Derring-do: August 2008

There But For The Grace Of God Go I

I read the news sometimes and I feel humbled by the inequity of life. It's 107 here and my dryer has been deciding to shut itself off and so I had to go to the laundromat and deal with that whole scene with 12 loads of laundry and my middle son had issues again with his cochlear implant processors because of sweat making them fritz out and my oldest son discovered this morning that someone bashed out his window in his car and stole his stereo from the car he bought with his own money. Frustrating day! But then I hear about some friends of ours who just delivered their precious daughter two months early with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around her neck two times and she didn't make it. How do you bear that? With that in mind and news stories like these, I realize: I. AM. SO. FORTUNATE. I. AM. SO. FORTUNATE. It will be my new mantra.

How Do You Know??

"Brother James Jordan thinks the patterns do resemble Jesus better in person than in these blown-up pictures...." And I ask again, how do you know??? Did you meet Him in person and you immediately see the resemblance? I don't get it.

I know, I know. I've hammered this topic into the ground. I just think it's kind of funny how everyone's seeing the image of Jesus in the craziest places and none of the images resemble each other and NO ONE knows if they resemble Christ. Like I've said before, it most likely could resemble the next door neighbor way more than Jesus....But I guess you don't get on the news for that: "JimBob Sees Next-Door Neighbor on Fruit Loop." Doesn't have the same ring.

You Too Can Start The Day This Way If You Want

My plan was to go walking through the lovely hilly streets of my neighborhood. Almost ready, I passed through the kitchen when miscellaneous misplaced items by the pool caught my eye. I thought I'd just step out there first and pick that stuff right up and then be on my way. While doing a quick straightening up, I noticed a few pool balls back behind a palm tree so I carefully maneuvered the pool net over in that corner, captured the football, was carefully stepping back a bit to bring it out when..........oops! Too close to the edge and in I went---clothes, shoes, glasses, the works! Thank goodness I didn't have pockets or my cell phone would have gone swimming as well.

From upstairs my husband heard a yelp of surprise and then **SPLASH** and then, likely, hysterical laughing. I lugged my wet self out, giggling as I went, just imagining the sight that must've been. I wonder if anyone saw? Probably not, but boy did they miss out.

I guess that's one way to get me in the pool. And oh, hey, the football? Got it. No problem.

Beauty Bends The Rules

The story about Joel Osteen's wife's supposed altercation on an airline flight has been mildly intriguing. It's a classic "she said/she said" kind of story, and it's not really that important in even the tiny scheme of things, let alone the big scheme of things. But I wonder to myself: if Victoria Osteen were not clearly beautiful, rich, well-dressed, etc., would this be receiving any kind of attention? Mega-churches leave a bad taste in my mouth anyway, but that's another story, and these co-pastors of the Lakewood Church in Houston clearly seem to think they're something special. Perhaps they are. How do I know?

I watched a short clip of Victoria defending what she calls a non-event, and it was so syrupy sweet and gushy, it was somewhat gag-worthy. If she did nothing, why did the FAA fine her $3,000 for interfering with a crew member? And if she did nothing and was totally innocent, why did she pay it and try to sweep it under the rug? Turning the other cheek? Seems likely not. Anyway. It barely qualifies as an interesting story, but it's always interesting to me how beautiful and rich excuses a lot of behavior. At least in the person's own mind.

Or maybe I'm just jealous because I'm neither one and I want her to go down. Pay, perfect shallow annoying one, pay!............. Jus' kiddin'.

Not What A Mom Wants To Hear

I'm working inside the house, the boys are outside swimming. I can hear them through the window (and I check on them all the time. The rule is, they can swim without me there as long as they're both in the pool. Neither one can ever swim by himself). I can hear them playing, negotiating their next move. I'm not paying too much attention until I hear my youngest say: "Fine. Fine. But if we die, it's your fault." Warms a mom's heart.