I once read somewhere that one of the great things about family is that it forces you to associate with people you normally would avoid. That statement is so true. I hang around my family more than the average person. Some people think its great. That it means we all get along really well. The truth is, if I were to meet most of them as strangers on the street I wouldn't stop to talk to them long.
If I saw my dad's red truck parked some where, with its Texas A&M Corp of Cadets, American Flag and NRA stickers on it, I would probably turn and run the other way. But sense we are related, he's the guy I cooked dinner for yesterday. He's the guy who let me, an unabashed liberal, do laundry at his house. Sure, I rolled my eyes when the man, who was literally counting down the days before he was eligible for medicare, raged about the evils of socialized health care. And he, of course, told me to lighten up after I cringed and told him that, among other things, his racist Obama jokes weren't funny. Even though we don't see eye to eye on anything, we still managed to assemble a fake Christmas tree and play Monopoly together.
Monday, November 30
Wednesday, November 25
Tis the Season to Buy
Wal-mart's new tag line this season has been: "Wal-mart - More Holiday for Less"
Alex had a really good question about that the other night.
"How can a store give you 'more holiday?' Holiday's don't come from stores! Haven't these people seen, like... ANY Christmas movies AT ALL?"
I would pat myself on the back and declare my child a young non-consumer except that last weekend I heard her whispering to my mom.
"Grandma, we need to go shopping one day. Its almost Christmas and we need to buy stuff. Not this weekend though, I'm busy."
Speaking of... this Friday is National BUY NOTHING day.
Alex had a really good question about that the other night.
"How can a store give you 'more holiday?' Holiday's don't come from stores! Haven't these people seen, like... ANY Christmas movies AT ALL?"
I would pat myself on the back and declare my child a young non-consumer except that last weekend I heard her whispering to my mom.
"Grandma, we need to go shopping one day. Its almost Christmas and we need to buy stuff. Not this weekend though, I'm busy."
Speaking of... this Friday is National BUY NOTHING day.
Monday, November 23
Be Content
It is easy to realize we are small when our problems seem outrageously huge. Insurmountable. To be to be allowed. It is when our problems are small and manageable that we seem to have issues with our own ego. Most of us living comfortably in industrialized nations don't need to call on God when it comes to cooking dinner, mending a hole in the couch, or picking out a new pair of shoes. In fact, it almost seems like an insult to God's intelligence to ask him for patience to get through a crowded grocery store.
But... resurrection from debt, a second chance at relationship with an estranged loved one, good health for the incurably unhealthy... these are things we don't have a recipe for. I can't pull out some fabric scraps and my sewing needle and fix a broken relationship. I can't always turn the off hypochondriac voice in my head. What else is there when life is altered and you can't move, can't fake a cure?
I went to church yesterday. As a passage from the book of Philippians was read, these words in chapter 4 verse 12 stuck out at me.
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want..."
Paul was wrote this from prison. He knew what it was to have his life altered in such a way that he could not move. He also knew what it was to have all of his needs met. He was content in both situations.
How did he do that? I don't have an answer, but I do think its an interesting point. Its easy to look around for God when I am not content. When I am lost and looking for directions on how to find the quickest way back to my comfortable life. And oddly, it is in those times of loss that I find I'm most content.
Some how when I'm comfortable its much easier for me to find the time to worry about things. When I am fed, I start to fret. I know it seems odd. Why do I ignore the assurance of God's presence when things are going well? I don't know. I just do. Be content in all things. Be content when you are fed, but you have to wash the dishes and fold the laundry. Be content in the small things that bring you joy and the small things that bug the crap out of you.
Be content. That's a hard one. Much harder than it probably should be.
But... resurrection from debt, a second chance at relationship with an estranged loved one, good health for the incurably unhealthy... these are things we don't have a recipe for. I can't pull out some fabric scraps and my sewing needle and fix a broken relationship. I can't always turn the off hypochondriac voice in my head. What else is there when life is altered and you can't move, can't fake a cure?
I went to church yesterday. As a passage from the book of Philippians was read, these words in chapter 4 verse 12 stuck out at me.
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want..."
Paul was wrote this from prison. He knew what it was to have his life altered in such a way that he could not move. He also knew what it was to have all of his needs met. He was content in both situations.
How did he do that? I don't have an answer, but I do think its an interesting point. Its easy to look around for God when I am not content. When I am lost and looking for directions on how to find the quickest way back to my comfortable life. And oddly, it is in those times of loss that I find I'm most content.
Some how when I'm comfortable its much easier for me to find the time to worry about things. When I am fed, I start to fret. I know it seems odd. Why do I ignore the assurance of God's presence when things are going well? I don't know. I just do. Be content in all things. Be content when you are fed, but you have to wash the dishes and fold the laundry. Be content in the small things that bring you joy and the small things that bug the crap out of you.
Be content. That's a hard one. Much harder than it probably should be.
Saturday, November 21
The Perfect Man
One of the great things about reading great literature is that something different will jump off the page every time the same text is read.
I was recently reading Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility for the 1,495th time when I noticed that in chapter IV, Elinor gives us the description of the perfect man.
I was recently reading Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility for the 1,495th time when I noticed that in chapter IV, Elinor gives us the description of the perfect man.
Given this description, its no wonder I'm still single. The perfect man is exceedingly hard to spot in a crowd. If you are looking for tall, boisterous and handsome I suppose you'll find your match a lot faster."... his mind is well informed, his enjoyment of books exceedingly great,
his imagination lively, his observation just and correct, and his taste
delicate and pure. His abilities in every respect improve as much upon
acquaintance as his manners and person. At first sight, his address is certainly
not striking; and his person can hardly be called handsome, till the expression
of his eyes, which are uncommonly good, and the general sweetness of his
countenance, is perceived."
Thursday, November 19
A voice from Cuba
I stumbled across this on Huffington Post.
A young women blogging in Cuba has asked our president a few questions. And he (or at least his office) has answered.
That is why the blog was featured there. The questions and answers are an interesting read. But don't stop there. Read on...
It is interesting to think what the relationship between the USA and Cuba would be like if we were truly just people, not represented by governments.
An English translation of her blog can be found here.
A young women blogging in Cuba has asked our president a few questions. And he (or at least his office) has answered.
That is why the blog was featured there. The questions and answers are an interesting read. But don't stop there. Read on...
It is interesting to think what the relationship between the USA and Cuba would be like if we were truly just people, not represented by governments.
An English translation of her blog can be found here.
Vacation Pictures
I figured I should try to get my pictures downloaded before the end of the year. Considering the fact that I still don't have a completed 2008 scrap book, I don't have hope of organizing all 500 of my pictures before the year is out, but at least they are off my memory card and on a computer now. Here is a snippet. The pictures that drive my mom crazy because they have no people. I'm not normally a photographer. Normally I like to soak in all of what is going on around me. Disney World is different. I think its best seen through the editing lens of a camera.
Villains in Vogue
Expedition Everest
Villains in VogueDisney's Hollywood Studios
Katy, 2009
Expedition EverestDisney's Animal Kingdom
Katy, 2009
Asia
Disney's Animal Kingdom
Katy, 2009
Kali River Rapids
Disney's Animal Kingdom
Katy, 2009
Katy, 2009
United Kingdom
Epcot
Katy, 2009
Morocco
Epcot
Katy, 2009
The Haunted Mansion
Magic Kingdom
Katy, 2009
Wednesday, November 11
And now for something completely pointless...
As you may or may not know, the Space Mountain ride at WDW has been closed all year for renovations. Along with the work done to the Space Mountain building and Tomorrowland Transit Authority tracks, they have also demolished the second floor of what was once the Tomorrowland Skyway Station.
Well, yesterday the walls came down. Space Mountain is expected to have its soft opening soon, and the newly refurbished restrooms were open and ready for business.
photo courtesy of wdwmagic.com.
UPDATE: In case anyone is interested. Apparently a team of welders walked into Space Mountain this morning. Rumor is they are still working on the track. (I have no idea if that is true or not.) The estimated date of soft open seems to be November 20. (Again, no idea if that is true or not.)
UPDATED UPDATE: Soft opening started Friday night. Apparently the queue is much improved, complete with some high tech games to play while you wait in line, but the ride itself hasn't changed much. It is darker, but the track still sucks. Meaning you will get whip lash if you are stuck in the last seat of the train. Request to sit in front.
Tuesday, November 10
Random Thoughts of the Morning...
1) To guy on the bus who was listening to 80s techno - you really need to turn your Walkman ipode iphone down. I could hear every song you blasted out of your headphones ear buds. You will go deaf soon. I promise.
2) To the women on the street talking on the phone (or to yourself, I couldn't tell) - you used the word persnickety. Thanks. Its a great word. Rolls off the tongue and really gets to the meat of things. Its been ages since I last heard persnickety used in a sentence. Thank you for reminding me of it.
3) Alex and I watched Dr. G Medical Examiner last night. She did an autopsy of a women who, it turns out, died of complications from Graves disease. For the first four seasons of House, every patient was thought to have Graves. None of them did. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see anyone correctly diagnosed with the autoimmune disorder. Now I have.
4) Those commercials (I'm not sure which store its for) that invite people to bring in their old Christmas lights, WORKING or not, to get a discount on new LED lights really annoy the heck out of me. Sure, LEDs use less energy, but does that make up for the energy used in producing new lights to replace ones that AREN'T broken? I seriously really doubt it. I think the government should regulate the word "green", in the same vain as the phrase "low fat".
5) I was watching BBC America this morning and saw a report that Parliament is considering increasing the minimum sentence for knife murders from 15 to 25 years. Apparently, if you kill a person with a gun the minimum sentence is 30 years. I find the whole scenario amazing. The fact that you could be sentence based on what you killed with. Why is murdering someone with a gun worse than murdering them with a knife?
2) To the women on the street talking on the phone (or to yourself, I couldn't tell) - you used the word persnickety. Thanks. Its a great word. Rolls off the tongue and really gets to the meat of things. Its been ages since I last heard persnickety used in a sentence. Thank you for reminding me of it.
3) Alex and I watched Dr. G Medical Examiner last night. She did an autopsy of a women who, it turns out, died of complications from Graves disease. For the first four seasons of House, every patient was thought to have Graves. None of them did. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see anyone correctly diagnosed with the autoimmune disorder. Now I have.
4) Those commercials (I'm not sure which store its for) that invite people to bring in their old Christmas lights, WORKING or not, to get a discount on new LED lights really annoy the heck out of me. Sure, LEDs use less energy, but does that make up for the energy used in producing new lights to replace ones that AREN'T broken? I seriously really doubt it. I think the government should regulate the word "green", in the same vain as the phrase "low fat".
5) I was watching BBC America this morning and saw a report that Parliament is considering increasing the minimum sentence for knife murders from 15 to 25 years. Apparently, if you kill a person with a gun the minimum sentence is 30 years. I find the whole scenario amazing. The fact that you could be sentence based on what you killed with. Why is murdering someone with a gun worse than murdering them with a knife?
Friday, November 6
Melodrama
Its Friday. I have written this post every single day this week and deleted it each time. I don't tend to engage this blog in the melodrama of my life. Don't worry, I don't intend to post on this subject regularly. I just feel like I need to get this out.
If I have learned anything from working with litigation and attending arbitrations, it is that we aren't there to argue the facts. We argue people's memories of the facts. The facts they wrote in there notes. The facts as they see them. Whose facts sound the best to the judge?
I found out last week that Alex's health insurance coverage has lapsed. It lapsed a year ago. Apparently everyone knew this except for me. Depending on whose telling the story, either I wasn't told or I'm just extremely thick.
I still don't know which of those scenarios I believe. Either way it seems the majority of the parties involved have decided to blame me. A year ago, Alex's Step-mother asked me if I had a copy of Alex's birth certificate. The insurance company needs one. I don't have one. This is why her insurance lapsed. Because of me. There is more to this conversation, but I'll make a long story short. Step-mother and Father are not responsible for anything. I need to go and get a copy of her birth certificate and mail it to them if I want Alex to be insured.
Now, these kinds of conversations occur about once a year. You know, the ones where something has happened, or not, and really and truly it is all MY fault. I usually just sit, listen and wait for my cue. I wait for the moment when my mouth becomes possessed by demons. Every cuss word is screamed. Every skeleton, no matter how despicable or humiliating, is dragged out of the closet and thrown on the table.
But this time, as I listened to Step-mother babble and giggle (yes, she was literally giggling at me), I found myself uttering the Prayer of Patience which is simply: "Dear Lord, give me patience." I have variations on this prayer. Sometimes I make it: "God give me strength." Occasionally, I just say: "Holy fucking hell." I uttered my prayer, then cut her off. Just as I was about to roar like a mother lion protecting her cub I found myself saying... "I don't care." We were stunned into silence. So I said it again, just to be sure it was real. "I don't care whose fault it is." I was incredibly calm. "Let me send you the web link that will explain everything you need to do to fix this. I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but really this just needs to get taken care of." She started up again. I could hear the adjudication in her voice. So I repeated my new catch phrase, "I don't care" and hung up.
I have thought about this often this week. Could this possible be true? Do I really not care? I'm still mad at them for being the way they are so I guess I do care. But no, I really don't care to talk about it with them anymore. Somehow I feel like Solomon has cut this particular baby in two.
If I have learned anything from working with litigation and attending arbitrations, it is that we aren't there to argue the facts. We argue people's memories of the facts. The facts they wrote in there notes. The facts as they see them. Whose facts sound the best to the judge?
I found out last week that Alex's health insurance coverage has lapsed. It lapsed a year ago. Apparently everyone knew this except for me. Depending on whose telling the story, either I wasn't told or I'm just extremely thick.
I still don't know which of those scenarios I believe. Either way it seems the majority of the parties involved have decided to blame me. A year ago, Alex's Step-mother asked me if I had a copy of Alex's birth certificate. The insurance company needs one. I don't have one. This is why her insurance lapsed. Because of me. There is more to this conversation, but I'll make a long story short. Step-mother and Father are not responsible for anything. I need to go and get a copy of her birth certificate and mail it to them if I want Alex to be insured.
Now, these kinds of conversations occur about once a year. You know, the ones where something has happened, or not, and really and truly it is all MY fault. I usually just sit, listen and wait for my cue. I wait for the moment when my mouth becomes possessed by demons. Every cuss word is screamed. Every skeleton, no matter how despicable or humiliating, is dragged out of the closet and thrown on the table.
But this time, as I listened to Step-mother babble and giggle (yes, she was literally giggling at me), I found myself uttering the Prayer of Patience which is simply: "Dear Lord, give me patience." I have variations on this prayer. Sometimes I make it: "God give me strength." Occasionally, I just say: "Holy fucking hell." I uttered my prayer, then cut her off. Just as I was about to roar like a mother lion protecting her cub I found myself saying... "I don't care." We were stunned into silence. So I said it again, just to be sure it was real. "I don't care whose fault it is." I was incredibly calm. "Let me send you the web link that will explain everything you need to do to fix this. I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but really this just needs to get taken care of." She started up again. I could hear the adjudication in her voice. So I repeated my new catch phrase, "I don't care" and hung up.
I have thought about this often this week. Could this possible be true? Do I really not care? I'm still mad at them for being the way they are so I guess I do care. But no, I really don't care to talk about it with them anymore. Somehow I feel like Solomon has cut this particular baby in two.
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