Five Favorites: Volume 1

Five Favorites Moxie Wife“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…” Those were certainly Maria’s favorites, and while I’m not saying they’re not adorable, I’ve got some other things in mind.

This week I’m linking up with a delightful blog called Moxie Wife for a little doo-dad she calls “Five Favorites.”

And away we go, though not necessarily in order of favoritism!

1. Antique holy cards.

Holy family Turgis 1040

I can’t get enough of them, and really, how can that be a sin?
The site for this card is here!

2. Best parody song video. Ever.

Russian Unicorn

Look, I love me some Michael Bublé, but this is a scream.
You know it’s great when Mr. Bublé himself loves it. Watch this!

3. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux

Therese of Lisieux as Jeanne d'Arc

Oh, she’s just the best. If you don’t like her, it’s only because you don’t know her.
This picture shows her dressed as Jeanne d’Arc.

4. My utterly brilliant daughter, Sophia

gardening 008

Choosing her name was easy.
It had to have significant religious meaning,
and be suitable for a Supreme Court Justice.

5. Laurel’s Kitchen Bread Book

Laurel's Kitchen Bread Book Updated Version

The only bread-making book you’ll really ever need.

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Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

Brine shrimp. Laboratory picture

Brine shrimp. Laboratory picture (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I noticed it this morning when I was taking a shower. Yeah, that’s pretty ordinary, taking a shower. Unless you have no running water.

Ordinary is all a matter of perspective. What you think is ordinary is hardly what’s ordinary to someone else. My ordinary isn’t your ordinary.

When my daughter was eight or nine we got Sea Monkeys. You know, the all-too-ordinary brine shrimp, packaged to look like the royalty of the undersea realm. Yeah, right. They’re shrimp—and not even edible ones. I warned her, “You do understand, don’t you, that they’re not really going to wear crowns, like this picture shows?” “Yeah, mom, can we make them now?” Five minutes, a jar of water, and the contents of a little plastic packet, and she was in heaven. “Ooohh! Look, they’re swimming! They’re so tiny! Mom, can you see them!?” Yeah, I could see them. But what I saw was brine shrimp. Pretty ordinary. What she saw? Amazing!

***** 5-minute-friday-1

What’s Five Minute Friday?

A blog-prompt project dreamt up by LisaJo Baker, which you can read about here. The skinny is that you spend five minutes of writing, generally unedited (I correct typos, WAY too OCD not to do that, and set up links), on a prompt that she provides just after midnight via a tweet, then spread the word, and link up. Interested? Join up. Check it out.

Pull Your Pants Up!

Out of the Blue ThursdaysI really wasn’t trying to look at his butt. It was hard not to, though, since his pants were practically down to his knees.

This is part of living in a large metro area. There’s a lot of diversity, and, for the most part, I really enjoy it. Among other things, some of what’s covered by the diversity umbrella is apparel and personal style choices. Afros to Pentecostal Poufs, ballet flats to Converse, split tongues and pierced ears, it’s all there. Again, for the most part, I enjoy it. God is creative, and part of being created in God’s image is that we all have some sense of that creativity.

Thankfully, it’s not a super popular trend for young men to wear their pants quite so low, but whether this guy didn’t get the memo, or just decided not to cinch up the string on his baggy sweatpants, he definitely could’ve pulled his pants up a long way. We’re not talking low around the hips, we’re talking half way down his thighs.

Believe me, all this visual took was one half a second from ten feet behind him in the self-checkout lane at a store I don’t usually shop at.

I usually don’t consider myself a flippant pray-er, but it was really hard not to just send up a plaintive mental whining. “Jesus, really, would it be too much to ask for You to please get that guy to pull his pants up.”

And at that very second, the guy grabbed for his wallet, and pulled his pants up! All the way up, and even cinched the drawstring. I was surprised the sound of my jaw hitting the ground didn’t startle him.

I almost did a happy dance, right there in line. Seriously, I laughed. But, you know, under my breath, so he wouldn’t hear me. I mean, there’s no point in gloating.

God is good. All the time. All the time. God is good.

*****

Out of the Blue Thursdays is a group of women who write about surprises in their lives that God has shown them. You can read about it, and join if you’d like, here.

What’s Yours?

Calvin and Hobbs ResolutionsEverybody makes ‘em. Nobody keeps ‘em. Yeah. I’m talking about New Year’s resolutions.

You have to admit, they show good intention. People always mention that they want to lose weight, start exercising, manage their budget better, invest wisely, save more money, become a better parent, the lists go on. And on.

Why, honestly, do we bother? I have never yet met a person who made a New Year’s resolution that they managed to keep. Ever. Past February. (If you have, please comment, because I want to arrange a meeting with you and other world leaders.) Given that, I am starting an entirely new style of resolution, which is based on the principal of reverse psychology. It’s a well-known fact that, since the Garden of Eden, people can’t seem to avoid doing either the very thing someone tells them not to do, or just the opposite of what they are supposed to do.

So, my New Year’s Resolutions are as follows:

  • Utterly trash my home and become an unrepentant hoarder;
  • Become a recluse who shuns human contact, especially with my aging parents and any close friends;
  • Gain as much weight as is humanly possible by never cooking or eating anything healthy, let alone by attempting anything that even resembles exercise;
  • Never keep track of appointments or dates and never, ever return phone calls the same day;
  • Avoid anything that smacks of spirituality or any kind of organized religion;
  • Shamelessly prowl Facebook and Twitter All Day Long;
  • Relentlessly pursue anything that might depress me, most notably by staying in bed all day;
  • Spend my money on whimsical items that have no enduring value whatsoever; and
  • Write as little as possible.

I’ll NEVER tell you how that’s going.

Trapped!

It’s a sudden-onset disease. It strikes randomly, completely without warning, paralyzing the lower extremities. And I’ve got it. Catalapia.

Exactly.

Sheesh… Here I was, suffering from an unexpected bout of insomnia, when I got this great idea. I believe that things happen for a reason. I’m wide awake. Why not write a blog article!?! Naturally, that’s when I discovered that I was also suffering from an unexpected bout of Catalapia. Perhaps I should say an unexpected “attack,” since it was, after all, my lap that was attacked by my cat that has now rendered me completely paralyzed and thus unable to go down to the computer and type this up like a normal person.

Did I mention the easy cure?

Exactly.

People Watching

rubber_gloves

rubber_gloves (Photo credit: How can I recycle this)

It was the child that caught my attention. (Let’s call her Bonita, ‘cause she was just that cute). Dancing around the end of the aisle without a care in the world, brown braided pigtails bobbing as the soles of her shoes flashed in time to her footsteps. Clearly oblivious that others were watching. Adult others. Also clearly oblivious was Bonita’s mom, who was checking the end cap display of French-fried onion rings for untried nuances to her stand-by green bean casserole. Her quest for culinary enrichment had momentarily blinded her to the fact that Bonita’s new obsession was a dirty rubber band that she found under the same end cap. Joy unparalleled! Stretching it on her fingers and discovering the fascinating powers of its elasticity was clearly a discovery that, for Bonita, was unrivaled by anything of Newton and Einstein.

Thunk. The can hit the floor. “Oh my God! What are you touching?!”

Why is watching people so entertaining?

Never a Master

The final computer-generated Yoda as seen in t...

Image via Wikipedia

A learner I will be. Always. (Sounds a little like Yoda, no?)

I’m telling you, no matter what people say about how women are mysterious and hard to figure out, and full of PMS craziness, demanding, emotional minefields, and other nonsense, I think men are just as bad. Maybe worse.

I’ll be the first to admit it: stereotypes make life a lot easier. Men drive me nuts. And not just the kind that are like some strange species of shaved bears with furniture, burping and fist-pumping their way through another football game while they check out Kim Kardashian look-alikes in Hustler magazine. No, I’m also talking about the sensitive, women-respecting kind that listen when you talk and aren’t afraid to cry. The kind who read books, and not just comic books. (Excuse me: Graphic Novels.) Yes, the kind who open the doors for you and help you with your coat while murmuring sweet nothings comprised of equal parts John Keats and Steven Hawking. They are the best in bed (because they let you come first…and last), and out of it. Yes, as the song goes, let’s hear it for the boy!

But they still drive me crazy. No, I’m not getting all “emotional” here. Well, maybe I am. So what!

Okay, this is the year 2011 (for a few days yet), and I’m a modern woman who’s not afraid to take the initiative and call a man. But if you think I’m initiating all the calling, all the texting, and all the emailing, think again. You want me? Prove it. You, Mister Saying-You’re-Interested-In-Me! Yes, you. Can I get a call? Can I get an email? Can I get some text messages? Can I get some attention?

So, I did what I thought would be the right thing. I sent a completely honest message, via both text and email. Not nasty. Just saying that if he had time for this, that, and the other thing, surely he had time to call, etc., etc., Was I pissed? Yes. Was I a bitch? No.

He emailed and called, in approximately 2 minutes and 17 seconds. (Nope, I was not counting. I just made that up. I did…) WIN!

But it really wasn’t a win. No… it was more like a fail… Not quite an epic fail, but a fail. After hearing him and his lovely soothing voice, I felt like a loser. Like a demanding, emotional minefield. How could I ever have thought he wasn’t interested? He. Is. So. Interested. (Fist pump not required.)

I just never learn. But, he did call…so, maybe he learned, too… I don’t know, but I hope I’m learning.