Archive for January, 2005

Rant

Here’s the thing. I believe in God. Now, I realize this sets me up for some contradictions. I believe God created the world, yet I know the world is more than 6,000 years old. I can’t explain why dinosaurs aren’t in the Bible. I can’t explain a lot of things. I believe in life after death, yet sometimes I get so scared of dying it throws me into a panic. I’m not a Biblical scholar or particularly interested in debate in general. I’m OK with this. My belief should not be an affront to you, nor a challenge.

What I want to know, is why can’t you just let me have it? I do not go around hitting you over the head with particularly weighty versions of the King James with the Apocrypha (paperback New Testaments, maybe, but never hard cover). I just believe. Perhaps it’s because it’s what my mother and father’s mothers and fathers believed. Or because I had an extremely winning and attractive Sunday School teacher when I was in 5th grade. Or because it’s true. What is that to you? Why would you want to talk me out of that? Why would you want to pull my rug out from under me and force me into an agreement with you of a reality that would not only change my life, but make me very sad? Why is it your job to “enlighten” me?

Perhaps it amazes you that an intelligent woman of 28 who has traveled and has a degree and a good job could believe in something that you feel is akin to a fairytale, or at least simply a cultural myth. I call it faith. You call it ignorance or denial. I call it mine.

I do not always make choices that fit in with what I purport to believe. Live with it, I have to. I’m just one woman, trying to make it through my life the best way I know how. I examine things in my own time. I have chosen a system of belief and faith that usually works for me. I believe that it is true. An atheist I once knew said to me “I don’t talk about God with people anymore, you can never talk someone out of what they believe…and if I ever did, I would feel awful.” Those are wise words. Why would you want to take away someone’s faith?

Road Trip into Enemy Territory

Yesterday I was invited to a Superbowl Party. As you may or may not know, I am from a suburb of Philadelphia, and for the first time in ages and ages, the Philadelphia Eagles are going to the Superbowl.

I like football, although sometimes I find it hard to sit and watch an entire game. But home team spirit is catching and Eagles fever is all around. Shirts, hats, cupcakes, “fly Eagles fly”….even if you didn’t particularily enjoy football, around here you’d be a conscripted Eagles fan. So of course I’ll enjoy a Superbowl party. Even though this one is a bit of a drive.

6 hours.

In Massachusetts.

Yes, I’m heading into enemy territory for the big game. My friend Neil and his wife and my friend Brad all live outside of Boston. (I get the impression that in Mass, anywhere in the state that’s not Boston is “outside of Boston”–correct me if I’m wrong.) I’m assuming they are all Patriots fans, and they’ll be assuming that I’m a devout Eagles fan. The question becomes, do I admit to them that I harbor secret sympathies for the Patriots (and a not-so-secret crush on Tom Brady the QB–although the mullet he is sporting lately isn’t so hot) or do I play up the Eagles fever?

I HABE A STUBBY NOTH

I have a cold. I feel like one large nose. Where does all this snot come from? People are looking at me like I am trying to infect them. Dear co-workers, as much as I would love to stay home for the entire duration of this cold–and believe me I would: hot tea, a quilt, and daytime TV sound lovely right now–I really need this job. So here I sit, infecting and re-infecting myself in my own little 8 square feet of office space. Just stay away from me and it will all be fine.

I might have borrowed that image from here. It's very cute, don't you think?


The Real Abominable Snowman

As you might have seen on the news, the Northeast U.S. got quite a pounding from a snowstorm on Saturday. Mom and I had a funeral to go to, and by the time we were leaving at around 10 a.m. the snow had started in earnest. It was piling up at a really good clip for a while there, a couple inches per hour at least. But snow on a Saturday is a lovely thing. We just resigned ourselves to being snowed in and watched it accumulate. We got probably a little more than a foot. 14 inches or so, would be my best guess.

Sunday morning, however, the snow removal process had to begin. You look out the window and one neighbor is out shoveling, and you feel compelled to put on all your gear and get out there, so as not to look lazy. As I’m adding layer upon layer of clothing I’m thinking about how at *my* housing complex they pay someone to come shovel our walk and plow, yet here I am helping she-of-the-herniated-disk, my mother (while in return getting home-cooked meals, though). Oh well, there’s something rural and bracing and empowering about shoveling 14 inches of snow out of your four car-length driveway one shovelful at a time, right?

But doesn’t it just stand to reason, that our lovely neighbor from down the street, for whom I couldn’t have invented a better name than his own (Mr. Bear) is out with his industrial strength snow blower. . .very pointedly going around to each neighbor’s driveway BUT OURS and out of the goodness of his heart (or alcohol-induced stupor) clearing out each driveway BUT OURS. This posed a bit of a dilemma for him, as mom shares her driveway with our next door neighbor, who, while not exactly a crony of Mr. Bear, is still on speaking terms with him. How was Mr. Bear going to do for our neighbor while still thumbing his be-veined nose at us, when our driveways are one and the same?

Mr. Bear’s solution was to yell from across to the street to Neighbor-Rob, “where’s your friend with his snowblower?” When Rob mentioned that the said friend was still sleeping, the Bear decided that he “would leave him his fun,” and strolled off down the street. Later he came back down to our neck of the woods to retrieve his gas can, which he had left at the neighbor’s on the other side. He was wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. You just have to laugh, really. . .and keep shoveling.

P.S. This post is quite Amanda-esque, isn’t it. Sorry, Amanda.

What else is there…

…to do on a Friday at 4.45 pm besides take stupid quizzes and post the results on your blog?

The burning question today is: What kind of candy am I?



discover what candy you are @ quiz me

What do people do who don’t have blogs? Was I ever one of those people?

Apparently, because I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a “Bloggie.” But that’s OK, because according to this, I don’t have much chance of winning “it.” Whatever “it” might be.

30%
There’s a 30% chance that I’ll win a Bloggie™.
What’s Your Chance to Win a Bloggie™?

Texas Pictures

I really hate using Hello and having to remember to reverse the order and then post AFTER all the pictures are posted, but there you have it. At least I have a medium to humiliate all my friends. Here are some select pictures from my trip.

Meet Leona. She’s Jess’s dog. You’ll meet him furt…


Meet Leona. She’s Jess’s dog. You’ll meet him further down the page. Posted by Hello


Lori

A blog about my life and other stuff.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)