tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118839472024-03-06T21:04:25.498-08:00Good Rocky's RevivalRocky Racoon, fell back to his room, only to find Gideon's bible. Gideon checked out and left it, no doubt, to help with...the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-50952231713161094922011-02-09T19:31:00.000-08:002011-02-10T06:45:56.605-08:00notes from a staff meeting<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Generally, I think it's a good policy not to record events of staff meetings on one's blog. Today, however, was a doozy.<br /><br />We were discussing ways to highlight the upcoming Lenten Small Groups and how we might encourage people to sign up for them. One of my colleagues suggested making announcements that double as teaching as to why Lent is important which has worked in the past.<br /><br />Donna: "Once we even had someone come out in sack-cloth and ashes, and used some drama and humour..(trails off, (for the purposes of <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> story) due to interruption by another colleague...)<br /><br />Elaine: "oh, we need Bonnie to do these announcments..."<br /><br />Now...a dear friend (I'm not sure what he'd think if I used his name so why don't we call him...nitsud...) who I am fourtunate enough to work with, was sitting across from me at the staff table. Apparently he didn't hear the comment made by E, and was still thinking along the lines of D and chimed in, saying "yea, you could totally just tear your shirt..."<br /><br />To which I responded:<br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznr72ZYq8MPB2ofFNQW4iXck9JfD58Jqo2I-hsr-O9VSYWV6PcJO9lR1IvK1AZ-iFg8P4V5AUlSw6dYcJPfcwm0Gag7y8bVUqKYOCdQR_CoQdPV_72lK_bRKn3N7UGGLlleQIZw/s1600/Photo+1141.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznr72ZYq8MPB2ofFNQW4iXck9JfD58Jqo2I-hsr-O9VSYWV6PcJO9lR1IvK1AZ-iFg8P4V5AUlSw6dYcJPfcwm0Gag7y8bVUqKYOCdQR_CoQdPV_72lK_bRKn3N7UGGLlleQIZw/s320/Photo+1141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571903706182384834" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheX6GO8Wb3KVMu9APUD5YDR4If7wxu2Yz4zv-PtDaxPzVgYXS3si3K3pK9xXrVJaMnajFQ1fHCrPHZZwXA5WMwLSn-KxsRiPxXTbLSqag5W1VQ6rQh9mkeF89P5KIWdG8mqGTJMg/s1600/Photo+1142.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheX6GO8Wb3KVMu9APUD5YDR4If7wxu2Yz4zv-PtDaxPzVgYXS3si3K3pK9xXrVJaMnajFQ1fHCrPHZZwXA5WMwLSn-KxsRiPxXTbLSqag5W1VQ6rQh9mkeF89P5KIWdG8mqGTJMg/s320/Photo+1142.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571903866919351730" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3WY6-PhOZFbj2HbdJ1_RzX3irMK8z3cEwldyawAIlNBxNa-K3lQvNLfPpZ0QpDVjTQxs3FJzgbh_dvNOZW3AIoyNbsv9C2T_m-xNOYDYbAHc5OMUWfFDk91e_PKlCD2D_x_irA/s1600/Photo+1140.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3WY6-PhOZFbj2HbdJ1_RzX3irMK8z3cEwldyawAIlNBxNa-K3lQvNLfPpZ0QpDVjTQxs3FJzgbh_dvNOZW3AIoyNbsv9C2T_m-xNOYDYbAHc5OMUWfFDk91e_PKlCD2D_x_irA/s320/Photo+1140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571904081383891698" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Buuut it got funnier...<br /><br />Nitsud: "Well, not YOU.."<br /><br />(everyone else is now laughing)<br /><br />Kirsten: "Well you could..."<br /><br />Me: "Oh, well, in <span style="font-weight: bold;">that</span> case..."<br /><br />Nitsud: (acting out the ensuing scnario if the above did happen..) </span></span>"your small group sign-ups are humongous<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">" (...annnd at the last word another of my fellow (male) colleagues who had been quiet in the conversation up until now, let out a roar of laughter.)<br /><br />...to which I responded...<br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3WY6-PhOZFbj2HbdJ1_RzX3irMK8z3cEwldyawAIlNBxNa-K3lQvNLfPpZ0QpDVjTQxs3FJzgbh_dvNOZW3AIoyNbsv9C2T_m-xNOYDYbAHc5OMUWfFDk91e_PKlCD2D_x_irA/s1600/Photo+1140.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3WY6-PhOZFbj2HbdJ1_RzX3irMK8z3cEwldyawAIlNBxNa-K3lQvNLfPpZ0QpDVjTQxs3FJzgbh_dvNOZW3AIoyNbsv9C2T_m-xNOYDYbAHc5OMUWfFDk91e_PKlCD2D_x_irA/s320/Photo+1140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571904081383891698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-81101891666105430192011-02-01T17:45:00.001-08:002011-02-01T17:50:29.523-08:00listenI know I don't always use it correctly but I'm getting better. And at least I'm trying.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYG4Kr1YI_QiQ-dtO2cmw1NcCtQHvGA6OmeIsHnJdlKVVnQ-rHwXGRiBDBTYglguoz0iiTRCnkGAKWmyqhhafBJTp2qXVw45l_iNiGzGO4m_4Ed6N6xidrjPn0yn4lBTKHswW5w/s1600/semicolon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYG4Kr1YI_QiQ-dtO2cmw1NcCtQHvGA6OmeIsHnJdlKVVnQ-rHwXGRiBDBTYglguoz0iiTRCnkGAKWmyqhhafBJTp2qXVw45l_iNiGzGO4m_4Ed6N6xidrjPn0yn4lBTKHswW5w/s320/semicolon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568902806615994962" border="0" /></a><br />And I love it. I love how superfluous it is; we don't really need it. I'm wary of excess in all other parts of my life. Isn't it wonderful that one can be so overindulgent when it comes to punctuation?the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-68594186951293220362011-01-31T18:09:00.000-08:002011-01-31T18:30:19.134-08:00a man from St. Margaret's died today. He was pretty old and pretty ill. He breathed his last in prayer, I'm told.<br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">...</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">O Holy Trinity, one God; </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> <span style="font-style: italic;">Graciously hear us.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> Behold, O Lord, this thy servant, and in thy loving mercy, </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> <span style="font-style: italic;">Good Lord, deliver him.</span> ...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> To receive him to thyself,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> <span style="font-style: italic;">We beseech thee, good Lord.</span> ...</span><br /><br />He was an important man; he was a man of the cloth. He'd been ill for quite a while; I really only met him once. But what's funny about churches is that some people, even if they haven't dawned the threshold in years, leave their mark in the stones, in the books, in the windows. I only shook his hand once but I meet him there, in that holy place, under those glowing windows, amid the thewy pews, in the pages of the common prayers, in the people who flood the sanctuary. He was important; many of my friends will be mourning tonight. <br /> <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /> ...Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> In the Name of God the Father Almighty, who created thee;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> In the Name of Jesus Christ, who redeemed thee;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> In the Name of the Holy Ghost, who sanctifieth thee.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> May thy rest be this day in peace, and thy dwelling place in the Paradise of God.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZP3JXK0VrFxf95I04leV2VZKghGJeXZaiiuq7xtRB3yoQWr9gxhueM1UtAnaK_T2akPwboMgOXr2xig4o8QdLFtcCZ4U-S4jLw2slNduf-Mdlzo0gpaXxVAm3-uaHj7LamuonA/s1600/shadow+wreath.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZP3JXK0VrFxf95I04leV2VZKghGJeXZaiiuq7xtRB3yoQWr9gxhueM1UtAnaK_T2akPwboMgOXr2xig4o8QdLFtcCZ4U-S4jLw2slNduf-Mdlzo0gpaXxVAm3-uaHj7LamuonA/s320/shadow+wreath.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568539433033725490" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I think I shall go for a walk and a frozen salute.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-79230012552065932742011-01-28T20:19:00.001-08:002011-01-28T20:55:11.920-08:00all the crazies come out...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEMc5VQKNeTVGDa0U6QpwyhOgV7pyRoonAKcyLqZ8XvAYNfiW_HQi3Gb6Ieu_433xXo92GZU9_Js8EbmYiTJg3kidLf0kKIXH4BJp_0WXJxUXKxvvXcVThgdWcM5OZJ5jdBLr6w/s1600/twiterpated.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEMc5VQKNeTVGDa0U6QpwyhOgV7pyRoonAKcyLqZ8XvAYNfiW_HQi3Gb6Ieu_433xXo92GZU9_Js8EbmYiTJg3kidLf0kKIXH4BJp_0WXJxUXKxvvXcVThgdWcM5OZJ5jdBLr6w/s320/twiterpated.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567458255623549474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />apparently when there's alot of snow but it's not that cold the crazies in Winnipeg get a little twitterpated.<br /><br />I usually don't tell stories like this because they usually come off like you're trying to, subtly, brag. I assure you, this is in no way my intent.<br /><br />First of all, things like this don't happen to me alot. I feel like it has more to do with a change in weather than anything else.<br /><br />It all started yesterday. I'd just walked to the grocery store a block away from our apartment. I bought much more than I intended and the lady only single bagged it. It was a very full bag. So I had to walk home carrying it in my arms. As I was doing just this, I first passed a couple of large hoodlums who, with such charm, remarked "hey baby, where're you goin'?" as I walked by. To be fair, living on the cusp of Winnipeg's West End, this is not all that rare an occurrence and I'm pretty good at doing the tried-and-true stare-way-ahead-act-deaf-keep-walking. So no more trouble.<br /><br />Then, much closer to home now, I all of a sudden notice a biker, in the bike lane close to the sidewalk, biking the wrong way up Maryland (which is a one way street). "<span style="font-style: italic;">What a nutcase.</span>" I think to myself.<br />"Hey!" I hear. I look at him; he's concentrating on not getting hit by a car. I can't figure out if he's talking to me.<br />"Hey!" he says again.<br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Oh shit,</span>" I think.<br />At the tiny little path through the enormous snow bank off the bike lane, he gets off the street, and hauls his bike through the path and catches up to me. I never quit walking.<br />"Ah...hey," he says, having caught up with me; I'm still walking. "Uh, yea, I never do this, I'm just a pretty wierd guy and you look like you're having a really bad day."<br />"Oh, no.." I say with a pathetic half laugh. <span style="font-style: italic;">"oh geez,"</span> I'm thinking. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Great, I look grumpy and now this guy's going to tell me about Jesus."</span><br />"Uh, yea," he says, "um I was just wondering if I could get your number, because I'm shallow?" (This is verbatum, folks. I don't think I could make up stuff this ridiculous.)<br />"Oh," I say, half laughing, "sorry, I'm married."<br />"Oh, well, ahh, congratulations. He's a really lucky guy."<br />"ha, thanks." I say. Then I noticed the buttons he had on his backpack straps and how his touque was one of those ugly ones IDS students where because it makes them feel connected to their friends in El Salvador and the fact that this whole episode was so frightfully sad, and I didn't want him to feel bad about himself so I said,<br />"I would've, though, if I wasn't."<br />...big. fat. lie.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd4UCKvx0JDx4B_BWJ_GckbLXJHug5RvxHLVBgUVt75Kz_SxOXBev9OYXI6or5msyHgUbsbxS6zEIEt2d0hXvY7DrMupkTsZ-KfDjLGunycso78r_ri4VSvtcthjsNDgCFoXCeQ/s1600/rabbit.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd4UCKvx0JDx4B_BWJ_GckbLXJHug5RvxHLVBgUVt75Kz_SxOXBev9OYXI6or5msyHgUbsbxS6zEIEt2d0hXvY7DrMupkTsZ-KfDjLGunycso78r_ri4VSvtcthjsNDgCFoXCeQ/s320/rabbit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567464878707272434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But the crazies keep coming out of the woodwork.<br /><br />Tonight I was walking home from youth alone because Caleb and the older guys are having an over-nighter at the Church. I was just about the corner where I turn off the main street onto a residential one to head home. I'd just passed a few people and at the end of the line was this pretty big guy, walking alone. I don't quite know how to describe him. He didn't look like a total nutcase, but he did look like a walking argument for birth control. Anyhow, as I got quite close to the place I wanted to turn he stopped and said something to me like "hey..." (I know, they're always so clever.)<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"shit,"</span> I thought. "hih?" I said. <span style="font-size:85%;">(not a typo, I'm pretty sure I said "hih")</span> Keep in mind, I was still walking. You have to be a whole new kind of crazy to get me to stop. Or cute.<br />"You know what I'm not going to do? I'm not going to ask you out." He said while giving me the up-down. (The good ones are always charming.)<br />"OK Thanks!" I said, surprisingly cheery, as I turned the corner and just kept going.<br />I looked back and he was still standing there for a moment. I braced myself. <span style="font-style: italic;">"If he follows me, shit is going to get real real, real quick."</span> I thought.<br /><br />But then, he turned and kept walking down the street. (Thank you, God.)<br /><br />Like I said, not bragging. I think that's pretty clear. I will say this: things like this really only happen to me when I haven't washed my hair or done my makeup for an extended amount of time. So, lesson learned. I need to wash my hair more.<br /><br />But remember: it'll happen to you.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYnoTVWpR5owGs82ekn-Fp2WMd-qSVZe81RTZNYW7z3I0Qo8-B4MagJYdVqtSxA6l4OnZK1wBTHhNl4N_BGk6EZ7BUmz-QHewuN6hAaiCDEf1qe1U1U-EVugVjrlIcnKkeCcdHw/s1600/owlbambi.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYnoTVWpR5owGs82ekn-Fp2WMd-qSVZe81RTZNYW7z3I0Qo8-B4MagJYdVqtSxA6l4OnZK1wBTHhNl4N_BGk6EZ7BUmz-QHewuN6hAaiCDEf1qe1U1U-EVugVjrlIcnKkeCcdHw/s320/owlbambi.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567465992723912690" border="0" /></a>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-3436886775469507642011-01-28T13:21:00.000-08:002011-01-28T13:46:55.693-08:00A tribute...Herein lies a salute to the creature that became the subject of one of my favourite Beatles' songs of all time and the namesake of this little electronic abode.*<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-RDn5cKlpB3E6g0sbW1B93Mjw8UngZtCpJyZs9cDehHObITILg9Qi3cLT_Jai4P8PSUcXNKUmB0xGQ5igFkwMaVhMsaes9yinRaguiF34lks394juhFIIidVFtZPKp2rVlXyFg/s1600/RockyRaccoon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-RDn5cKlpB3E6g0sbW1B93Mjw8UngZtCpJyZs9cDehHObITILg9Qi3cLT_Jai4P8PSUcXNKUmB0xGQ5igFkwMaVhMsaes9yinRaguiF34lks394juhFIIidVFtZPKp2rVlXyFg/s320/RockyRaccoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567354498807187682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrgZ7RBUWzzSDKhuzwaWCKIDdOtnAiPdJvUGXoX_Pem-R4OdqpvmKdJPfJ2mAMAlUAv5JZIzyE4ZeiXQzLKAKEwA5fsuf1vrnMvlhj_xYY0Ql7xU_IyQHOfIEKstXGhzKd0__oQ/s1600/animals%252Canimal%252Cbear%252Cbird%252Cillustration%252Clion-e9ae40de6846fdef62bbfed6bde9e16c_h.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrgZ7RBUWzzSDKhuzwaWCKIDdOtnAiPdJvUGXoX_Pem-R4OdqpvmKdJPfJ2mAMAlUAv5JZIzyE4ZeiXQzLKAKEwA5fsuf1vrnMvlhj_xYY0Ql7xU_IyQHOfIEKstXGhzKd0__oQ/s320/animals%252Canimal%252Cbear%252Cbird%252Cillustration%252Clion-e9ae40de6846fdef62bbfed6bde9e16c_h.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567354988825204210" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Professor Noah's Spaceship" by Brian Wildsmith<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">this freaked me out... (and I kind of included it for Tiff)</span><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jlzpvmhbtHe1E027vg1hgOcQa4cX9IFYZk2HT83rncQLgQQXo9I22Hl-t4XHoVQuC3F2RRGp2A0Mbl3MOEI-GHwMxXF_uMDVyuwVT7CnOBO1uSfueibk4whIn2p3Jf_qdb5VOw/s1600/freakyraccoon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jlzpvmhbtHe1E027vg1hgOcQa4cX9IFYZk2HT83rncQLgQQXo9I22Hl-t4XHoVQuC3F2RRGp2A0Mbl3MOEI-GHwMxXF_uMDVyuwVT7CnOBO1uSfueibk4whIn2p3Jf_qdb5VOw/s320/freakyraccoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567355341144129826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mji7VWZaaytuYmuXZwaT_o-oI9T0TblOgjHrZ83sjFzDQfWPlDf0eqM2T_kyRqhZbeA0cZNYs6l3iIPb2Hd_1_-1Xrg_FP4-rcm4azObccLhEQWc7EIWwNJWe7zOOPvYjrNWHQ/s1600/coryarnoldraccoon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5mji7VWZaaytuYmuXZwaT_o-oI9T0TblOgjHrZ83sjFzDQfWPlDf0eqM2T_kyRqhZbeA0cZNYs6l3iIPb2Hd_1_-1Xrg_FP4-rcm4azObccLhEQWc7EIWwNJWe7zOOPvYjrNWHQ/s320/coryarnoldraccoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567355506926909778" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">photograph by Cory Arnold</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5Eg7LJ2c7TxyH0HFRtHfZgipOeF6MeWy3zg-XGGpKlFvdECI0Mgr1zo5axPU_ZtBQJuy7fZi1KB7usrh6ewZqnkMdThoEZcUc3mXYXBtmobe84hA-F0u3eL8AVtZ3blXwGFgPQ/s1600/moon%252Bcoon.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5Eg7LJ2c7TxyH0HFRtHfZgipOeF6MeWy3zg-XGGpKlFvdECI0Mgr1zo5axPU_ZtBQJuy7fZi1KB7usrh6ewZqnkMdThoEZcUc3mXYXBtmobe84hA-F0u3eL8AVtZ3blXwGFgPQ/s320/moon%252Bcoon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567355787704225794" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">image from "Wait 'Till the Moon is Full" by Margaret Wise Brown</span><br /><br /><br />this also freaked me out...(it gets a little dull after 0:45)<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rwMOmQCsTrU" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5lGowCP8l9ndSbKi1xDdQ7EGZF3elcylFCQ97mAMNVCI5tV18HAIZYBC0S46GXW8Zkzq3_XiYtImah6JUPN8oR3ANCv4cjUH1J9T49sq9jazdDBMKUHCPDUaUBnlPCyoA1ys3Q/s1600/robertston.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5lGowCP8l9ndSbKi1xDdQ7EGZF3elcylFCQ97mAMNVCI5tV18HAIZYBC0S46GXW8Zkzq3_XiYtImah6JUPN8oR3ANCv4cjUH1J9T49sq9jazdDBMKUHCPDUaUBnlPCyoA1ys3Q/s320/robertston.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567356382948203170" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">illustration by Mike Robertson</span><br /><br />this is a double tribute both to raccoon and to every saturday morning of my childhood spent with the CBC<br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FXsjzcC4Jdw" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />*I tried to find image creds for everything I could. That top one I had no luck with...sorry.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-85666274778688456892011-01-27T15:51:00.000-08:002011-01-28T13:48:41.638-08:00Nothing makes me quite as anxious as a glass of wine that's almost empty.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8ESLzXYlN_UHTU3MnbLeEHoZ-YtBUD2MQqgnAZur64sfgESBJJNwff4TXiYq4t6e-bK8sUnHGw1qta5BlYhXnxXBNXlMXOZhYGe5Im_scr1_GcJjj-nOiN517HnZ693TfhyphenhypheniwQ/s1600/glass_of_wine-919.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8ESLzXYlN_UHTU3MnbLeEHoZ-YtBUD2MQqgnAZur64sfgESBJJNwff4TXiYq4t6e-bK8sUnHGw1qta5BlYhXnxXBNXlMXOZhYGe5Im_scr1_GcJjj-nOiN517HnZ693TfhyphenhypheniwQ/s320/glass_of_wine-919.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567017780241521746" border="0" /></a>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-89278627901967415902011-01-27T14:53:00.000-08:002011-01-27T15:15:17.360-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiansSpJVPRWv_OLjr9aIgVYMLXoUQPbN87bxw_mN5_l5NPX9XeI5La3W-g5TYGdKyHOlGFjSSTFux9QZNSLpAe8cU6effM4IvPv1XnFCWTSUcA7kCswogWBNjDKnHOCaUW-j8KSQ/s1600/thanksmeg.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiansSpJVPRWv_OLjr9aIgVYMLXoUQPbN87bxw_mN5_l5NPX9XeI5La3W-g5TYGdKyHOlGFjSSTFux9QZNSLpAe8cU6effM4IvPv1XnFCWTSUcA7kCswogWBNjDKnHOCaUW-j8KSQ/s320/thanksmeg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567003629378922386" border="0" /></a><br />Do you ever have a moment that you really want to remember? Even to the point that you get really anxious thinking that you might not remember the moment or thing if something prevents you from commemorating it in someway? This happens to me all the time. Usually I feel an incessant need to write everything down. Especially when I'm studying or reading; I copy large sections of books and essays that I really want to remember and <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span>. Sometimes I think it really does help to copy things out; there's something comforting about scrawling new ideas into your own notebook with your own ink; it feels like they become part of you. But most of the time it just slows everything down so that a book you love and are trying to really absorb takes you way longer to read than something you hate. And then you can't cover nearly as much ground - which is so discouraging, no?<br /><br />I'm working on a new system of reading now. For some books I force myself to not take a pen or a pencil with me, so that I have to read and absorb and just trust that the things that are really important I <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> remember. For other books, I not only take a pencil with me but I completely indulge myself; the last novel I read has something underlined on nearly every page and I think I've got a good 5% of the whole thing scribbled into my notebook.<br /><br />Now I just need to fill in the middle. Somewhere in between forcefully prohibiting myself and completely indulging myself - that's where I'm going to get alot of work done. Now, I know some might offer some systems as suggestions, and I'm going to be honest right now: I generally resist, fiercly, any system I haven't come up with on my own. I'm just egotistical that way.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-12639696570726403922011-01-26T20:04:00.001-08:002011-01-26T20:07:05.558-08:00<span style="font-family: lucida grande;">"But I'm a bad priest, you see. I know - from experience - how much beauty Satan carried down with him when he fell. <span style="font-size:130%;">Nobody ever said the fallen angels were the ugly ones.</span>" <span style="font-size:85%;">-G.Greene</span></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksJcvQ3TuUp2d_afXGpZ0h1AjUhUY52YtLqFC2r8IBbu3MQI3sfHa_X6fgFalBBuF0qWdbFIkib0pytqrZAuU3uXCw0AmHx4jkZh5_ry8Ybqg6nG0ZP35U1IvQ2IDCUbizlUK3g/s1600/falloficarus.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksJcvQ3TuUp2d_afXGpZ0h1AjUhUY52YtLqFC2r8IBbu3MQI3sfHa_X6fgFalBBuF0qWdbFIkib0pytqrZAuU3uXCw0AmHx4jkZh5_ry8Ybqg6nG0ZP35U1IvQ2IDCUbizlUK3g/s320/falloficarus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566711843002217346" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">"Fall of Icarus" by Marc Chagall, 1975.</span></span>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-4044768824496285082010-11-01T10:23:00.000-07:002010-11-01T08:24:20.272-07:00Top 5 Top 5's74 hours on a bus this summer. We made lists. They inspired me to make these.<br /><br />Top 5 Seinfeld (the show) lines:<br />1. Kramer: "Hoochie Mama!"<br />2. Elaine (to sleeping guy on plane...in coach): "HEY"<br />3. Elaine (re: George's toupe): "I don't like this thing! And here's what I'm doing with it..."<br />4. George : "Jerk store. Jerk store is the line. JERK STORE."<br />5. (drunk) Elaine (to Jerry in India): "Goodnight, Jugdish"<br /><br />Top 5 things I wish I owned:<br />1. a Canon EOS 60D<br />2. these lights:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz5e_Ja3wvAPSPWIvgKEZojE5eRv6eJ4ETlC8JqDCPAcCuHqvebk-LSnDkp73LqNaBriLdg_vehGHP-JVJn71EK3WevdCuDSHoQ8ppGGb5jtp1druG6WzsLEiTxMd3tuc2z12fQ/s1600/flowerlights"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz5e_Ja3wvAPSPWIvgKEZojE5eRv6eJ4ETlC8JqDCPAcCuHqvebk-LSnDkp73LqNaBriLdg_vehGHP-JVJn71EK3WevdCuDSHoQ8ppGGb5jtp1druG6WzsLEiTxMd3tuc2z12fQ/s320/flowerlights" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517315050458820562" border="0" /></a><br />3. this hummingbird melon baller:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqdOT7jYvhZxY6fBDzLp9VvSbKKzRp7Q9ZILSChoSS6ukllbVw8Fr7xlCnEKIdUw7FtpFKGjpyNbOqwkatUC0P4JADYnkj_WSUfxJ10HdTYw8UGe6UTm9GmE8beFL9UeQN3yRcg/s1600/hummingbirdmelon"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqdOT7jYvhZxY6fBDzLp9VvSbKKzRp7Q9ZILSChoSS6ukllbVw8Fr7xlCnEKIdUw7FtpFKGjpyNbOqwkatUC0P4JADYnkj_WSUfxJ10HdTYw8UGe6UTm9GmE8beFL9UeQN3yRcg/s320/hummingbirdmelon" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517320291574005298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />4. this headboard:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qtocyIqM-4uTXTl4id-U2ZNSUPeSwJYmlkfZd8aesZiWQ4J8vPBGxu-0bQEXhl5O7zQ_Z81Xwp2_UBV4P_BiMFoULvmmuWEfANnT-n38pJS0L7GJj230gr6mFaecc35MDwhFag/s1600/tuftedheadboard"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7qtocyIqM-4uTXTl4id-U2ZNSUPeSwJYmlkfZd8aesZiWQ4J8vPBGxu-0bQEXhl5O7zQ_Z81Xwp2_UBV4P_BiMFoULvmmuWEfANnT-n38pJS0L7GJj230gr6mFaecc35MDwhFag/s320/tuftedheadboard" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517312671561644578" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///Users/bigc4real/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///Users/bigc4real/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" /><br />5. these owl bookends:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE7cUfr8_eWYA807R5j0qzx8fXTtNa3egRAu1jxh0ZhuKrUIVwOzX5uC4reABxb-N1WCzt1SplVq_wIPICVs3XKjHzKpsY7m_pB0L2OynYz7IZ2oNw_1eyaLO1AYFAU-BWMsn_g/s1600/owlbookend"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikE7cUfr8_eWYA807R5j0qzx8fXTtNa3egRAu1jxh0ZhuKrUIVwOzX5uC4reABxb-N1WCzt1SplVq_wIPICVs3XKjHzKpsY7m_pB0L2OynYz7IZ2oNw_1eyaLO1AYFAU-BWMsn_g/s320/owlbookend" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517319503835103826" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Top 5 Things To Do In The Morning:<br />1. sip coffee<br />2. act silly with Caleb<br />3. appreciate how great i look when i'm 'fresh faced' (sometimes. see number 4)<br />4. laugh at how terrible i look after a simple night's rest<br />5. eat breakfast.<br /><br />Top 5 Songs I Listened To Today:<br />1. "Makin' Out" - Pomplamoose<br />2. "Wolves" - Phosphorescent (thank you spi & k.sol)<br />3. "Oh Johnny Oh Johnny Oh" - The Andrews Sisters<br />4. "To Be Alone With You" - Sufjan Stevens<br />5. "Heart of Gold" - Neil Young<br /><br />Top 5 Stories (other people tell, but I've told to myself recently):<br />1. David once told this story at a dinner party...that his sister in law saw a little boy hanging from the side of a pick up truck, his feet a few inches off the ground. He was holding onto the side of the truck for quite a while when she walked by and heard him say, very quietly, "won't somebody help the boy?"<br />2. Jody's story about a rogue babboon who stole a bag of Melissa's mangoes in Zambia.<br />3. Caleb used to work at Pizza Hut. Once he had to take a grease tray from something outside and empty it in the dumpster. But when he opened up the dumpster a bunch of birds flew up and were swarming him trying to get the grease. So he waved them off WITH the grease tray which meant he ended up accidentally pouring have the grease onto his head. Also, a girl he was trying to impress was coming out to visit the next day. (He couldn't get it out by then...I'm crying right now I'm laughing so hard.)<br />4. The best/worst week at the 2-4: Jody sees a mouse. We wreck the apartment trying to find it. I go on a date. I come home, Jody's crouched on the footstool holding the ribbon tied to our homemade mouse trap (garbage can, kleenex box, ribbon). Call in Bill to set traps. Couple days later, hot water pipe bursts in bathroom. Yikes. Awesome.<br />5. This is one I tell: Once, Caleb and I were walking down Corydon Avenue. I think it was kind of early in the day or something, anyway, there weren't alot of other people walking around. Anyway, Caleb and I were discussing my policy about not running for buses. "I just never want to be that guy...that's still running even though the bus is looong gone." All of a sudden Caleb is acting out "that guy" - he's pretending he's holding his backpack on one shoulder, hailing the bus with his other arm yelling "HOLD....HOLD...HOOOOLLLLD." I started crying with laughter. I couldn't walk, I just stood there crouched over laughing and crying while Caleb did the same back toward me. Just as this is all occuring this very large man walks out of the corner store and is both walking toward us and watching us. As I inch my way past him still laughing, still crying, still half-crouched over, and as Caleb keeps running up ahead yelling "hold" to the imaginary bus, this guy looks at me and lets out a couple of (slow) "HA...HA....HA's" and then as we pass him he yells "YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!" and raises his fist in the air (a la <span style="font-style: italic;">Breakfast Club</span> last scene.) It kind of changed my life.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-20089676926668835862010-09-22T14:05:00.000-07:002010-09-22T14:11:32.658-07:00i just wanted somebody to knowthat the weather in Winnipeg is miserable at the moment. and the day at the office was a little hectic. made all the more frantic by the fact that the boiler isn't on yet so everything's a little frigid. i rounded out the afternoon by putting up posters in the freezing cold rain.<br /><br />the upside was that i put up posters on my way to a meeting at a very warm cafe. however the short walk home still left me and my new shoes in a dismal way.<br /><br />but now i finally am home. i have an electric blanket at my back. my feet are dry. my cat is calm at at my side. i am keen to get an assignment finished and i may even finish a blog post i started last week. (not this one).<br /><br />all this to say, i'm having a very nice moment. the kind of moment you just want to tell someone else about to make sure it has a little more staying power.<br /><br />and this is the painting that's been flitting through my mind all day.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaAecqQIlsUAOzmlzPgP1zYuBmrkqunAS88bpDKQicfcgNSXPOmYbgfcsvKmxynxovaX05_9v0F8lhvBJ2p-SllvLr_mozpdGxvGZP2lNMAGpPWZZtCBeuWe0-qAsZ1f8B9e7Ig/s1600/chagallangels"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieaAecqQIlsUAOzmlzPgP1zYuBmrkqunAS88bpDKQicfcgNSXPOmYbgfcsvKmxynxovaX05_9v0F8lhvBJ2p-SllvLr_mozpdGxvGZP2lNMAGpPWZZtCBeuWe0-qAsZ1f8B9e7Ig/s320/chagallangels" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519848345623992162" border="0" /></a>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-77103657516652906362010-06-25T18:30:00.000-07:002010-07-21T09:49:52.312-07:00oooooohhh...second edition<span style="font-family:verdana;">It seems to be that time again. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For one thing, I'm sitting around at the church waiting for Caleb and the youth group to get back ice-cream in hand. For another thing, it's been about a month...or maybe two...since I've filled Good Rocky in last. So, in the spirit of keeping in touch, this is what I've been up to:<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">1. Facebook. I just can't get enough of it. It's simply the best thing to ever happen to me. I love to catch up with long-lost friends, see all their latest photos, get invited to innumerable activities and be kept posted on everything teeny tiny thought that flits through the minds of so many people I know.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">2. Lying. See above.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">...ok. Seriously now, I can't really think of anything major that I've been up to since my last post. In truth I could probably sum it up in 3 words: work. school. rest. (repeat). So instead of what I have been doing, I think I'll turn my attention to things I will be doing in this very glorious time of year I like to call Summer. Well, maybe like half and half. (Half things I hope to do, half things I've done.)<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">1.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">going to the <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >chapel</span></span>...for so very many weddings this summer.<br /><br />Jody & Jase. Sharelle & Matt. Mike & Lani. Geoff & Brielle. Christ</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">y & Evan. ravishing women. dapper men. bound by arresting delight and beatific devotion, i always find that weddings are the intrusion of hope into the world.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8pPJEd4GWSCNG0LIKTIqJUHf4NqG5v3c20-HH28gueDU7yKhjinJFDHzjqf48vzljwTsZY-gfz96geQ9i9WbUr0R8G6zaUsj8tLuBSrZKBcTFVjIsfpsmleFrsbb-t_kheRJbg/s1600/jodyjase.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8pPJEd4GWSCNG0LIKTIqJUHf4NqG5v3c20-HH28gueDU7yKhjinJFDHzjqf48vzljwTsZY-gfz96geQ9i9WbUr0R8G6zaUsj8tLuBSrZKBcTFVjIsfpsmleFrsbb-t_kheRJbg/s320/jodyjase.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488699842545742642" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://michaelthomasphotography.squarespace.com/"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">image cred</span></span></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8yF5ytZvmb210SNJI5bIB3yLBFzphWSL8eJ6nxOenrPWG1l0vHYDHOZj-w4zn9JmVw5rr-xHhMidzWRUcQ92pp4nzM4rtaIkHuqJ9rqOXxwXuoq2S88e8qcfE7JgOI_BHvf9mg/s1600/sharellematt.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8yF5ytZvmb210SNJI5bIB3yLBFzphWSL8eJ6nxOenrPWG1l0vHYDHOZj-w4zn9JmVw5rr-xHhMidzWRUcQ92pp4nzM4rtaIkHuqJ9rqOXxwXuoq2S88e8qcfE7JgOI_BHvf9mg/s320/sharellematt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488702041689852418" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >i don't know who took this...but i love it</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rPj5ifjjnX46qDurpN93dgLgeGSowDAZO4YfI-Bpl46z3zQz06D9_LE6UVM8qbpNMXbNq4j34EvPV0KnQGSbymdJK7YdvhnpyTmZ9-09lHphXSErXFOXpP2aw9S9CToTsixKHg/s1600/lanimike.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rPj5ifjjnX46qDurpN93dgLgeGSowDAZO4YfI-Bpl46z3zQz06D9_LE6UVM8qbpNMXbNq4j34EvPV0KnQGSbymdJK7YdvhnpyTmZ9-09lHphXSErXFOXpP2aw9S9CToTsixKHg/s320/lanimike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488702769262059938" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.sherrikoop.com/"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">image cred</span></span></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">2. Pretending<span style="font-size:130%;"> I am Simon &/or Garfunkel.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Caleb and I are taking the bus out to Vancouver at the end of the summer. Epic bus-trips such as these remind me of the song "America" by S & G. (...maybe I should be pretending I'm Kathy, come to think of it...) We've mostly met terrified glances as we tell people our plans. Nevertheless, we are prepared for it to be chaos, to be toast by the time we get there, and to love it anyway. </span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb1nWM3Zqnkb92M8xkUS3eH7hLoicBVt9bgloZiEYvTfE65-sWE7Rf2fIiXgKYmAGY10wpgcwmAIL3PVSvR7aabK9CrWnRUtvJTy3ZuWKFXLZIxcPKLBwutpNwUDtg4i0ckaTVA/s1600/greyhound"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb1nWM3Zqnkb92M8xkUS3eH7hLoicBVt9bgloZiEYvTfE65-sWE7Rf2fIiXgKYmAGY10wpgcwmAIL3PVSvR7aabK9CrWnRUtvJTy3ZuWKFXLZIxcPKLBwutpNwUDtg4i0ckaTVA/s320/greyhound" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488705260047513250" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">PLUS</span> once we get there we will be visiting all the friends that we never get to see enough <span style="font-size:100%;">AND</span> we'll be taking in one of the aforementioned weddings. The excitement is intolerable.</span></span> <span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >This also leads me to...</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >3. Reading</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">I finished <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadareads/book-nikolski.html">Nikolski</a> by Nicolas Dickner a little while ago. I promised a post about it. Not going to happen. I'd recommend it - it's delightful and full of Canada and intriguing and well-told. Parts of it were a little slow-going. It's no Catcher in the Rye. </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">(Yes, that was an unfair comparison.)</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">A few days ago one of the most wonderful men I know (who happens to be an honorary assitant here at St. Margaret's) left a book called <span style="font-style: italic;">Take This Bread</span> by Sara Miles on my desk. We'd talked about it before, mostly because he was enjoying it so thoroghly. I was pretty touched that he thought I'd like it to.<br /><br />I just finished it. It's subversive, compelling and incredibly well-told. It's basically a memoir of a woman who comes to convert to Christianity late in her life through Communion. I found some of her descriptions of the sacrament absolutely breathtaking and profoundly inspiring. However, at other times I found some of her ideas to be a little repulsive (eek! sorry) to be perfectly honest. But then, I imagine that's the point or at least the consequence of revolutionary thinking. Anyway, it's worth a read. (I just realized that one of the things that bugs me is that it says "the memoir of a twenty-first-century Christian" on the cover. As though if you're not a liberal-social-justice-minded Episcopalian you're living in the fifteenth century or something. Just bugs me, is all. Still worth a read.)<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LZqPM3b_iLTeJu95V1sFp3mv9KWRqP_5U1IviBai4N3JUen8ic4xu8UgAGjJtPRVp8nE6h64u2z7kfjtRlSQG9S-kk4uOC-FwWOFV2UoBt83bv0pml8itucS0I8UIQPp2cQQCw/s1600/Miles_Bread1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LZqPM3b_iLTeJu95V1sFp3mv9KWRqP_5U1IviBai4N3JUen8ic4xu8UgAGjJtPRVp8nE6h64u2z7kfjtRlSQG9S-kk4uOC-FwWOFV2UoBt83bv0pml8itucS0I8UIQPp2cQQCw/s320/Miles_Bread1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496384718503884274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As far as what I'm looking forward to reading?? I still haven't had a night alone and a bottle of wine to start/finish <span style="font-style: italic;">The Magician's Elephant</span> by Kate diCamillo. I'm looking forward to doing just that on a beautiful screened in balcony in the coming days. Also, I was noticing the other day how many books my parents have that I'd like to scooby and read over the next month. At the top of the list: <span style="font-style: italic;">Positively Fourth Street</span> by David Hajdu. I heard it's fantastic.<br /><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >4. <span style="font-size:130%;">delighting in a </span>c<span style="font-size:130%;">om</span>p<span style="font-size:130%;">adre</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Spiro came out for a visit. A surprise visit. It was great. One of the funniest things, though, was that the day she arrived she kept asking me if it was ok that she surprised me. Now, it's definitely possible that if she'd have come out a week earlier I would have had a little break-down but that would've really only had to do with how choked I'd have been that I had to write a paper while my friend was out. And then, once Spiro was here, some of my other friends were asking me the same kind of questions ("are you OK after being surprised with a visit?"). Well kiddies, I'm here to tell you that I love being surprised and I rarely am. Mostly because I'm sneaky and I figure things out. But if ever you feel like showing up in Winnipeg, just try to find out if I have a paper due and then I'm all yours.<br /><br />ANYway...the visit was stellar. Caleb and I were house sitting so we had tons of space, a backyard and a dog to play with. Spiro and I pretended we were on SNL for most of the week. We camped with Caleb's family. We walked the dog. We drank wine. We talked (and not-talked...for hours...). We sat near one another. We danced.<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuiZOZ8vbJ0ZFqIXlZ2wXUIkRPFhtyHzOWK_T6cBbMCqkWUWMlRYSr5BG1GOefBrXDHhAqAmuAkvm7-tTbWSSIjCRPae7Lw1T0wqbxLpNE5X0ebrZ2JnHF18gZZxAEqwIQQZINw/s1600/spizzle.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuiZOZ8vbJ0ZFqIXlZ2wXUIkRPFhtyHzOWK_T6cBbMCqkWUWMlRYSr5BG1GOefBrXDHhAqAmuAkvm7-tTbWSSIjCRPae7Lw1T0wqbxLpNE5X0ebrZ2JnHF18gZZxAEqwIQQZINw/s320/spizzle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496388215785524834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvWknTVzpGpfLP8TSYfOUl7667gHL1QIDLHw1YUv6mdsVLu6ak9V0tJUDGQ_seWzwZuRGLzxiJtNSmBBX383P5CZ9H6lcclsI3py05KUzHe9i0H4PIrQ9MMvmh03hOWzdnhmMZA/s1600/bizzleandspizzle.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvWknTVzpGpfLP8TSYfOUl7667gHL1QIDLHw1YUv6mdsVLu6ak9V0tJUDGQ_seWzwZuRGLzxiJtNSmBBX383P5CZ9H6lcclsI3py05KUzHe9i0H4PIrQ9MMvmh03hOWzdnhmMZA/s320/bizzleandspizzle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496388682497439058" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >I took some new pictures of her. I just don't have them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Up next: the rest. Yes.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >5. <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">strolling</span> about</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />i used to walk all over the place - both for pleasure's sake and out of necessity. for one thing, I lived farther away from school, work, & church than I do now. For another, I feel like I walk faster than Winnipeg transit. (ouch).<br /><br />I've missed walking all over the place. It's funny how once the element of necessity is gone it actually becomes more difficult to find time to do. Anyhow, now I get up early and roam the streets of Winnipeg alone (but sometimes Caleb comes...but we still feel alone) for a couple hours and eventually find myself at work. It's enchanting. Except for the joggers. They make me want to trip people.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Well,<span style="font-size:85%;"> I feel like that might be enough. Until next time...</span><br /><br /></span></span>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-17514882150267557712010-05-11T13:08:00.000-07:002010-05-11T22:04:00.501-07:00oooohhhh....A couple days ago I had a very thrilling conversation with a very dear friend. This friend is also an avid blogger. While "blogging" was not one of the many topics up for discussion there was a moment when blogs came up, in particular my very ill-used one, and for a moment I understood, or at least I think I did. The epiphany went something like "ooohhh...so, some people might actually <span style="font-style: italic;">care</span>, or at the very least be interested, in what's happening in my life and it would be easiest for them to find said information out if I would simply update my blog. I get it."<br /><br />This, I believe for the moment, I can do.<br /><br />So, what's been happening since the last time Good Rocky had a taste of Revival? (i.e. what's happened since 23 November, 2009?) Leet meee tell you...<br /><br />1. <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >Christmas</span>. Oh my so very favourite time of year. It is absolutely my favourite liturgical season. (whenever I say or type that I immediately feel guilty...as if the bells and lights of Holy Saturday are peering over my shoulder whispering "tsk, tsk, tsk...you should really like Easter more," they say.) The thing is, I do love Easter. I get sucked right into that drama and can hardly find myself once I'm in it. But I kind of love it in a different way. I experience Lent pretty intensely; in the same way, I weep on Maundy Thursday, I stand in shock on Good Friday, I exult and dance and choke myself with joy on Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday, but man, do I ever come alive at Christmas.<br /><br />The thing is, Advent & Christmas is, (I'm having the guilt again) enchanting in a different way than Easter. The long waiting through Advent is so punctuated by excitement and the imaginative potential of Christmas Eve and Christmas morning seem limitless. This year, on Good Friday, the sky was dark and it rained all day, as if nature herself were participating in the drama and worship. In the same way all seems mystically united when it snows at midnight on Christmas Eve while the bread is broken and the cup is served. Also, I could sing carols forever. Also, I could listen to Sufjan's Christmas album forever.<br /><img src="file:///Users/stmargarets/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///Users/stmargarets/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnCPMZbTupgEXmCIM4DkpFCS6_4JUo76HZIRj3YkETW2tHHze2DNlXxBNBVoxSCIJNgY_M_PK5t-gLOOENkW-_BmeH_NTvFjBgakImm5pZAHt2zU6ApbGgHsX1nAuNMa9RrcPRg/s1600/sschristmas"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnCPMZbTupgEXmCIM4DkpFCS6_4JUo76HZIRj3YkETW2tHHze2DNlXxBNBVoxSCIJNgY_M_PK5t-gLOOENkW-_BmeH_NTvFjBgakImm5pZAHt2zU6ApbGgHsX1nAuNMa9RrcPRg/s320/sschristmas" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470112014562937010" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />2. (oh my, this is getting long) Caleb and I celebrated our 1 year <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">a</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">n</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">n</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);">i</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">v</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 204, 204);">e</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">r</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 204);">s</span><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);">a</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">r</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">y</span></span> in February. Both the anniversary itself and the year were fantastic. I'd been telling Caleb before we got married that I was anticipating that we'd have a pretty difficult first year. I have been proven wrong. It's been great. top 5 words to describe it? Laughter, wine, friends, Winnipeg...hmmm...there's something else...I just can't put my finger on it...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNSNuYRNgCjcOz1kjQwKQCRBECdHmP2Jy9zLdGRRdSmrHoEI5qW_nYTdPPqB0hMFUQPQvW3MO55B5VayZ149ht8wYuvcqaGPUE29m1UbxUz-GDv-5bW3LNaWmHllKTBtEeErMeQ/s1600/b&c"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNSNuYRNgCjcOz1kjQwKQCRBECdHmP2Jy9zLdGRRdSmrHoEI5qW_nYTdPPqB0hMFUQPQvW3MO55B5VayZ149ht8wYuvcqaGPUE29m1UbxUz-GDv-5bW3LNaWmHllKTBtEeErMeQ/s320/b&c" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470113567918227890" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.saintmargarets.ca/holy-week-at-st-margarets/"><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:180%;" >Holy Week</span></a>. <a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://www.saintmargarets.ca/holy-week-at-st-margarets/"></a>Holy Week extends from Palm Sunday morning to Easter Sunday evening, and culminates in The Great Triduum (The Great Three Days) from sundown on Maundy Thursday to sundown on Easter Sunday. I'm not sure, though I made a small attempt above, I can adequately describe how I feel and what I love about Holy Week. This year, like last, orchestrating the many services at St. Margaret's became my life for the few weeks preceding Holy Week and obviously during. The liturgies are breathtaking, the preaching this year was phenomenal (I didn't do much which probably helped) and to experience it all as a whole simply seems to be part of me - part of my fabric. I can't not be at church that week.<br /><br />This need of mine (to wish I could live at the church during this time) does certainly have its problems though...for one thing, it's difficult to try to describe to one's family (particularly after another is added) how and why I have little time for anything else, including family gatherings. Friends usually seem to understand a little better, though I still often enough feel lonely and alien as I encounter friends who don't seem to understand how much a part of who I am is wrapped up in church and consequently I spend all my time here. Nevertheless, as the candles are lit, the bells are rung and the lights turned on at Midnight during the Great Easter Vigil, all my anxiety of being a bad friend, sister, daughter, wife is penetrated by the insurmountable mystery at foot and all is well.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNDUAlPP5l_LeTu3D1wiAk-PBVPNZ36-QICgUH0o7vkdnfR5W-JKTZGi5VfQwFx97yrS94yloX34NsidYtWthLKV_qGCZU6ybBdmMBiVCBcrapyaffDS8G9QxCHT2rEieLixlQw/s1600/sanctuary-from-back.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNDUAlPP5l_LeTu3D1wiAk-PBVPNZ36-QICgUH0o7vkdnfR5W-JKTZGi5VfQwFx97yrS94yloX34NsidYtWthLKV_qGCZU6ybBdmMBiVCBcrapyaffDS8G9QxCHT2rEieLixlQw/s320/sanctuary-from-back.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470198465939832114" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />4. <span style="font-size:180%;">School</span>. Blech. Exams were nuts. I wrote 3 in one week, and immediately following the last one Caleb and I left town to attend a St. Margaret's Vestry retreat (which was great). I have 1 more course left to do. Finally.<br /><br />5. <span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-size:180%;" >Work</span>. Always great. Never without challenge, particularly the feeling that I could always do more and could certainly do everything better. I love it though, I wouldn't want to do anything else. At the moment I'm busy preparing for an ordination service that's happening at St. Margaret's (which is unusual, usually ordinations are done at the<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> </span><a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" href="http://www.stjohnscathedral.ca/virtual/back.htm">cathedral</a>) as well as a Missions Weekend (which we're not supposed to call a "missions weekend") focused on personal evangelism. Both very exciting and challenging projects.<br /><br /><br />6. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Family</span></span>. Caleb and I became an Uncle and an Aunt to two veeerrrry cute young boys. Both of Caleb's older siblings each had their first child in the last year.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-gsFQb2f7kuGRmyh-MTyU65xn5yHgZ3ZeNL7YQYhUVuHJCJ_AoR6Dhj1ZiO_xENM2UufLTR-KWHNmMpec29T-ENIv2sMpAER-a9V2pkqjgnyY_Otowv0Dnu-ztkxCc0A4Yw1Xw/s1600/Troy8-10weeks+047.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV-gsFQb2f7kuGRmyh-MTyU65xn5yHgZ3ZeNL7YQYhUVuHJCJ_AoR6Dhj1ZiO_xENM2UufLTR-KWHNmMpec29T-ENIv2sMpAER-a9V2pkqjgnyY_Otowv0Dnu-ztkxCc0A4Yw1Xw/s320/Troy8-10weeks+047.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470239318377060690" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2VrobQJYFsi1ROaX96tRY_UQLjMpgvUWv3Wj33uAu3WA4IV4QPu0na3IBU-AQj0yaNR6jfeR8ZMJeJY8nFr_CnbAM9uk5g0364c_Xvz1pWTbKOywzUXQz24bVVtLyXdSuSnB2Q/s1600/connor"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2VrobQJYFsi1ROaX96tRY_UQLjMpgvUWv3Wj33uAu3WA4IV4QPu0na3IBU-AQj0yaNR6jfeR8ZMJeJY8nFr_CnbAM9uk5g0364c_Xvz1pWTbKOywzUXQz24bVVtLyXdSuSnB2Q/s320/connor" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470240015264387522" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Troy & Connor. They are stinking cute. I get choked up with excitement when I start to imagine them walking and talking. So long have I been waiting for an excuse to (re-)visit <a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);" href="http://www.tinkertown.mb.ca/">Tinker-Town</a>.<br /><br />We head to Winkler about once a month and hang out with Bill and Heath and Pete & Marilyn and love every minute. We are lucky. (Said the girl who was listening to two drunken lovers scream at each other outside her living room window.)<br /><br /><br />7. <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:180%;" >Rest</span>. I went through a pretty serious spurt of reading children's literature. In particular the works of Kate DiCamillo. I haven't read them all but I highly recommend <span style="font-style: italic;">The Tale of Despereaux</span> (for those looking for a delightful story, beautifully told in terms of light and dark.) I also read <span style="font-style: italic;">The Wind in the Willows</span> for the first time since I was 7. Better than I remember it. Currently I'm reading a book called <span style="font-style: italic;">Nikolski</span>. It's on the Canada Reads list. It's pretty great. Blog post dedicated to it coming soon.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6O5itJk2dFwGK9XbIzWWK1pIRw_zzf6ADCJlZxcMql9Tdbk2IWSGNzOD3TKVOhscmmeNth7sk8SVMUVy-3w9TSettFBoGdihWClX8fieIa19j3e4pvA05PC7lJGppaPTardKvcQ/s1600/nikolski"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6O5itJk2dFwGK9XbIzWWK1pIRw_zzf6ADCJlZxcMql9Tdbk2IWSGNzOD3TKVOhscmmeNth7sk8SVMUVy-3w9TSettFBoGdihWClX8fieIa19j3e4pvA05PC7lJGppaPTardKvcQ/s320/nikolski" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470241758191619874" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Otherwise, I've been trying to learn how to stay at home on occasion and really rest. (I've felt on the edge of burn-out a couple times this year, so this skill is something of a necessity.) Also, Caleb and I have taken to watching the playoffs while playing Scrabble. (I've been kicking his butt, too.)<br /><br />Ok. That's that. I think I can do this more frequently, particularly since I left out #8: Dreaming. Next time...<br /></div></div>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-212659687144942932010-02-02T22:16:00.000-08:002008-02-02T22:22:26.975-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTn1rETRKqUEQFSN_1nkzZb0WyvVRnqSp_VRDabY0yvbNduCAkiBXMEY_XUZum6Y3UbmZrga_fP1_N2XbalIeEkX8NaSbnZS580lYUpQJVEI1xuUllhX7qdRIYTyWe70A-OG-Dug/s1600-h/constitution.gif"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTn1rETRKqUEQFSN_1nkzZb0WyvVRnqSp_VRDabY0yvbNduCAkiBXMEY_XUZum6Y3UbmZrga_fP1_N2XbalIeEkX8NaSbnZS580lYUpQJVEI1xuUllhX7qdRIYTyWe70A-OG-Dug/s320/constitution.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162635397238588354" /></a>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-41224974132898344752009-11-18T16:59:00.000-08:002009-11-18T17:15:01.319-08:00feeling S.M.R.T.1. Today I was walking home thinking, "hey, i know how to tell my house keys that look identical apart (one is for the building front door, one for the apartment front door) - one of them is "facing in" (that is, the teeth face "in") and the other is "facing out"!" Problem solved I thought. SO, i came home later and was working furiously to get my front door key (the one facing in) to open the $#*%(#^ door for oooh...a solid 3 minutes. "But <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it's</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">facing</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">IN</span></span>" I thought furiously to myself, glancing over my shoulder at the wino sitting on the curb watching me. "Great, they changed the #@%^ locks. Perfect." Nearly defeated, well actually entirely defeated, I tried the 'wrong' key. . . . as it turns out, the way that one's keys "face" depends on the way in which one is holding their key ring. awesome. <div><br /></div><div>2. The cat was acting like an orangotan and tearing around the apartment (which includes jumping up one's leg, and also jumping onto one's ass to do a little cliff hanging). "Oh, he needs water. Great. I'll fill up his water dish in the kitchen and carry it, full to the brim, into his little cat room. (instead of bringing the pitcher to the room to fill up the dish)," I thought.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> Tip:</span> </span>Full dish of water + cat's claws dug into your ass = full glass of cold water dumped onto your head and face and everything around you. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. After drying off, I thought I should light some incense. "Strange. This incense doesn't seem to be lighting. I'll just keep trying"... unless they make 'burning stick' scented incense, i lit the wrong end. cl-ass-ic. </div><div><br /></div><div>aaaand that's just the last 20 minutes of my life. </div>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-23364708977344922572009-11-18T14:33:00.000-08:002009-11-18T17:16:21.556-08:00whoops...<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial;font-size:10px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Today I accidentally said a bad word (it wasn't the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">worst</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> bad word...it rhymes with pit. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">it was shit.) at a staff meeting and we had a visitor sitting in...so...</span></span></div><div><br /></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uFr6P2BtE3k&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uFr6P2BtE3k&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-41619607909500620032009-08-26T18:56:00.001-07:002009-08-26T19:10:45.878-07:00it's that time again...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgaxLqfU7W60UkbRgJYEoKXHD4rWrbCGrDYzujbXPReh_n1Bv-8m5zl-x0GpeLlyw7pxfteyuu92Fgbxte2cfvhTlCttmBYt0p7dRQxl5aoo_YgMUR6uF_CEeJ3g6p8qFK38bEQ/s1600-h/wherethewildthingsare_l200904071204.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgaxLqfU7W60UkbRgJYEoKXHD4rWrbCGrDYzujbXPReh_n1Bv-8m5zl-x0GpeLlyw7pxfteyuu92Fgbxte2cfvhTlCttmBYt0p7dRQxl5aoo_YgMUR6uF_CEeJ3g6p8qFK38bEQ/s320/wherethewildthingsare_l200904071204.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374458114686763506" /></a><br /><br /><br />Here are the movies I cannot WAIT to see this fall...<div><br /></div><div>Let's start with the obvious:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Where the Wild Things Are </span></div><div><br /></div><div>(be still my childish little heart...i'm already crying...also, let's play a game called "how many blogs is this image on?" I'm betting upwards of 10 thousand...blogs that I know of.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FAME </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ylPa09RE8VVXCkIKVev8Dwg0uVvEAHdXuDbVoIs7a6KrZ57ZuS7szTs6hvgxpOfmr0yHeKz6gPSlcC_oGZcXiDZVPPB1BESjSZsuZcSHktsG4gi1glt86vN7ojbo5lG_3-tMdw/s320/fame_200904221513.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374457759458521554" /><br /></div><div>(I'm gonna live forever...Jody and I spent an hour a day watching Fame for about a year. I am going to NOT see it until she gets back from Zambia and I caaannnotttt WAIT.) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Art & Copy</span></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZGp50H8k8uWdavS2IACp3V_9SR5_bv9r7zSqmkRAs2AHUYObJBxfiKe9V6BVfa0DVOacKBM4L1yUtg7Y2xQN1u-NkCGI4X3O0HjL5DFY8Mi5FxaLdmhvlO9g2W3iivEt1po2-g/s320/artcopy_l200908111602.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374457452530421714" /> looks good...might take Don...and it's already in theatres<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Taking Woodstock</span></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIRmsK3EPI9J_Wu6Om-krUsuRosTrXc0EaXCtUTuvCsBsEi1hj2HtGRjI2W3nF42cELCa9xwl-dUQc-MTApvOvUwqFUgZpG-HtG6sbht43i5RMk5xdDDFgrDN6fdlVa9O27Fiiw/s1600-h/takingwoodstock_l200905081500.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIRmsK3EPI9J_Wu6Om-krUsuRosTrXc0EaXCtUTuvCsBsEi1hj2HtGRjI2W3nF42cELCa9xwl-dUQc-MTApvOvUwqFUgZpG-HtG6sbht43i5RMk5xdDDFgrDN6fdlVa9O27Fiiw/s320/takingwoodstock_l200905081500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374458507589273026" style="cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /></div><div> new Almost Famous? not a chance. but still good. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">New York, I love you</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck9XUX_NEXLiit-FTT1aZFGeZwc5UUCHr54iFReztO-Zph2d8MeHbXQ2ZWdcJasEV0zJvASz1Ryu6ryfc3mIf7XPyLFlPx0SHX8MRdkYdu7XIhH-IZDM-0yViJlmEEjKOLu1s3w/s1600-h/newyorkiloveyou_l200908061115.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck9XUX_NEXLiit-FTT1aZFGeZwc5UUCHr54iFReztO-Zph2d8MeHbXQ2ZWdcJasEV0zJvASz1Ryu6ryfc3mIf7XPyLFlPx0SHX8MRdkYdu7XIhH-IZDM-0yViJlmEEjKOLu1s3w/s320/newyorkiloveyou_l200908061115.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374459176693795234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 320px; " /></a></span><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>A new Paris, J'Taime? Likely.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure there's more, but I'm boring myself with all this enthusiasm. So here are the movies I will NOT be seeing this summer/fall:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Legion</span> (gross)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Saw VI </span>(SO gross) </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">St. Trinians </span>(but I'm pretty sure if I still lived with Ms. Kristina Janzen I'd try really hard to convince her to see it with me...oohhh boy I miss the good old days. And HOW did Colin Firth end up in that? Yowza. )</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Ponyo</span> (Disney, Disney, Disney...where did you go wrong?) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-8787929675863470382009-04-27T10:27:00.001-07:002009-06-08T13:33:08.073-07:00a bip and a bop and a bibbideedeeCaleb informed me the other day that he and his friend Geoff rap while they're driving in the car. This tidbit of information has turned into a bonnie-and-caleb-rap-extravaganza...WHICH hit its high note last night following the evening service at St. Margaret's...<br /><br />here are my favourite selections (ps. I'm at work right now, on a 'lunch-break' (without lunch) and I thiiiink I just heard someone let out a major toot downstairs...oooh church work...it doesn't get better.)<br /><br />alright, back to the rap...<br /><br />C: "here we are just hangin' in the kitchen"<br />B: "just gonna do a little bit of itchin'" (followed by some (much needed) wedgie removal and arm-pit scratching)<br /><br />C: "here we are just hangin' in the study"<br />B:"looks like I've got a brand new buddy..."<br />C: "look at these books I'm gonna read"<br />Bonnie comes up blank<br />C: "<span style="font-size:130%;">read</span>, read, <span style="font-size:85%;">read</span>, <span style="font-size:78%;">read</span>....I know how to fill time."<br />.................... ....... .. ..........<br /><br />Bonnie: Hey, we should do a rappin children's sermon..<br />Caleb: "welcome to church all you..."<br />Bonnie: "Welcome to church all you sinners, I hope you didn't eat too much dinner,<br /> 'cause you'll get all chubby and round and weak<br />Caleb: "and then you'll know the meaning of meek"<br /><br />...not theologically correct. BUT cut-ting-edge.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-72955638770250395802009-04-20T00:43:00.000-07:002009-04-20T01:00:07.049-07:00Summer Reading (thank goodness)Well. It's 2:43 and I'm working on a paper due in a few short hours. No better time than to come up with some words for Good Rocky. But in actual fact, tonight marks a particularly special occasion (as though procrastination weren't enough) because I've finally figured out a practical use for this blog...<br /><br />Summer Reading List (I feel like if I publish my intentions, I might actually get around to them instead of relying on the old rolling stone to get me through...)<br /><br />"Black Lamb and Grey Falcon" by Rebecca West.<br /> Apparently <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> (not <span style="font-style: italic;">a</span>) greatest book written in the twentieth century. David's mentioned it in about 4 consecutive (and brilliant) sermons and Kirsten is reading it right now. Let's just say: I'm a kool-aid drinker. But also it sounds fantastic.<br /><br />"Blink" by Malcolm Gladwell<br /> My parents gave it to me for my birthday and one of their good friends (and trusted critic) has read it twice now and really enjoyed it. It's a bestseller which I usually steer clear of (it's just the romantic in me, I like old things) but I've read the first chapter and so far so good. Well done newbie, you made the list.<br /><br />"Letter to a Priest" by Simone Weil<br /> I realized today I've never read it.<br /><br />"A Severe Mercy" by Sheldon Vanauken<br /> One of the best women I know gave this to me, I can't wait to get into it. It looks spectacular.<br /><br />"Descent into Hell" or "War in Heaven" by Charles Williams<br /> More kool-aid drinking? Sort of. But mostly I just think he's brilliant. Even if he doesn't know how to use a comma.<br /><br />"Church Dogmatics" by Karl Barth<br /> Kidding. I read them on a need-to-preach basis.<br /><br />That's all I can think of right now. I think I may also need to make a summer writing list.<br /><br />Anyhow, one for the fall:<br /><br />Dante's "Divine Comedy" but I'm awaiting the return of my guide.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-56987624315675315112009-04-02T07:30:00.000-07:002009-04-02T07:32:58.527-07:00more fun with bon & cal(bonnie & caleb are sitting on the bed, after a night of precious little sleep, and it's still before breakfast...)<br /><br />Bonnie: (whining about how bad this presentation is..) "I am boring myself to death. I can't believe I'm going to do this. I would rather stick a fork up my bum."<br /><br />Caleb: "..which end?"the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-24720629866891692352009-04-01T13:37:00.000-07:002009-04-01T17:03:51.237-07:00fun with bon & calYesterday, I realized that when I get asked "so, how's married life?" I feel a little like a squirrel shitting pine-cones: not quite sure what to do. Today I realized that I have an answer. For Caleb and I, married life has so far been things like this:<br /><br />Bonnie: "you know when places have those big hand drying towels in the bathroom that go around in a loop?"<br /><br />Caleb: "yea"<br /><br />Bonnie: "I always feel like I'm drying my hands on some guys underpants."<br /><br />Caleb: "...well..you might be."<br /><br />.......... ........... ........... .. . . .<br /><br />(Bonnie & Caleb are trying to cross a busy street...on foot)<br /><br />Bonnie: "whoa, I really double clutched it there."<br /><br />Caleb rolls his eyes: "yes you did..do you think you're going to make it?"<br /><br />Bonnie: "Hey, if I'm an idiot and you married me, what does that make you?"<br /><br />........ ........ . . . ...... . .. .<br />(bonnie & Caleb are walking to the grocery store, arm in arm)<br /><br />Bonnie: (finishes pretending to be blind) "hey, wait, I'm going to pretend to be more things." (followed by staring straight ahead and not saying anything...that is, pretending to be deaf.)<br /><br />Caleb: "I'm going to *#(@! and *#*% into @*(&#@ "<br /><br />Bonnie: "Are you pretending to have Tourette Syndrome?"<br /><br />Caleb: "No, I'm pretending you're deaf."the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-55089406224519742162009-03-07T20:19:00.001-08:002009-03-07T20:20:08.717-08:00"T-mobile dance" youtube. best thing I've seen in months.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-39354974245436430182009-01-01T12:12:00.000-08:002009-01-01T12:27:50.837-08:00happiness is a warm gun...The Truth: I've spent the last 2 months trying to figure out my password for blogger. (no over-zealous attempts obviously.) Then I forgot my blog address for a while. Finally I realized it's the same password as my gmail account (incredibly obvious I realize now..like I said, not overly zealous) and I am back baby.<br /><br />The Current Situation: I should be cleaning the church. I'm working on it. I actually really love cleaning the church. I just bring the old ipod and sing in the sanctuary and sweep and mop. There's something blissfully monastic about it (save the ipod), and it's a wonderful change from answering phones full of questions I don't know the answers to. Mops never ask you anything.<br /><br />And we're into 2009. Shnikes. This also means that Caleb and I will be wed in 38 days. And everytime I think I about it that old panic attack rears its sharp little head. It's a good kind of panic. There's life in it, that is. Caleb & I are having a good time in marriage prep, we feel a little like the whole church has taken us on, or welcomed us in, or something. It's good though. There's one couple in particular that seems to deeply share our ambition to use the time preparing for marriage as a way to plough into the Church's marriage rite, to feed and water the leviathon of commitment that it pertains to. To leave behind us any assumption that this is primarily about why Caleb and I think we ought to be married and instead be taken into the Truth that the Marriage Rite doesn't care what we think, that it is much greater, much more mysterious, and full of richness.<br /><br />And we're driving everyone around us nuts with our collective apathy toward this wedding. But we recently discovered we aren't alone...<br /><br />We were given this FANTASTIC book by an Episcopalian minister, and I think it must've been written in the late 1950's. oh nope, I just looked, 1965. Anyhow, it's wonderful. We decided to read it out loud to one another (which is something we used to do all the time and stopped for some reason, but I think it's one of my very favourite things to do together.)<br /><br />Anyhow, he writes early on about doing marriage prep with young couples, where he's talking <span style="font-style: italic;">marriage</span> and they're talking <span style="font-style: italic;">wedding</span>. He writes<br /> "I tell them that the average wedding is a kind of irrelevant fling with no connections before or after - a preoccupation with the details of thirty minutes at the expense of the commitments of a lifetime."<br /><br />So far, it's one of my favourite lines. Oh I've got so much more to write on the topic, and I'm feeling inspired which may mean I'll keep at it.<br /><br />For now, the mop and broom are calling me, and the sanctuary needs a song to fill it.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-67327972479974791672008-10-03T08:27:00.000-07:002008-10-03T08:28:44.598-07:00Steve walks warily down the street,<br />With the brim pulled way down low<br />Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,<br />Machine guns ready to go<br />Are you ready, Are you ready for this<br />Are you hanging on the edge of your seat<br />Out of the doorway the bullets rip<br />To the sound of the beat<br />Chorus<br /><br />Another one bites the dust<br />Another one bites the dust<br />And another one gone, and another one gone<br />Another one bites the dust<br />Hey, I'm gonna get you too<br />Another one bites the dust<br /><br />How do you think I'm going to get along,<br />Without you, when you're gone<br />You took me for everything that I had,<br />And kicked me out on my own<br /><br />Are you happy, are you satisfied<br />How long can you stand the heat<br />Out of the doorway the bullets rip<br />To the sound of the beat<br />Chorus<br /><br /><br />Another one bites the dust<br />Another one bites the dust<br />Another one bites the dust<br />Another one bites the dust<br />There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man<br />And bring him to the ground<br />You can beat him<br />You can cheat him<br />You can treat him bad and leave him<br />When he's down<br />But I'm ready, yes I'm ready for you<br />I'm standing on my own two feet<br />Out of the doorway the bullets rip<br />Repeating the sound of the beatthe tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-37082726909029430072008-07-12T22:34:00.000-07:002008-07-12T22:49:28.323-07:00a few of my favourite things...OOOOOOK FOLKS.<br /><br />One of my favourite things IN the WORLD is America's Funniest Home Videos. One of my second favourite things in the world is news reporter blooper reel videos on youtube. After the "I'm alot more like Creed.." post and the mention of Caleb's FANTASTIC impression of the reporter tweaking out, I thought I should post a couple of the absolute cream of the crop.<br />This one KILLS me. Especially the slo-mo.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Q2KRzwmQTk&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-Q2KRzwmQTk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />And this one is gross but it makes me laugh when he freaks out. I'm a little embarassed about it.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BzjLlqIuVhI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BzjLlqIuVhI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />and THIS my friends, has been known to get me going for a solid 20 minutes of laughing ridiculously hard. And Caleb's impression is impeccable. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IlWDJQXeihg&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IlWDJQXeihg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />I'll keep the youtube suggestions coming. But just for old time's sake...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uo8mf5GVbxk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uo8mf5GVbxk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />sooooo CLASSIC. it kills me.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11883947.post-45598368203858891582008-07-12T22:17:00.001-07:002008-07-12T22:30:56.494-07:00juuust a thoughtToday someone asked me who some of my favourite artists were. (This, my friends, is probably my favourite question to be asked. And I never feel like I have an answer. But only when I don't feel like someone's about to assess me. Nevertheless, my heart flutters and my mind dances at the opportunity. Tonight it was asked just right.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwfeMiC7GaqWwIQsG_NLsK68xot6vAI18plryQDI_t-sMzwUgGRFOSGpAbV1T8sNhVfA1zlhQgr9Kt7gVQzMaf4x_KoeeSMlrr-naKEAA2m-JuN0oZcQexa34YWbm2WHlaEKx5g/s1600-h/warhol4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFwfeMiC7GaqWwIQsG_NLsK68xot6vAI18plryQDI_t-sMzwUgGRFOSGpAbV1T8sNhVfA1zlhQgr9Kt7gVQzMaf4x_KoeeSMlrr-naKEAA2m-JuN0oZcQexa34YWbm2WHlaEKx5g/s320/warhol4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222365193840686498" border="0" /></a>I said, "contemporary artists?" "Sure."<br /><br />hmmm.<br /><br />You know who came to mind? One of Spiro's friends. And it kills me to say it, but I forget her name. (It really kills me...I mean, I could probably tell you the names of most of Sharelle's church friends as well as who they are currently engaged to or dating.) Anyhow, this girl's paintings are wonderful, and I hope if she reads my further description of it she isn't offended. It reminds me alot of Warhol's commercial art. I wish I could include some of her prints. There's one of a ballerina and a swan that kills me. It's the kind of painting wherein simple subjects are not only validated but enchantment ensues from them.<br /><br />In paritcular, Warhol made this one print called the Whimsical Calf that I really love, but I couldn't find a copy of it. I did find this shoe though...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5xgQ3z_aj35EBc-Qdmox6skS3LEmZ7V_1PK7r4s549snv82HWhoxDnKGkTwr7RxwwltFGfRwIij6nmLcxrq1PJSck5IOiqpQ9MEYN8tvBSsyGMMX-RUW00hhPlIPQQIy1H5xjQ/s1600-h/warhol2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5xgQ3z_aj35EBc-Qdmox6skS3LEmZ7V_1PK7r4s549snv82HWhoxDnKGkTwr7RxwwltFGfRwIij6nmLcxrq1PJSck5IOiqpQ9MEYN8tvBSsyGMMX-RUW00hhPlIPQQIy1H5xjQ/s320/warhol2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222365767649230322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />all this to say, I like to be asked the question. And I'm going to go watch Amelie.the tapered panthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09583980370546801293noreply@blogger.com3