I realized as soon as I got into Metairie, which is way too late to go back to Norco and go home.  I also forgot to bump up the air, since no one will be home (except for Oscar).  I did remember to feed Oscar, which is good, because if he dies on MY watch, then I will probably explode.  Ugh.  I'm leaving work early today to go back and get my project, which means I can also bump the air back up.  Ugh.  Entergy stinks alot.

I kinda want to cry, so I've been laughing instead.  It helps push the pain down, and give me perspective.  I don't think I'm ignoring my feelings, just putting things in their proper place.  It is NOT the end of the world that I forgot my project.  I can leave a little earlier.  Running the air kinda cold for a few hours is not going to bankrupt me.  Instead, I'm going to focus on how the weekend starts tomorrow afternoon, and how I get to do laundry today and tomorrow for free.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.  Thank you Julian!

"A woman is like a tea bag- you nevervknow how strong she is until she gets in hot water." --Eleanor Roosevelt

This made me smile. We were cleaning the apartment today for the house warming party and when I took out the trash, the sign made me smile.

Also today, I made a pitcher of lemonade and a pitcher of sweet tea. I hate sweet yea but I seem to make it to the tastes of others well. Funny old world.

Location : 400-402 Mary St, Norco, LA 70079,

"If I moved away, I would definitely miss the Mexican food. Every region has its own Mexican food, and they're very chauvinistic -- they believe their food is the real Mexican food." --Russ Parsons

Okay, so I'm the biggest and densest geek on the block.  I've never been one to keep up with a planner or calendar, except for truly important things (like paper deadlines).  Even with the advent of digital calendars, I could never get mine to sync well because what I wanted to use on my computer didn't work with my phone, etc.  Well, since I've gotten my Droid, I've been using many of Google's services that I had never used before--one being the calendar.  Why, you ask?  Well, I'm going to eat with a friend of mine named Kristin (but not the Kristin I go to church with) and she said that we should go to a Mexican restaurant on Vets, but I didn't know where it was.  Well, I found it on Google Maps on my computer, and starred it so it would show up on my starred items on my phone.  It then occurred to me how dumb it was to star something I'll never need to look up again.  And then, I thought, "Hmm...maybe if I put the item in my calendar, that maybe I could store an address for the event.  And what do you know?  I can!  And when I pull up the event, the item was a hyperlink that lead straight to Google Maps on my phone!  Hooray!  Again, biggest and densest geek.  I kinda hate that it's this easy these days.  I'm pretty sure that I'm going to get lazy.  Oh well.  Google take my brain away!

"I'd kiss a frog even if there was no promise of a Prince Charming popping out of it. I love frogs." --Cameron Diaz

Found this little dude outside on the stairs. I probably could have picked him up but then I still wouldn't have anywhere to put him. Or anything to feed him. So I left him outside. He's probably happier out there.

Location : Giacomo St, Norco, LA 70079,

"As a child, I was more afraid of tetanus shots than, for example, Dracula." --Dave Barry

Apparently, I am in the small percentage that reacts negatively to tetanus.  I have a fever, but I just can't go to sleep.  So I'm organizing my finger nail polish, and repainting things...like nails...

Earlier today, my fingers were "Gun Metal" and they are now "Climax."  My toes are "Blood Red" but I will probably change that to something more purple-ish.  Why, you ask?  Because "Climax" is a pearlescent lavender  color.  Why don't they call it "Pearl Lavender"?  I don't know.  If the names are actually descriptive of the color, it's either morbid, or lewd.  For instance, "gun metal" implies the metal of a gun.  "Blood red" implies blood...red...so I've decided to investigate my collection in lieu of sleep.

Granted, if I buy a bottle of finger nail polish that costs more than $1, it's not just because of the  color, but also very much because of the name.  Gun metal cost $4.  But I LOVE it!

Anyway, my colors:

Reds:

• Berry Red ($1 bottle...so...yeah...)
• Blood Red
• Red Carnation ($1)

Oranges:

• Dee-Lite (neon orange)
• Frost Ice Hot Tamale (metallic Clemson orange)
• Shock (EXTRA BRIGHT neon orange)
• Sunrise Sensation (metallic story-book gold fish)

Yellow/Golds:

• Wave Length (metallic yellow)
• Solar Gold (Saints gold)
• Gold Rush (regular gold)

Greens:

• Creme Wild Thing (lime green...no really...just lime green)
• Forest Green (forest green...hmph...)

Turquoises:

• Green with Envy (metallic turquoise color of my grandmother's cavalier, and many other grandma cars of the mid-nineties)
• Tropical (flat turquoise color)
• Emerald Frost (almost silver metallic pale green color with silver glitter)

Blues:

• Blue chill (metallic pale blue)
• Blue Blaze (vibrant flat blue color)
• Frosted Ice Starry Nites (metallic royal blue)
• Turquoise Opal (turqouise/purple/gold metallic color that chagnes in the light like some car paint)

Purples:

• Dazzling (pale purple glitter stuff)
• Climax (pearl lavender)
• Blue Sapphire Chrome (purple chrome)
• Vibrant Violet (purple with a little chrome in it)
• Midnight Plum (really dark plum color)
• All That (purple and silver glitter of varying size)
• Phenomena (fuchsia)

Pink:

• Fink Sizzle (pink/gold metallic)
• Pinup (that magenta color your mom painted her toes when they weren't red)
• Violet Sapphire Chrome (pink chrome)
• Lightning (neon pink)
• Splash (shiny pink)
• Spit Fire (pink sparkles)

Other:

• Black (black...yeah...unexciting)
• Rainbow Glitter (mostly blue glitter with some red glitter and a little silver glitter)
• Star Studded (off-white pearl and glitter)
• Live (looks like silver leafing)
• Gun Metal (looks like gun metal)

I know "All Night Long" is missing.  It's a navy color.  Wonder where I stuck it.

Ugh.  I think I'm going to try to sleep again.

"How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg." --Abraham Lincoln

Though this is no dog. The mail man calls him Cujo. He's my friend now, though. I gave him half of my granola bar and he didn't even bite my hand.

Location : 741-747 S Genois St, New Orleans, LA 70119,

"They fell in love with the memory of old Coke." --Roy Stout

Or fell in love with the Vignette app for Droid.

The parents are coming tomorrow which makes me nostalgic for Coke stuff. Most importantly, though, they're bringing my furniture! And some kitchen stuff! Don't know exactly what they're bringing so that adds to the excitement.

We're getting internet next Tuesday and I can't wait! Even if it only increases the frequency of the use of Justin's nickname for me--"nerd herd."

Location : Address not available

"The pen is mightier than the sword and considerably easier to write with." --Marty Feldman

Turtle vs. Goober. The fight of the century. Amazingly the turtle won. Team Oscar.

Location : Address not available

"Any party which takes credit for the rain must not be surprised if its opponents blame it for the drought." --Dwight Morrow

There was a 20% chance of rain. When I checked weather.com thirty minutes ago, there was a 10% chance for this hour. Yeah. Right.

Location : 716 S Genois St, New Orleans, LA 70119,

"You were born to become a chalk outline." --Murder at 1600

Poor silly band. We hardly knew ye.

What kind of world is it where you can buy a silly band shaped like a chalk outline.

Location : Address not available

"We do not quit playing because we grow old, we gorw old because we quit playing." --Oliver Wendell Holmes

This has to be the saddest thing I've seen all week. The little girl inside of me that remembers seeing the first Toy Story in theaters just wanted to ball when she saw this poor abandoned Woody on the balcony of my apartment this morning. It just feels like Andy forgot him and is off somewhere playing with Buzz Lightyear. I have a feeling my little neighbor left him there and will claim him today, but it still hurts my heart. I really need to see the new one.

Location : 4101-4199 Providence Pl, New Orleans, LA 70126,

Location : 741-747 S Genois St, New Orleans, LA 70119,

"All mileage must be inputed in the reference line from now on." --Sign on the door to the office.

Inputed.  Heh.  Kinda like "slud."

Anyway, at Mended Hearts, we were supposed to turn in one word of encouragement for all of the others, but Sarra said that it could be a phrase.  Well, I took some blank note cards that had a slot for a picture.  I put a piece of paper in the slot (it was very pretty color-coordinated paper), and wrote the one word on it.  On the inside of the card, I wrote a Bible verse corresponding to the word, and a quick note from me.  So, I cheated, but I think I did so marvelously.  Kelly gave each of us a word of scripture, and I also got a quote, which made my heart so happy, and she also put them on construction paper.  It made it feel like a Secrete Prayer Partner gift from camp, so it shall soon be going on my wall as soon as I find masking tape.  Hooray!

I watched the very first episode of "Chuck" last night, and I must say that I like it.  Kim has all the seasons that are out on DVD, so I need not worry about watching more.  We were looking for something to do last night that wouldn't take forever because we were all tired, but not ready to go to bed yet.  A full movie would have been too long, but one episode of "Chuck" was just right.  And Justin didn't hate it like he thought he would.

I have a fantastic bruise on my thigh.  And how did I get it?  In the preschool.  Heroically saving a small child from danger?  No, while cleaning.  I leaned over on a toy too hard as I was sitting in the floor.  Yeah.  That pathetic.

“Nothing's forever. This could stay the same, or it could change again. It depends.” --Greg Anderson

Things that I have forgotten over the summer:

• One must always show one's ID when purchasing things on campus with one's debit card
• The fountain inside the student center is incredibly noisy
• Some people believe that skipping chapel is a one-way ticket to hell
• Drinking two glasses of coke at lunch before a 12:30 class is a terrible idea

Other than that, a thus-far uneventful day at the seminary.  

On the brightest note, though, I saw Jo Lynne today.  She's commuting in from Hattiesburg two days a week right now, and hopefully will be living here next semester.  We ate lunch together and chatted for a while.

Old Testament may actually not kill me, and I can download my books from Kindle or other apps.  My only books, per se, are one text book, and the Bible.  Fancy that!  Right now I need to read Genesis.  I think I'm going to enjoy Old Testament.  I've always liked reading from it (except for 1&2 Chronicles, and books like that...because...well...several hundred pages of family litany, while historically important, are just not my favorite).  My theory as to why I enjoy the Old Testament so much lately, is that we as Baptists have focused too heavily on the New Testament.  I'm not bashing the gospel, or saying that it is not the single most life-changing part of the Bible, because without those passages concerning salvation, the rest is meaningless.  What I am saying is that the Pauline letters are focused on 70% of the time, the gospels 20% of the time, the rest of the New Testament 7% of the time, and the Old Testament about 3% of the time.  Now, while these figures are just a general feeling with no data to back them up, I know that from my experience learning and teaching, and from listening to the experiences of my friends, the resounding feeling is that past fourth grade, we do not focus on the Old Testament at all.

When teaching children, it's easier to teach them simple narratives, rather than airy theories.  For instance, 

"And then, God told Noah that because everyone was sinning and choosing their way over God's way, he was going to flood the WHOLE earth.  He gave Noah special instructions on how to build a big boat, that he called an ark, to carry Noah, his family, and two of every kind of animal in it, so that they would be saved from the flood."

See?  Easy peasy lemon-squeezy.  Teaching them that the church is one body, and each has it's part, and how each part is very important is a little more difficult to translate to a kid-level.  We therefore focus in childhood on those easy narratives which are found mostly in the Old Testament.  

Then, when we grow up, we grow out of those little kid stories, and move on to "more theological things" in the New Testament, and we forget to focus on the vast amounts of wisdom and teachings available in the Old Testament.  

I'm ready for Judges and Jonah.  

" A house divided against itself cannot stand." --Abraham Lincoln

Me and Kim probably won't kill each other. The only thong we disagree on is food which is minor at worst. I think we can do this.

I also managed to get the rest of my stuff out of my dorm with Kim and Justin's help. They're wonderful friends.

We bought an awesome doormat with a big "K" on it. For Kim and Karen.

Location : 625 6th St, Norco, LA 70079,

Location : 740-798 S Genois St, New Orleans, LA 70119,

"All great achievements require time." --Maya Angelou

Well I'm mostly done. Now all that's left are the bits that I was avoiding anyway. I've even started washing the dishes that I need to pack. Mortimer doesn't look too perked up. There's still hope yet. 

Still have to tackle under the beds. Yuck. I hate being a grown up.

Location : 4201-4299 Providence Pl, New Orleans, LA 70126,

"Froyo is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy." --Benjamin Franklin

Okay perhaps a slight misquotation but true nonetheless. (By the way, "nonetheless" is one of my favorite words because you don't have to use spaces yet it's still a correct word.) I awoke unnaturally early this morning with no provocation, only to find that Android wanted to update. I said yes. And lo and behold, froyo. I hadn't been looking at the differences between 2.2 and 2.1 because I was afraid I'd get jealous.  The only change that I knew for sure was that flash was available on 2.2. But guess what!!!! I now have 5 home screens instead of 3. I know that sounds silly but I lurv it. There's also a phone button and a browser button built into the bottom of the home screens.  I've definitely been missing that phone button but the browser button is pretty cool too.

Wow. This is a really long post to make from my phone. I'm getting so much better at typing on it, though only whilst it reposes on my bed. Well it's a start.

Location : 4201-4299 Providence Pl, New Orleans, LA 70126,

" Without hard work, nothing grows but weeds." --Gordon B. Hinckley

But with no work at all you get a brown aloe plant. Honestly, I forgot he was there until I cleaned off my dresser. Poor Mortimer. He's not dead yet, and he may survive yet. Only time will tell.



Location : 740-798 S Genois St, New Orleans, LA 70119,

A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing." --Emo Philips

I think my room is winning. I've taken all of 2 boxes down to my car. Fortunately I remembered that my computer has a TV tuner.  Of course that also give me something to look at rather than pack.

“Those who know nothing of foreign languages know nothing of their own.” --Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Louisiana Lingo time!  Today's phrase is: "come see."

come see (kum sē) v. 1. to look at  2. to join the speaker and peruse the object of the speaker's attention with him.  3. to join the speaker in a conversation.

Example:  What an awesome YouTube video--Karen, come see!

Example:  Karen, I'm confused.  Come see for a minute.

This is quite possibly my least favorite of my newly learned Louisiana lingo.  There are days at work that I feel like I'm surrounded by those seagulls on Finding Nemo that say, "Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!" all the time, except it's, "Karen, come see!"  "Oh, come see!"  "Come see, come see!"  "Come see Karen!"  "This is so funny, come see!"  "Miss Karen, come see!"  And if I hesitate or tell the speaker no, they become more insistent saying, "Come see, come see, come see, come see..." until you respond appropriately.

At camp Carl insisted that I "come see" and I told her to "go see," and she got confused.  What kills me is that sometimes, it's just a summons to have a conversation, so rather than "Can I talk to you for a minute?" it's "Come see."

"You must empty a box before you fill it again." --Irish Proverb

Kim gave me ten empty plastic tubs last night.  She apparently was concerned earlier in the day that there were still a few boxes at the church that she could have emptied, but did not.  I think I'll manage.  If I do somehow fill them up, I'll use my eleventy-million and four bags to bring things over.

I took a few boxes and a GI-GAN-TIC bag to Justin and Hayden's last night.  I have now claimed the corner of their dining room.  Of course, that should be fine as they have no dining room table currently.  Dave and Sarra offered theirs to them, which I think they should take, but not until I move in upstairs and they have room for it.  Because the corner is MINE.

I'm thinking of annexing Deb's room.  She's not there, and they've cleaned it, so if the door is still open this weekend, boxes might get slud in there while I'm packing (yes, slud, ala Dizzy Dean).  Though, I am afraid that someone important will come along and throw my stuff away, which would make my heart sad, and eyes cry.  So we'll see what happens.

God a magic box in the mail: it puts my computer on the TV.  When I first tried it out, the image was black&white and cycled so fast I couldn't see what was going on--almost like the old days when they scrambled HBO on cable.  Well I fiddled and fiddled with it, and I searched solutions on my phone (I don't have internet right now), and couldn't figure it out, and was about resolved to believe that I wasn't going to be able to figure it out and was just going to have to go to Dave & Sarra's without figuring it out--but then, lo and behold!  A light descended upon the one inch of the magic box that  I had not inspected closely.  The label underneath it said "1/2 ON NTSC; 1/2 OFF PAL."  I thought, "Surely, they wouldn't ship this set to PAL--I mean I bought it from the states, and therefore, it should be set accordingly."  I decided, however, to leave no stone unturned, so I took my longest nail, and jabbed it into the microscopic recess in the magic box, and flipped the two minuscule switches in the other direction, and as if a gin of old had come through weaving his wondrous powers, the picture suddenly appeared clearly on the surface of the TV.   Wondrous magic box.

Too bad I have no internet, and cannot watch Hulu on my TV right now.  It will come in handy later when we have internet and no cable in our apartment.  We'll be able to watch TV-things on the TV.  Only down-side to the magic box is that it does not have anything for audio.  I happen to have been blessed with amazing speakers, so we will simply have to leave them in the living room.