To Those Whose Speech is Vulgar

Dear Friends Who are Still Speaking to Me,

I've actually come up with a resolution this year, and I'd like to share it with you:

For 2018, I'm going to be more vulgar.

Wait (dammit), stay with me on this. For those who know me--or if my reputation has preceded me--you may be thinking a couple of different things.

"Is that actually possible? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

and/or

"Is that such a good idea? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

or even

"How is that a New Year's Resolution? For Chandra to be more vulgar?"

Well, hang on just a (damn) minute. "Vulgar" didn't always mean crude or offensive. It used to just mean "commonplace" or "of the masses." The Vulgate version of the Bible was written in Latin, a language of the masses (hence the word origin; EDIT: The Vulgate was the more commonly used Latin Bible, so that's why it entered the vernacular. Thanks, D. Hogue!). Latin is a "dead" language now, and most folks who can read the Bible in a Latin translation are fairly privileged/scholarly. But at one time, the language of the Vulgate would have been understandable to many (if not most) European folks. And though someone saying they know "Koine" Greek might sound impressive, using the modifier "Koine" is merely a way of distinguishing Classical Greek from the everyday Greek in which the New Testament was written. It too, just means "common."

So when I say my goal is to be more vulgar, I'm mostly just talking about this crazy endeavor I've undertaken to read the entire Protestant Bible in its original languages in one year. Yes, my goal is to read the Bible in those commonplace languages in which it was first written: Hebrew and (Koine) Greek.

I hesitated to announce this absurd plan to the masses (get it? har har har) because let's be honest: it's pretty much a brag. "Ooooooh, lookit meeeeee! I can read the Bible in the original languages! Oooooooh! I'm sooooooo impressive!" Brag, brag, brag.

I am not denying I am bad about bragging.

But in this case, I'm sharing for a few reasons, and you being impressed with me is not on the list. Okay, fine. It's at the bottom of the list. I admit it, okay? (dammit.)

Pretty high on the list is that I'd love prayer and encouragement. I'm in a really great Facebook group of like-minded individuals who have far more discipline, organizational skills, and vocabulary memorized than do I, so I've got great accountability. (And I am not fishing for complements--I know my strengths, and being disciplined, organized, or vocabulary-ized is none of them. I am [mostly] okay with that.) But I only know one or two of those folks personally, and from what I can tell, most of them are not "common" people. They are seminarians and scholars, not stay-at-home parents and engineers.

And that actually brings me to top of my list of what I'm hoping to accomplish here. I'd also love to pray for and encourage you: a loved one who is both commonplace and extraordinary. Because if I'm honest, most days I will read over the assigned passages in the original languages, puzzle through them as best I can, understand very little, and then read the passages again in English. Perhaps, by this time next year, the daily habit will have schooled me well in my Greek and Hebrew, and I'll understand more than ever. Maybe not. But I will have read some Bible passages, and (perhaps more importantly) will have had to ask for forgiveness and to forgive myself for every day that I didn't read. And even on those days I do accomplish the reading, I will also have to repent of the desire to brag about how smart I am. Each and every day, I will need to be forgiven of forgetting that being a seminarian does not make me special. Daily, I will need reminders that I am a common person who is loved by a transcendent God. Attempting this resolution means that each day of 2018 I will have had to bring myself--not just my vulgar tongue, but my truly vulgar heart--to the feet of the living word, coming away transformed.

And that's what I want for all of us. Those of us who claim Christ, I want us--his beloved bride--to know Jesus better. Those of you that I know and love who aren't Christ-followers, I want you to know him better, too, so that you can make truly informed decisions about who he says he is and what that means for you. And for most of the folks who read this, that probably won't mean reading the Bible in the original languages. But I hope you can find some "vulgar" way to listen to God daily. Maybe it will mean committing to daily reading of the written scriptures in your first language. Maybe it will look like regularly listening to a podcast with commonplace, sometimes vulgar folks talking about Jesus. Perhaps you'll listen to sermons online. Maybe you'll listen to music from artists who are considered vulgar because they have the audacity to talk about real life and how messy things can get when we seek to rely on the Holy Spirit. Maybe you'll talk with folks on social media who, like myself, could use a little taming of their tongues, but are desperate to keep their hearts aflame. Perhaps you'll even spend more time talking to (and about) Jesus like the Psalmist, the Apostle Paul, Solomon, and others did--passionately, "earthily," and honestly.

I hope so. Let's be vulgar this year, friends.

Let us, in our everyday lives, seek that extraordinary one who came to this commonplace earth, had rough, calloused hands, and lived his entire life without indoor plumbing or washing machines.

Let us seek those vulgar ones who Christ came to save--the tax collectors, prostitutes, and sailors with whom he felt far more comfortable than the religious scholars of the day.

Let us be honest about our finite, needy condition, and find that God has come to dwell with us in mercy and in truth--not in spite of our vulgarity, but because of it.

From one sinner to another (damn!),
Chandra

To Those Who Want to Learn More

Dear Friends,

Many of my majority culture friends (and yes, I share majority culture privilege in some ways, too, but I also have some minority experiences) are asking, in the aftermath of the election, “How do I help?” I hear your hearts. I see your earnestness. And I believe you can help, can be a force for change. I believe you can do it.

But you might not like the answer as to how.

The election has revealed what’s been there all along: we have a race problem. I’ll say it again: We. Have. A. Race. Problem.

If that sentence makes you uncomfortable, good. This is not an easy topic. If that sentence makes you mad, use it. Ask Jesus--Immanuel--God With Us--to cleanse that anger of sin, and then use it for change. For the changing of your heart foremost. 

And if that sentence makes you say, “No, we don’t have a race problem!” then this post is not for you. This post is for brothers and sisters who are willing to speak this fundamental truth—that our country was founded on the sin of oppressing the vulnerable, and that those practices continue today. At every level, from individual to structural, vulnerable people are oppressed, marginalized, and hurt. If you disagree with that statement, then let us disagree graciously with one another and remain friends. 

But if you are starting to see the vulnerable around you, if you are becoming aware of the oppressed, the marginalized, the hurt and the invisible in our society, if you are becoming aware of your majority culture privilege, welcome. God is at work in you. Because he’s seen those folks--those human beings--all along. And now you that you see the brokenness, there’s no way back to blissful ignorance. There’s no way provided in the gospel for ignoring the hard truths and going backwards.

But does it seem impossible to move forward? Does it seem that as soon as you realize that we have a race problem, then you realize you’re part of that problem, and then when you try to solve that problem, you can't? That’s frustrating. That's disheartening. That's exhausting. And it's especially hard when it is the very people you'd like to serve that are telling you "no."

Would you like to know why you’re being told no? 

Yes, you'd like to know? 

Are you sure?

"No" is so often the answer for several reasons. Some of them are good reasons, some of them are bad, and some just are. But there are real reasons behind why your well-meaning efforts may not be helpful, may be met with resistance, and may drive wedges further.

Because the "yes" that God is asking of you now might be the worst kind of (in)action imaginable in our dominant culture: listening and lamenting.

I'll say it again. Listening and lamenting. 

“No,” you say, “You don’t get it. I want to DO something. Take action. Take a stand. Stop injustice in its tracks.” I say, "Wonderful! Good for you, but YOU don’t get it." I mean this literally. You do not get "it," that "it" being the depth and the complexity of the problem. If you aren’t willing to listen and lament, you truly cannot understand the minority experience and what needs to change. 

Yes, there is a time for action. Yes, that time is now. But no, brown folk don’t need a “white savior.” No, women don’t need a man to explain how we can work together to fix the problem. No, oppressed minority groups do not need the majority to lead them to victory as though the only way to win is through majority culture leadership. You, dear friend, you who are so passionately asking, “How do I help?” by your truly humble question, prove that you want to learn. You also prove that you shouldn’t be arguing with people when they answer you. Because you don't know. When you are told to listen and lament, then, do it. Do. It.

I told you the answer might not be something you wanted to hear. And yes, there are actions to be done, stands to be made, and truth to be shared. But until you can understand the helplessness that a minority of any kind feels, day in and day out, you won’t know how to help. Until you can listen and lament, your actions will be unhelpful, your stands will be awkward, and your truth will be biased.

Actually, even after you listen, you’re still going to mess it up sometimes. That’s the message of the gospel—that we’re all broken people who need a savior to restore and reconcile us to himself and one another. But the odds are much better for your actions to succeed if you educate yourself first. The chances will be much better that your stand will make a difference, and that your truth will be heard and taken to heart by others.

Still mad? Good. Still uncomfortable? Excellent. Still frustrated? Fantastic. Now sit with that. Sit in it. Ask God about it. Cry out to him about it, like the Psalmist did. Not just because it’s good for you (though it certainly is), but also because in this work of listening and lamenting, you are joining the work that is already being done by brothers and sisters around the country. You are joining the cries of kidnapped men, women, and children that were in horrific conditions during the Middle Passage and in chattel slavery. You are weeping along with immigrants who have paid life savings and risked drowning, starvation, suffocation, and being shamed, all to leave behind everything familiar. When you scream aloud with women who have been sexually harassed, abused, objectified and debased, you are joining the Holy Spirit and even the entire earth in groaning and pleading for the coming justice of the King. When you are willing to not just stand with others, but actually helplessly lie down in the street with those who are most vulnerable, then you are emulating Jesus and the sacrifices he made to dwell among us. Then you will receive greater understanding.

Because if you don’t understand at all the misery, vulnerability, and plight of human beings that I just described above, if you think it’s really not that bad, that the stories are inaccurate and biased, and if you feel the need to say “yeah, but—” then you are not ready for action. And nobody wants to hear that. I know, I don't want to hear that. I don't want to sit and wait on the Lord. But we all have to do it at one time or another, so why not now? Enter into this Advent season willing to listen and lament. Willing to wait on Jesus to arrive in unexpected and unheralded ways. 

You may need to have some concrete steps to learning how to listen and lament, and I get it. I'm that way, too. So read Prophetic Lament by Soong-Chan Rah. Heck, just read the book of Lamentations in the Bible. Read The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander. Read this brother's blog post (with an open mind) on Ferguson: Why "Hands Up, Don't Shoot" Still Matters. Visit the National African-American Museum at the Smithsonian, or the Civil Rights museums in cities like Memphis, Birmingham, Atlanta. Watch Do The Right Thing, 12 Years a Slave, or A Time to Kill. And if you want to know more about the immigrant experience, the LGBT experience, women's experience, or any of a number of minority experiences, stories aren't hard to find. As my good friend Jemar would say, "Google it. Google. It." People are willing to share, but let them do so on their own terms. 

We are all created in the image of God, and what a painful, wonderful blessing it is to listen to each others' stories, lament with one another, and wait on the Lord. 

Moving into God's presence,

A Fellow Image-Bearer

To Those Who Want to Do More

Dear Friends,

I've been asked to compile a series of tweets I recently did about how a majority culture person can, once they've started to feel some of the pain of minority folks' stories, move past inevitable shame into making a difference. Because my heart breaks for my friends who have started to see their own racism and now feel so helpless, like their majority status keeps them continually complicit in injustices, and that they can't help but be oppressors. I do not believe that is so. Quite the opposite. I believe that majority culture folks can be powerful advocates for the Other, leveraging their privilege for the good of others, to the glory of God and the growth of the Kingdom.

When Jesus says, "to whom much is given, of him much will be required," he didn't mean that privileged people will be required to feel much shame and paralyzing guilt. That's not the gospel. The gospel is repenting of sins--personal, corporate, cultural--and then acting on those convictions, following the Holy Spirit in the work he is doing in people's lives and the systems of the world. Shame just wraps us up in ourselves and satan's schemes.

So let me first off all say, thank you, King Jesus. None of us, without common grace, without the touch of the Holy Spirit on sinful minds, realize any of our sins and wrong attitudes, much less do anything to change them. This is Jesus' work. That truth is simultaneously a huge challenge, because God is so very perfect and holy, and also a huge relief. Because dredging change up in ourselves is not what the Holy Spirit is about. He's about showing himself mighty in the feeble work of his children.

Second, let me make it clear that I, too, am racist. I have blogged about this before. I was raised by a black man, but I still find myself shying away from unfamiliar black men in most circumstances. I am working on this. The Holy Spirit is working on this in me. I am seeking to have the lies of the media/culture be replaced by the truths of God. I am repenting and actively trying to change the way I look at others. I am not writing this post (nor was I writing those tweets) to people who aren't interested in racial reconciliation. This isn't supposed to be a post guilting you into confessing racism and changing everything. It's supposed to be a post to encourage already like-minded folks who desire racial reconciliation but don't know where to start. So if those tweets or this post grieve you, I apologize, and hope you can bear with me.

Thirdly, there is something important to being willing to sit in feelings of shame and helplessness. That is actually part of the journey in identifying with the minority. "Triumphalism" of which the majority culture church is often guilty means wanting to move past the bad things without lingering. To merely slap a "Come Lord Jesus" on things as a band-aid, as if we're not in the here-and-not-yet, as if God himself doesn't weep and mourn and lament and understand what it means to be truly ashamed and helpless. Cry out "How Long, O Lord?" like the Psalmists did. Please don't jump past the grief, the wrestling, the muck and mire of the weight of what sinful people can do to each other because of what we think about each other. I know it sounds terrifying, but trust that if God leads you in sinking down into the grief, he will meet you at the bottom, where he has condescended to dwell with us helpless creatures.

Having said that, finally, let me say that it is true that we who believe in Jesus do not weep as those without hope. We know Jesus will make all things right someday. We know he's at work even now. And the crazy, absurd miracle is that we get to be part of that. We get to fight to see the imago dei in each person as we have our eyes recalibrated to see as Jesus sees. We get to do the good work of reconciliation between humans because God has done the great work of reconciliation between humanity and himself.

So here are some ideas to move past shame. Some ideas for little next steps that just might a big difference. And please, have grace for yourself, friends. You will mess up. We all do. You will say awkward things and hurt people. I think it's better to do that in good faith, and to learn, and grow, then to say nothing at all. Find friends who can help you understand. Other bridge builders. Minorities who aren't so exhausted just by existing in a majority culture that they can't explain things kindly and patiently (and over and over again). Let humility and grace guide you, not thinking about what you think is "right" or about your "rights." Believe that God is big enough to guard the truth in your heart. Remember that it's not about our rights, it's about the rights that Jesus laid down for us, so that we could be made right with him and each other. We're all in need of repentance and we're all in need of renewal. Praise God that he's willing to help us walk through both.

Don't traffic in stereotypes, but you can find good ones (or generalizations about what is hurtful/helpful) and learn more about where they come from. Find people who defy those stereotypes from all walks of life, and learn more about their stories. And you can also apply this to Native Americans, to women, to whatever minority it is that God is drawing you toward.

So here are the tweets, with a little more explanation in parenthesis. Some of the explanations are long. Yeah, there's a reason that tweets are limited to 140 characters...


Idea to move past shame: say thanks to black folks in service professions, w/ respect like for white servers. See sacrifice & imago dei.
(Sometimes we have to work harder to be nice to people who aren't like us. It's a fact of life. If you aren't kind to any folks who bring your food, take your trash, and watch your kids, then that's another discussion!)


Idea to move past shame: listen to black musicians-not w/cultural appropriation but w/joy, as w/ white musicians. See gifts & imago dei.
(I was raised on Motown. It's hard not to appreciate and understand some of the issues that a culture experiences when you're listening to music being made by folks in that culture.)


Idea to move past shame: admire black sisters--fab. hair texture (DON'T PET), leadership, etc. as w/ white women. See beauty & imago dei.
(But seriously. DO. NOT. PET.)


Idea to move past shame: sit next to a black person in a drs' waiting room. Don't assume he/she wants to mug you. See needs & imago dei.
(Okay. This one caused some controversy on FB. Yes, I truly apologize for the snark. Perhaps what would have been better would have been to say, "Prove that you don't assume he/she wants to mug you. Break stereotypes on both sides.")


Idea to move past shame: cheer black folks & don't act surprised at successes--celebrate like w/ white folks. See contributions & imago dei.
(It's the "don't act surprised" that keeps this from becoming a microaggression--from becoming awkward and hurtful. What's surprising is when a person of color defeats all kinda crazy odds to get the recognition that his or her accomplishments deserve. But it is not surprising that a POC is actually smart, or talented in something other than sports, or is articulate, or funny, or hardworking. That's God's work in each of us, and we should be looking for it in others.)


Idea to move past shame: buy black art. Explore diff. textures, colors, styles. Display like you would white art. See beauty & imago dei.
(Again, not as cultural appropriation, but as fair representation. There are some amazing black artists out there, who just don't get as much exposure/don't have as great a network as do their majority culture peers.)


Idea to move past shame: find black leaders to place yourself under. Respect/serve as you would white leaders. See strength & imago dei.
(Anybody remember the #DearWhitePastor hashtag from awhile back? POC sharing what they wish white head pastors would know/do? This was my response. Don't just hire a token black person on your staff. Find a way to make them a leader. Maybe even the new head pastor...)


Idea to move past shame: give black dolls/action figures/books to your kids. Play w/ as you would white toys. See reality & imago dei.
(I was the only kid in small-town New Mexico with an Orange Blossom doll [Strawberry Shortcake's black sidekick]. But it was important that my toys reflected reality--that not everyone is white. What with characters like Doc McStuffins, Tiana [The Frog Prince], and Keena Ford [books], along with a spate of new black superheroes, you don't even have to settle for the sidekick anymore.)


Idea to move past shame: invite black friends to meal, calmly & winsomely. Welcome as you would white friends. See uniqueness & imago dei.
(I said "calmly and winsomely" because there is nothing a minority loves more than being fawned over and lovingly harassed by well-meaning people who are SO FLIPPING EXCITED TO SEE A MINORITY THAT THEY CAN BE FRIENDS WITH and maybe also one of the first minorities they've seen in awhile. So don't make a big deal out of it. See their unique cultural needs, but perhaps more importantly, their unique personal needs. Try to know that specific person and how he or she communicates, what he or she feels welcomed by, etc. Which is different for different people, not even just different types of people. And if you got weird and overly clingy, apologize, and keep trying. I know that's a lot to ask, but it's also a lot to ask of someone else to come with you for a meal when you're obviously crazy. :) I think we're all just hoping we are each other's kind of crazy, and that true, deep friendship can come out of that.)


Idea to move past shame: support black campus ministers. Ask about ministry as you would white campus minister. See passion & imago dei.
(Or black non-profits, if that's more your speed. I'm speaking to a mostly Christian audience here, but the point is to get excited about what a person of color is doing, to find out what they are passionate about and hop on board.)


Idea to move past shame: tell black girl she's beautiful & mean it. Celebrate her value as you would white girl. See mind & imago dei.
(Black girls need to hear they are beautiful, inside and out. Because I'm not even tryna deny that they get fed a lot of lies both from the majority and minority cultures--especially hardcore rap. So would you tell a white girl she looked lovely in a similar situation? Then tell that mocha beauty, too. Would you praise a white girl for her grades? Then please do say something to a sista. Would you complement white parents about the way their daughter acted? Then don't be weird about it, but let the black family know, too.)


Idea to move past shame: sit next to black colleagues; showcase ideas. Partner with as you would white colleagues. See talents & imago dei.
(It really is good stewardship when you, as a majority culture person, have the listening ear of colleagues and can point out other coworkers who might get lost in the shuffle. It really is a work of the Holy Spirit to foster humility for us to be able to intentionally partner with folks who may not get the attention or resources we might have. Don't feel guilty that you got that promotion. Use it to raise up other leaders. Don't feel ashamed that you had better educational opportunities growing up. Utilize your higher income to make a difference in a child's life. Grieve the uneven playing field, repent if you weren't aware it existed, and then do something about it.)


Idea to move past shame: hold door for elderly black folks. Defer as you would for white elderly folks. See wisdom & imago dei.
(I know this is partly cultural, and may seem like a no-brainer, but I have two thoughts: 1) I truly believe we are programmed by society to not see those we value less. So we don't pay attention to the elderly like we should, and we don't respect folks with dark skin like they deserve. 2) It's triply-sad when you factor in that in the South, at least, many elderly black men with grey hair are old enough to have been called "boy" by white children and many elderly black women with grey hair remember a time when the rape of a black woman was rather standard and overlooked. So go out of your way, friends. Show a fellow human being some kindness, where a little will go an especially long way.)


Idea to move past shame: appreciate black history makers. Study as you would white history makers. See valuable contributions & imago dei.
(Our history books are incredibly biased, which is a shame not only for race relations, but just for amazing stories about amazing people which don't get told in the majority culture. Take advantage of Black History Month or new books which feature POC history-makers. Dive in.)


Idea to move past shame: make eye contact with young black man, nod/say hi. Engage as you would young white man. See dreams & imago dei.
(I know this is hard. But chances are, anyone you meet around town is not a "thug," or if they are, they don't really care what you're up to. If it's a majority culture public area in the middle of the day, you're probably safe. Try to remember that they are just tryna get where they're going, too. And you breaking that stereotype--proving you're not afraid or disdainful--could mean a lot to that young black man. Your nod/hello could actually speak to the fact that you believe his life matters. If nothing else, being polite is a reasonable thing to do.)


Idea to move past shame: read black poetry with an open mind. Engage as you would white poetry. See heart cries & imago dei of authors.
(Especially if art isn't your thing, poetry---and this includes rap lyrics--can really open your eyes to another person's perspective. Read this poem. Try some Lecrae lyrics. My go-to is Langston Hughes, every time. Maya Angelou, all day long.)


Idea to move past shame: see little black boy playing & don't shy away in fear. Engage as you would little white boy. See joy & imago dei.
(The little boy in the "Dinosaurs in the Hood" poem above? The one playing with plastic dinosaurs and dreaming big dreams? He exists. And his life matters because he was made in the image of God. And so he is beautiful, even though he may seem older than he really is, or more aggressive because of our cultural lenses. I want to really see him, and to see him thrive.) 

And an idea to move past shame, which I didn't tweet before but probably should have, is to see your own imago dei, and rejoice in how every little move towards Jesus lets your light shine through a little more clearly. Be kind to yourself as you're trying to be kind to others. See your heart transformed by Jesus, the ultimate imager of God.

Moving past shame,
A Fellow Image-Bearer.

Free Shipping Fridays: Hip Hop Remixes

Dear Readers,

A few weeks ago, I said I had run out of clever ways to say, "Here's a cool website. Enjoy!"

Shortly after hitting the publish button, I saw the title--"A Hunger for Reconciliation"--and thought, "Of course! Take-out food! Dang, that would have been quite punny. Oh, well I'll use it another time."

That other time is here, friends, and it's a doozy. Get some cash out your wallet, shuffle to the door, and pay up. 'Cause today's offering on your doorstep is from Chang's Pizza and Tacos, and it is delicious. Some of my favorite meals, from Hip Hop dished up with a Public Radio sauce to a crunchy snack of hilarious observations about white people, spiced with solid rhymes. 

Bon Appetit!

TJ Reynolds' newest album remixes classic NPR jingles with sick beats:

http://justduerecords.bandcamp.com

More about the multi-ethnic, stereotype-breaking artist:

http://www.nuvo.net/indianapolis/raps-raconteur-tj-reynolds-combines-whimsy-and-wisdom/Content?oid=1338642

One of his other albums, which features a Les Miz mashup:

http://tjreynolds.bandcamp.com

Flight of the Conchords--they're the mother flipping' Rhymenoceros and Hiphopopotamus: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FArZxLj6DLk

Two of my favorite android/sci-fi obsessed/political activists--Janelle Monae and JJ DOOM (Jneiro Jarel/MF DOOM)--

Classic Janelle Monae, which I first heard on an episode of Stargate Universe (because I'm that nerdy and she's that awesome):

http://www.pastemagazine.com/high_gravity/2009/11/tv-soundtrack-award-stargate-universe-episode-107.html

Janeiro Jarel's solo electronica android love song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDZrt6ebT7Y&feature=youtu.be

JJ DOOM's Keys to the Kuffs, including thoughts on GMOs and hand washing (I'm not even joking):

http://shop.lexrecords.com/products/key-to-the-kuffs

Weird Al's cover of Ridin' (Dirty), which even Chamillionaire loved:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9qYF9DZPdw

To Whom it May Concern II

To Whom it May Concern Presents: Real Students of Genius*
(Real stuudents of geniuuuussss)

Today we salute you, Mr. Asks a Not Really a Question But a Statement in Class
(Mr. Asks a Not Really a Question But a Statement in Claaaaaassss!)

Your hand goes up. Your eyebrow raises. You take a deep breath. You've got this!
(Prepare for brilliance!)

You know the jargon, and you've had the classes. You, and you alone, have valuable insight to add to the lecture.
(Look at me I've had three semesters of Greek and Hebrew!)

The professor pauses, astounded by your brilliant insight which has never been heard or even considered before. Someone give this student a full PhD, immediately.
(You might co-teeaach the next class together!)

So enjoy the praise of the professor and the envy of the class, HumbleBrag Master. 'Cause you're a legend, and not just in your own mind.
(Mr. Asks a Not Really a Question But a Statement in Classsssssss!)

Sincerely,
Terrible About Doing This Too
(Ms. Hypocrite Who's Worse Than Hermione Graaaangerrrr)


*shamelessly riffing on the Bud Light "Real Men of Genius" ad campaign

Free Shipping Fridays: Praise is What I Do

Dear Readers,

Last week's Free Shipping Friday apparently got lost in the mail (oops), but here's an old-school CD, in a bubble wrap mailer, ready to pop into your three-disc changer and put on repeat. Sorry, I also forgot to do a Throwback Thursday post yesterday...

For your listening pleasure, some beautiful music that I do listen to on repeat. Just without having to fight ridiculous cellophane wrappers or broken, clunky jewel cases or without having to lug around huge binders full of CDs. I love the internet.

In De Lord (Negro Spiritual)

Praise is What I Do (William Murphy/Shekinah Glory Ministries)

Bless the Lord (Son of Man)  (Tye Tribbet & Greater Anointing)

To Whom it May Concern

Dear Reader,

I really enjoyed the letter writing format on the "Panera Girls" post. So I think I'll try to do that from now on. There is much to tell about from the past month or so (the promised MPJ show review is finally here!), and I think this medium will lend itself to my particular brand of quirkiness quite nicely.

I'm not sure what that last sentence was about, but it sounded good.
ish.

Thanks for reading, friends!
Love,
Ch


Dear Teenybopper Band that Opened for Matthew Perryman Jones,

I give you an A for effort. It certainly wasn't a boring show. It was just very... contrived. Your stage decorations were weird--the empty wall frames wrapped in colored icicle lights might have been clever, but the fact that you wore T-shirts that matched them was just too much. Not to mention that although the lead singer/keyboardist's red shirt was an exact match for the red thingie, the guitarist's green shirt was also a good match to the green thingie, and the drummer's yellow shirt matched nicely with the yellow thingie, the bassist's teal shirt was NOT a good match with the blue frame-light-thingie. If you're going to be cute, please be consistent!

And I admit, I liked your song the first time I heard it. The second time you played it (oh, was that supposed to be a new song? Really?), it was okay. By the fifth time you had played your song, though, I could have quite calmly beaten you with your super-cool Vans. Or scratched your face off with the lenses from your hipster glasses. Or smacked you with your nearly empty can of hair product. There is only so much dramatic chord-banging, meaningful pauses and angsty high notes that one person can take. Well, one person out of puberty, anyway.

You asked me to go to your MySpace page. Something about "Musical Parachutes." You also asked me to tell my friends about you. Although I won't be adding you as my TOP FRIEND on MySpace, I will tell my friends. It's the least I can do.

And what will I tell them? That if Ben Folds, Dave Matthews (minus the band), Jack Johnson, and Lars Ulrich all had an orgy... 9 months later, we would be able to RAWK OUT to your fabulous sounds. Congratulations, it's a... boy(band)!

Oh, and keep drinking tall cans of "Old Milwaukee" on stage. That is so clever, and shows all the teenage groupies that you are cool like that.

Yes. Cool. Like. That.

Thanks for the memories,
The married couple who laughed a lot at the table in house right.


Dear Matthew Perryman Jones,

An hour? That's all we got to hear from you? That, my friend, was NOT ENOUGH. And since there was another act coming on, I couldn't even holler for an encore. I was glad that Smith's Old Bar is here in Midtown, just down the road, but it's not my favorite venue. There's none of the intimacy of Eddie's Attic nor audience attentiveness of a church setting, but it was loud enough that I could shamelessly sing along for some of the songs. I certainly did behave myself during quieter numbers like "Meghan's Song." Speaking of your lovely wife Meghan, good for you for wearing your wedding ring on stage. It may have made playing your guitar a little more difficult, but we're proud of you for making that subtle little statement. Good for you and for your family.

It must be hard to leave your family so often, but we sure appreciate it. I don't remember your exact setlist (and I'm not sure how Team Redd always manages to remember the setlists of every show they see), but I do remember it was a great show, and all too short. It was great to see you with a full band! I especially dug the sounds on "Echoes of Eden" and "Waiting for the Light to Change."

Shame none of your shirts matched the decor, though.

Thanks for coming by to say hello to us. It's fun being your groupie. Maybe one of these days I'll be shameless and ask you to take a picture with us for my Facebook profile. After all, I did with NT Wright!

Much love,
The Atlanta transplants who always hope you'll do "Machine-gun Love."


Dearest Kennan,

You're my favorite person ever. I had so much fun at the MPJ show with you, celebrating our 7 year wedding anniversary a little early. Hard to believe it's been 7 years! I'd say that evening pretty much summed up our entire marriage: lots of laughter and fun, sweet times, and just a little squabbling. :)

Thanks for letting me be your number one groupie, dear.

Always your,
Ch

Happy Sacrifice Day

I meant to post this yesterday, but I'm really behind on posting these days...

Finally, a video set to Mercy Me's "I Can Only Imagine" that isn't sappy or stupid. In fact, it's amazing. A true picture of a perfect father's love reflected by an earthly father.

Father's Day isn't easy for us this year. We are so grateful that my dad is healthy, and that Kennan's dad is on the road to a full recovery. Still, it's hard, knowing what we had and lost. It's hard to trust in our heavenly father, but we're determined to cling to grace.

The video really sums it up. Sacrifice. That was the point. Christ didn't just come to be good (and he was indeed perfect!) and then call it a day. God didn't just give his son to come hang out with us sinners and then move on. He made the sacrifice to let his son--part of the perfect, holy, triune God--come and make the ultimate sacrifice. Unlike with Abraham, there was no ram caught in the thorns to take the place of Isaac. Rather, we are Isaac, and Christ took our place. Willingly. In my book, the words "father" and "sacrifice" should be interchangeable, and I've seen that reflected in many men around me, Kennan foremost.

So, Happy Father's Day to our fathers, our friends who are and will be fathers, and those that have been like fathers to us. And Happy Sacrifice Day to all, for whom the greatest sacrifice was made.

I'll post about the MPJ concert, drive-in movies, Indelible Grace concert, etc. etc. (it's been a packed couple of weeks!) soon, I promise.

Wise Words on Church Membership

I love being in the PCA. After the mayhem of being in a congregationalist church for so long (WHY oh WHY does everyone need to vote on what color wallpaper should be in the ladies' room?), I have been quite happy--though I may not have always found it easy--to put myself under the authority of our church leaders and to seek the "peace and purity" of the church local and global.

I've become terribly brainwashed. I like being "reformed," (a neo-Calvinist, even--gasp!) I like having deacons and elders, and ones who answer to a presbytery. We own a copy of Hymns II, prefer the ESV over the NIV, and catch ourselves almost saying "Thanks be to God" when we visit our church back in NM. So there's your caveat. This article was written for a PCA audience, and as such, comes at the subject of church membership from a very specific angle. It does, however, address issues that plague a variety of churches with differing styles of government. And it's written by one of my favorite people. Walter left ChristChurch to plant a church on the Westside, which is so awesome. I heart a church planting (as opposed to mega-church) model... but that's another post.

I really liked the points he made about being stretched by church membership to bond with and love on people whom we don't have a natural link with. What else would I have in common with a 65 year old southern man but a common love for Jesus? And to be perfectly frank, why else would I choose to spend time with someone so different from me other than that Christ has asked it of me? I am reminded of my privilege and obligation to do so by our common membership in a local church body, and it helps that the local church body also has healthy structures and mechanisms to assist me in this pursuit. If left to my own motivations and devices, my natural instinct is not nearly so gracious or willing to take risks.

It's also a natural response to say, "what about caring for those outside of the church?" whether from thoughtful motives or a stubborn desire to disagree. I think that creates a false dichotomy because the two are not mutually exclusive. Rather, one flows naturally from the other. Being stretched in learning to love those that we don't naturally gravitate to results in developing good habits. And especially if this happens in the context of a healthy church that has a heart for service and outreach, loving the "least of these"--as Christ has called us to do--will be a natural result.

I also thought Walter's points about plugging into an imperfect church were well made. As Groucho Marx said, "I wouldn't want to be part of a club that would have me as a member!" I would add, though, to the statement "the reason a church may appear lacking in some area is because you aren’t yet a part of it!" that I'm glad our church isn't a "perfect fit." Otherwise, it is all too easy for me to turn it into an idol. God has helped me see what is non-negotiable and what isn't, and though I wish we had communion every Sunday (for example), there is no denying the communal heart for the city and the world.

In other thoughts, we got to see MPJ on Friday night, and it was lovely (as always). I'll try to write up a review soon. Get ready for his new album, Swallowing the Sea, due out in August! Whoo hoo!

Oh, and I'm not sure which items from my above PCA-isms list are actually PCA specific. Not only are we new to this denomination, but we also have an Anglican pastor and a Southern Baptist worship director...

Somehow, I got Old

I may have a Facebook account, but that doesn't negate the fact that I'm old. Plus, I use it for work, which definitely cancels out any cool, young, hipness that I might like to ascribe to myself. Plus, I just used the phrase, "ascribe to myself."

While I'm typing this post, I also have to remember that it will automatically upload to my Facebook page, which is where this all started, anyway. But, I digress. Or more aptly, I regress. Maturity not withstanding.

Anyway.

Kennan always asks me why I click on things that are just going to piss me off when I read them. I don't know. It's like watching a car wreck. I just can't stop myself. So I stumbled upon a group (several, actually) devoted to someone that is not my... favorite... person ever. It was a flashback to my previous frustrations with differences in worship styles.

But this is not a post primarily about my forgiveness and anger issues. Although maybe it should be. This is a post about how old and crochety I am.

"Mehhhh! When I was yerrr age, I had to walk six miles in the snoooow, uphill both waays, jest to get to cherrrch! Mehhhh..." Yup, I'm a fun-hater. Check out the contrast to my grumpy old ways in this comment describing why folks are so fond of said individual:

"Crowd surfing? How many worship leaders do that?"

What? We won't even go into the theological issues. And yes, there was a time when I RAWKED OUT to Christian ska, hardcore, punk, etc. at concerts. I was "in the crowd, all a skankin' and a swimmin'..." (and if you get that reference, you're old, too!). But now, I'm old. I can't even stand up for the entire service because I have bad knees, much less dance. I no longer like music that's loud enough to make windows rattle. I can't stay at church past 9 PM without needing an injection of caffeine. Sitting on hard wooden pews makes my bum ache.

Suffice it to say, I'm OLD now and honestly not too upset about it. Time to take a nap before my 4 PM dinner. Mehhhh!

How to be Difficult...

... it's worked for me, anyway!

Organize furniture so it is NOT feng shui.

Shoot the cats with the spray bottle.

Not answer the cell phone.

Curse.

Pick fights with Georgia fans.

Change the lyrics to praise songs that are theologically questionable. Sing loudly.

Multi-task.

Continue drinking from a Nalgene bottle.

Hit the snooze button. Several times.

Run 5-15 minutes late. For EVERYTHING.

Talk incessantly about things like ICHC, Stargate, and the cats.

Start reading 5 books at once but never finish any of them.

Take 5 big, heavy books on a trip. Read none of them.

Get weird urges to vacuum at 3 AM.

Support Obama just to spite Clinton.

Keep a blog. Pout if no one reads it. Repeat.

No, Really.

I voted for Ron Paul in the Primaries.

I can eat an entire jar of pickles in one sitting.

I love small dogs that bark a lot.

My favorite colors are red and black.

I wish I lived in Texas.

I know all the words to "Enter Sandman."

My secret ambition is to meet Janet Reno.

I've decided to become a nun.

I once caught a fish this big...

I think David Hasselhoff is hot.

My cat likes to eat peanut butter.

My favorite magazine is Star.

I've been calm and obedient since 1978.

Yes, Happy April Fools' Day! You decide which ones are true.

Texass!

Well, we're back from our exile to Texas (with a short time of refuge in New Mexico). It's been a very stressful couple of weeks, and we are so grateful to all for the prayers and well-wishes. I have to say that although I'm still not the biggest fan of Texas, Galveston did grow on me. Either way, it's good to be home in Atlanta, where our license plates are in-state and we understand the local customs.

We've all been very impressed by and grateful for the level of care at UT Medical Branch in Galveston. The doctors and nurses have been fantastic, both in their care of Kennan's dad, as well as in tolerating all of us crowding into his hospital room to visit, play cards, etc. For updates on Charlie: www.caringbridge.org/visit/CharlieCrane.

The soundbite from Miss Congeniality ran often through my head during our sojourn in the Lone Star state: "Texass! Washington, nice apples... O-HI-oooo..." It is, indeed, a-hole 'nother state (no, that is not a typo), with quirks--and I'll admit, a charm--all its own.

Random thoughts while driving down the road in Texas:

State troopers are like trolls; they like to hide under bridges... Texas never ends... 3 bottles of Coke, 1 bag of gummy orange slices and 1 bag of m&m's will keep a person awake enough to drive... Bon Jovi on the stereo helps, too... did I mention Texas never ends?... there is a certain beauty to Texas... for the first 100 miles, anyway... boots and porn are the top sellers in Texas, if the billboards are any indication... family is worth the drive through Texas... if you get too into the music, you end up swerving into other lanes... Texas drivers are grumpy... seriously, TEXAS NEVER ENDS... when driving an automatic transmission minivan which has been loaded to the gills, it's good to remember that it's not an empty stickshift compact car... passengers get grumpy, too... if you think that the roads are crazy, try hanging out with some of the characters at fast-food joints along the way... gas prices are unholy, these days, everywhere... make fun of New Mexico and I'll scorn you, make fun of Texas and they'll just shoot you... and by the way, Texas never ends.

Okay, Texas does end. In the case of Interstate 45, it ends in Galveston (or the ocean, but we stopped just short of that), and is not after all such a bad place. Now I'm off to shoot squirrels, yep! Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Where to Start?

Aw, shucks. Sam linked us off his blog, and here I haven't posted in months. Let's not discuss how long it's been since Kennan posted.

So I now return, with gusto, in the name of international friendships and recycling!

If you are expecting anything epic (either in meaningfulness or length), this post may disappoint you.

If, however, you are expecting a bit of rambling of what our life has been like for the past several months, here it is... in no particular order... the good, the bad & the ugly:

we've finally started recycling, and I'm pretty excited about it... Kennan has become as addicted to Facebook (the applications, mostly) as I am... we got to leave the good ol' US of A for the first time ever, traveling to both Taiwan and Thailand to go to two weddings and to meet my Thai family... we lost our first child to a miscarriage in November, and though we're sad, are healing... the groups at Emory and Tech are doing well, and I'm still loving my job... GT lost to Fresno State in the bowl game (AGAIN) and I'm disgusted with my team (but pessimistically hopeful for next fall)... we got the complete series of Stargate SG1 for Christmas and it's fabulous... I've been using the word "fabulous" a lot lately, and I'm not sure why... our cats are as bad and as cute as ever... our unbelievable friends threw a surprise party (happy b-day Kennan/condolences/bon voyage) for us before we left for Asia, and I have never before felt so loved or humbled... seeing the Taipei 101 "explode" with fireworks on New Year's eve was fun, but a little freaky... I'm finally reading "Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis, and it's excellent... I continue to be amazed by how God loves us even when we're angry at him... Aaron and Becky are engaged, and that's super exciting!... I'm pleasantly surprised by the array of choices in the presidential election thus far... 99.7 is now Q100 and 100.5 is now a rock station with some of the old 99x peeps, and it's confusing... it snowed in Atlanta the day we got home from being in 95+ degree weather in Thailand... our apartment flooded while we were gone, and the Hwangs and the Mustains saved the day!... I turn 30 this year and am a little freaked out by that... Paul and Sarah are eagerly awaiting the sprouting of The Bean and (I'm excited that) I'm excited for them... Pretzel the Bear is now a world traveler... it was great to see family at Christmastime and I don't know where 2007 went... we slept from 9:30 pm Tues. to 6 pm Wed. when we got home from Asia... we're doing much better about our sleep schedule now and it's 10:30 so I'm going to say goodnight!

By the Numbers

23---number, in pounds, of turkey that we cooked on Thanksgiving day
3---number of turkeys that we cooked Thanksgiving week
2---number of days after Thanksgiving that I moaned & groaned about eating too much

6---number of years that we have lost to Georgia IN A ROW
4---number of times the football team has broken my heart this season (hey, it's an improvement!)
1,367---number of times I screamed at the TV during the U(sic)GA game and the ACC championship
29, 9 & 2---number, in order, of attempts, completions and interceptions that Reggie had against Wake Forest
0---number of touchdowns by either team in the championship game (WTP... what the poo?!?)

182---number, in dog years, that Kennan has been on the planet
10---number of human years that I've gotten to celebrate Kennan's birthday with him :)

2---number of years that I have gotten to go to the Andrew Peterson Behold the Lamb show at the Ryman
6---number of people that we fit into 5 spaces so that we could all sit together at the show
482---number of chills that went up my spine because of the haunting beauty of the show
17---number of times I was spooked out by the similiarities between our friends Robert & Charissa and Team Redd

80---number of people stuffed into a townhouse for the church Christmas party
2---number of times that our associate pastor stole from us during the white elephant exchange
19---number of times I had to escape from the crowd into the "introverts' room" in the office

344---number of quilt squares I've cut out in the past 2 weeks
16---number left to go!
8,463---number of craftsy projects that I've started in my life
9---number, in percentage points, that I've finished

19---number of students involved with the grad group at GT (woot!)
17---number of students involved with the grad group at Emory (double woot!)
3---number of months I procrastinated on filling out my Fall Field Report for InterVarsity
12---number of minutes it actually took me to finish the thing

26---number of minutes I've managed to procrastinate on other work by writing this post!

Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin-eater

I'm stealing Laura's idea/last Sunday's Bible study icebreaker question...

In the fall, I love the

sight of the crowd at Bobby Dodd stadium as the players run onto the field...

smell of nutmeg and eggnog...

sound of AP's "Behold the Lamb" cd...

taste of pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce and stuffing and leftover turkey sandwiches and... and... and...

feel of crunching through piles of leaves on a walk with my best friend...

So what have the Cranes been up to? Our friend Katherine got us amazing seats at the Miami game: 5th row up, right above the players' tunnel. Whoo hoo! She caught #6 Pat Clark's glove (I was so jealous!) after the game. It's a disturbing sign of my personality that I coveted a sweaty glove...

Choir practice has started up and we're having a blast. I had a slight panic attack last night when I thought that the finale for The Amazing Race was the same night as the Christmas Celebration, but it's a week earlier; so everything's okay. Priorities, people!

What I do love about Choir practice is that the emphasis is on speaking (or singing) the gospel, not on having a performance. It helps me not be so prideful about my singing abilities. It's a good reminder that whatever gifts God has given to a person, he does so that he might be glorified.

We helped to host a baby shower for Team Redd & the Frazers... that was a lot of fun! It was no typical shower, mind you! We watched the game (we didn't play very well, but at least we won; and that means we're on our way to Jacksonville for the ACC Championship!), had a finger football tournament, and ate large amounts of meat, in addition to the usual present-opening, cutesy-cake-eating, girly-squealing good time you might expect to see at a baby shower.

And in case you were wondering, there are few things more wrong, yet more entertaining, than putting a crumpled up ball of masking tape on your cat's back, right between the shoulder blades where he can't really reach. I'm such a mean pet parent.

The Battle Continues...

So apparently yet another high-profile pastor has landed in the center of controversy. Do I think the pastor did solicit sex from a male prostitute? I don't know. I'd like to belive not, especially since he is so adamantly denying it. And of course I hurt to think of someone living such a double-life and undoubtedly hating himself somewhere deep inside.

I have to wonder, though... if he is struggling with this, and if he had or did own up to it, what would be the Evangelical community's response?

It's a tough question. Even tougher is the question of how much has our current religious system in the Western church made it difficult for someone in a high position of authority to resist temptation and have a circle of accountability partners? There seems to be such an emphasis on having your crap all together. No one wants to be led by someone who struggles with these things.

At one of his shows, Matthew Perryman Jones once said that we minister to people out of our brokenness (or something to that effect). Whatever else I may think about the edgy style of Mars Hill Church, I LOVE that Mark Driscoll is so vulnerable with his congregation. Here's my controversial statement of the week:

Churches should be somewhere where someone who is struggling with pornography, homosexuality, transgendered issues, abortion issues, and all those other "shocking" things, can find healing and hope for redemption.

How that is played out varies from church to church and community to community, but if we as a church body are not providing resources for all of us to dig out our sins and junk and hurts, then that's a problem. No one should have to suffer in silence. Ever. Least of all the men and women who have taken on the daunting task of leading Jesus' sheep full-time.

Praise God for his never-failing mercy and grace. May he protect us all from ourselves.

What a Day!

Days don't get much better than today. This morning, we had a retreat for the graduate fellowship groups at Emory, Tech, and (boooo) Georgia. Pete Bocchino was a fantastic, engaging, humble speaker who actually said "Apologetics is all about relationships." Sadly, you don't often hear that out of many of the spooky-brilliant minds that study the Bible and come up with amazing insight. At the end of his session, I felt better equipped to share the gospel of Christ with love and humility, as opposed to just gaining a lot of knowledge to throw at people. Good apologetics (silly sounding term, but apparently it's from the original Greek apologia, to defend a position against an attack) is gaining knowledge about God so that we can glorify him by sharing that knowledge in love. So there, rude people. PPPLLLLLBBBBTTTHHH! Take that.

After we left the retreat, we headed up to Taco Mac to watch the game. No, no, make that THE GAME. We beat no. 10/11 Virginia Tech in Blacksburg (scary scary stadium) 38-27. We in the Crane household are still in a little bit of shock. And we also have very sore throats from screaming, hooting & hollering so much. GOOOOOOO JACKETS! Holy poop. I don't know if I'll be able to sleep for a week! What a sweet, sweet victory for so many reasons!

And then we went to a benefit event for Mamelodi Township, South Africa. For just $10 a head, we got to eat ridiculous amounts of pig, sides & peach cobbler. We got to hear some really awesome Gospel/Blues singers. We got to laugh with friends and also be moved to tears by the pictures & stories of the people, and especially the children, of Mamelodi. Sitting next to my laptop are two beautiful soapstone carvings that we bought from African Leadership Development, a fantastic ministry that works to come "alongside and help fan into flame the gifts already there... [to find] 'African solutions for African problems.' " One carving is a little hippo that makes me smile because Kennan picked out the one that is yawning, and you can see its little teeth. The other is a family (mother, father & child) all holding hands. I rejoice that somewhere in Africa the life of a family will be improved because... I got to enjoy myself with friends. How wonderfully ridiculous is that?

Today we got to be educated, humbled, & uplifted; we got to cheer our team to a crazy victory; we got to celebrate with friends and family for a good cause. Today was indeed a glimpse of heaven! :)

Altruistic Update

I finally got some information on Redeemer's food kitchen, so hopefully I can start volunteering there soon. For being a volunteer thing, it sure is hard to find out how to help. Maybe it's their version of a background check, only cheaper.

Today I went with some of the ladies from ChristChurch to volunteer at a really cool thrift store. We sorted donations all morning. There were some very interesting items of clothing. My favorite was a black sweatshirt with multi-colored ruffles all over it. It made me want to salsa dance. Either that, or run screaming into the night.

Funny anecdote that I know some of you will especially appreciate... one of the women asked us for advice because she was worried about her daughter, and two of us were closer to college age. I was prepared for failing classes, partying, bad-influence boyfriend...

Instead, the aforementioned daughter drove up to Huntsville last night to see Nickelcreek (sooooo jealous!) and drove back in the same night.

IIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!! GASP!

I tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing. I looked at the other "girl," and we just cracked up. I told the concerned mother that I was no help because we still do things like that (although not often, mind you), and if I had been in Atlanta back in the day, I certainly would have joined in the touring madness with the gang.

The offending party's mom explained that she just worried about her driving so late at night. We agreed that if she were driving by herself, instead of with other people & other cars, it would be a problem, but since she was carpooling/caravanning, it was pretty safe.

I think it's sweet that the mom was concerned. Involved parents rock, even when they may not quite understand. I'll take that over lazy, negligent parents, any day!

A Day in the Life

So behind in posting! I've had all sorts of brilliant ideas that never came to fruition. Seems I've gotten lazy these days...

So here's a little bit of mental potpourri:

The trip went well but I'm glad to be back home... it's amazing what a car can smell like after 3 days of driving... our alarm clock radio woke us up the other morning to the lovely news that our friends in District 4 have finally regained consciousness and voted Cynthia McKinney OUT... I found out that one of my IV coworkers is on the front of Jill Phillips' newest album (3rd from the bottom left, with one arm raised)... Lime & Thai Chile Peanuts from Trader Joe's are tasty, but do not burp up well (ew)... no matter how old you get, you're always their "baby," and as time goes on and sweet little old ladies shrink, they accuse you of growing... I went through some of my old stuff at my parents' house and found my Headstart (Pre-K) diploma and cardboard mortarboard & tassel; I think I'll put that on my resume... the old adage (cliche) "You can't go home again" is shockingly accurate when you go from being Southern Baptist to Presbyterian... Tennessee is lovely country, but ain't nothin' in comparison with fair New Mexico, especially Los Alamos... apparently all good Presbyterians own pipes (Sam, you bad influence, you)... Nashville needs to pick up and move a little closer to Atlanta, so that I can go to things like the no cover charge, multi-Square Peg concerts being held on Tuesday nights... second cousins grow up really fast... it never fails, if you don't pack a book on a trip, you want to read, but if you bring an entire honking box, you find other things to do... no matter what was in the box, cats will brave all manner of odds to sit in the thing... cats, at least our cats, have perfected the art of looking both innocent and insolent at the same time... MySpace is taking over the world and that scares me... dinner tastes better when shared with friends... if anyone actually read all this, not only are you a loyal friend, but you have entirely too much spare time on your hands...

Yesterday was a marvelous day of "lasts": my last day selling shiny things at Pier 1 and Mom's last chemotherapy treatment. Whoo hoo! That's not mental potpourri, folks, that's news.