Na, na, na, na, na - You say it's your birthday!

Okay, so here's the deal...

I have met some amazing people over the past year via this blog and others. However, there is a group of gals that have gone above and beyond the casual relationships ordinarily established on my blog and others. These women are my friends and my prayer warriors. As I sit and write this post, emails are flying fast and furious as we join to lift up another friend in prayer. I will unabashedly say that there's not much I wouldn't do for them, and I love them dearly. One of those women happens to be celebrating a birthday today. For a bit more background on this little posse, you can check out Annie's post here.

Several months ago, I embarked on a ridiculously overambitious project of assigning fictional characters to blogger friends of mine. I really should update that...(But I digress...) Here's what I wrote about Candy:

Candace (Candy) from Steele the Day as Phoebe Bouffet from "Friends"

So it seems that Candy is a bit of a health nut -- kind of a granola girl. (Just like me, only completely different.) The only reason I know that she is older than I am is that she tells me that I remind her of her daughter and, she said she didn't know who Heart was but was down with Sonny and Cher. I gotta tell you, that always throws me when she says stuff like that because she just seems really young at heart (must be the green tea). She's not quite as nutty as Phoebe, but she has her moments!

UPDATE: I wrote that was when I was first getting to know Candy. She's every bit as nutty as Phoebe! She is also hilarious, kind, compassionate and just wonderful all the way around. I hear she also makes some mean Chex mix in obscene quantities.

Happy Birthday Candy! I love ya, gal! Even if your husband still refuses to follow me on the twitter...

I hope you have kids just like you someday

I'm not one to believe in curses, with one exception. The mother's curse of "I hope you have kids just like you someday." That one works -- in spades. I have yet to use it on my kids, but they're not teenagers yet, so it's only a matter of time.

But you know what? It's not only a curse, it's also a blessing. Because let's face it, we're not all bad. There are things about yourself that you probably really like, so having a little Mini Me running around isn't all bad. Both my kids look like me, only cuter. Much cuter. They're both a combination of personality traits from my husband and me. They have their own exclusive traits that God has given them, too.

For the longest time, I've been trying to figure out how I got such a girly girl for a daughter. Now, as she's getting older, I'm finding that she's really not that girly. She likes girly clothes and all things Hannah Montana, but she's also not afraid to get dirty and messy. She's not a priss. If you've been reading awhile, you may remember the story about the pregnant, crazy turkey with diarrhea that she wrote about in school. That was the first indication of her sense of humor - much like mine.

Still, sometimes she takes me totally off guard. We went out to dinner the other night and as usual, she was chatting up a storm. (Still can't quite figure out where that came from - but I digress.) Anyway, since this particular establishment does not provide kids menus with crayons for endless games of tic-tac-toe, she decided to play a word game with me:

"Mom. I want to play a game. I bet I can make you say brown."

"Okay. Go for it."

"What color is a tree trunk?"

"Sienna."

"Mom, you don't have to say something like brown, just any color."

"Okay. Sienna."

"What color is the wood on this table?"

"Purple."

"What color is a wooden chair?"

"Red."

"What color are the leaves on a tree?"

"Green."

"Ah-ha! I made you say green!"

"You didn't say anyhing about green, you said brown."

"HA! I made you say brown!"

(That kid cracks me up. They both do, actually.)

If you have kids, how are they like you? Or how are you like your mom or dad?

The deep wisdom of Gene Simmons

Before I go any further, I want to clarify something. Almost without exception, every quote I have ever heard or read attributed to Gene Simmons would fit into the category of "Things that make you go Eweh!" But this one is really good.

This past Sunday marked the last Sunday C3 would meet as a core group. On Easter Sunday, we officially open our doors to the public -- our "launch" Sunday. We considered an advertising campaign, but decided against it for now. Jeff shared a little about his experiences with the last church plant he was involved in. They had over 200 in attendance at their launch. Which is awesome. Unless, of course your lead guy was expecting 700 or more. At this point, I am tempted to point out the total ineffectiveness of sending out 75,000 mailers on four different occasions with a net return of one visitor, but I digress...

The following Sunday was an even bigger pill to swallow, as they had less than 100. How do you get excited about a measly 90 people when you are expecting 700 or more? The answer came from the drummer, Jason. (Who, I am happy to say, is now the drummer and core group member of C3.) Jason came to Christ as an adult, after living what many would consider a very prodigal son sort of life; and he is a testimony to God's redemptive power through the life of a humble servant. (Sorry - brief explanation tangent.)

As the leadership team gathered before the service in a "group prayer huddle", the funk of sadness and disappointment was visible in the hunched shoulders and downcast faces of those in the circle. The unspoken question on everyone's lips seemed to be, "What now?"

Jason begins, "I've been reading the autobiographical story of KISS..." At this point, Jeff (who is the worship pastor and Jason's best friend) is thinking, "Oooh-Kaaay, where's he going with this?" Jason continues, "When asked what type of audience KISS was hoping to attract at a concert, Gene Simmons said:

'We're not here for the people that aren't here, we're here for the people who are'.

This Easter Sunday, and every gathering thereafter, when we meet together to worship God, pray and fellowship with one another, can we simply remember that thought?

Thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement. I can't express how much our little ragamuffin body of believers appreciate you all. You da bomb.

I DO NOT heart grocery shopping

What does the above picture have to do with grocery shopping? I have no idea. But when I did a google search for "I hate grocery shopping", this picture came up. So I figured I'd give this guy some mad peanut props. But I digress...

Here's something else kind of space/time continuum-ey. When I went shopping Friday afternoon, I had no idea Beth was going to do a post about grocery shopping, nor did I know I would be doing a post about grocery shopping. That is, until I happened to come across a cheese display at the local grocery store. People, it's not like I'm out looking for blog fodder everywhere I go (Okay, maybe I am just a little.), but tell me, is it's just me?:


Seemingly gracious wine and cheese steward from this angle, right? Not so fast!

Am I the only person who thinks this guy isn't wearing any pants? I have passed by this particular display countless times! Since I don't drink wine and I think those particular type of crackers are fairly nasty, I never really paid much attention. But please, Kroger! There are CHILDREN at this grocery store!

That is just wrong on so many levels. After be ocularly accosted in the rear of the store (pun intended), I figured I had everything I wanted and some things I didn't. I composed myself and went to the check out line, paid for my groceries and headed out to the parking lot. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, my phone rings. It is my husband calling. "Are you still at the grocery store?" This means one of two things: 1) "How much longer are you going to be?" or 2) "I forgot to ask you to get me some jelly beans." On this day, it was the latter. I really didn't feel like going back to the store, as I was still visibly shaken by the pornographic cheese buttler. But since Katdish = obedient wife, I turned the car around and went back to get 3 bags of Jolly Rancher jelly beans. (They are the best.) Obviously, I didn't get a cart or a basket. I can manage 3 bags of jelly beans all by myself, thank you very much.

So guess what? They're on sale. They are ordinarily $2.99 per bag, but the sale price was 3 for $5.00. I call dh to ask him how many bags I was supposed to buy. Yep -- six. "Oh, and by the way, we also need Cheetos, saltine crackers and tortilla chips." Great! As if I don't already look like a big enough tool walking around with 6 large bags of jelly beans. Might as well go for broke.

No, I do not heart grocery shopping -- not even a little bit. But the candy aisle was somewhat educational. Have you heard about the new m&m special dark chocolate candies?

I always thought that because they were shiny looking, they were INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED in foil. And seriously...who has that kind of time? But no! You EAT the shiny part:

Yeah. Still not so sure about that. But to end on a positive note, guess what they were selling in the bakery? (Cue the angelic, cherub choir.) Chocolate chip pumpkin muffin tops! Yum-O!


Now, that there is a muffin top I can give truly get behind.

Wuddup with the sideways smiley faces?

So, apparently I'm in a bit of a non-conformity/skanktinicity groove lately. I'll shake the skanky thing as soon as I get the rest of those Bratz dolls out of my house. BTW - If you don't want me to send the leftover dolls and feet to our good friend Beth, you should probably take a bullet for her and enter the contest. I think I've gotten her pretty worked up about that -- mostly because she knows I'll do it without blinking an eye.

Let's briefly review shall we?

Erin was our first winner. The lovely and talented Kardashian sisters are en route to her as I type this post. Still in the running are: Jake, Tony C., Rrramone, Nick the Geek, Helen, and of course, the odds on favorite: Beth!

Stacy from Louisville is still disqualified, but may claim her giant ball of dryer lint at any time. You many enter as often as you want. These make lovely gifts for friends and loved ones and will be beautifully gift wrapped in an empty Fancy Feast cat food box and shipped directly at no extra charge. Deadline for Slutty Girlz Rock Band featuring Miss Amy Winehouse is this Saturday at 9:00 AM Central time. Here's a sneak peek at this week's group and the next two prize extravaganzas to follow:
This week:

Next week:

And the grand finale:

As with last week's contest, I will not be judging. I really don't want to have to make such an important, potentially life altering decision for one of you lucky contestants. Ron, Tamara and Jeff will continue to judge the contest. Good luck to you all. Especially you, Beth! AHEM!

Now, back to my groove thing:

What I will never (hopefully) shake is the non-conformity groove. I'm a half-breed freak. As a kid, I thought that if only I had blond hair and blue eyes happiness would be mine. I used to put tape on my eyelids and look in the mirror to see how I would look if I was "normal". I'm way past that now (mostly). Normal is boring. Normal doesn't build character. Normal isn't funny. And seriously...these days, what is considered normal anyway? (Sorry -- little tangent there.)

As I may have mentioned before, I am not very techno-savvy. Fortunately, freaks tend to befriend geeks, so if I can't figure something out, there is always someone who can save me from my ignorance. I don't have texting on my phone. When I first saw "LOL" on a website comment, I thought it meant "lots of love". I was thinking, "Wow, that person REALLY liked that article!" I am also a dork.

And, of course, since everyone else uses this term, that automatically negates my use of it and any other text abbreviation. I just can't go there -- Talk to the hand! (again - dork)

Lately, it seems everyone's been using the sideways happy face or some version of it in their comments. Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on the smiley face, I'm just not going to use any emoticons in my comments...Oh, well -- except maybe this one:

( I ) - yes sherri. that is a butt.

Editor's Note: I just proofread this post and laughed out loud when I re-read "I'll shake the skanky thing". I crack myself up. Sometimes not even on purpose. Whoa...this post was like blowing up a balloon really full and then letting go -- all over place! Sorry/you're welcome.

Crimes against Fashion, Howdy Cloud and furry guitars

What do all these things add up to? The final day at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, Silly! If you have never attended this extravaganza, people - YOU ARE MISSING OUT! As I type this post, I can almost guarantee that I will poke fun at many of the things I have observed this year and in years past, but before I do that, I want you to know I think this event does Houston proud each and every year. I am not a fan of country and western music (for the most part), nor am I a fan of the huge crowds that this event attracts every year. Even though people watching is a highlight: People watching at the rodeo is akin to people watching the at the mall a week before Christmas: you see a bit of everything.

The reason I support this event despite my slight distaste for some of the things it represents is this - The livestock show provides millions of dollars in college scholarship money for kids who have proven themselves responsible (and in financial need) by caring for and raising everything from chickens to cows - with every imaginable farm animal in between. Despite the pomp and circumstance associated with the event, it really is all about those kids. An event that actually rewards hard work and sacrifice. Go figure...

But enough about them. Let me tell you about my experience yesterday. I begin by telling you that we did not attend the carnival (with lots of very cool rides), the exhibition hall (with all the award winning livestock and cool educational stuff), or the shopping (with everything imaginable available for purchase - not just tacky, rhinestone encrusted clothing that most drag queens wouldn't be caught dead in).

The doors to Reliant Stadium opened at 3:15 PM. Since we arrived early to beat the traffic (obviously, I was not driving), Ron found a bathroom while perused the gift shop; not to actually buy any of that tacky crap, but to take pictures with my camera phone. I'm always thinking of you, my dear reader. You're welcome. Three guesses as to what this is:

(Hint - it is NOT the love child of Frosty the Snowman and The Berenstein Bears). Give up? It's a sheep. Wha-huh? Apparently some sheep don't have ears. That's just weird. ($8.11)(?!) Okay, here's another one:

Now, if you live in Houston, you probably know that this is Howdy, the ten gallon hat and boot wearing "H" present at every rodeo. ($2.99) Howdy, Howdy! Now here's a news flash. Chuckie is alive and well, living in Houston as part of the Federal Witness Protection Program:
Oh, sure...he's cleaned up his act a bit. But I never turned my back on him!

This post is already getting pretty long, so I'll move on...

I could say much about the wide variety of um...fashion choices displayed at the rodeo. Most notably the more scantily clad cowgirls -- imagine a hooker convention on "Go Texan" day. If I had to sum up the most disturbing outfits in two words, it would be this: Denim Cameltoe. Enough said (perhaps too much).

One of the perks of being in a position where you purchase oil and gas related equipment is that you get offered lots of free tickets -- especially to the rodeo. The face value of the tickets we had were $77.00 each. This price covered a free parking pass right up front, the closest seats possible to the rodeo (we literally had dirt kicked on us by some of the horses), and access to an area that provided an open bar, free Hors d'oeuvres (pronounced "horse-doovers" by me or "whores-divores" by my dh), ice cream, candy, chips, peanuts, nachos, water and soft drinks. Even though my dh and I don't drink, it was interesting to see how often people went back to the bar. (Hint - A LOT!)

The above picture was taken during what is called the "Grand Entry". This is where major contributors mount horses and/or horse drawn carriages and parade around in the dirt in a big circle. I refer to this as the "People who could buy and sell you 3 times over wearing starched blue jeans and endangered species boots parade around on horses parade". But in the interest of brevity, I suppose "Grand Entry" is a good choice.

On every day other than the closing day, you will see a bunch of rodeo stuff - calf roping, bareback riding, etc. But on the last day, there is only two events: the calf scramble:(This is awesome, btw. Kids running around attempting to tackle a bunch of calves, roping them, and then dragging them into a big square in the middle of the arena.) They might be baby cows, but they're pretty doggone strong!

And the main event: Xtreme Bull Riding!

There is one thing that all these young men have in common: THEY ARE NUTS! But there are also some other similarities. To be a professional bull rider, your name is very important. Having a name that begins with "C" or the letter "J" is pretty important: Colin, Cody, Clayton, Cooper, Clayton, Cody, Chad, Colby, Cory, Jarrod, Jesse, Jake, Jason, Jay. or J.W. If you are not so fortunate, you should employ the use of your middle name: Danny Ted McDowell, Bobby Loren Welsh, Seth Thomas Glause, Michael Ray Moore or Tyler L. Johnston. If you have a child that you feel is destined to ride bulls, you should choose a name like B. J., Bandy, Stormy, Spud, Tate(r) and, of course Howdy Cloud. Would you buy life insurance from a guy named Howdy Cloud? Me thinks not. There were also some other guys named Steve, Fred, Douglas, Shawn and Wesley, but the bulls threw them off way before the 8 second buzzer. Favorite bull names: Funky Colemedina, Dirty White Bull, Snortin' Horton, Hot Diggity Damn and The Geetus (love that!). The winner? B.J. Schumacher. But all those dudes were tough! Favorite line from the announcers? "Roping that bull was harder than getting Rosie O'Donnell to leave 'The View'".

I won't bore you while I wax poetic about how fantastic ZZ Top was (they were). I dig those guys --especially considering the fact that jamming out to Jesus just left Chicago was the closest thing to worship music I knew in the 80's, but I digress... I did want to share a picture that Todd Owyoung has graciously allowed me to use - check out Frank Beard's drum kit! (By the way, you should totally check out his blog - his concert pictures are amazing.)Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill and Frank Beard: All 59 years old Houston boys, and still rockin!

The ABC's of crap in my purse

Disclaimer: Yes, that is a pricey Fossil purse with paint on it. But in my defense, it was a gift from my sister. She feels sorry for me because I have chosen to live a life devoid of overpriced accessories, so she buys me expensive purses, Pandora bracelets with coordinating overpriced beads to go with, and other fancy stuff for Christmas and birthdays. I had no idea how much that purse costs until I went to get one without paint on it. After pricing them, I decided my purse had character. I bet no one else in town has a chocolate brown Fossil Sutter Crossbody flap bag (don't think I didn't have to do a Google image search to figure out what kind of purse it is) with off-white trim paint strategically dabbed on the credit card zipper pouch. Katdish: trendsetter (CHECK!)

I'm really liking Twitter. There. I said it. (How's that for a segue, huh?) Now, I'll also say this: my friend Steph at the Red Clay Diaries was right. Yeah, Steph. You guilted me into it, but I'm glad I came around. It's really opened up a whole new world of Internet peeps for me, and as you all know, I don't spend nearly enough time on the computer. For example, this chick named
Mandy Thompson started following me. So I go check out her twitter page and her blog. Turns out, she's just like me, except that she's an incredibly gifted musician and is cool. She thinks I'm cool, too. But let's not let that cat out of the bag just yet. She'll figure out what a dork I am sooner or later.

Anyway, Mandy recently wrote a post dedicated to stuff in her purse. It looked really professional with corresponding letters to the stuff all nicely laid out. There was a purpose for everything she had in there. Contrast that to Steph's post awhile back about stuff in her purse. Which is waaayyyy closer to what is in my purse. As it should be, as we are the same person, just in the alternate universes of Texas and Georgia. But I digress...

I really liked the way Mandy lettered the items. So, in attempt to copy her (cuz she's cool), I attempted to do the same with the items in my purse. You would think that someone who actually paints murals and custom artwork as a trade would be able to use the paintbrush function on her computer. And you would be wrong. Painting with a mouse is nothing like painting with a paintbrush. I pretty much suck at it. But still, it took me a long time to designate letters to items from my purse in no particular order, so I'm going with it. Ladies and gentlemen, the ABC's of crap in my purse:


A) Rudy the cat. He is not now, nor has he ever been in my purse.
B) My second Blackberry. I upgraded from my first Blackberry when my dh decided he needed an iPhone. Some people never get a brand new car. I never get a brand new PDA. (Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I dig it.)
C) My business cards, "Ragamuffin Child Interiors" I realize the "child" part is redundant, as the definition of a ragamuffin is "a shabbily dressed child". But would you hire a painter whose company name is "A shabbily dressed child Interiors"? Me thinks not.
D) Large stack of random receipts. I think it's important to keep receipts. Why? Because my husband says so.
E) Pens that I can never find, but have obviously always been in there.
F) Giveaway mirror from my old church.
G) Oil blotting sheets. People, I am very shiny! Those paper toilet seat liners are also great for blotting the excess oil from your face, but by using the little blue sheets you will draw way less attention to yourself in the ladies room. (You're just gonna have to trust me on this one.)
H) Orbit gum - I tease Pete Wilson about chewing gum during interviews, but I'm a fairly prolific gum chewer myself. (Don't tell him I said that.)
I) Eye wetting drops from when I had lasik surgery a year ago. Hey, you never know.
J) Broken pieces from a cheap tic tac toe game that my daughter asked me to hold for her last month.
K) No-slip ponytail holder. I swear by those, especially if you have thick hair.
L) Leftover nail glue and orange stick that I used to apply Lee press-on nails to my ugly man-hands whist attending Catalyst One Day in Alpharetta, GA.
M) Several tubes of lipstick that I almost never wear. Also, one of them is a highlighter.
N) A Speert purse hook. You set the square part down on the edge of a table, and then you can hook your purse on it. Another fancy gift from my sympathetic sister. I've used it once: the day she gave it to me at lunch.
O) Bed, Bath & Beyond and Linens n' Things 20% coupons. You never know when you'll need to buy someone a Snuggie. (I know LNT is out of business - I threw it away.)
P) A bulletin from a church where we guest-led worship a couple of Sundays ago. (Okay, it was mid-January. Are you beginning to see a trend here?)
Q) Business account checkbook.
R) A bag of gourmet coffee that they were giving out at Catalyst One Day.
S) A bag of airline pretzels.
T) A foil pack of Gas-X. (I know, I know -- TMI.)
U) A copy of "Making your Mark: How to leave long, annoying comments on other People's Blogs" by Wordy McTypesalot. You never know when someone's going to ask you for your autograph. It hasn't actually happened yet, but I'm ready!
V) Wallet by "The Sack". I love that wallet, but I don't keep any credit cards or ID in there. It's basically a fancy junk drawer for my purse. I'm pretty sure Waldo's in there.
W) Credit card zipper pouch where I actually keep my credit cards and ID. Incidentally, I almost never use credit cards. I should take most of those out of there and put them in my wallet.
X) Huh....apparently, there is no "X". But I'm not redoing that picture! (Man, I hope Angela doesn't read this. That will drive her nuts! I swear, Angela; I did not do that on purpose this time.)
Y) Tres muchos denaro. (Dang. I'm practically bilingual!)
Z) Correct change for nothing in particular.

I suppose my purse (and the center console in my Jeep) are very much like this:



To my guy readers. Sorry. I hope you didn't get any girl cooties while reading this post. I'll try to write a post with some fart humor and/or gratuitous violence to make up for this one.


Wow. That was a really long post about the contents of my purse. I'm actually kind of embarrassed. But not embarrassed enough not to publish it. (Hit "publish post".)

I ♥ Dave!

No. I'm not on the outs with my hubby. "Dave" is my new laptop table, silly! You might be thinking, "She names her furniture? That's weird even for katdish." The thing is, IKEA (pronounced, "eye-eek-kee" by my Japanese mother, but I digress) named my laptop table. You would think that a laptop table from IKEA would have a name like FREDRIK, or HANNES, or GUSTAV, or LUDVIG, with annoying special characters over the vowels. Incidentally, those are all actual names of computer work stations available from IKEA. (And you thought I didn't research my blog posts. Humph!) But no, in a sea of snotty Euro trash workstations, there sat Dave. Quiet, unassuming little Dave. For $29.99, I knew my purchase of him would be the start of a beautiful friendship:


While I'm thinking about it, I should tell you that shopping at IKEA on a Saturday is a pretty dumb thing to do, unless you have a burning desire to shop shoulder to shoulder with lots of other people and then wait in a long line to check out behind a couple of guys who are stocking up to go into the restuarant business and in front of a woman who decides she really doesn't want the pillows that her infant son has drenched with drool. But once again, I digress...

Once I was finally home, Dave was assembled within minutes. He was everything I had hoped for and more:




This is Dave in his new home: my quiet little retreat I like to call "my studio". I've only written one post on him, but I look forward to many more. Some of you might be saying, "But what about Planky? He has been there for you from the start! Are you going to abandon your loyal friend after so many months of loyal service?" No, peeps. Alas, I am typing on Planky as we speak:


I still love Planky. I like to type on him when my hubby is home because while I'm not sitting next to him, at least I can see him while he's in his office. We're all one, big happy family!

BTW - That is my cat Rudy in the picture. And no, his eyes don't actually shine like tiny orbs of evilness. Here's how he usually looks:

Tangent, anyone?

Oooooh, Shiny!

Friday, February 27, 2009

10:17 am – Back on a plane (CO Seat 9F, in case you’re wondering) bound for Houston. The giant bag of Skittles from WDAFRAB was indeed a sign. I am exhausted and ready to see my husband and kids again, but I’ve just experienced all kinds of awesomeness over the past two days.

I couldn’t possibly cover everything in one blog post. Well, I suppose I could, but it would be more like a novella than a blog post, and I don’t want to steal my pastor’s blog M.O. And speaking of pastor’s blogs, here’s a little tidbit of moderately interesting information: When I started reading Jeff’s Convergence244 blog, I didn’t even know what a blog was. I thought that maybe there were a few people out there that had blogs, but surely not anything I would be interested in reading. The only notable exception to this was another blog called Convergence that had a very similar URL address. Why was it so interesting, pray tell? Because the other convergence blog was A) also called Convergence (which is me restating what I just told you, but I don’t like to have just an “A” and a “B”. I have random moments of OCD.), B) The writer of the blog is also named Jeff, C) the other Jeff’s outlook on life was in such stark contrast with Pastor Jeff’s, that I will heretofore refer to him as “Beyondo Jeff”.

Okay, sorry guys. I’m in full tangent mode. Bear with me…

The creation of Jeff’s blog was intentional. When Jeff , Tam and the girls left our old church and moved back to Ohio, it was for the express purpose of Jeff going back to school to further his post graduate education in church leadership, thereby better equipping him to pursue what God was calling him to do, which was…..”Anyone?....Anyone?....Bueller?.....Bueller?....Ferris Bueller?

That’s right: to plant a church. Good job! Some of you have really been paying attention! The Convergence blog was a means for Jeff to gather his thoughts and get some feedback from friends about the eventuality of planting a church. I don’t know that he necessarily came right out and said that, and it’s not as if he had this sneaky little plan to test the waters and reel in a core group. But it was a way for Jeff to “put himself out there” and see if what he had in mind was a good, Christ-centered thing or just a big bag a hooey. (Moderately interesting sidenote: “hooey” is an actual word, whereas “sidenote” is not. Which reminds me of a great Jim Gaffigan bit where he says, "You are so dumb, Spellcheck!") But I digress in the midst of my tangent...

While Jeff’s blog is full of hope and teaching and encouragement; reminding its readers to rely on God even when He seems very far away, the content of Beyondo Jeff’s blog was as dark as the Blogger skin that he chose for it. One got the impression from reading it that Beyondo Jeff truly believed that life was barely worth living; that people were jerks (himself included), and that he once had a glimpse of a good life but that it was far beyond his grasp now. I left a few comments there, and I know that others have as well, hoping to provide some encouragement to him.

Reading Beyondo Jeff’s blog also served another purpose for me. It was virtual truth that there is much darkness in this world, and millions of people who have yet to experience the freedom of a life seeking to abide in Christ. Our mission is important. If I truly believe in hell (which I do), Then it was high time for me to stop looking sadly upon those whose lives were desperately and hopelessly mired in sin and simply say, “Good luck with all of THAT!” As one of my favorite movie characters Red from “The Shawshank Redemption” would say, It was high time that I “Get busy living (for Christ), or get busy dying.”

Dude. I had no idea I was going to write about that when I started. Katdish: Queen of the tangent. Long may she reign!

And now for something completely different...

No doubt, millions of you have been on the edge of your seats anxiously awaiting observations I promised about Ted L. Nancy's book "Letters from a Nut". (I realize that my site counter indicates a much lower number, but once it reached infinity, it started over. But I digress...)

"Letters from a Nut" is just that. It is a collection of letters that were actually written and mailed to an assortment of companies, individuals and heads of state. It has been rumored that Ted L. Nancy is actually Jerry Seinfeld, but this has never been proven in a court of law. Without further adieu, the following is one such letter and the corresponding reply:

Ted L. Nancy

560 N. Moorpark Rd., #236

Thousand Oaks, CA 91360

July 10, 1995

Mr. Albert H. Meyer, President

American Seating Company

901 Broadway

Grand Rapids, I 49504

Dear Mr. Meyers:

I had a seating question and I was referred to you because I understand you manufacture stadium and arena seating. My question:

When entering or exiting a seat in a stadium, which is the proper side to face the person sitting down? Rear to them or crotch to them?

I am always at a quandary when this problem comes up. To hence: last week at a sporting event I had to leave my seat. There were a row of people -- ALL FROM THE SAME FAMILY -- that were sitting down the row. I exited my seat, stood up and faced away from this family. Then I moved down the row realizing my buttocks were not 2 inches from this whole guy's family. I had shown an entire family my rear end! But then again if I had turned around and moved down the aisle THAT WAY, wouldn't that be worse?

Stadium seating is the only situation in life where you can show whole rows of people your butt or crotch. And it is acceptable!

Can something be done about this seating? Should the rows be changed? I suggest a single row straight up to the top. You walk into the stadium you simply find your seat number and go up until you get it.

Question: Is there a gracious way to exit?

Thank you, Sir, for your response,

Ted L. Nancy

AMERICAN SEATING

August 3, 1995

Ted L. Nancy

560 N. Moorpark Rd., #236

Thousand Oaks, CA 91360

Dear Mr. Nancy:

Your letter on crotch or butt first was most interesting. In fact, in all 38 years which I have been in this business it is probably the most interesting question I have ever been asked. I have shared your letter with numerous of my colleagues, and they have also found it most interesting.

But alas, we have no good answer. Your idea of a single chair has merit, but unfortunately would greatly reduce the number of chairs which could be put in the building.

The only suggestion we could come up with is for you to come early before anyone has arrived, stay in your seat the entire time, and wait until everyone else has gone before leaving. This, of course, could cause an even more embarrassing problem.

If you come up with any solutions, we would welcome hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Albert H. Meyer

This is only one of many works of great literature that have been my inspiration throughout the years. I will from time to time share snippets from some of my other favorites. (Again, you're welcome.)

Isn't it Ironic? (not particularly)

Irony -
1: a pretense of ignorance and of willingness to learn from another assumed in order to make the other's false conceptions conspicuous by adroit questioning —called also Socratic irony
2 a: the use of words to express something other than and especially the opposite of the literal meaning b: a usually humorous or sardonic literary style or form characterized by irony c: an ironic expression or utterance
3 a (1): incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2): an event or result marked by such incongruity b: incongruity between a situation developed in a drama and the accompanying words or actions that is understood by the audience but not by the characters in the play —called also dramatic irony tragic irony.



Thursday night, as I sat in front of my computer reviewing the post I had written for the following morning, I decided it would be a good idea for Jeff (pastor) to review it and make sure I didn't have any glaringly obvious flaws as they pertained to "Zeke" and what he represented for C3 . I attempted to cut and paste the content into an email, but the the pictures became html codes and it was incredibly distracting. (Jeff's a tad ADD himself.) I then got this brilliant idea that I would allow him publishing rights to my blog so he could review the post, then revoke said rights afterwards. It's not that I don't want him to post here. He can tell you that I have asked him on numerous occasions to guest blog, it's just that he's kind of busy. Besides, when I added him as a contributor, my giant head disappeared from the sidebar, and I knew how much all of you would miss that. But I digress...

So, all that happened. He added the disclaimer about Jesus being the Living Cornerstone and associated scripture. Which was great, because some people will look for any reason to tell you how whack they think your theology is. Anyhoo, I made the final changes, scheduled it to post simultaneously with my my SCL premiere, then revoked Jeff's publishing rights. Except that I accidentally revoked my OWN publishing rights instead. I immediately called Jeff and told him what I had done. Irony? I'm not so sure. I think that situation would fall under the category of grace - unmerited favor, because he could have REALLY made me suffer, and trust me -- we wouldn't even be close to even in that department. So, do I have a point to this story? Not really. It just reminded me of the song "Ironic" by Alanis Morrissette:



and the fact that the situations described in that song are unfortunate, but not ironic. As a public service, I have decided to add some words to the song, thereby making it ironic. (You're welcome.)

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day (because he accidentally poked himself in the jugular vein with the pencil he used to fill out the winning ticket)
It's a black fly in your Chardonnay (that happened to be an albino fly, so it was white)
It's a death row pardon two minutes too late (because the electric surge caused by the execution resulted in the phone lines going out two minutes earlier)
Isn't it ironic ... don't you think (no, not really)
Chorus

It's like rain on your wedding day (in the Sahara desert)
It's a free ride when you've already paid (for the bus)
It's the good advice that you just didn't take (from Governor Blagojevitch)
Who would've thought ... it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
'Well isn't this nice...' (Okay, that actually is kind of ironic)
And isn't it ironic ... don't you think
Repeat Chorus

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face (and that is very unfortunate, but not ironic)

It's a traffic jam when you're already late (for your job as the head of public transportation)
It's a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break (at the Marlboro plant)
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife (to cut open the boxes of spoons)
It's meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife (who works as a pharmaceuticals rep for Ambien sleep aid)
And isn't it ironic... don't you think
A little too ironic... and yeah I really do think... (no, not really)
Repeat Chorus

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out (which is nice, but not ironic)

Here's some irony for you: Angry, white Canadian girl becomes international singing sensation with a smash hit called "Ironic", which isn't.

Okay, maybe I can connect all these rabbit trails. On a day when I had planned to sit at my computer all day and bask in the glory of my new found pseudo-celebrity status, I realize that I have to go the grocery store, the "oil changed required" light comes on in my car, and I get a call from the school nurse informing me that my daughter is running a fever and I need to come pick her up.

Do I consider this ironic? Nah. I consider that God saying to me, "Get over yourself You're not that big a deal."

Godspeed, President Obama

(Or, the obligatory inauguration post)

I did not vote for Barack Obama, but he is my president. We the people have spoken and now President Obama is about to make history. While I take issue with those who say that he will be the first black president, he is clearly a man of color, and he is clearly the President of the United States of America. I take issue with the claim that he is the first black president because, being bi-racial myself (half white/half Asian), I cannot imagine disavowing any part of my heritage in order to fit a profile (even though many past employers have strongly encouraged me to do so), and while some of his handlers may have done this, I don't believe Barak Obama has, nor would he do the same. But I digress...

I have prayed for, and will continue to pray for Mr. Obama, as the pressures and responsibilities that have been placed upon his shoulders are unimaginable to me. I have been encouraged by some of his cabinet selections and his willingness to bring people of different viewpoints into the fold. I will not, nor will I buy into the "cult of personality" that the mainstream media has created. I have but one Savior. Nor will I engage in the politics of personal destruction as so many pundits from the far left and right have often gleefully participated in. And while you could argue that there are few things that I would NOT make fun of, the office of the president demands and deserves respect, regardless of your personal feelings for the person who holds said office. Late night comedians and shows like Saturday Night Live make their living off of satirizing people in political office. While much of it is very funny, it has often crossed the line and become entirely too personal and down right cruel. My hope is that ALL of us, regardless of our political leanings and/or affiliations, would remember the words of Dr. King as we begin a new era in The United States of America:

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

Amen, Dr. King. We've come a long way, but there is still much work to be done. Having said that, I am very proud to be an American, and I am grateful for those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice while protecting the freedoms I often take for granted, including writing this silly little blog.

Cartoon Bloggers Part 2

While I am a bit disappointed that Tim Keller has STILL not paid a visit to my humble little blog, I'm sure he's probably busy and it's on his to-do list. I am willing to be patient (for now). I thought yesterday's post went pretty well and no one featured was offended (that I am aware of). Incidentally, I am also waiting for Shepard Smith to comment on my blog, but I digress...

I knew I was going to catch grief from Angela over at Vanities of Vanities for assigning The Little Mermaid to someone else! Yes, Angela, I KNOW that you are now and will forever be the REAL Little Mermaid, and this probably won't make up for that slight, but I kind of saw it a little differently. As you know, Ariel was a mermaid that longed to be human, whereas her daughter Melody was (much like you) was a girl that longed to be a mermaid. And while I realize that this most likely does not make up for the slight, I simply thought it would make more sense:

Having said that, another character comes to mind when I think of Angela. Even though I probably have a good 40 pounds on her (and that's likely a conservative estimate) I'm pretty sure she could kick my butt if she wanted to, because she's a fighter. Not in the literal sense, mind you, but in the courageous, fight for what's right even when life gives you a sh*t sandwich kind of fighter. I could be wrong, but something tells me that I'm not. So my second character association for Angela is Mulan. I realize she's not Asian, but she's not a cartoon character either.

Logically, the next person on my list would be Shawn from Brain Clutter, since I found Shawn's blog through Angela's blog. But honestly, where did you ever get the impression that I was logical? Besides, I haven't quite narrowed down that selection just yet. I have a couple in mind, but nothing that just screams "Shawn". So I promise I will get back to her very soon.

I'm going to be transparent here and tell you that it's 11:53 p.m. central time, I just got back from my first praise team practice in over 6 months (which lasted 3-1/2 hours -- not because we practiced that much, but because none of us can shut up long enough to pick up our keys and walk out the door), and rather than try to rush through this thing when I'm tired, I am going to close out this post with a couple of really easy, no-brainer comparisons -- not the bloggers, the comparisons. (See how I get when I'm tired?)

First up, Joanna from Joanna Muses. I honestly don't know much about Joanna except that a) she is a student, b) based upon a couple of her posts that I've read she seems pretty wise for someone so young, c) she is from Australia, d) I think Australia is WICKED AWESOME! Obvious comparison Numero Uno: Joanna and Bill the Cat. I think Joanna is cuter than Bill, but you get the general idea.


I know a little more about Christy from Warning: Sleep Talking Zone than I do Joanna, but not much. She's closer to my age, is a mom like me (but not a slacker mom like me because she's a homeschooler -- not that if you don't home school you're a slacker mom, but I happen to fit into that little paradigm quite nicely thankyouverymuch!) Oh, geez! Where was I? Okay, obvious comparison Numero Twono (I know, you're impressed at my Spanish - You don't need lessons Angela, I'll teach you everything I know!)

AHEM, Numero Twono:
Christy and Wonderwoman:



By the way, I have it on good authority that the first picture is an actual un-retouched photo of Christy taken this past Halloween. Color me impressed!

I may or may not post another cartoon blogger installment tomorrow. I've got several pictures saved and ready to go, and I have every intention of finishing what I started out to do. But I feel a prosperity gospel rant coming on, and when that happens there's only two things I can do:

1) Rant incessantly about it on this blog, or

2) Go to Walmart with a black sharpie and do little cosmetic dentistry to the 19 rows of Joel Osteen books.

And since they've got me on surveillance video there and they were kind enough to let me off with a warning the last couple of time that happened, I just don't think the second option is such a good idea.

Update: In the weaning hours of Tuesday night that quickly turned into the early hours of Wednesday morning, I made the following rather flippant statement: "it's 11:53 p.m. central time, I just got back from my first praise team practice in over 6 months (which lasted 3-1/2 hours -- not because we practiced that much, but because none of us can shut up long enough to pick up our keys and walk out the door.)" And while it is true that everyone there has the propensity to shoot the shi gift of gab, I do not want to leave the impression that I am not grateful for that time. We talked at length about, among other things, the path that lead us back together to form this little band of ragamuffins. While I have the ability to sometimes recognize when God opens a door, I often fail to see soon enough when He closes a door, or in some cases, slams it shut in your face repeatedly. So that time was incredibly humbling and reflective for me. But that subject is best left to another post which probably should be written by another author. I just wanted to clear that up.

I was just thinking the other day...

I was just thinking the other day, what if my blogger pals were cartoon/fictional characters? Who might they be? Because I realize that this series of posts will be scrutinized by one blogger in particular (who shall remain nameless, but you'll figure out soon enough if you read the comments because she's a bit on the chatty side, bless her heart). I have given the following representations probably WAY more thought than I should have. But like my dad always told me, "Anything worth doing is worth doing well." (Actually, I believe his exact words were, "IF YOU'RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING HALF-*SS, DON'T DO IT AT ALL!" But tomAto, tomotto, whatever...

Without further adieu, I give you my humble attempt at blogger characterization with artistic license:

I'll start with the pastors who read this blog, which is both flattering and perplexing simultaneously. I get that Jeff reads, but mostly because he needs to know how to pray for me on any given day...being the shepherd of my particular flock and whatnot. But I digress...

For reasons I will not expound upon here because I think it's been covered in numerous comments between blogs, the first image that came to me for Matt at the Church of No People was this one:
(you're welcome). But Christmas underwear blog posts and comments aside, I don't think Tommy Pickles from Rugrats is really representative of Matt. So how does one represent a pastor who is artsy, funny, irreverent, and has the spiritual gift of sarcasm? This proved to be quite difficult. The best I can offer is some weird morphing scenario of the following three characters: Bart Simpson, Napoleon Dynamite and Legolas from Lord of the Rings. (Don't ask -- it just kind of gelled in my head that way.)

Next up is super duper mega-church pastor Pete Wilson from Without Wax.

If I'm being honest (and I am, btw) the first image that popped into my head was this one: Freddy from Scooby Doo. "And I would have gotten away with it too! If it hadn't have been for you meddling kids and that DOG of yours!"
My sincere apologies, kind readers. My computer was suddenly and viciously ripped from my lap by Old Man Jenkins! But fear not, he is in handcuffs as we speak and is being lead away by the cartoon version of Don Knotts.
Now...where was I? Oh, yeah! And seriously -- check out the stance -- except for the position of the right arm, it's nearly identical! (Okay, I just got incredibly lucky on that particular google search.) Even though I would consider this high praise (as I was a big Freddy fan back in the day), I don't want to be disrespectful to Pete by comparing him to an ascot wearing, mystery solving cartoon character who likely hung out with a bunch of stoners with the munchies all the time. (Not judging here, I'm just saying.) So my pick for Pete is Wesley/the Dread Pirate Roberts from "The Princess Bride".

Because I think he has a great sense of humor (which is incredibly fortunate for me), and because he is a brave hero in some very unconventional, outside the box kind of ways.

For some unknown reason, author and Presbyterian mega-church pastor Dr. Timothy Keller has yet to find his way to my humble little blog. But since I'm sure it's only a matter of time, I will share with you what I believe to be somewhat of a dead ringer comparison: Captain Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation

For the record, I would not be opposed to a certain wax-free mega-church pastor (wink, wink) casually mentioning my blog address at the next relevant pastors luncheon /meet-and-greet. (I just wanted to put that out there.)

And just for grins, I have two more well known pastoral comparison:

Vince Antonucci: Pastor, Church Planter and author of "I became a Christian and all I got was this Lousy T-shirt" (which, incidentally is a GREAT book. I'd give you a copy but I bought a case of them and have since given them all away. But once again, I digress...) AHEM!
Vince Antonucci and Joe Pesci in "My Cousin Vinnie". (I realize that many of you may not know who Vince is, but I saw him at a church planting conference last summer...and you're just going to have to trust me on this one. Furthermore, in case you haven't noticed, I write this blog primarily for my own amusement. And just in case you haven't noticed, I crack myself up.



And last but not least...

(Oh, shut up. You know I'm right!)

And now for my very favorite pastor, Jeff Hogan of Convergence Christian Church

I'm going to have to throw this one out there for a few reasons, but the chief one being that Jeff does a pretty stirring rendition of "The Cheeseburger Song". Ladies and gentlemen, may I present, Mr. Lunt from Veggie Tales

While this comparison is accurate for me in many ways (The moustaches are uncanny aren't they?), I cannot leave it at that. Even though I am hopelessly sarcastic most of the time and joke around with him on a regular basis, I also consider Jeff to be just below God, Jesus Christ, The Holy Spirit, the apostles, and my husband Ron on the list of my all-time spiritual heroes. Furthermore, my involvement in ministries that he has led is probably why I set the bar so very high for other pastors. For those reasons, my comparison for Jeff is William Wallace: because he is driven by the love of his life (Jesus Christ), fights for what is right -- sometimes against seemingly insurmountable odds, will not be bought or influenced by fame or titles, and truly is a Warrior Poet. If you know my affinity for the movie Braveheart, you will understand how big of a deal that is. Incidentally, I would crawl across broken glass for Jeff and his family.

And since featuring Jeff without Tamara would be like talking about Salt without Peppa (the rap group, not the seasonings), here is my comparison for my lovely and talented friend Tamara:

Why Ariel from The Little Mermaid? A few reasons: First, she is somewhat clumsy when out of water and, like Ariel she is a bit of a non-conformist rebel willing to buck the status quo if necessary. But the main reason I chose this comparison is that when Tamara sings, her voice is so hauntingly beautiful that it literally moves me to tears at times. She is also a bit on the shy side, very humble, and will probably cringe as she reads this. But it's true. Her voice might not technically be considered among the all-time greats, but passion and soul cannot be measured in any quantitative way. Unfortunately, she does kind of suck at American Idol for Wii - mostly because she keeps trying to sing harmony instead of lead. So, currently I am the reigning American Idol of my family room and am appearing nightly upon request.

I know I said I would be posting everyone from my blog roll plus some others, but once again I have bitten off more than I can chew. I could not possibly fit everyone into one blog post without giving up the little luxuries I've come to enjoy like sleep and personal hygiene. I will be featuring some more of my favorite bloggers tomorrow and on subsequent posts after that. I will say for the record that I will not be writing about one particular group of bloggers until a certain geeky church planter chick gets back from her Internet sabbatical. I just wouldn't feel right about that. I hope I haven't kept anyone awake at night worrying about what kind of horrible manifestation I would come up with for them. I really am trying to be nice here! (Well, the Joel Osteen one wasn't very nice, but what can I say? He probably had that one coming.) Stay tuned...