Bumper Break

(Disclaimer:  I can't be deep and thought-provoking ALL the time.  Brainless stuff has its place, you know.)

I'm thinking about plastering my vehicle with bumper stickers.  Ok, probably not, but if I had an older, beat up car, I certainly would.  I'd want the following bumper stickers I've seen:

• "Well-behaved women rarely make history."
  
• "Horn broke, watch for finger."
  
• "Can't come to work today.  The voices told me to stay home and clean the gun."

If you could have any bumper sticker, what would it be?

Christianity, Part II

A while back, I blogged about "What's Your Problem With Christianity?" The replies (25 of them in all) were, I thought, quite revealing.

• Three people had a problem with basic concepts of Christianity - that Jesus died for their sins because they were a sinner before they were born; that God seems violent; and the (sometimes) Christian belief that theirs is the only way to heaven.
  
• One person's answer wasn't clear to me. 
  
• The other 21 people didn't have a problem with Christianity -- their beef was with Christians who have acted idiotic.

So according to this very unscientific study, 84% of the people have no real issue with Jesus.  Jesus is widely accepted to have been a kind, loving individual that was more interested in spreading good than anything else.

So who, in  your life, have you ever met that was the most "Jesus-like"?  Was it someone in a church, or a guy down at the soup kitchen?  Was it a missionary, or a nurse in a hospital? 

I'm very, very interested in your replies, so please, be free with them! 

Run Away!  Run Away!

Every once in a while, I have the urge to run away.  Don't we all?  I have particularly good fortune in that I have a family that supports this notion.  It's healthy for me, it makes me easier to live with, and we're all happier in the long run if I occasionally take a weekend vacation by myself somewhere.

I used to go to Laredo, Texas/Nuevo Laredo, Mexico with girlfriends to go shopping.  While this is wonderful, I really wanted a trip alone.  I like to bring a few videos, some snack food, a Bible and a notebook/journal, possibly a novel, and I'm good for the duration. 

So my last run-away-trip, and the one I'll be taking this coming weekend, have been to guesthouses run by Gastehaus Schmidt in Fredericksburg, Texas.  They rent out cute little houses.  This prices are REALLY reasonable ($60/night, no more than a regular motel), I'm alone (none of this "bed and breakfast" stuff where you just get one room in a big mansion, and you have to hear the neighbors all night), secluded, only a little more than an hour from home in Austin, and good German food and shopping is nearby.  I highly recommend this type of adventure!

Does Size Matter?

(No, this blog isn't going the direction you think!)

Only the following groups of people will be able to relate to today's rant:

1. People who are currently children.


2. People who have children.


3. People who have, at some point, been children.

Has anyone else noticed that many parents treat physical development as a competitive sport?  You know what I mean:  "Oh, look at your boy!  He's so BIG!  That's great!" Or, "Your baby has teeth/walks/talks/crawls/etc. earlier than most!  How wonderful!"

Why is it so fabulous to be big?  My son is 14 years old and 6 feet tall.  People praise me from the heavens, as if I have somehow done something wonderful in my child-raising techniques for him to acquire this feat.  Shoot, I don't know why he's tall.  He's got a lot of tall uncles.  Don't look at me, I didn't do it -- I'm only 5'2" if I stand on a book. 

On the flip side, same said son didn't have teeth, hair, or bother to walk until he was 13 months old.  This was met with gasps from other mothers, as if he were somehow defective.  "He doesn't have TEETH?  Have you taken him to the doctor?"  Well, no.  His teeth will come when they feel like it.  If they don't, hey, he'll be a medical miracle - a person born toothless!

He's the one in the black shirt here.  Nevermind that Mr. Boy is intelligent, talented in acting and other performing arts, outgoing, healthy and one hell of a lot of fun to be around.  What people usually say first is "He's so TALL!  That's GREAT!"

Maybe the reason this grates on my very last dying nerve is that I'm short.  Does this mean my parents were neglectful?  Does it make me less of a person?  I hardly think so.  My brothers used to tell me that "God ran out of people dough and only had enough left to make half a person, so he made you!"  Har har... big brothers, who needs 'em. 

The King Is Dead

**NOTE:  There's a banner contest right below this... please check it out!**

In honor of my maiden name, Presley, I'd like to pause for a moment of quiet, yet hip-swaying retrospection.  This is the anniversary of The King's death.

Confession time:  I'm not really a fan.  I work with a woman who has an Elvis shrine, and actually asks her husband to wear an Elvis mask during their, well, "together time."  Now, THAT'S a fan.  I just mostly try to get into clubs on days like today for free with my ID (I use Presley as my middle name, now that I'm married).  I tried this trick at Graceland, too... and the response has always been the same.  "That's very nice, Ms. Presley.  $12 please."  Hmph.  See if I let 'em lick my blue suedes.

ADDENDUM:  Oops, it's tomorrow, 8/16. 

Last night I went to one of those dreadful company dinners with my husband for his job.  He works at a talk radio station, and we ended up sitting with the cool people.  The BBQ was good (and best of all FREE), so it all worked out okay.

There was a man there that does a radio show I'd heard of but never met -- Bill "The Mailman" Martin.  He's a retired postal worker, and he and his wife, Evelyn, have been married for 40+ years (I think the picture at left is pretty old!).  Evelyn apparently is very sick, and has recently started to give up the urge to fight to live.  We prayed together with Mr. Martin for Evelyn (and him), and Bill "The Mailman" cried most of the time.  I've never seen a man so emotionally fragile, so inwardly torn, as this gentleman was last night over the health (physical and emotional) of "the love of his life."  I know there's people in this situation in every day, but for some reason, this man really touched me in a deep way last night.

So, if you think of it, please send a prayer, positive thought, or whatever it is you do to Bill and Evelyn Martin of Austin, Texas.  Thanks.

Someone Clue Me In...

Why does it suddently seem to be "news" that the Palestinians and Israelis are fighting?  This has been going on for, oh, 2000 years or so.  Why is it dominating the media this past week?

I'm not trying to be insensitive.  There's horrible, awful stuff happening.  Suicide bombers, rampant random violence, retaliation... if this stuff STOPPED over there, now THAT would be news.

I have to go back to my theory that the "media" is a business.  But are these stories really shocking anyone?

Christians, Part I

I know there are people here of all different faiths and beliefs, so I think this is probably a great place to ask this question.  It'll probably lead into more blogs, but it seems like a good place to start.  Here's the question:

What's Your Problem With Christianity?

My own personal answer is:  Christians that make up long lists of rules, try to get society to act like them, and run about doing just about everything Jesus wasn't interested in, all the while claiming to be a follower of Jesus... THAT'S what pisses me off.

(Disclaimer:  I'm a Christian.  I'm not one of those Christmas & Easter Christians. I'm pretty serious about my faith, and it's an everyday part of my life.  I don't, however, belong to a denomination, go to a big building with a steeple, etc.)

What Color Is Your Band-Aid

Virgilmvx has shared some VERY important thoughts regarding Band-Aids and tongue cuts.

I once had a thought about Band-Aids.  I was looking at a picture of my son's girlfriend-du-jour, Shay, who is a deep licorice color of brown, almost black.*  She had on a Band-Aid that was the color or my skin (I'm basic Wonder Bread white), and it looked silly.   

Shay and I decided bandagse should come in colors that actually match the skin colors of real people.  You know, kind of like hair dye comes in different colors.  You know, for different shades of Caucasian, Hispanic, American Indian, African American, Asian, and every mix inbetween you can think off. 

Shay and I, we're marketing geniuses.  Now, someone jump on this and do it!

*Oh, alright, this isn't Shay.  This is Danielle, a different girlfriend-du-jour, and this pose was taken during a celebration after a play in which Jim and Danielle won first and second places for their roles in MacBeth.

How To Know If You Found A Good Man

just_margie's says "Girls, you know you've found the right one if you can say to yourself, 'I don't think I can replace this... ever."

I'd like to add that if you wake up every day and feel like you've just won the Man Lottery, you've probably got a keeper.  This is how I usually find myself waking up.

Further, this doesn't mean finding "A man that can support you" -- either financially, spiritually, physically or emotionally.  Do yourself and the man a favor and have your act together FIRST, before hooking up.  Then, find a man who has HIS act together.  When two healthy people merge, it's a beautiful thing.  There's nothing more attractive than a person who doesn't necessarily NEED you, but rather WANTS you.

I think I should quit blogging today.  I'm ranting.