glug glug mug

My job has good days and bad days, just like every other job.

I know. That's shocking to you. You thought that since I was the female equivalent of a holy man, that all my days were full of peace and joy.

Yeah, right.

Yesterday was a regular day, which there aren't many of, but then it greatly improved, when a surprise giftie made its way into my office!

Ooohhhh, a giftie. That always makes the day better!

Whole lotta tissue paper going on here. It's a classy giftie.

Hmmmm, what could this be?

It's a glug glug mug!

But wait - there's more. This isn't just ANY travel mug. It has a button. What happens when you push the button?

literary lunacy

"All these things, as I say, the professor had invented; he had invented everything in the flying ship, with the exception, perhaps, of himself. This he had been born too late actually to inaugurate, but he believed, at least, that he had considerably improved it."

And so begins the newest of my G. K. Chesterton books. Oh, the full, unapologetic use of language! Oh, the ironic British wit! Oh, the level of intelligence, wrapped in childlike fantasy!

(Oh, the lack of people with whom to share my delight!)

It is a thin volume, but I will savour every word of it. As I am home alone at the moment, I am reading it aloud, as if in a performance. I can't help it. It deserves to be performed, not skimmed. Millhouse stares balefully at me, as my voice rises and falls. He's not impressed (and neither am I, actually) with my terrible attempt at a British accent.

Nevertheless. I am becoming a bit of a lunatic for G. K. Chesterton. Mondays are for lunacy, and I am taking full advantage of the opportunity.

I leave you with the end of chapter 1:

"A fierce inspiration fell on the monk suddenly....and the first three words he spoke in a voice like a silver trumpet, held men as still as stones. Perhaps if he had spoken there for an hour in his illumination he might have founded a religion on Ludgate Hill. But the heavy hand of his guide fell suddenly on his shoulder.

'This poor fellow is dotty,' he said good-humouredly to the crowd. 'I found him wandering in the Cathedral. Says he came in a flying ship. Is there a constable to spare to take care of him?'

There was a constable to spare....And they took the happiest man in the world away to an asylum."

Susan Boyle's dream

Spike and I both agree - you MUST see this!



Click here - it will be a 7-minute video, and I promise you, it is worth it.



When you get to the end, go back to the beginning - because now that you know the end, you will LOVE seeing the beginning again.



Then come back here and tell Spike and I how right we were, to tell you that you must see this.



OK?



OK.



... why are you still here? ...

whole lotta love

Do you know your love language?

There are five - words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch and I don't remember the other two, because they don't matter to me.

Oh wait. Quality time and gifts. They're nice too.

I'm a words and acts kind of person, for the record.

Knowing the love language of the people around you can make your life much, much better. For example, Spike, knowing that acts of service is one of my love languages, will vacuum from time to time, and I know it's ALL LOVE, because he hates vacuuming, but he knows I hate it more than he does, so the only reason he would vacuum is because I know he would only do it out of love.

Or because he can't take the dust anymore. Still, I prefer to assume it's ALL LOVE.

Nice, right? See how it can make your life much, much better? You're welcome.

My niece, J-Blue, is my very favourite (and only, but still, she's my favourite) niece. The other day, as I observed the most minor of communication breakdowns between her and her mom, I jokingly offered to help.

Because that's the kind of person I am.

Knowing that she is familiar with the love languages, I inquired as to hers, thinking it would help to clear up the misunderstanding.

After a slight pause, she leaned over, and calmly answered - "I have all of them."

My niece, ladies and gentlemen - one big, multi-lingual bundle of love!

a story bigger than me

The first door I tried was locked. I walked around the corner and tried another one, which let me right in. I walked through the double doors and into the sanctuary, finding a seat near the back. It wasn't my church - it's right around the corner from mine, and I was at their Good Friday service.

I recognized two or three people, kept an eye out for the friend who said she might meet me there. It was a simple, quiet service. Songs, Scripture readings, prayer, meditation.

A cheery toddler in roomy overalls roamed the space occupied by his family. Another couple slipped in late, sat behind me. A momentary confusion as a wrongly printed Scripture reference was corrected, the proper Scripture then read aloud. Opportunity to confess our failings and weaknesses on paper, then throw it into the bucket with everyone else's, to be later burned.

Thankfulness for God's forgiveness.

I looked around the room, as the service progressed. Aware, suddenly, that all over the world were gatherings just like this. Some in homes ... some outside ... some in lavish, ornate cathedrals ... some in space not traditionally deemed "sacred" ... some in simple church buildings like this.

And all were gathered for the same reason. To remember the death of Jesus, to tell again the story of our faith, each in our own language, within our own traditions and culture.

This morning, back at my own church, another gathering. A higher level of energy, joy - this is the day of the resurrection.

The greeting - "Christ is risen!" And the answer - "He is risen indeed!"

(Or, in our church, the answer more likely is a shouted cheer!)

And again, the sense of being part of a story that is so much bigger than me. It adds depth to my faith, and breadth to my understanding of it. A reminder of God's response to pain, evil, death. A response of grace. Self-sacrifice. Extravagant love. Life.

A Happy Easter to each of you!

bubble troubles

Scanning the paper the other day, I saw this important tidbit of information:

"Are you troubled by bubbles in your ice cubes? There is a way to get rid of them."

Just let that echo in your head for a moment.

Have you ever met anyone anywhere who has been troubled by bubbles in their ice cubes? Is this a real problem? Am I the only one unaware of this bubble-trouble? Do people whisper behind their plastic cups at my dinner parties / wiener roasts?

"Someone should tell her. It's simply unacceptable. I mean, LOOK at these ice cube bubbles! It's a reflection, really, of her upbringing. Poor thing. She can't help it."

Well, if you truly are troubled by bubbles, here is the solution:

"Boil the water, pour it in the ice cube tray, let it cool completely, then freeze it. Solid ice."

Here is why I'm not going to do that.

"Boil the water" - my stove takes approximately 2 1/2 hours to boil water.

"Pour it in the ice cube tray" - which is flexible-bottomed, and useless, and smashed to pieces, soon after this post, here.

"Let it cool completely" - you want me to leave a full, uncovered tray of recently-boiling water just out there, peacefully cooling? Neither Spike nor I is at all capable of not tripping over our own feet, reaching out to grab something, and pulling the whole thing down onto our heads.

"Then freeze it" - it's hard to freeze water that has just spilled on your head.

"Solid ice" - this will be useful for treating the muscle strain and bruising received from tripping over our own feet, during the "let it cool completely" step.

And so, after thoughtful consideration, we have decided we like our bubble troubles. If this causes you to delicately gasp in horror, you may graciously decline attendance at our next dinner party.

house of mouse

I am Millhouse, hear me snore
I will not chase the mice no more
For I am old, and I am tired
I've done my work - I have retired

I checked all this with my friend, Myrt
She says, "no more!" to mice alerts
We called a truce and made a vow
That ancient feud is history now

If lions and lambs together may be
We cats and mice ask - why can't we?
Our union met, we took a vote
And so I send this final note

To owners who their feet do tap
Jolting me from my two o'clock nap
This note informs you things will change
No longer will I guard your range

For with the mice I made a deal
A furry pawshake was the seal
I don't bug them, they don't bug me
(They live right next to where I pee)

Rant and rage all through the day
I don't care, the mice can play
Set me right before their hole
I'll walk away, I've sold my soul

Utter threats of tasteless chow
(I only get the cheap food NOW!)
It's over now, you have no power
I'm going to snooze here for an hour

For I am Millhouse, LOUD I snore!
I am too weary now to roar
Just leave me be, and shut the door
I WILL NOT catch those mice no more