Batman Jesus: A Review

I have been watching a television show called Person Of Interest.  As the title of this post implies, I like it because Jesus is portraying Batman.  Really clever!  Okay, it is Jim Caviezel in the lead, and some actors from Lost, since it is made by JJ Abrams. Oh!  Now that I look, the maker of those sweet Batman movies, and one of my favorites, Memento.  As I write this I am understanding why I like it so much.  Check out the IMDB.

Basically the Jesus character saved folks using compassion and technology.  I like that.  I also like how, unlike Lost, or Memento, you can follow the plot easily.  I like to think hard sometimes, but lately, not so much.  I know I like it, because the time seems to slip by more quickly than usual.

What I don't like about it?

The title is the most boring title I can think of.  It is hard to remember because it is so boring.  I could think of equally bad titles for the show: People Who Are,  Interesting Show, or Show About People.  I realize highly popular shows have had terribly bland names, such as Friends or E.R.  It doesn't ruin it for me.

The final thing I don't like about it, is that if you don't have a television, and only a computer, you have to do something that Jesus wouldn't do, but Batman would/could.  We have to watch it via a circuitous route, which isn't so ethical, it might even be cheating (see my previous post).  Because it isn't streaming via CBS or Hulu, I think that it will only last this season.  

Making a House, a Home

There have been times that I felt like I was missing something.  Like an ache I can't pinpoint.   A void.  Moving so much in the past few years made it clear what that illusive hole was.  Now that we have a house we can mess with again, I/we put in raised beds.  The ache is gone. Just in one weekend.

I need to grow stuff.  I know it's a hobby that is not glamorous, like fast cars, skiing, sunbathing, shopping, traveling, or biking.  It is slow, and dirty.  It is the incarnation of the word 'humble' (okay maybe 'incarnation' is a bit transcendental and hyperbolic, but the word displays the unseen call my spirit has to gardening).  It fills the hole in me with soil, and leaves, and vines, and hope.

This is the modest beginning of what could be several years of tomatoes, cucumbers, berries, and satisfied tummies.  If not, I can grow something somewhere else, but this summer, we will have a bit of hope growing in the front yard, for the deer to munch on.

P.S.  These photos might lead you to believe that I had little to do with the project, but I was there, thankful that I had a crew that wanted to be a part of something that is mine!

Slime

My mother-in-law gave this to me as a gift.

I was confused why such a soft pink t-shirt would have the word "slime" across the front. I smiled with thanks and confusion. Maybe it was a humorous gift? I was thinking more people would be laughing. So as not to be awkward (or more awkward) I kept my mouth shut.

When things don't seem to make sense, I need to solve the puzzle. Looking at the shirt more it hit me: SMILE! Not slime. Which is exactly what I did, I slimed, I mean, smiled.

I took this photo in the mirror hoping you could sympathize with my perspective. Looking at it now I realize that the color of the shirt makes me all one, very pale hue! Even still, I'll obey it's command!

Smile!

Confession: I Cheated!

I love Scrabble.  I don't love it because I am good at it, I love it because I love words.  There is just the right combination of letters to fit on the board, I just have to unlock it.  When I find the perfect word, it is satisfying.
   
I can play Scrabble with people I know, strangers, or my phone, on my phone.  There is another game much like Scrabble but bonuses are in different spaces, so it is NOT Scrabble (for legal reasons, I'm sure).  I tried this popular game.  It is fun, just like Scrabble because it is Scrabble.
   
My friend told me that you can download an application for your phone that will enable to you CHEAT, at Words With Friends.  Huh?  I didn't believe it, and I just kept playing.  Curiosity got the best of me though, and I did look to see if there was a cheat application.  Guess what?  There is!  You run the word game and the cheat and it reads the board and tells you the best word to play, and where.
   
As soon as I saw this, I took the silly game off my phone.  I want to play, but not if I know anyone can "not play" by cheating.
   
Up until this point, this has been laying groundwork for my defense.  It turns out that for most of my schooling: jr. high, high school and especially at the university, I have been a huge cheater.   I say, "it turns out", because I didn't know I was doing it.  For the most part, I am against cheating.

This was my study plan:  Listent to the teacher, pretend to/actually write stuff down that they say, skim the text book for the jargon the professor said was going to be on the test and write that stuff down.  I would then make up an acronym/codes of all the concepts.  For example, capitol cities of South America: Brasilia, Buena Ares, Bogota, Quito, Lima, Santiago.  BR, BA, BO, QI, LI, SA.
   
You can kind of sing that, and it is easier to remember that the whole thing.  Here is where it get's sketchy, literally.  I would then write the code on my hand.  During the test I didn't usually need to look at it, but I could if I needed to.
   
My fourth and final year at Norther Arizona University, my husband asked what I was writing on my hand, and I told him just what I told you.  He looked puzzled, then laughed, and told me that I was cheating.   It had never occurred to me in 16 years of schooling, that I was cheating.  I had done all the work to remember?  Right?  Was this why the university was so easy for me?  Maybe.  I graduated with straight "A's".

This is me cheating.
The sign in the dressing room said,
"No Photography".
I took it anyway.  What a crazy retro dress!!

I didn't know I was cheating, yet it still counts as cheating.  I can't stand people taking shortcuts to win, but I am just a big cheater too.  Which is why I was so frustrated with Words With Friends.  Friends don't let friends cheat.  It took a friend (with benefits) to point that out to me.  Thanks Silas.

P.S. I do occasionally use a dictionary for Scrabble, if I'm stuck.

Random Coast Photos

On a clear day.
How did the stone get that way?

If there is a fire, the pug makes herself comfy!

I did finish all of these, but it took 2 hours!

Brain, Brawn & Beach

We spent last weekend on the coast and it was fantastic.  The weather was cool and sunny, and the company was exceptional.  Our friends are nearly as nerdy as we are, adventurous, and full of energy.  Because of this,  it was not alright that there wasn't a dry way across a small river to the big beach.  We used levers, muscles and a civil engineer to turn a fallen tree, into a bridge.

We were quite proud of our work.  We watched visitors come to the beach and casually walk across our bridge.  The kids excitedly told the first few folks of our creation, but I think they felt snubbed when they weren't met with as much as enthusiasm as we had.

The day finished off with a walk, a sea food meal, a game of hearts (which was good for the competitive types, not me, so much, but I'll play) and a lot of laughter.  One of the best days of the year!

simple machines

muscles and a calculator watch

next, a pyramid 

Guts Doctor

My husband has been suffering (though cheerily) with an illusive ailment for several years.  It swells his digestive track, and makes his life miserable.  There has been little to do to make it better.  Unprocessed food and pharmaceuticals have been nearly ineffective, but this story isn't about that.

Last week he swallowed a small camera, that made its way through his digestive system and then out (see photo).  It sent information to a pack that he wore all day.  The pill got stuck, and he had to have a procedure to push it through.  While in his throat, the doc took a biopsy.

He even smiles when there's a complication.

As my husband woke up from the ordeal, the doctor talked to me.  He told me he took a biopsy, and that the problem might be Eosinophilic esophagitis.  Eosinophilic esophagitis?  That sounds like something someone made up to use 23 letters in a name.  He explained it to me briefly, and as he walked away, I took out my fancy phone and Googled it.  You can too if you want, though it is rather boring.  I had it on Wikipedia in 5 seconds, reading about it.

Do not ask where this pill has been!

Today, ten days later, I got a letter from the doctor in the US mail.  It was printed from the same Wikipedia site I read, stem to stern, last week.  I know the intent was to inform us about what is going on inside my husband's body, which is really kind.  It did make me laugh a bit too.  I'd like to welcome the "guts doctor" to the Information Era!  It saves paper.

Photo A Day: January

I made a challenge for myself to take a photo a day with my phone.  It is a fun challenge, but one a day is a challenge.  It was a good thing to try something creative everyday, and see what feels right.  Some days/themes felt wrong, for instance: My Bag and Colour (it was Australian).

Here were the photos that I liked the best:  

         The themes, from the top left, clockwise:

Morning: My coffee pot and my kid's reflection

Something I Made: the girl and the hat

Reflection: Me driving (I took this waiting in the car, not driving)

My Sky: looking up through the Douglas Fir at my house

Two Days of Hands

Somehow, my husband set his phone to play music as an alarm, last year.  The phone didn't hold much music, and the first song on the list was "With My Own Two Hands", by Ben Harper.


Every morning, a few minutes before seven: descending bass line....dun, dun, dun, dun, dun.....I can change the world, one, two, with my own two hands....


The first few days that this song pulled me out of my slumber, and got my feet to the floor, I was in a fog.  I'm usually in a fog until 10 am.  I wasn't processing the song, it was just noise.  Here is the song. You only have to listen to the first 5 bars or so, after that it is obscenely repetitive and inspirational.





Normally I can lie in bed for a slow start, but not to this song.  By the fifth measure, I was out of bed.  It was like a bit in my mouth, I had to get up.  I started to wonder why this song was making me  uncomfortable and exhausted.  (I started thinking about it after 10am.)


It is a tall order to wake up everyday being prompted to change the world with your hands.  You can't do it by lying in bed until 7 am, or, that is what it feels like if it's the first thing you hear every day for a month. 

I do want to change/influence the world for the better, every day.  Yet, I don't know how I did yesterday, and I'm unsure how I might do today.  Gandhi said that I should be the change I want to see in the world.  Jesus said, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  I'm vacillating between doing good, and just being.  Am I doing enough?  No.  Am I enough by design? Yes!

What I want is that just being me, is enough to make the world a better place.  I can't wake up to, "I Can Change The World" because no one can DO enough.  I don't want to try.  Waking up to this song just makes me feel like a failure. 


Little darlings, I decided that if I have to wake up to a song, I choose, "Here Comes the Sun".

This Is The Hand, Joe Dimaggio

When I was in college, I read many books for young adults.  One was Pink and Say.  It is about an unlikely friendship between and black boy and a white boy, during the Civil War.  The meaningful part, is that one boy has shaken hands with Abraham Lincoln.  When the two boys become friends, they shake hands, and one boy tells the other, that he has now shaken the hand, that shook the hand, of Abraham Lincoln.  

Now when I meet people who have good stories and have met influential or famous people, I think about our hands. My grandpa shook hands with Wyatt Earp.  I have sat on the lap shaken the hand of a man who shook the hand, of Wyatt Earp.  I once spent the day with the friends of Martin Luther King Jr.  I have shaken the hand, of a hand.....

This week I met a man who played baseball with Joe Dimaggio.  He is in the hospital, and in his late 90's.  Our conversation was difficult.  What is it like to look back on a life, full of adventure, tragedy and love?  How do you process nearly 100 years of birthdays, babies, Christmas, cars, coming and going?  What does it mean to live a life of hope?  Why is the end of the story so sad?  Why is the middle of the story so hard?  How could the colors of a life be so vibrant?

His tears were the answer: there is no answer.  His life has been rich with, well.... life!  One day at a time, he lived/lives.  That day, he remembered.  I got to be a witness to his story.   

Yet, his life is bigger than just one story.  Our stories connect, and there is no story without each other.  Knowing our time together was winding down, I put out my hand.  He looked at me through his tears, and grabbed my hand.  I told him that now, my hand has shaken the hand, that shook the hand, of Joe Dimaggio.  I took a piece of his story with me as I walked out of his room.  My  hand and his hand, his hands and Joe Dimaggio's, my heart and his heart.

I'm On Fire

For my birthday in the summer I got an iPhone.  It goes against my pragmatism to get such a fancy (smart) phone, but I love it!  LOVE!  It has been 1/2 years since I got this new phone, but it is as if I just got it 5 minutes ago.  I have happily made an exception to my usual policy of practicality.

I have an application on the phone that is called Instagram.  It is a forum to share photos, much like Facebook, but just photos.  After you load a photo to Instagram, then you can put a filter on it or zoom in. It is pretty creative.  You can also look at photos that your 'friends' have taken.  I like it, because I really only like looking at people's photos on Facebook.

This month there has been a challenge to take a photo everyday on a theme.  The day I took this photo, the theme was 'close-up'.  This is my hair.  This is the fire that comes out of my head.  This is what I have to contend with, up-close.  

I used to be offended about the stereo-types and nick-names assigned to red heads.  Aren't stereo-types judgmental?  I don't want to be judged for something that I did not choose, or how I look.  

Finally after many years, I have relented. This brightly colored mop does tell you something about me.  I am fiery, I am temperamental, I'm hot-headed, I'm passionate.  My locks are curly and messy, and I'm in good literary company: Anne of Green Gables, Little Orphan Annie, Pippy Longstocking, Mary Jane.  I have little influence over the condition of my hair, much like my ego.  All I can do is take care of it/me, and accept it/me as I am, the package and the product.

My phone is helping me be happy being me, which is not you.  Just don't get me mad, because I can lose my temper quite easily.

Mad Milk Disease

I know you are thinking that we already talked about cows this week, because of Cowboys & Aliens.  I like cows.  I'm surprised I have so much to say about them.  I'm a redhead, and we can get fired-up about needless things. So, here goes: 


Are we so far removed from our food that this seems logical?  The milk this ad council is trying to sell you does not need to be shaken because it is HOMOGENIZED!!  It has been processed, just like almond, soy, rice, and hemp.  After it is heated to kill any living organisms, then it is pressed through a sieve with tiny holes, so that every piece of milk is the same (homo) size, then they (the milk folks) add vitamin D.  


Adding Vitamin D is a throw-back to the industrial revolution (over 100 years ago). People started to get vitamin deficient because the sky was dark with coal smoke, so the milk manufacturers added 'D'. 


If you had a cow you, or a friend, milked 2x a day for a total of 8 gallons per day, then put that milk into the refrigerator, then you would have to shake it, if you wanted it to be all the same consistency.  It might make you as mad as this woman, and if it did, I know a great therapist.  Maybe milking a cow in the wee hours of the morning would be cathartic for you, if you have so much anger.


We should know where our food comes from, and how it is made.  I'm not a cow-milk person, unless it comes from a cow I know, and then I can't get enough.  I'm sure I was a mom's milk person, but I'd have to ask my mom.  


What I do know is where my food comes from, so I am not blindly persuaded by advertising.  This ad is banking on our ignorance, and is deceiving.  Rice milk is just as bad/good for you as milk is.  Milk is not sacred, unless you are an infant mammal.  Even then, species is important for survival.   


Anyway, drink what you want/can.  

Review: Cowboys & Aliens

The tag-line on my blog is, "there's a good story in every day".  You would think that if you were a cowboy living in a town invaded by aliens over 100 years ago, you would find a good story.  I could find a good story there, an adventurous, compelling, good vs evil story.  This movie has the potential to tell a good story, but.......there are so many 'buts'.

There are so many things going on in this movie that you don't even care about one of the characters.  There are so many simultaneous story lines and themes, there is no theme.  The thin plot is a medium for CGI slimy aliens.  It was literally: action scene, action scene, talking, action scene, slimy alien, death scene, action scene (this was the outline for the writer(s), I'm sure).

Remember when you cared about Jason Borne?  The whole of all three movies was a long run-on action scene, but I cared.

I love a good cowboy movie, and love a good sci-fi, so I was disappointed that this movie was so silly.

If you want good cowboy and alien entertainment, watch Firefly.  It's a television show that only ran for one season, and was summed up with a great movie after it was canceled.

Better than Words

Over New Years, we took a long weekend and went to visit friends in Ohio.  It's not a tourist destination, but it was a vacation.  We took a break from emptying boxes at our new house, and sunny warm winter weather.  We traded it for limited obligations and warm and satisfied hearts.

These are folks who are teaching me to love, and be loved.  There are more, but my mind/heart is full of our time together today.

Review: Tree Of Life

Last week I watched "Tree of Life".  Here is what I think about it:

I think it is like cilantro: either you'll like it or you'll hate it.

Some reasons you may hate it are its raw topics: grief, parenting, death.  If you watch movies to escape and relax, then don't watch.

Another is "Tree of Life" parallels the story of a family with the story of the cosmos.  It visually interjects cosmic events (Big Bang and  extinction of the dinosaurs) and the story of a family and a boy losing his innocence.  If you need action, watching the Milky Way for several minutes might be difficult to endure.

I can say that I liked it because of my demographic (30 something, parent).

"Tree of Life" is artsy.  It is wonderful to look at, but hard to watch.  It exposes the edges of daily life that we try to rise above.  It is difficult to watch Brad Pitt be a 'bad dad', but I know that I am also making mistakes.  That is hard to watch, like looking in a mirror.  When I see bad parenting in movies, it is usually dramatic.  The parents are drug addicts, narcissistic movie stars, or aliens, not real people, like in this movie.

The one flaw I saw in the movie was more of a question.  Why was Sean Penn in this movie?  His part made no sense to me, not even in the end.  They could have saved 40 minutes of this long movie by taking that bit out.  I see what they were trying to do, but they failed.

I was moved by this movie: moved to look inside, up, and snuggle with my kids.  It is a story of redemption, just like my story, so in that way it was worth watching.

Mennonite in a Little Acroyoga

I recently finished reading "Mennonite in the Little Black Dress".   I loved it.  I loved it because I felt known.  The last 1/3 was predictable and a bit slow, because there was a natural outcome to the writer's choices and those outcomes occurred.

Despite this, I loved it because it reminded me of how I was raised.  We are not Mennonite, but I guess my grandparents were, and they raised my grandma, and my mom, and she raised me.  My mom found a man with similar sensibilities, and then, here I am!

I'm sensible, and practical.  I didn't try alcohol until I was in my 20's or a cigarette until then either.  I still haven't tried dancing, and I don't watch TV (okay a little I do, I cheat on Netflix).  I don't swear, and I can make anything into a meal just by peeking my head into the fridge.  I'm a peace-nick.  I just realized that a blow drier will make my hair look cute.  These are things that made me feel like I am just like some other people: Mennonites.  "Mennonite in the Little Black Dress" made me realize I'm not the only one.

My brother-in-law, Ben, has been doing Acroyoga.  It is yoga in groups, people balance and stretch and do tricks much like an acrobat, hence the name Acroyoga.  It looks fun, but there is touching involved.  It is not a sensible activity.  My brain tells my body, NO!  Do not try acroyoga, even if it looks fun, and relational.  My heart says YES!  Your brother loves you, he is safe.  So I tried it, and I like it.  It makes me feel like a kid playing with my dad.  It makes me feel strong and balanced, and not just my muscles, my whole self.

I'm being vulnerable to share the video, but I'll do it anyway.  Most people wear yoga clothes to do Acroyoga, I wear long jeans and a wool sweater.

Comfort and Joy

I have been a spiritual care volunteer at our local hospital for 3 years.  Every year at Christmas I have a tender heart for all the sick folks that have to stay there.  Sometimes spiritual care is listening, or encouraging, or being really honest with someone who is sick.  It has been my experience that it is sometimes praying for people.

Today I visited a 93 year old woman who was there because she was old and maybe had pneumonia.  I thought I knew what to expect of our visit.   Usually when I know what to expect, I'm wrong.

She was very sweet when I introduced myself.  She seemed uncomfortable, and I said so.  She said that we spend our lives trying to get comfortable, and I agreed.  I asked if she was a 'praying kind of lady'.  Her eyes lit up when I asked.  She looked at me clearly with all her heart and responded, "do you need some prayer this morning?"

It took me a second to understand: she was wondering if she could pray for me.  Her question lifted my already cheery spirit.  I had to contain my happy laugh, then I said that I was actually there to pray for her, which I did.  I prayed for comfort and joy, even though she already had the latter.

It is my hope for you as well.  Merry Christmas.

Christmas Must Be Tonight

Enjoy Jeremy's Christmas tune,  and merry Christmas tonight!

Our Hearts Are Home

I have loved him since I was a girl.  Now I have loved him longer than I have not loved him.  He is not perfect, we do not love each other perfectly, but we are doing our best.  Loving him has made my life bigger and more beautiful than I could make it.  His love for me has brought out the best in me, inspired me, and been the fertile ground where I can flourish.  

I am a fiery plant: temperamental, passionate, impatient, insecure, and angry. I remember today, 16 years in, thankful to the mystery that orchestrated this exciting, magical, adventure of love.  I am thankful we can celebrate that our love can overcome the obstacle that is marriage.

Icy Morning

I took this photo this morning on a popular trail from town.  It is popular when it is warmer, which by 11am it was, and I passed many trekkers on my walk back.  On my way though, I was alone, but I didn't feel alone.  It seems so forested and dense now, but several generations ago the hills were bald and miners were busy on the creekside.  I tried to imagine them as I walked, and hummed Christmas music.