Yes, it's been a loooooong time

A quick update...

1. My husband's health is much, much better. Despite the surgeon's ominous prediction that there would be no return of pituitary function, he now has almost full function. The endocrine system is doing great, except for a slightly sluggish thyroid. This is a huge answer to prayer, and I am thankful for all of you who prayed for us.

2. Life has been busy. At times it has been both sad and stressful. I wrote, months ago, about "deep waters". While the waters are not quite as deep as they were, and we're not spending as much time in them, they're not exactly shallow yet either.

3. We are part of a wonderful fellowship of believers. I can't begin to describe what a blessing they has been. Did I mention that these people are wonderful?

4. Life has not been all stress and work. We've carved out time for fun and relaxation too, and made some hilarious family memories...and a few are even captured on video.

5. Coffee is good. Still. Always. That is yet again proof that the natural order of the universe is still intact.

6. I saved the best for last: Offspring #3 (aka, "the strapping young man") is ENGAGED!! But it gets even better. He's not just engaged to anyone; he's engaged to a terrific young woman that people can't seem to say enough good things about. We love her! Is that cool or what?

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Long overdue update

Yes, it's been a long time since I've posted. Here's just a little of what's been going on:

1. I still drink coffee.

2. We've been going through some...er...interesting times in our family.

3. Jesus truly is Lord...and a faithful Friend like no other. He keeps His promise to never leave us nor forsake us.

4. My marriage is all the more precious to me during some current rough times, especially as my husband has had a season of ill health.

5. I still teach martial arts.

6. Mothering doesn't become easier when the children leave home. It's different, less hands on, but sometimes more heartbreaking.

7. Twitter can take up a lot of time, but it's also a great way to follow current events, trends, etc.

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Ping, Twitter, and other random odd stuff

So I've been messing about with Twitter, to see what all the fuss is about, and then I discovered this thing called "Ping.fm", that enables me to post to all sorts of social networks. I'm still trying to figure out how to use it in a way that will meet the variously different formats of Twitter, Facebook, Blogger, and whatever. It gives me something to do in between getting snippy with even more snippy receptionists at doctors' offices.

Updated to add: You can read my Twitter updates in the blog sidebar. Or you can "follow" me on Twitter. Or you can ignore all the silliness.

When it comes to Facebook --- I tend to be more personal there, so I am very careful about my "friends"...

Update

So, what have I been up to lately? Here's the scoop:

1. On the weight loss and fitness front: Things have not gone as well as planned. My weight has kept bobbing up and down by about three pounds. I've reached 127 pounds today, but doubt that I'll make my goal in two days. Life has been insanely busy and I've not had the time to exercise.

2. I wasn't insanely busy enough, so I decided to put on a karate tournament. It's going to be this Saturday. I am simply shocked at the amount of work involved, and that's with my capable army of volunteers.

3. Since it's simply not enough to try to juggle karate tournaments on top of my already busy life, I decided to get sick. I'm not hideously, bed-ridden type sick, just enough to lose sleep and stay out on the couch because of an annoying cough.

4. I've had all sorts of ideas for posts, but have promptly forgotten them due to being tired, busy, etc.

So that's pretty much what life has been like around here.

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Why I won't run for President of the United States

This tongue-in-cheek post, another silly attempt at humor, was inspired by a young girl's explanation of why she would refuse the vice-presidential nomination. Until I read her post, I had no idea that she was even up for consideration.

Yes, my dear three readers, you are reading it here first. I will never seek to be elected as President of these United States. Shocking news, I'm sure. Just so that I will not be inundated with three emails all beseeching me But why not? let me give my reasons now:

1. If I were to become president, that would force me to begin ordering my husband around and usurping his authority. Because, of course, we live in a dictatorship, where the president is able to exercise direct and unlimited authority over every single person in our country. Checks and balances? Hah! No, being president is like being the complete boss over everyone. Since I don't think I should be in authority over my husband, I simply will have to refuse any position that would force such authority upon me. (Hey, and quit quoting that verse about wives having authority over their husbands' bodies. Read the whole thing. Husbands have authority over their wives' bodies, so there! Besides, everyone knows that wives really have no authority, not even some sort of mutual sexual authority. Quit being such a feminist. Sheesh.)

2. If I were to become president, I'd have to go on TV and be photographed. A lot. And, frankly, I think that's immodest. It's wrong to be the center of attention. Next thing you know, I'd be worrying about my hair and make-up and clothing, instead of my adornment not being external.

3. If I were to become president, I'd have to speak. In public. And everyone knows that the Bible says, "Let the women be silent" and "I do not permit a woman to speak." (What? You claim that's only about church? Oh, so now you're into some sort of situational ethics where you only have to obey God when you are in a church service? How convenient!)

4. If I were to become president, I'd have to travel. And everyone knows that travel is a sin for women. Proverbs 31 does not say anything about going. It is all about staying --- staying home. The field that woman bought? How do we know it wasn't already in her own backyard? How do we know she didn't send a trusted servant to conduct the business transaction for her? I'm sure she could have sent a man...no, oops, she couldn't have, because that would mean she was exercising authority over him! She could have sent a single woman to buy the field, providing she could find some rebellious woman who worked outside her father's home, and yet could be trusted with real estate transactions. OK, let's go back to the buying the backyard field theory...

5. If I were to become president, no one would know what to call my husband. The first gentleman? The first spouse? The first dude?

6. If I were to become president, it would be really like my husband, the elders in my church, my pastor, and every Christian man becoming president instead of me, because I'd have to submit to them in every decision. That's just too confusing. It's a lot easier to submit to all of them when it comes to raising children.

7. If I were to become president, I'd have to select a vice-president. And that would be wrong, immoral, and adulterous. Because everyone knows that the vice-president is really a help meet for the president --- a role that only a wife should fulfill. So, whether I picked a man or a woman, it would be...icky and wrong. I couldn't even pick my own husband, because I'm supposed to be his suitable helper, not the other way around. This just proves that only men are to be presidents, because they are the only ones who are allowed to have help meets. And only their own wives are supposed to be their vice-presidents.

8. If I were to become president, my children would have to appear with me in public. Or not. And either option would be wrong.

9. If I were to become president, I'd have to have state dinners. And that would pose all sorts of quandaries. Would I, as the hostess, be sinning if I didn't cook for my guests? Would I be sinning if we had a dance after dinner? If I danced with other heads of state, would that be sinning? Who would lead?

10. If I were to become president, I'd have to fire the White House cook. And I really don't like firing people. But everyone knows that if a wife doesn't cook for her own family, she is not providing for them, and that makes her worse than an infidel.

11. If I were to become president, I'd be in the horrible position of having to serve all sorts of masters --- my husband, the elders in my church, my pastor, every Christian man (see #6 above) along with everyone who voted me into office, the members of my political party, the House, the Senate, the entire country and everyone else I promised to serve and/or be accountable to. And that's just wrong. I'm only supposed to serve one master --- my husband. Jesus said so himself. (What do you mean, He was talking about serving God and mammon/money/materialism? What sort of post-modern feminist are you? I suppose that next you'll be saying that you don't believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God!)

12. If I were to become president, that would make me the Commander in Chief of our military. And that would make me a soldier. I'm opposed to women in combat, so how could I serve in this capacity?

13. If I were to become president, I'd have to meet with other heads of state. Since most of them are men, that would be wrong. I shouldn't be running around meeting other men and having long conversations with them. Plus, what if we were trying to negotiate something? It would be wrong for me to exercise authority over a man, so I'd have to submit to him. And that could be bad for our country. So maybe I should only meet with female heads of state. Except then, I'd be asking them to submit to me instead of to their husbands. And that's wrong.

14. If I were to become president, I'd be expected to give important speeches. And that would be very wrong. See #3 above. Plus, some man might accidentally learn something from one of my speeches. And then I'd be teaching him --- something the Bible forbids. (What do you mean, the Bible is only talking about authoritative teaching roles in the church? What kind of feminist claptrap is that? Didn't you read #3?!)

So...not matter how my country may beg and plead me to reconsider....I'm sorry, but I simply cannot serve as your president.

Pssst...it's a joke! A parody! But yes, you may recognize some of my reasoning from other places on the internet...don't worry, it's only the the extreme fringe that would agree with such arguments; most Christians have a far better understanding of God's Word.

Slight edits for additional clarity and humor.

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The mark of a true leader?

Note to the humor-impaired. The following is a joke. Really. About the only true thing is the first sentence, and the final quote from the same pastor. But the rest of it is admittedly absurd and meant to be funny. In fact, it reminds me of a joke:

Q. How many patriarchs does it take to replace a light bulb?
A. Only a man-hating, ungodly feminist would think that was funny! Stop your male bashing! It's not funny!! Repent!!!

Recently on the internet, I read the following, written by a pastor: "My own thoughts begin with broad shoulders and superior upper body strength when it comes to God’s gifting for the calling of ruling men."

Realizing that I needed to check this out, I immediately called the pastor who had penned these words. He is a kindly, gentle-spirited man who was more than happy to let me know, as nicely as possible, that it did require broad shoulders and superior upper body strength in order to rule men and that, in fact, this was the obvious sign that God had chosen both men in general and a specific man in particular to lead. This was especially true in the Church. Leaders must be strong, manly men. And, he assured me, he was just that sort of man.

I immediately knew what I had to do. Offspring #3, a strapping young man, is always up for a challenge, especially a physical one. He was more than happy to meet with this pastor. Our appointment was that very afternoon.

It turns out that pastor in question is...well, not exactly slim. If his shoulders are broad, it is only because the rest of him is broad. And wide. And deep. But perhaps, underneath all that, lurked a man of superior upper body strength. We were there to find out.

The first test was push-ups. Pastor Un Trim offered to go first. This proved to be more of a challenge than any of us had foreseen. It was sort of like the equivalent of my attempting to do push-ups with a huge, heavy beach ball attached to my stomach. To be polite, we agreed that perhaps push-ups were not the best test. But my son could not resist having me demonstrate how many I could do.

The pastor was aghast. Trying to maintain his gentle composure, he said kindly, but with gritted teeth, "I'm sure there is a Scripture warning women against doing push-ups that pertain to a man. Besides, as your son said, they really don't prove anything."

So it was on to the bench press. Then the shoulder press. Then arm wrestling. By this time, dear Pastor Un Trim was not only drenched in prespiration and completely exhausted, but he was near tears. Just as my son was suggesting another contest, the pastor weakly sighed, "Uncle."

"Huh?" asked my son.

"You win."

So that's how my thirdborn, at the tender age of 18, became a pastor. It was clear that he possessed the broad shoulders and superior upper body sttrength needed to lead men. All the elders agreed, and they also politely refused to challenge him.

"That must be why," one elder said, "Paul told Timothy not to let others despise his youth. It's hard not to be envious of your strength and youthful vigor."

One of the elders' wives was obviously enjoying all this a bit too much. My son has the bad habit of exercising without his shirt on, and had begun to do so. Everyone watching had put an immediate stop to this, screaming in horror when the pastor began removing his own shirt. Now the elder's wife asked teasingly, "Pastor Un Trim, what was it that you wrote about feminists and chests?"

The dejected pastor quoted himself, "Feminists aren't limited in their rebellion to the commands of Scripture but hate and seek to obliterate even the distinction between man and woman visible on our chests. So sad, really--isn't it?"

"Yes, it is sad," the elder's wife agreed. "And I couldn't help but notice how our new pastor has such a manly chest, but you --- you --- why, you look like a big fat girl! So maybe it's not really the feminists who are trying to obliterate that distinction, huh?"

But all is not lost. Word has it that Pastor Un Trim has been dieting and hitting the gym. In fact, he has challenged my son to a rematch in six months. He figures by then he'll be strong enough to win his pulpit back.

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What really happened

This post will not make sense unless you read "Hero worship?" first.

Husband: The edger isn't working right.

Child (thinking, as I did, that he meant the lawn edger): But it worked great yesterday, when I used it!

Husband (meaning a piece of equipment at work): Huh? You weren't even in the office.

Child: Of course not. I was too busy edging and mowing the lawn.

Much laughter as the confusion was cleared up.

Me: Did you shoot it?

Everyone: HUH?

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Hero worship?

For context, read "Can you translate that?"

Youngest Child: Mama, why did that crazy looking man shoot his lawnmower?

Me: Well, Youngest, it very well could be because he's an over-drinking person. And that turned him into a bad-healthy-in-the-brain person. At least he seems to have been one on the day he shot the lawnmower.

Other Child: How can you say that? He belongs to my pantheon of mid-western heroes!

Me: You know, Other, I think it's high time school started again. While it's commendable that you used the word "pantheon" in a sentence, I think your poor choice of heroes is either a result of not fully understanding the word "hero", or because you haven't learned enough about people actually worthy of that description.

Other Child: So you mean you don't want me to be like him when I grow up?

Me: No.

Other Child: Then maybe I shouldn't tell you about what I did this afternoon when the lawnmower was acting up...

This post, depicting an imaginary conversation that never actually took place, is copyrighted. Don't worry; nothing actually happened to our lawnmower. This post is a complete work of fiction. Well, except for the fact that there was a guy who actually did shoot his lawnmower...and there's another guy who thought it was an act of heroism. As for the copyright stuff --- please read and honor the copyright notice at the bottom of the sidebar. Thank you.

Do not forsake me, my beloved

That's what the subject line of the email said. My heart was gripped by this plea. Surely I would not forsake this friend who loved me so dearly!

Quickly I read the email. Dearest beloved friend, it began. Could it possibly be? A long lost friend from my past? I know this letter may be a very big surprise to you. Oh, yes. But what a delightful surprise, after all these years!

I came across your email contact from my personal search and I instructed the doctor here in this hospital to help me email you and I believe that you will be honest to fulfill my final wish before I will die.

What?! Tears sprung to my eyes. To lose my dear friend yet again, just after she finally found me? How could life be so cruel? I began desperately weeping for my long lost friend, now on her death bed. It took at least 20 minutes before I was finally able to dry my eyes, try to restrain my grief, and attempt to go on reading. Yes, I will do anything for my dear friend, especially since it is her final, dying wish! Eager to find out where she was, so I could immediately fly to her bedside and tend to her in her last hours, I read:

I am Madam. Gloria Caldwell from LONDON, I am 68 years old, I am deaf and suffering from a long time cancer of the breast, which also affected my brain.

Yes, apparently so. Or otherwise she would surely know that I am not her beloved friend. And that I won't fall for her inheritance scam.


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Why I post

Someone has obviously been spying on me.

Comic from xkcd

Can you translate that?

Coming from a multi-lingual extended family, I learned early on to appreciate the humor that accompanies attempts at communicating in nonnative languages.

I recently received an email from China, alerting me to an exciting product. So I checked out the website and enjoyed statements such as the following:

The elders and the infants must be accompanied by experienced adult when they are using this equipment. Heart sufferers, hypertension sufferers, bad-healthy persons and over-drinking-persons must use the equipment carefully.

Doesn't this express things much better than our usual way of speaking? I don't know about you, but I'm thinking of adding "bad-healthy persons" and "over-drinking-persons" to my vocabulary, as in...

Me: We need to pray for Buford's mother.

Husband: Why? What's going on?

Me: Buford told me she's a bad-healthy person and asked for prayer.

OR...

Youngest Child: Mama, why did that crazy looking man shoot his lawnmower?

Me: Well, Youngest, it very well could be because he's an over-drinking person. And that turned him into a bad-healthy-in-the-brain person. At least he seems to have been one on the day he shot the lawnmower.


This post, along with my entire blog, is copyrighted. The phrases "bad-healthy persons" and "over-drinking persons" are not. Feel free to use them without guilt. But please read and honor the copyright notice at the bottom of the sidebar. Thank you.

Oh, the scandal! Call the hyper-modesty police!

Sometimes the best way to handle legalism is to laugh at it. Well, maybe not. But a sense of humor can help keep you from going crazy.

It dawned on me this morning when I was showing my new blog look to my daughter: I never would have done a blog like this before my fall to grace. For one thing, even though I would enjoy coffee when I wasn't pregnant or nursing a tiny little one (which meant coffee became a semi-rare treat!) I didn't really ENJOY coffee like I do now. In fact, I didn't think it quite right to do too much enjoying of anything, other than my husband and children and a clean house, lest my enjoyment become excessive, fleshly, or smack of idolatry.

But the real scandal is my profile picture. I'm sure some visitors to my blog will be offended, while others will no doubt exclaim, "AHA! I knew it!"

As you can tell, I'm not wearing a skirt. What you may not be able to tell is that I'm wearing a sleeveless top. To add insult to injury, I'm punching a bag. How unfeminine of me.

Actually I would beg to differ. I think it's quite feminine of me. I've done enough teaching of and training with both men and women to notice that women seem especially appreciative of punching the bags, especially the new heavy bags we've installed in our dojo. They derive actual pleasure from kicking and smacking those hard, 100 pound bags around. They tend to do it with far more gusto than the typical man.

In fact, I've noticed that my women students take their martial arts training more seriously, while at the same time having far more fun with it, than my male students. This might be because the men have a harder time identifying with me as their role model. But I think what plays a bigger role is that my women students take self-defense more seriously while taking themselves less seriously. The women also seem far more empowered by the whole training experience; for some of them, it's the first time in their adult lives that they have felt physically capable.

Women will encourage each other when their technique becomes more effective and powerful. "Wow, that kick would have stopped anyone trying to attack you!" they'll say. Or, "No one's going to mess with your kids once they know you can do that!" Some of these women have already tasted violence very up close and personal. If not, they have friends who have been attacked and assaulted. To them, martial arts seem a most fittingly feminine solution to the violence they are all too aware exists.

But that doesn't mean you get to train in skirts. Some years back, when I was helping to teach a class for homeschoolers, one family got very upset that I wouldn't let their daughters wear dresses in class. "We are concerned about modesty!" fussed the mother.

"So am I," was my answer, "and that's why I won't let your daughters kick, learn how to fall correctly, and do judo rolls in dresses. It's way too immodest, and unsafe besides."

Somehow our baggy karate uniforms were not modest enough for this woman. She would rather have her daughters expose their legs and more while their dresses flapped around and hindered their safe movements. She decided that if we were going to be so hard-nosed about it, she was going to find a "more modest and godly" martial arts school. I doubt that she did.

So, yes...I'm wearing baggy workout pants in my profile picture. I happen to be wearing a workout top rather than my usual uniform top. I'm punching a bag. Some may find this a cause for great alarm. It doesn't fit their narrow constricted view of how a godly woman should dress and act.

So...sound the alarm, ladies! Gossip amongst yourselves! Post to your blogs and to your closed forums about the scandal of it all!

In the meantime, I'll be doing what my hands find to do, with all my might, for the Lord. I'll relish my freedom in Christ. And I'll continue to allow Him to use me to impact the lives He has sent my way, those students who want to learn what I am blessed to teach. And I'll dress appropriately while doing so. After all, it's the modest thing to do.

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Yes...

I've updated my sidebar. I decided to use Blogger's blogroll feature, and I also cleaned up links to blogs that I rarely, if ever, read any more. In addition, blogs that are updated most recently will go to the top of the list. It's kinda cool.

In other news, I've been battling a flu/cold/sinus thingie and sounding somewhat like a cross between a frog and a puppy. Not fun for me, but it's been amusing for those around me.

And, on top of that, I've been insanely busy the past two weeks, when all I wanted to do was lounge in bed, read, and drink hot tea.

But of course, I've kept my sunny disposition the entire time, and have not resorted to whininess or self-pity. Right.

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Wet stuff is falling from the sky!

In the early years of our marriage, we lived in southern California where, as we all know, it pretty much never rains. I realized what a rarity rain was one day when Eldest Son, age 3 at the time, suddenly exclaimed with alarm, "Mama! What is that wet stuff falling from the sky?!"

Where we live now it supposedly rains a bit more. However, we've had a couple years of semi-drought which have hopefully now ended. I've been enjoying our recent rain, not just because it's very much needed but because...well, because I'm one of those people who loves rain.

Today I had fun driving through some rather impressive puddles and checking out how the rain has been changing the local landscape.

Although the dirt race track has been flooded far worse in the past, it still had a lot of water in and around it:

Oldie but goodie?

Since I can't seem to come up with much in the way of new posts, I thought I would recycle something I wrote over a decade ago...even though it's not exactly true...

E.Q., I.Q., or G.Q.?
The Great Marshmallow Experiment

Can the way a little kid responds to marshmallows predict his future success?

My mother was the first to tell me about an experiment that has recently gained quite a bit of media exposure. She had read about it in an article about "emotional I.Q.". She explained: "The experiment started in the 60's. They took a bunch of preschool kids and handed each one a marshmallow. The researcher said that if the kid would wait 20 minutes--while the researcher left the room--to eat the marshmallow, then he would get two marshmallows. The interesting thing is that they followed up on these kids and found out that the ones who waited turned out to be much better able to delay gratification and achieve their goals as teenagers and young adults."

Right away I knew I wanted to conduct a similar experiment of my own. I began running the same test on every little kid I knew...but I immediately hit some unexpected snags.

"I don't like marshmallows. They're yucky," one tot informed me, handing it back to me with a disgusted look on his face. This posed a scientific dilemma: would the results be skewed if I offered him an alternative? Would I have to offer everyone else the exact same thing?

"My mother won't let me eat sweets before lunch," another objected. "I could eat an apple, maybe--or a slice of toast," the child offered helpfully.

The next child informed me that marshmallows contained refined sugars and were thus taboo.

One little tyke grew quite alarmed when I handed him the marshmallow. "But it's not mealtime!" he gasped. "My parents insist that I eat three meals a day, just like the rest of the world. And snacking is not in the schedule." He seemed rather surprised that I did not know this.

Yet another said she was allergic to some ingredient in store-bought marshmallows and could eat only those that were homemade.

The son of a La Leche League Leader studied the marshmallow carefully, with a puzzled look on his face, before offering a polite, "No, thank you." He explained, "This doesn't look like something from the Whole Foods cookbook."

I was about to scrap the experiment when I finally found a child who would agree to eat a marshmallow. "But I don't want two of them," she said. "That would be greedy. Maybe you could give my other marshmallow to someone else." Muttering about "die Jugend von heute" under my breath (and sounding rather like my stodgy old college German professor) I set off in search of more young subjects.

Little Buford seemed promising. He liked marshmallows. In fact, he informed me that he really, really liked them, but could never seem to get enough of them. His eyes lit up as I explained the part about waiting 20 minutes and getting two marshmallows. "I get it! I get it!" he almost shouted with enthusiasm. He spent the entire 20 minutes with a smile on his face, gazing at the marshmallow on the table in front of him and licking his lips in happy anticipation. I expected him to gobble those marshmallows when I handed him the second one, but he shocked me with his response.

"Now," he announced in a firm but happy voice, "I will wait 20 more minutes so I will get another marshmallow. Then I will wait 20 more minutes and get four marshmallows."

"Um, Buford," I protested weakly, "the deal was that you would wait 20 minutes and I'd give you another marshmallow. I gave it to you. You did great. Now I think you should go home."

"No," he said with a smile. "I've decided to wait here 'til tomorrow so I can have the whole bag all to myself."

"I'm sorry, Buford, but it doesn't work that way."

"Why not?"

Good question. "Um...I'm sure your Mom will start missing you and want you to come home."

"No, she won't."

I was beginning to believe him.

Little Buford crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and started humming tunelessly to himself, no doubt daydreaming about an entire bag of marshmallows. "This is great," he said. "A whole bag of marshmallows! And I won't have to share!"

"Buford," I said firmly in my best no-nonsense voice. "I am not going to give you a whole bag of marshmallows. You really need to go home now."

Buford answered just as firmly, "Yes, you will. It's only fair. I'll wait right here until tomorrow and you'll give me the whole bag of marshmallows."

I decided that he would soon tire of his game, so I left the room. Two hours later, he hadn't moved. The two marshmallows were still untouched in front of him. I was growing alarmed and called his mother. She sighed when I described the situation to her. "We have two choices," she said. "Either he sits there until tomorrow and you give him the bag of marshmallows--or my husband and I come over and physically remove him." I opted for the latter. It was not a pretty sight. Finally I concluded my experiment. Of course I'll have to wait twenty or thirty years before all the results are in, but I have some predictions.

The anti-marshmallow child will convert once he tastes marshmallows floating in hot chocolate.

The child whose mother restricted sweets to afternoons will suffer great pangs of guilt when he unthinkingly eats a donut at work one morning.

The anti-refined-sugar child will hit the lecture circuit, preaching out against the evils of all sweeteners but honey.

The scheduled child will never quite recover from the shocking discovery that the rest of the world does not all eat three meals a day. He will propose the theory that Nazism stemmed from the German traditions of a "second breakfast" and afternoon cake and coffee...and that high tea brought about the decline of the British empire.

The allergic child will unintentionally distress all her well-meaning friends who won't invite her to dinner parties for fear of accidentally sending her into anaphylactic shock.

The son of the La Leche League leader will seek out and marry a young woman whose mother also used the Whole Foods cookbook. Together they will open a combination health food store/lactation clinic/whole foods restaurant.

The non-greedy child will either join the Peace Corps or become a devoted wife and mother who always shares her dessert.

And Buford? I have no doubt that he will be wildly successful someday--and extremely, extremely rich. His greed is matched only by his patient persistence...or stubbornness, whichever the case may be...

copyright 1996

Calvinism

I used to be a staunch 5-pointer. Now I'm some kind of wishy-washy 3.75 pointer. But this, forwarded in an email, is so compelling that I'm rethinking my stance on Calvinism:

WHY I AM A CALVINIST

1. Calvinists tend to wear wool and cotton. Dispensationalists tend to wear lime-green polyester leisure suits.

2. John Calvin was French...being French is very chic.

3. Calvin sounds like Calvin Klein...and his clothes are very chic.

4. Calvinists can drink.

5. Calvinists can smoke.

6. Dispensationalists are into prophecy conferences where they talk about Star-Trek eschatology and the mark of the Beast. Calvinists have conferences on "life and culture", art, social justice and other high-brow things like that. Afterwards, we go to the local pub and talk about philosophy over a pint of Bass ale.

7. Calvinists have close ties with Scotland and Scotland is very cool: you know-Sean Connery, the movie Highlander, Bagpipes, the Loch Ness Monster, Glenlivet 18 year old Scotch, the movie Train Spotting, Brave Heart, etc.

8. Calvinists think we are smarter than anybody else.

9. It is more socially acceptable to say, "I go to Covenant Presbyterian Church" than to say, "I go to Washed In The Blood Worship Center", "I go to Sonlife Charismatic Believers Assembly", or to say "I go to Boston Berean Bible Believing Baptist Temple", or to say "I go to the Latter-Day-Rain Deliverance Tabernacle Prophecy Center, Inc.", or to say "I go to the Philadelphia Church of the Majority Text", or to say "I go to the Lithuanian Apostolic Orthodox Autocephalic Church of the Baltic Union of 1838".

10. Ultimately, I am a Calvinist because I had no choice in the matter.

Humor break

I like Chinese food, so naturally I liked this song as well. Next time we go out for Chinese, I'll be sure to teach it to the kids so we can sing it all the way to the restaurant.

Quizzes, quizzes

There are all sorts of quizzes one can take. This one caught my eyes, especially since we attended a Lutheran church (LCMS) last Sunday.

You are 75% Lutheran! This is most certainly true.

Not a perfect score. What does this mean? You have room for growth in understanding Lutheran terminology and culture. Good thing Salvation is by Grace and not by merit. We can add nothing to what God has done for us in Christ Jesus. But it never hurts to learn a little more about the church on earth. Thanks for taking the quiz!

How Lutheran Are You?
Create a Quiz

The questions that baffled me had to do with names of hymnals used in the various synods, and with which synods had merged together...

My accent

Thanks to Corrie at The Pineapple Pundit, I took this quiz:

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The Inland North
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The South
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

That's very interesting, but not exactly true. The truth of the matter is that I talk...well, kind of funny. Back when I was in college, I dabbled briefly in linguistics. Every time that I hung out in that department, grad students and professors used to amuse themselves by transcribing my speech phonetically and trying to figure out where on earth I was from. They would eventually come up with some sort of odd theory that I had traveled a great deal in my childhood, and had lived parts of my formative years in Canada, Australia, and the east coast of the U.S.

Wrong.

I would then tell them that I had lived in California all my life, and that I was raised by a Texan father who talked like a Yankee and by a mother with a German accent. "No, that's no it," they would insist. "There is something else going on. Are you sure you never lived in Canada?"

No, I just talk funny. And somehow I managed to give birth to a child who sounded, for years, as if he hailed from Boston, even though we've never been there.

Amazing, but true!

And to think that I aced this logic test while exhausted! It's probably because I'm a woman --- I've said for years that we are the far more logical sex.

You Are Incredibly Logical

Move over Spock - you're the new master of logic You think rationally, clearly, and quickly. A seasoned problem solver, your mind is like a computer!

How Logical Are You?