It’s strange how events in life with little or no spiritual significance in and of themselves can serve as the best “teachable moments” and provide openings for the Holy Spirit to inject the mundane portions of life with reminders of the sacrifice which enables us to live with freedom and with hope.
This past week, as I drove through the Columbia River Gorge to my parents’ home for Christmas, I was merrily speeding along, hoping to make good time and shorten the hours of solitary driving. I came around a bend and saw a police car sitting in wait by the side of the road. I hit the brakes, but alas, too late. I saw him pull into traffic, and then that unwelcome site of flashing lights was in my rear view mirror.
A number of thoughts flashed through my mind as my stomach lurched and then dropped. I pulled over and waited for my doom to be pronounced. A very nice (and handsome, if I may digress) trooper approached my car and introduced himself. He had clocked me twice, at 78 and 77 in a 65mph zone. With trembling hands, I gave him my license and proof of insurance. He examined the proffered documents and noted that my insurance card was outdated. Dang it! I felt sick and slightly panicky. How did I not think to swap the stupid card out?! I explained that I had been with my insurance company for the better part of ten years, that the policy renewed automatically, and that my monthly premiums are automatically deducted from my bank account, blah, blah, blah. He suggested that I try to find a current insurance card while he went and checked out my information.
Although I searched the glove box hoping for a minor miracle, I was sure that the last couple of policy renewals were tucked away in my filing cabinet, about an hour and a half away. He reappeared at my window, and I had to admit that I did not have a card with me for my most recent policy period. I feebly suggested that I could call the company and verify my coverage. Although he agreed that yes, either he or I could call to verify coverage, he explained that the law doesn’t just require having valid insurance, but having proof of said insurance. Incidentally, the fine for not having said proof is $240. Double dang. I was having visions of my premiums rising, and having to dip into my emergency fund to pay my potential fine, which seemed to be increasing at an alarming rate.
He asked the usual questions about why I was speeding, to which I could only lamely reply that I had been going with the flow of traffic and didn’t realize exactly how fast I was going. I listened attentively as he lectured me (albeit kindly) about how keeping up with the flow of traffic is not always safe, and how sometimes, especially when the pavement is wet, it’s better to drop back and let others go around. I expect that the look on my face as he described the potential fine must have resembled a puppy cowering while his master approaches with a rolled-up newspaper.
And then he did something unexpected. He said, “This could be an almost $500 day, but I expect that you have better things to do with your money, especially right before Christmas.” He wished me a safe trip, handed me a pamphlet with emergency contact numbers in case I were to break down or spot a drunk driver, etc., and admonished me once more to slow down. Then he turned and walked away before I could even finish the words, “Thank you, Officer Hol--”
As I drove away, shaking my head in disbelief at this unexpected turn of events, and mumbling repeated and sincere thanks to the Lord, it hit me. This was a powerful demonstration of grace; free and unmerited favour. This state trooper, at that moment in time, was the embodiment of mercy.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines mercy as “Clemency and compassion shown to a person who is in a position of powerlessness or subjection, or to a person with no right or claim to receive kindness; kind and compassionate treatment in a case where severity is merited or expected, esp. in giving legal judgment or passing sentence.”
There’s no question that I deserved a ticket. I broke the law. I don’t know what convinced the trooper to let me go with a warning instead of writing a big fat ticket, but it’s only a small thing compared to the measure of clemency that our Lord and Savior applies to me every day that I draw breath.
I have sinned. I continue to sin. I deserve the full punishment for those sins. I’ve turned from the God I love, and yet he continues to say, “Your debt has been paid,” and then separates those dark blotches on my soul as far from me as the east is from the west. He looks on me, not through a filter of my past sins, but as clean and purified.
There is a line from “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” that always moves me deeply when I read it, and it came to mind again that day. Professor Lupin, after unexpectedly snatching a rule-breaking Harry away from swift and sure punishment by Professor Snape, gently but sternly rebukes him. “Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them -- gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.” Ouch. How often is my life a poor repayment of Christ’s sacrifice? How often do I let circumstance and emotion dictate my behavior, even consciously knowing that I am sinning?
That’s where the next biggest measure of grace following the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ comes into play. The deed is done, and there’s nothing else that I can do to secure my salvation beyond accepting that which is freely given. If the deal was that Jesus had to die to cover all my sins but that I would reap the undeserved benefits if and only if I measured up to His life, then I’d be sunk. We’d all be sunk.
Grace versus works is a struggle that has defeated many a person and left them crushed and disappointed in themselves, and in God for making them so weak. It’s so easy to bandy about words like “grace” and “mercy” and speak the appropriate “Christian-ese” language to present ourselves as righteous and “mature” believers, all the while ranking and rating ourselves against our brethren. I attend regularly, I volunteer with the kids’ program, and I minister with the worship team… surely this must all look good on my “permanent record.” What a poor repayment indeed, to feel that I deserve grace more than any other person. In the end, I pray that my life will amount to more than using grace as a “get out of jail free” card, but rather to be deeply and unequivocally changed by it.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Since I have been dubbed a "Cookie Princess"....
...and since Kathie "misses [me]" and "SOOOOO misses [my] ginger cookies," here is the recipe. Um, by the way, did anyone else notice the disproportionately placed affection here? ;o)
GINGER CRINKLES
Ingredients:
1 1/3 C Sugar
1 1/3 C Oil
2 Eggs
1/2 C Molasses
4 C Flour
4 tsp Baking Soda
1 tsp Salt
2 tsp Cinnamon
2 tsp Ginger
1/2 C Sugar for dipping
1. Preheat oven to 350○
2. Mix sugar and oil. Add eggs and mix well. Stir in molasses.
3. In a separate bowl, mix the dry ingredients well. Add to wet ingredients and stir well.
4. Form into balls and roll in sugar. Place on ungreased cookie sheet.
5. Bake for 8-10 minutes.
TIPS: I mix dough by hand, not in mixer. Don’t overbake! Remove cookies from oven when they are cracked on top, but still look somewhat doughy -- they will continue to bake on the pan. Let cool for approximately 10 minutes before removing from the pan to cool on a rack.
GINGER CRINKLES
Ingredients:
1 1/3 C Sugar
1 1/3 C Oil
2 Eggs
1/2 C Molasses
4 C Flour
4 tsp Baking Soda
1 tsp Salt
2 tsp Cinnamon
2 tsp Ginger
1/2 C Sugar for dipping
1. Preheat oven to 350○
2. Mix sugar and oil. Add eggs and mix well. Stir in molasses.
3. In a separate bowl, mix the dry ingredients well. Add to wet ingredients and stir well.
4. Form into balls and roll in sugar. Place on ungreased cookie sheet.
5. Bake for 8-10 minutes.
TIPS: I mix dough by hand, not in mixer. Don’t overbake! Remove cookies from oven when they are cracked on top, but still look somewhat doughy -- they will continue to bake on the pan. Let cool for approximately 10 minutes before removing from the pan to cool on a rack.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
'Flowers from Heaven' feel better than 'Pennies from Heaven'
...at least when they unexpectedly fall and bonk you on the head, as has happened to me twice today. :o)
You have to understand, I basically never get flowers. I don't have a significant other to give the obligatory romantic bouquet on holidays and anniversaries, so except for those rare occasions when a friend buys some on a whim or plucks them from the garden, it's pretty much up to me to buy my own flowers if I feel so compelled.
That said, I showed up at work this morning and found a lovely fall bouquet propped against my door. I helped someone (a manager that I don't normally support) out of a pinch yesterday evening, and she brought flowers as a 'thank you.' Naturally, this brightened my morning significantly. Then, as if that wasn't enough, I took a long lunch for my semi-annual dental cleaning, and came back to find a STUNNING -I kid you not- three and a half foot tall orchid plant on my desk! It's absolutely breathtaking, and appears as if it should be the centerpiece at some formal Japanese banquet. This was a 'thank you' from another wonderful co-worker, and left me postively flabbergasted and glowing more than a little. (insert ridiculously big grin)
People keep peeking into my office as they walk by, with quizzical looks on their faces that suggest they're wondering if they have somehow missed my birthday or some other important event. Of course, that just makes me smile more, and increases the sense of curiosity. Hee.
What started out as a very difficult week has been intersected in a way that basically amounts to little hugs from Jesus wherever I look. Sigh. I love this stuff.
You have to understand, I basically never get flowers. I don't have a significant other to give the obligatory romantic bouquet on holidays and anniversaries, so except for those rare occasions when a friend buys some on a whim or plucks them from the garden, it's pretty much up to me to buy my own flowers if I feel so compelled.
That said, I showed up at work this morning and found a lovely fall bouquet propped against my door. I helped someone (a manager that I don't normally support) out of a pinch yesterday evening, and she brought flowers as a 'thank you.' Naturally, this brightened my morning significantly. Then, as if that wasn't enough, I took a long lunch for my semi-annual dental cleaning, and came back to find a STUNNING -I kid you not- three and a half foot tall orchid plant on my desk! It's absolutely breathtaking, and appears as if it should be the centerpiece at some formal Japanese banquet. This was a 'thank you' from another wonderful co-worker, and left me postively flabbergasted and glowing more than a little. (insert ridiculously big grin)
People keep peeking into my office as they walk by, with quizzical looks on their faces that suggest they're wondering if they have somehow missed my birthday or some other important event. Of course, that just makes me smile more, and increases the sense of curiosity. Hee.
What started out as a very difficult week has been intersected in a way that basically amounts to little hugs from Jesus wherever I look. Sigh. I love this stuff.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Zoo Camp
I recently had the opportunity to accompany a severely autistic 7-year-old (although differing reports say he's 8) to Zoo Camp at the Oregon Zoo. The week was challenging, exhausting, and wonderful. Let me start by saying WHERE WAS ZOO CAMP WHEN I WAS A KID?!?! I would have LOVED it!! Oh, wait... I didn't live near a decent zoo from Grades 2-12. Anyhow, I was like a kid in a candy shop. But I digress...
The boy - let's call him Bobby - is highly intelligent with a memory like a porous oceanic creature. He's also very "Rainman"-esque with some physical tics and certain catchphrases he repeats mantra-style. My favorite of these is "I'm a tree... I'm a tree... I'm a tree..." Bobby can be very lucid and tuned in at some moments, and then he'll disappear into his own world for hours at a time. While his lack of eye contact and selective hearing can sometimes be legitimately blamed on his autism, he also has plenty of moments where he's just a plain ol' WILLFUL little boy. For example, when you call him and he looks you in the eye, giggles, and bolts for the hills. Or when he's kicking aside the other campers' backpacks in hopes of finding his hat on the classroom floor, and when you call him on it, he looks you in the eye and kicks 2 or 3 more as if they were errant soccer balls. Grrrr. Those moments didn't go over well with me, nor did it when this 60 pound child would go deadweight or start violently twisting in hopes of breaking my grip on his hand. Little did he know about my famed ninja "monkey grip" and just how tough that would be! Bwaa-ha-haaa! >:o\
Bobby responds well to concise, firm, military-style instructions, and I had my share of drill sergeant moments. Nonetheless, until you note his odd behavior and speech, Bobby is a beautiful little boy and at first glance looks "normal", and therefore I got my fair share of raised eyebrows from other adults as I would bark, "Bobby! Get on your feet now!" or "Bobby, you HAVE to wait your turn!" Sigh. If only they knew the challenge of 5 full days with a special needs kid. They might think I was a saint instead of a grouchy nag. Sigh.
In addition to Bobby, there were 35 other first graders in the class, and a total of 9 in my small group. So by the end of the week I was plum tuckered out and ready for a vacation from my vacation.
My two favorite moments of the week:
1. I always had one hand holding Bobby's hand, and the other was often grabbed by one of the little girls as we walked to and fro from the drop-off and pick-up zone to our classroom. I became accustomed to Bobby periodically letting go of my hand long enough to adjust his baseball cap or nametag, and I was always happy when he let go of my hand to wipe his nose rather than using my hand for the purpose. On one such morning walk, Bobby was holding my left hand, and little platinum blonde Kimberly was holding my right hand. I felt him let go momentarily and then grab my hand again, and thought nothing of it. The next time I looked down to ask him a question, I found that Bobby had apparently turned into a small Asian girl! Talk about a magic trick!! Okay, it was actually Cindy, and Bobby was placidly walking about 10 kids ahead of us in line. Still, that cracked me up!
2. One little girl was quite the "sensitive" child, prone to tears at any small bump or perceived injustice. On our small group's very first trek through the zoo, Bobby accidentally bumped into her at the underwater sea lion viewing area. She promptly burst into tears and tattled to me, a pattern which continued throughout the week. I couldn't seem to make her understand that a.) it was not intentional and b.) she was not actually injured in any way. On Friday afternoon as the group departed the classroom for the final trek into the zoo, I was caught in a line for the bathroom. The other leader advised me of the direction they were headed and we agreed that I would catch up. Not 5 minutes later, I caught up to the group, only to find that this same girl was HOLDING BOBBY'S HAND, contentedly being his "buddy." As we walked from exhibit to exhibit, she would kindly call to him, "Bobby! Come hold my hand!" and he seemed happy to please. At the end of the day, as we hiked through the zoo and around the parking lots to the pick-up point yonder, she automatically grabbed his hand and escorted him. When one of the other kids asked why she was holding his hand, she matter-of-factly replied "Because he's my friend."
So, there's the simple beauty of first graders. So helpless and wiggly and whiny and infuriating at times, and yet also able to extend grace and friendship in simple practical ways. Insert collective "awwww" and possible dabbing at the eyes with tissue.
In the end, while I was so exhausted every night that I feel asleep shortly after I got home (and consequently took the entire week to read the final Harry Potter book!), it was full of great moments, and it was a blessing to be able to help Bobby and his family by enabling him to go to Zoo Camp for the first time, when in the past he has had to stay home with mom and the baby while the his other siblings go.
This year we had a variety of classroom visitors including an armadillo, a spiny lizard, a hare, a hydroasaurus, and a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach. Next year, assuming that Bobby graduates to 2nd Grade Zoo Camp, we get to feed the otters. I can't wait! Where do I sign up?!?! :o)
The boy - let's call him Bobby - is highly intelligent with a memory like a porous oceanic creature. He's also very "Rainman"-esque with some physical tics and certain catchphrases he repeats mantra-style. My favorite of these is "I'm a tree... I'm a tree... I'm a tree..." Bobby can be very lucid and tuned in at some moments, and then he'll disappear into his own world for hours at a time. While his lack of eye contact and selective hearing can sometimes be legitimately blamed on his autism, he also has plenty of moments where he's just a plain ol' WILLFUL little boy. For example, when you call him and he looks you in the eye, giggles, and bolts for the hills. Or when he's kicking aside the other campers' backpacks in hopes of finding his hat on the classroom floor, and when you call him on it, he looks you in the eye and kicks 2 or 3 more as if they were errant soccer balls. Grrrr. Those moments didn't go over well with me, nor did it when this 60 pound child would go deadweight or start violently twisting in hopes of breaking my grip on his hand. Little did he know about my famed ninja "monkey grip" and just how tough that would be! Bwaa-ha-haaa! >:o\
Bobby responds well to concise, firm, military-style instructions, and I had my share of drill sergeant moments. Nonetheless, until you note his odd behavior and speech, Bobby is a beautiful little boy and at first glance looks "normal", and therefore I got my fair share of raised eyebrows from other adults as I would bark, "Bobby! Get on your feet now!" or "Bobby, you HAVE to wait your turn!" Sigh. If only they knew the challenge of 5 full days with a special needs kid. They might think I was a saint instead of a grouchy nag. Sigh.
In addition to Bobby, there were 35 other first graders in the class, and a total of 9 in my small group. So by the end of the week I was plum tuckered out and ready for a vacation from my vacation.
My two favorite moments of the week:
1. I always had one hand holding Bobby's hand, and the other was often grabbed by one of the little girls as we walked to and fro from the drop-off and pick-up zone to our classroom. I became accustomed to Bobby periodically letting go of my hand long enough to adjust his baseball cap or nametag, and I was always happy when he let go of my hand to wipe his nose rather than using my hand for the purpose. On one such morning walk, Bobby was holding my left hand, and little platinum blonde Kimberly was holding my right hand. I felt him let go momentarily and then grab my hand again, and thought nothing of it. The next time I looked down to ask him a question, I found that Bobby had apparently turned into a small Asian girl! Talk about a magic trick!! Okay, it was actually Cindy, and Bobby was placidly walking about 10 kids ahead of us in line. Still, that cracked me up!
2. One little girl was quite the "sensitive" child, prone to tears at any small bump or perceived injustice. On our small group's very first trek through the zoo, Bobby accidentally bumped into her at the underwater sea lion viewing area. She promptly burst into tears and tattled to me, a pattern which continued throughout the week. I couldn't seem to make her understand that a.) it was not intentional and b.) she was not actually injured in any way. On Friday afternoon as the group departed the classroom for the final trek into the zoo, I was caught in a line for the bathroom. The other leader advised me of the direction they were headed and we agreed that I would catch up. Not 5 minutes later, I caught up to the group, only to find that this same girl was HOLDING BOBBY'S HAND, contentedly being his "buddy." As we walked from exhibit to exhibit, she would kindly call to him, "Bobby! Come hold my hand!" and he seemed happy to please. At the end of the day, as we hiked through the zoo and around the parking lots to the pick-up point yonder, she automatically grabbed his hand and escorted him. When one of the other kids asked why she was holding his hand, she matter-of-factly replied "Because he's my friend."
So, there's the simple beauty of first graders. So helpless and wiggly and whiny and infuriating at times, and yet also able to extend grace and friendship in simple practical ways. Insert collective "awwww" and possible dabbing at the eyes with tissue.
In the end, while I was so exhausted every night that I feel asleep shortly after I got home (and consequently took the entire week to read the final Harry Potter book!), it was full of great moments, and it was a blessing to be able to help Bobby and his family by enabling him to go to Zoo Camp for the first time, when in the past he has had to stay home with mom and the baby while the his other siblings go.
This year we had a variety of classroom visitors including an armadillo, a spiny lizard, a hare, a hydroasaurus, and a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach. Next year, assuming that Bobby graduates to 2nd Grade Zoo Camp, we get to feed the otters. I can't wait! Where do I sign up?!?! :o)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
He Said, She Said
A couple of weekends ago, under the guise of building my "writer's toolbox" (and conveniently avoiding housework), I challenged myself to come up with as many substitutes for the word "said" as possible. So far my list numbers 165. I think it's possible to get to 300. Please join me in this endeavor and plunder your vocabulary for the best "jewels"! I'll update the list periodically. :o)
P.S. Feel free to print and use the list, however I ask that you do not in any way sell or monetarily profit from my list. Thanks!
accused
acknowledged
acquiesced
added
addressed
alluded
amended
announced
answered
appealed
articulated
assented
assured
babbled
badgered
barked
begged
broached
bubbled
cackled
cajoled
called
cautioned
censured
chanted
charged
chided
chimed in
chortled
chuckled
coaxed
comforted
complained
confessed
confided
contributed
cooed
countered
cried
croaked
decided
divulged
deliberated
demanded
demurred
denied
dictated
directed
divulged
echoed
enunciated
exclaimed
explained
expostulated
exulted
fawned
forewarned
giggled
grasped
grumbled
guffawed
gushed
hiccupped
hinted
hissed
howled
implored
impugned
inquired
insinuated
insisted
interjected
interrogated
interrupted
intimated
intoned
invented
jabbered
joked
lamented
levied
lied
mimicked
moaned
mocked
mollified
mumbled
murmured
muttered
narrated
objected
opined
ordered
petitioned
paraphrased
placated
pleaded
preached
predicted
pried
proclaimed
prompted
pronounced
proposed
purred
queried
questioned
quoted
ranted
raved
reacted
reasoned
reassured
recapitulated
reciprocated
recounted
remarked
repeated
replied
reprimanded
requested
responded
retaliated
retorted
roared
ruminated
sang
sassed
scolded
screamed
shouted
shrieked
sighed
snarled
snickered
sniggered
spat
spluttered
spoke up
squealed
stammered
stated
stuttered
submitted
suggested
supposed
taunted
threatened
thundered
told
translated
twittered
urged
uttered
ventured
verified
wailed
warned
whined
whispered
wondered
yelled
yelped
P.S. Feel free to print and use the list, however I ask that you do not in any way sell or monetarily profit from my list. Thanks!
accused
acknowledged
acquiesced
added
addressed
alluded
amended
announced
answered
appealed
articulated
assented
assured
babbled
badgered
barked
begged
broached
bubbled
cackled
cajoled
called
cautioned
censured
chanted
charged
chided
chimed in
chortled
chuckled
coaxed
comforted
complained
confessed
confided
contributed
cooed
countered
cried
croaked
decided
divulged
deliberated
demanded
demurred
denied
dictated
directed
divulged
echoed
enunciated
exclaimed
explained
expostulated
exulted
fawned
forewarned
giggled
grasped
grumbled
guffawed
gushed
hiccupped
hinted
hissed
howled
implored
impugned
inquired
insinuated
insisted
interjected
interrogated
interrupted
intimated
intoned
invented
jabbered
joked
lamented
levied
lied
mimicked
moaned
mocked
mollified
mumbled
murmured
muttered
narrated
objected
opined
ordered
petitioned
paraphrased
placated
pleaded
preached
predicted
pried
proclaimed
prompted
pronounced
proposed
purred
queried
questioned
quoted
ranted
raved
reacted
reasoned
reassured
recapitulated
reciprocated
recounted
remarked
repeated
replied
reprimanded
requested
responded
retaliated
retorted
roared
ruminated
sang
sassed
scolded
screamed
shouted
shrieked
sighed
snarled
snickered
sniggered
spat
spluttered
spoke up
squealed
stammered
stated
stuttered
submitted
suggested
supposed
taunted
threatened
thundered
told
translated
twittered
urged
uttered
ventured
verified
wailed
warned
whined
whispered
wondered
yelled
yelped
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Caving in to peer pressure again...
I can dig it! I just wish I had her hair and looked that good in a jumpsuit. I wouldn't mind snogging Will Riker either, come to think of it... :o)
Your results:
You are Deanna Troi
Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Quiz
Your results:
You are Deanna Troi
| You are a caring and loving individual. You understand people's emotions and you are able to comfort and counsel them.  |
Friday, April 06, 2007
An Ode to Señor Don Gato
A couple of weekends ago, I had one of those LONG telephone conversations that I think only sisters and/or the best of friends can truly enjoy. For four hours on a Friday evening, from eight o’clock until nearly midnight, we giggled and chattered, reminisced about our shared childhood, and finished one another’s sentences. I was simply enjoying her company, and I believe she was enjoying the distraction from the reality that my poor niece had been hit with a stomach bug and had been vomiting at regular intervals since dinnertime.
Now if you know me and my sister well, you’ll know that we have freakish memories for obscure trivia, movie lines, song lyrics, and the like. Remember the McDonalds promotion sometime back in the late eighties where they gave away records with a song listing all of the menu items, and a chance to win a prize? We spent hours and nearly played that little vinyl to death in the process of memorizing it, and to this day, we both remember it in full. “Big Mac, McDLT, a Quarter Pounder with some cheese, Fillet o’Fish, a hamburger, a cheeseburger, a Happy Meal, McNuggets, tasty golden French fries (regular and larger sizes), salads Chef or Garden, or a Chicken Salad Oriental, Big Big Breakfast, Egg McMuffin, Hot Hot Cakes with sausage, maybe biscuits (Bacon, Egg, and Cheese), a Danish, sausage, hash browns too, and for dessert hot apple pies, and sundaes (three varieties!), a soft serve cone, three kinds of shakes, and chocolaty chip cookies, and to drink a Coca-Cola, Diet Coke, and Orange Drink, a Sprite, a coffee (Decaf too), a low fat milk, also an orange juice, I love McDonalds 'Good Time Great Taste' and I get this all at one place!”
Whew! Never could do it all in one breath, but there it is (perhaps the longest run-on sentence in world history) fresh from the recesses of my brain. Our other classic is the warning label from the bottom of our kitchen chairs: “NOTICE: Only the resilient filling materials contained in this article meet California Bureau of Home Furnishings flammability requirements. Care should be exercised near open flame and with burning cigarettes.” That little joke originated one day when we were home alone and my sister was lying on the kitchen floor pretending (in big sister fashion) that she either had a concussion or had gone into some altered mental state. She just looked catatonic and kept repeating that warning over and over. Eventually I figured out her trick and we committed it to memory. The joke is so long-standing expect that whichever of us lives longest might just end up including it in our eulogy for the other.
Weird? Yes. Definitely. No question there. Whenever I hear that the average human only uses 10% of their brain, I get slightly worried that upwards of 7-8% of mine might be filled up with “Princess Bride” and Monty Python quotes, the plots and punch lines from just about every episode of “Friends” ever made, LOTR and Battlestar Galactica trivia, and a plethora of song lyrics.
Anyhow, in the course of our reminiscing, my sister and I tried singing our mutual favorite song from grade school music class, a little ditty called “Señor Don Gato.” We had no trouble with the first, second, and third verses, and most of the sixth. We struggled with the fourth and fifth verses, though, and were just about to give up for the evening and head towards our respective beds. We said goodnight, hung up, and I had started washing my face when suddenly a flash of the missing words light up my brain like a lightening bolt. I scrambled for the phone, dialed, and without preamble nearly shouted “It’s something about doctors holding a consultation…How does it go??” By then there was such a bee in her bonnet that she climbed out of bed and Googled “Don Gato lyrics” and quickly found what we were seeking. It seems the song is (or was) quite popular in grade school music class repertoires, and whole generations of adults probably have that song tickling at the backs of their minds. Should you care to do so, it’s even available for download on iTunes.
So, Ladies & Gentlemen, without further ado, here they are in full…my tribute to sisterhood and a noggin full of memories… the lyrics to the song about the lovesick kitty, Señor Don Gato. If you know it, sing along! :o)
Oh Señor Don Gato was a cat
On a high red roof Don Gato sat
He went there to read a letter
(Meow, meow, meow)
Where the reading light was better
(Meow, meow, meow)
'Twas a love note for Don Gato
I adore you wrote the lady cat
Who was fluffy, white and nice and fat
There was not a sweeter kitty
(Meow, meow, meow)
In the country or the city
(Meow, meow, meow)
And she said she'd wed Don Gato
Oh, Don Gato jumped so happily
He fell off the roof and broke his knee
Broke his ribs and all his whiskers
(Meow, meow, meow)
And his little solar plexus
(Meow, meow, meow)
“Ay Caramba,” cried Don Gato
Then the doctors all came on the run
Just to see if something could be done
And they held a consultation
(Meow, meow, meow)
About how to save their patient
(Meow, meow, meow)
How to save Señor Don Gato
But in spite of everything they tried
Poor Señor Don Gato up and died
And it wasn't very merry
(Meow, meow, meow)
Going to the cemetery
(Meow, meow, meow)
For the ending of Don Gato
When the funeral passed the market square
Such a smell of fish was in the air
Though his burial was slated
(Meow, meow, meow)
He became reanimated
(Meow, meow, meow)
He came back to life, Don Gato
Now if you know me and my sister well, you’ll know that we have freakish memories for obscure trivia, movie lines, song lyrics, and the like. Remember the McDonalds promotion sometime back in the late eighties where they gave away records with a song listing all of the menu items, and a chance to win a prize? We spent hours and nearly played that little vinyl to death in the process of memorizing it, and to this day, we both remember it in full. “Big Mac, McDLT, a Quarter Pounder with some cheese, Fillet o’Fish, a hamburger, a cheeseburger, a Happy Meal, McNuggets, tasty golden French fries (regular and larger sizes), salads Chef or Garden, or a Chicken Salad Oriental, Big Big Breakfast, Egg McMuffin, Hot Hot Cakes with sausage, maybe biscuits (Bacon, Egg, and Cheese), a Danish, sausage, hash browns too, and for dessert hot apple pies, and sundaes (three varieties!), a soft serve cone, three kinds of shakes, and chocolaty chip cookies, and to drink a Coca-Cola, Diet Coke, and Orange Drink, a Sprite, a coffee (Decaf too), a low fat milk, also an orange juice, I love McDonalds 'Good Time Great Taste' and I get this all at one place!”
Whew! Never could do it all in one breath, but there it is (perhaps the longest run-on sentence in world history) fresh from the recesses of my brain. Our other classic is the warning label from the bottom of our kitchen chairs: “NOTICE: Only the resilient filling materials contained in this article meet California Bureau of Home Furnishings flammability requirements. Care should be exercised near open flame and with burning cigarettes.” That little joke originated one day when we were home alone and my sister was lying on the kitchen floor pretending (in big sister fashion) that she either had a concussion or had gone into some altered mental state. She just looked catatonic and kept repeating that warning over and over. Eventually I figured out her trick and we committed it to memory. The joke is so long-standing expect that whichever of us lives longest might just end up including it in our eulogy for the other.
Weird? Yes. Definitely. No question there. Whenever I hear that the average human only uses 10% of their brain, I get slightly worried that upwards of 7-8% of mine might be filled up with “Princess Bride” and Monty Python quotes, the plots and punch lines from just about every episode of “Friends” ever made, LOTR and Battlestar Galactica trivia, and a plethora of song lyrics.
Anyhow, in the course of our reminiscing, my sister and I tried singing our mutual favorite song from grade school music class, a little ditty called “Señor Don Gato.” We had no trouble with the first, second, and third verses, and most of the sixth. We struggled with the fourth and fifth verses, though, and were just about to give up for the evening and head towards our respective beds. We said goodnight, hung up, and I had started washing my face when suddenly a flash of the missing words light up my brain like a lightening bolt. I scrambled for the phone, dialed, and without preamble nearly shouted “It’s something about doctors holding a consultation…How does it go??” By then there was such a bee in her bonnet that she climbed out of bed and Googled “Don Gato lyrics” and quickly found what we were seeking. It seems the song is (or was) quite popular in grade school music class repertoires, and whole generations of adults probably have that song tickling at the backs of their minds. Should you care to do so, it’s even available for download on iTunes.
So, Ladies & Gentlemen, without further ado, here they are in full…my tribute to sisterhood and a noggin full of memories… the lyrics to the song about the lovesick kitty, Señor Don Gato. If you know it, sing along! :o)
Oh Señor Don Gato was a cat
On a high red roof Don Gato sat
He went there to read a letter
(Meow, meow, meow)
Where the reading light was better
(Meow, meow, meow)
'Twas a love note for Don Gato
I adore you wrote the lady cat
Who was fluffy, white and nice and fat
There was not a sweeter kitty
(Meow, meow, meow)
In the country or the city
(Meow, meow, meow)
And she said she'd wed Don Gato
Oh, Don Gato jumped so happily
He fell off the roof and broke his knee
Broke his ribs and all his whiskers
(Meow, meow, meow)
And his little solar plexus
(Meow, meow, meow)
“Ay Caramba,” cried Don Gato
Then the doctors all came on the run
Just to see if something could be done
And they held a consultation
(Meow, meow, meow)
About how to save their patient
(Meow, meow, meow)
How to save Señor Don Gato
But in spite of everything they tried
Poor Señor Don Gato up and died
And it wasn't very merry
(Meow, meow, meow)
Going to the cemetery
(Meow, meow, meow)
For the ending of Don Gato
When the funeral passed the market square
Such a smell of fish was in the air
Though his burial was slated
(Meow, meow, meow)
He became reanimated
(Meow, meow, meow)
He came back to life, Don Gato
Monday, March 05, 2007
Is she or isn't she?
If you’ll oblige me to have one juvenile, ranting moment here, I’ll just say “I DON'T WANT STARBUCK TO BE DEAD!” I don’t really want her to be a Cylon either, but have been suspecting for some time that she might be one of the Final Five. If she indeed reappears as a Cylon next season, imagine what that will do to Bill Adama, as the second of his beloved Viper pilots, and the daughter of his heart (if not his biological offspring) is revealed to be the “enemy.” Will he shoulder the grief and continue being the father-figure Admiral who somehow manages to balance his love of his crew with the realities of military life? Or will be become more distant and disciplined, a strict tactician with a gulf of detachment between himself and those he commands?
I’m half-inclined to be a bit miffed at Apollo for taking her out on that mission, knowing that she was a few pressure valves shy of a functional tylium refinery… erm, or some other less geeky euphemism for "out of her frackin’ mind." At the same time, it reminds me of a recent episode of Lost in which the mysterious jewelry saleswoman points out to Desmond a man who is about to die, but doesn’t attempt to prevent it. Desmond is appalled at her apparent apathy, but she indicates that even if she prevented him from getting crushed by the scaffolding, the universe has a way of course-correcting. So I suppose that even if Starbuck’s ship didn’t implode due to atmospheric pressure, then the next day she would be killed in a training run with Hot Dog and Selix… Or if she didn’t go on that training run, then the day after that she’d fall out of her bunk and crack her head open, etc…
So here are a few questions that come to mind regarding Starbuck’s death and/or potential Cylon status:
*If she is a Cylon, perhaps that’s why she was particularly suited to understand and fly the Raider in Season 1? Also, maybe that’s why Baltar was so attracted to her? After all, he does seem to dig the robo-chicks! ;o)
*Will Dualla manage to pull her face into some suitable expression of loss and grief, or at least empathy for what poor Apollo will now be going through? (Her actions did contribute to Billy’s death after all!) Or will she be privately smirking and doing the dance of joy? As much as I have disliked Dualla ever since she ripped Billy’s heart out of his chest and used it for target practice, I hope that she isn’t that vindictive. (I, however, am still bitter...)
*How will Apollo react? Will he go back to Dualla and make the best of their marriage? Will he be overcome by another fey mood and try to meet his death in battle? Will he blame himself, indulge in excessive “emotional eating,” and become Chubby Apollo again?
*When is Billy coming back as a Cylon?!?! (Sorry, that’s my own personal dream, not likely to happen…)
For the answers to these and other burning questions, only time will tell, and apparently we are going to have lots of time until we find out the fate of Starbuck… January 2008 according to the SciFi Channel’s website.
Like tylium through the hourglass, so are the days of our fleet…
So say we all.
I’m half-inclined to be a bit miffed at Apollo for taking her out on that mission, knowing that she was a few pressure valves shy of a functional tylium refinery… erm, or some other less geeky euphemism for "out of her frackin’ mind." At the same time, it reminds me of a recent episode of Lost in which the mysterious jewelry saleswoman points out to Desmond a man who is about to die, but doesn’t attempt to prevent it. Desmond is appalled at her apparent apathy, but she indicates that even if she prevented him from getting crushed by the scaffolding, the universe has a way of course-correcting. So I suppose that even if Starbuck’s ship didn’t implode due to atmospheric pressure, then the next day she would be killed in a training run with Hot Dog and Selix… Or if she didn’t go on that training run, then the day after that she’d fall out of her bunk and crack her head open, etc…
So here are a few questions that come to mind regarding Starbuck’s death and/or potential Cylon status:
*If she is a Cylon, perhaps that’s why she was particularly suited to understand and fly the Raider in Season 1? Also, maybe that’s why Baltar was so attracted to her? After all, he does seem to dig the robo-chicks! ;o)
*Will Dualla manage to pull her face into some suitable expression of loss and grief, or at least empathy for what poor Apollo will now be going through? (Her actions did contribute to Billy’s death after all!) Or will she be privately smirking and doing the dance of joy? As much as I have disliked Dualla ever since she ripped Billy’s heart out of his chest and used it for target practice, I hope that she isn’t that vindictive. (I, however, am still bitter...)
*How will Apollo react? Will he go back to Dualla and make the best of their marriage? Will he be overcome by another fey mood and try to meet his death in battle? Will he blame himself, indulge in excessive “emotional eating,” and become Chubby Apollo again?
*When is Billy coming back as a Cylon?!?! (Sorry, that’s my own personal dream, not likely to happen…)
For the answers to these and other burning questions, only time will tell, and apparently we are going to have lots of time until we find out the fate of Starbuck… January 2008 according to the SciFi Channel’s website.
Like tylium through the hourglass, so are the days of our fleet…
So say we all.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Well ain't that shiny...
Taking a cue from Bethy McBethles... and suspecting that this sort of blatant unoriginality is the very reason Rebekah doesn't blog, per our conversation last night. ;o)
Your results:
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)
Click here to take the Serenity Firefly Personality Test
Your results:
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)
| Honest and a defender of the innocent. You sometimes make mistakes in judgment but you are generally good and would protect your crew from harm.  |
Click here to take the Serenity Firefly Personality Test
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Bad Idea #341
Bad Idea #341: Cats as service animals
The Seeing Eye Cat:
I don’t know what a Buick LaSabre is, but I do know what a sparrow is, and there’s one perched on a fence across the street…
You need to go to the bank? Yeah, well, I need a nap… for the next 6 hours.
Loud teenagers at a bus stop? You’ll find me up the nearest tree…
I helped you get to this bleepin’ restaurant! What do you mean I’m not welcome to sit on the table and eat off “your” plate?
The Hearing Ear Cat:
The only sound I respond to is the sound of a can of cat food being opened.
What did you say? I was distracted by that spider on the wall…
I’d apologize for not listening, but frankly, I don’t care.
The Seeing Eye Cat:
I don’t know what a Buick LaSabre is, but I do know what a sparrow is, and there’s one perched on a fence across the street…
You need to go to the bank? Yeah, well, I need a nap… for the next 6 hours.
Loud teenagers at a bus stop? You’ll find me up the nearest tree…
I helped you get to this bleepin’ restaurant! What do you mean I’m not welcome to sit on the table and eat off “your” plate?
The Hearing Ear Cat:
The only sound I respond to is the sound of a can of cat food being opened.
What did you say? I was distracted by that spider on the wall…
I’d apologize for not listening, but frankly, I don’t care.
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