Thursday, March 31, 2005

The Sunday School class I went to before I went deep into the bowels of our church to lead/referee the preschoolers often discussed topics of cultural reference. These topics usually had religious questions or meanings attached. This week the class will be ably led by our SuperTeacher in a discussion aboutGod and the tsunami.

I really must be a paegan because I don't understand where exactly God fits into the tsunami...except for the obvious places. Such as how the divine work of nature is so awesome and unimaginably complex that an earthquake under the sea could produce a wall of water thousands of miles across. Such as how the name of God, differently uttered in different cultures, was called on to ease horrid grief. And how God was prayed to by those of us not we hoped to ease the suffering of those whose loved ones were literally ripped from their arms.

But what I don't understand is how God's tsunami creation can be used - especially in a time of great pain and unbelievable loss - as a political platform. I don't understand certain folk who might compare the loss of thousands of people to the loss of unborn babies in our country. I mean, just don't do that. Really. It is NOT THE TIME. I also don't understand how the tsunami can be used as a way to witness to the unwashed masses. I might be wrong, but it seems like God was not sending a "message" to the thousands of impoverished Sri Lankans, Indians, Thai, and Indonesians who have lost so much. Noah built the ark and all, if you believe that sort of thing, but even then I don't think God was so freaking mean.

I also have a hard time believing, as Ann Graham Lotz does (and boy do I think she is an idiot), that this disaster was meant to show us that the afterlife is all that counts.

Instead, this disaster reminds me I am put here on Earth to support my fellow man. (It was one hell of a reminder, but still) That whilst I am not suffering, I should help those who do. That shit happens, dude, sometimes mind-boggling, nightmarish, more-than-we-can-fathom shit, and while it may ease my mind to pray or hope that it won't happen to me, it could, and tomorrow, and boy am I glad I don't have to deal with it alone.

Martin Buber explained - and this is my very simplistic understanding and description of it - that God is us. And so thanks, us, for helping out those people with donations, volunteer hours, and meditations. And us? Let me remember that I should be grateful, every single day, for a day without a tsunami. For a day without a choice to make about my loved one's medical status. For a day that I can make choices about my life and health.

For every single day.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Damn. When you have glory days in the eighties pop scene, is this just the de rigeur thing to do?

I love some Crowded House. I shared a love of it with a freshman that I dated as a last-semester senior in college. He had an obsession with all bands neat and tidy - and, as it turns out, pretty much every thing neat and tidy. Still, we had some good times watching the Beta version of "Eraserhead" in his dorm room, making out in his convertible Mustang, and going to see "Sex, Lies and Videotape" and "Batman" with Jack Nicholson. Crowded House provided the perfect soundtrack for those days. Innocent but edgy, tidy but energetic, over too soon but lasting too long.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

I really don't know what to say about poor Terri Schiavo except, "Poor Terri Schiavo." I feel for her, for her family, for anyone who is losing sleep over this scenario broadcast across our lives each minute. I would register an opinion but I can't seem to find any agreeing information. Did she say she wouldn't want to continue in a vegetative state? Did she really only have about a third of her brain left? Did removal of her feeding tube truly equal killing her? Anyway, I'll have to fight befuddlement with humor, cause that's what I do, folks, so here ya go.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

I enjoyed our mountain trip. Funny how I thought myself a beach girl...but am quickly finding the restorative power of the mountains equally alluring. I love going to see the elk herd, I love hiking, I love sitting around on the deck of my parents' mountain house with a cocktail. (Or, I remember liking that, a lot. And I will like it again. IN FIVE DAYS).

I worked in the mountains years ago. I thought the area I was in was wet, cold, and lonely. On a sunny day it was too hot. And on my days off I was too busy smoking, drinking, listening to non-campy music and renewing my physical vows with my then-boyfriend (now-husband, don't worry) to notice my environs.

But now? I like the mountains. I like not having to slather on sunscreen to go out to the car. I like the quiet. I like the wildlife and the possibility of more (I am a hopeless optimist when it comes to a potential bear sighting).
I'll look forward to a beach trip this year, but I may very well think of the mountains when I'm there.

Friday, March 18, 2005

I had the pleasure of chatting up a local celeb at the bookstore today - the owner and Queen of Small Independent Booksellers. I had read an interview with her where she said that every year she re-reads Garcia Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude" and Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" - both favorites of mine. I told her that I felt like she gave me license to re-read old favorites and basically served as my therapist this winter by recommending that I read P&P again. Truly, a dose of Darcy is good for what ails ya. A heaping helping of Havordforshire and Hampstead-on-Heath is hugely healing.

The Divine Entreprenurial Diva also shared her love of Marquez and told me when reading "Solitude" to forget all the characters names and focus on prose and plot. Not a problem, as I've already read the book and couldn't begin to tell you one character's name. I'm reading his autobiography now and couldn't tell you anyone's name save his.

She also told me to be wary of recommending this book to my book club. So warned.

My birthday is Saturday. Happy Birthday to me! Faithful readers, your attention and devotion has been a gift to me like none other. I thank you.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

An even weirder weekend. Plans were to fly out whilst delightful babysitting aunt and uncle flew in. To New Orleans, for a fabulous dinner and night (one) in a hotel.

Plans change.

We've lost some cash on this one, but it seems that we did the right thing. Baby boy had the flu and it was ugly - for about 2 days. Miraculously, he is almost right as rain. Thank goodness for the wonderdrug. Of course, had the flu started earlier and the wonderdrug been given on, say, Wednesday, we could have gone. Timing: it's what makes or breaks us.

As it stands, we had a nice weekend with the auntie and uncle and I even partook of my lenten sacrificial nectar a bit. THAT was fun, I tell you. Bring on Easter. Also, hubby and I got to go see an Oscar-nominated flick, bringing us within fighting distance of seeing them all.

But. Still. I'd like to be with my husband sometime without outside (young) influences. Maybe that will happen sometime soon. If not, there's always 2029 to look forward to.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

A weird weekend. First the benefit premiere for the NASCAR IMAX 3D (CAPITALS GALORE) movie, complete with Viagra car that my friend and neighbor had the wherewithall to procure for the museum in question - and she footed almost the entire bill, too. Afterwards the girls and I ventured out of our comfort zone and into Hellcar where we met and chatted up one of our heroes. Saturday was the tile store, where I think we found something for our bathroom. No weekend is truly complete without a stop at the Lively Lebanese Location of Luscious Largesse where I branched out a little bit from my labneh/grape leaf sandwich. Dinner with the favored neighbors - kudos to my husband for letting the children run around with him during the hour-long wait whilst I had a virgin margarita and hilarious talk with my fellow Piscean.

Then Sunday hit - and the week loomed ahead with all sorts of Junior League horrors around the corner and my music lesson to plan instead of a nap and the kid in the back yard annoying me and bleck blah boo.

Thank God for Keane and a long walk up a flat road.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Mark your rock calendars! The Beckisode airs March 10. I think I can stand looking at Mischa Barton for an hour in order to get such an important sneak preview....

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I googled "Belle du Jour" to see if they had pictures of her new book or her for that matter, and this is what I get. Now I'll have nightmares tonight, or at the very least, panic attacks this summer on my first beach trip.