Neighborly

My mom called me Sunday night.

At half past eleven, which is rare. And usually limited to emergencies.

Her neighbors at the far rear of her property were apparently hosting the mother of all mariachi parties. Even over the phone, I could clearly hear the music blaring and sense the vibrations of her windows from the sheer volume of the sound, which was peppered by and something that sounded like car backfires (ah, that would be their homeade fireworks show going off on the patio and echoing throughout the neighborhood - nice touch).

Now, my Mom lives in an area of her city of roughly 800,000 people which maintains a rural setting. Where million dollar homes that resemble Marriott Hotels meet avocado ranches and horse boarding facilities. Within two miles of her house lie vast acres of fertile farmland, miles and miled of shops and restaurants anchored by a titanic shopping mall, the largest water slide and recreation park in the state, polo grounds, man-made lakes surrounded by gated communities, and typical American suburbia.

Mom's immediate neighborhood community consists of mini-ranches with lots of at least 2.5 acres, all of whom seem to include a bevy of horses and other typical farm menagerie.

So, to be able to actually hear the clangy mariachi music blaring at midnight over the phone from at least 5 acres away gives you a clear concept of the exact degree of the noise pollution being created by these now-collectively-despised-by-anyone-living-within-5-miles neighbors.

Mom walked over in her nighttime sweatclothes to speak with the people at the source of the deafening music and asked them to turn it down NOW. They pretended they did not speak English and feigned inability to understand her. Twenty minutes later, they were miraculously able to hear and understand the sheriff just fine. Amazing how that happens. The music and firecrackers stopped abruptly at half past midnight.

Ridiculous how little regard we can have for others sometimes.

I was reminded of this again yesterday as I shopped for groceries with Joyboy. While loading the groceries into my car, I was hindered in my pace because I was also carrying my 30+ pound crying toddler son, who had pinched his finger on the ever-reliable-for-that-sort-of-thing shopping cart. I was apparently unable to accomplish my grocery loading task in a timely enough fashion to suit the man who had parked in the space next to me. He suddenly physically pushed past me, Joyboy, and our still-food-laden cart, the force of his body shoving me off balance so that I had to steady myself from falling by grabbing onto the roof rack of my car while simultaneously trying to unsuccessfully prevent the cart from rolling into my open car door. Unfazed, this obliviously self-important guy used his remote to unlock the front door of his HUMMER, opened it, tossed his lone plastic shopping bag onto his brushed leather seat, summarily backed out of the space, and casually drove off without a backward glance.

I now have a small dent in my car door and a bruised sense of the formerly assumed level of daily care we extend to one another as fellow human beings sharing the same earth.

Sigh... Sometimes Anne Frank's words come to mind when I encounter such situations, "If only there were no other people living in the world."

Then again, sometimes it comes down to attitude of the recipient of such rude, indifferent behavior. The proverbial lemon and lemonade scenario, if you will. My feelings get hurt far too often by people who just don't give a rats' behind about the ramifications of their actions on others. I just can't fathom the ability to routinuely be so self-engrossed as to be so rude, pushy, mean, evil or just plain lame. Sometimes, there is little else to be done but buckle up for the ride and enjoy the killer pitcher of lemonade from the whopper lemons you're getting pelted with by your neighbors.

Case in point, this guy, who found an innovative way to turn his bemused frustration with his ~ let's just say, COLORFUL ~ next door neighbor into a source of humor for the masses. By creating this website to document the antics of this fellow (whom I'm not quite convinced is operating on all eight cylinders) he hopefully laughed as much as I still do when I re-read his site (kudos to potty mouth for sending me the link 4 years ago) and remind myself to bake an appreciation pie for my own quite sane-by-comparison neighbors.

Gentle Gladness

Following this case has changed my heart. PRAISE GOD for some miraculous GLAD news today, even as I realize this does not erase the pain that was endured not only by this woman but by countless generations of women before her. I remain on my knees that this awful barbary disgused as "justice" will cease forever.

Amen.

Crimson "C" or was that "ID"?

Today on my favorite internet message board, there stirred a slight spark of a conversation about evolution vs the Bible/Intelligent Design. Got me thinking. Not in a pondering manner, but in a spirit of gratitude and defiant jubilance.

Because Darwinism is fading while the validity, support, and perpetuation of Intelligent Design (the artist formerly known as "Creationism") is on the rise. And I am grateful.

To that end, this site has been rocking my socks off lately. If you have time to pay them a visit, I'd love to know what you think.

A long believer that Darwin's theory of (dare I say it?) EVOLUTION is a fair bit of expired baloney, it is deeply encouarging to me to note the exponential increase in intelligent, scientific, and mainstream minds joining the Intelligent Design ranks. Or maybe we are all just suddenly brave enough to come out of the dusty closets where we have been hiding with our big "C" emblazoned on our chests.

I love tracking the progress on this topic during my short immersion in it. Thinking of where we are now as a people in relation to my seventh grade science class gives me such a solid feeling of triumph. My teacher, Mr. Felix (God bless him) was so adamant about the absolute truth of Darwin's theory that the veins in his neck came perilously close to exploding when I gently challenged the obvious issues (interspecial evolution, fossil record, Biblical history, the direct contradictions of Newton's laws of theormodynamics that the assertion that from chaos and random reactions can arise stability and order presents...) that prevented me from accepting and regurgitating Darwinism as irrefutable "fact". I refused to engage in the "evolution" segment, and took an Incomplete (and a letter home to my parents) that quarter, rather than call a spade a diamond.

It is not about a dueling match between myself (and those who share my confidence in the truth of Intelligent Design) and Darwin. He seemed a well-intentioned and honorable scientist, openly admitting his theory could not be proven with the fossil record or recorded historical data. After all, it was a scientific ponderance - a THEORY. And for a while, it appeared to be the best one floating around out there. But it certainly was taught as though it were gospel truth by every science teacher I encountered throughout my formal schooling days. And in college, my insistence on the greater validity of Intelligent Design was met with either rolled eyes or stunned stares, but rarely, if ever, contradictory information, debate, or supporting evidence to back up Darwin beyond, "Evolution is a fact". Hmm, really? No explanations of the mechanics of inter-special or split-special evolution as set forth by Darwin. No clue about the such items as this (cited here)

"Dr. Francis Crick, the Nobel Prize winning co-discoverer of DNA did a probability analysis on the possibility of a single molecule of DNA being produced by random chance. His analysis indicated that the probability was so low as to be virtually nonexistent.

Sir Frederick Hoyle, one of the best-known scientists and astronomers of this century, did a similar study. He conducted a probability analysis on the likelihood of a single-cell life form developing by random chance in the time since the beginning of the universe. He arrived at an answer of one out of ten to the forty thousandth power.

To put that in perspective, you should know that in the mathematics of probability anything greater than one out of 1050 is considered impossible. Hoyle went on to conclude that, "Evolution is nonsense of the highest degree."

Even Darwin himself noted that evolution could not be supported in the fossil record. Furthermore, the scientific community itself recognizes that evolution contradicts the Newton's First and Second laws of thermodynamics."

But presented as FACT, nonetheless. Why? Because it had been taught with minimal opposing information so long and so exclusively that it became one by default. Sad.

I was feeling pretty lonely out there for awhile out on this once very fragile limb, Intelligent Design. And even though I did not ingratiate myself to my otherwise very sweet and patient middle school science teacher, I did manage to make up my incomplete with extra credit in another topic (cellular mitosis, if I recall correctly). That AND staying after school to clean countless chalkboards, Bunsen burners, and foul smelling beakers. Small price to pay for my integrity. Even at twelve.

Thankfully, gone are the days of being marred with our scarlet "ID" (or was that "C"?). Thank goodness Intelligent Design is gaining ground and earning the opportunity to reach a new generation of fertile soil in the minds of our children, for whom Darwin will not be unquestionable, akin to a science iconic deity.

"Guard what was committed to your trust, avoiding the profane and idle babblings and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge – by professing it some have strayed concerning the faith." ~ I Timothy 6:20-21

Dam Bureaucracy

As a Realtor, I am regularly emailed vast quantities of items of occupational and regulatory importance by my local and State Associations of Realtors. Almost all of it is tediously legal in nature and most too convoluded to inspire any emotion one way or the other.

However, accompanying the usual dose of of legal notes in today's email was this item, which is not a joke but an actual case filed in Michigan. I actually laughed out loud, which was such a blessed surprise in the middle of an otherwise passive Tuesday afternoon. Cheers.

STATE OF MICHIGAN

Reply to: GRAND RAPIDS DISTRICT OFFICE

STATE OFFICE BUILDING, 6TH FLOOR

350 OTTAWA NW

RAND RAPIDS MI 49503-2341

JOHN ENGLER, Governor

DEPARTMENT OF ENVIRONMENTAL QUALITY

HOLLISTER BUILDING

PO BOX 30473

LANSING MI

48909-7973

INTERNET: http://www.deq.state.mi us

RUSSELL J. HARDING, Director
December 17, 1997

CERTIFIED

To: Mr. Ryan DeVries

2088 Dagget Pierson

MI 49339

SUBJECT: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023-1 T11N, R10W, Sec. 20, Montcalm Count

Dear Mr. DeVries:

It has come to the attention of the Department of Environmental Quality that there has been recent unauthorized activity on the above referenced parcel of property. You have been certified as the legal landowner and/or contractor who did the following unauthorized activity: Construction and maintenance of two wood debris dams across the outlet stream of Spring Pond.

A permit must be issued prior to the start of this type of activity. A review of the Department's files show that no permits have been issued. Therefore, the Department has determined that this activity is in violation of Part 301,. Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws annotated.

The Department has been informed that one or both of the dams partially, failed during a recent rain event, causing debris dams and flooding at downstream locations. We find that dams of this nature are inherently hazardous and cannot be permitted. The Department therefore orders you to cease and desist all unauthorized activities at this location, and to restore the stream to a free-flow condition by removing all wood and brush forming the dams from the strewn channel. All restoration work shall be completed no later than January 31, 1998. Please notify this office when the restoration has been completed so that a follow-up site inspection may be scheduled by our staff.

Failure to comply with this request, or any further unauthorized activity on the site, may result in this case being referred for elevated enforcement action.
We anticipate and would appreciate your full cooperation in this matter. Please feel free to contact me at this office if you have any questions.

Sincerely,
David L. Price

District Representative Land and Water Management Division

THE REPLY

Stephen and Rosalind Tvedten
2530 Hayes Street
Marne, MI 49435-9751
616-677-1261
616-677-1262 Fax
steve@getipm.com

1/6/98

To: David L. Price

District Representative, Land and Water Management Division

Grand Rapids District Office

State Office Bldg., 6th Floor 350

Ottawa, N.W.

Grand Rapids, MI

49503-2341

Re: DEQ File No. 97-59-0023; T11N, R10W, Sec 20; Montcalm County

Dear Mr. Price:

Your certified letter dated 12/17/97 has been handed to me to respond to. You sent out a great deal of carbon copies to a lot of people, but you neglected to include their addresses. You will, therefore, have to send them a copy of my response.

First of all, Mr. Ryan DeVries is not the legal landowner and/or contractor at 2088 Dagget, Pierson, Michigan - I am the legal owner and a couple of beavers are in the (State unauthorized) process of constructing and maintaining two wood "debris" dams across the outlet stream of my Spring Pond. While I did not pay for, nor authorize their dam project, I think they would be highly offended you call their skillful use of natural building materials "debris". I would like to challenge you to attempt to emulate their dam project any dam time and/or any dam place you choose. I believe I can safely state there is no dam way you could ever match their dam skills, their dam resourcefulness, their dam ingenuity, their dam persistence, their dam determination and/or their dam work ethic.

As to your dam request the beavers first must fill out a dam permit prior to the start of this type of dam activity, my first dam question to you is: are you trying to discriminate against my Spring Pond Beavers or do you require all dam beavers throughout this State to conform to said dam request? If you are not discriminating against these particular beavers, please send me completed copies of all those other applicable beaver dam permits. Perhaps we will see if there really is a dam violation of Part 301, Inland Lakes and Streams, of the Natural Resource and Environmental Protection Act, Act 451 of the Public Acts of 1994, being sections 324.30101 to 324.30113 of the Michigan Compiled Laws annotated. My first concern is - aren't the dam beavers entitled to dam legal representation? The Spring Pond Beavers are financially destitute and are unable to pay for said dam representation - so the State will have to provide them with a dam lawyer.

The Department's dam concern that either one or both of the dams failed during a recent rain event causing dam flooding is proof we should leave the dam Spring Pond Beavers alone rather than harassing them and calling their dam names. If you want the dam stream "restored" to a dam free-flow condition - contact the dam beavers - but if you are going to arrest them (they obviously did not pay any dam attention to your dam letter -- being unable to read English) - be sure you read them their dam Miranda first. As for me, I am not going to cause more dam flooding or dam debris jams by interfering with these dam builders. If you want to hurt these dam beavers - be aware I am sending a copy of your dam letter and this response to PETA. If your dam Department seriously finds all dams of this nature inherently hazardous and truly will not permit their existence in this dam State - I seriously hope you are not selectively enforcing this dam policy - or once again both I and the Spring Pond Beavers will scream prejudice!

In my humble opinion, the Spring Pond Beavers have a right to build their dam unauthorized dams as long as the sky is blue, the grass is green and water flows downstream. They have more dam right than I to live and enjoy Spring Pond. So, as far as I and the beavers are concerned, this dam case can be referred for more dam elevated enforcement action now. Why wait until 1/31/98? The Spring Pond Beavers may be under the dam ice then, and there will be no dam way for you or your dam staff to contact/harass them then.

In conclusion, I would like to bring to your attention a real environmental quality (health) problem; bears are actually defecating in our woods. I definitely believe you should be persecuting the defecating bears and leave the dam beavers alone. If you are going to investigate the beaver dam, watch your step! (The bears are not careful where they dump!)

Being unable to comply with your dam request, and being unable to contact you on your dam answering machine, I am sending this response to your dam office.

Sincerely,
Stephen L.Tvedten

Dragonfly Marching Band Parade

I painted and put up a wallpaper border in LaLa's bedroom over the last two days.

By myself.

With two kids and two cats under foot.

The end results are incredibly, smashingly superb, if I do say so myself. I am on a roll now, so pleased with myself and my meticulous work that I think I hear a parade in my honor going on outside, complete with marching bands, fireworks, and the requisite cupped-hand-waving-girls-on-floats.

I am a lifetime card-carrying DIY-er. Hear me roar.

But I do sense a potential addiction to this wallpapering business. I was so tickled with the new decor that I used the wallpaper border to decorate LaLa's formerly plain white toy bench, thereby greatly improving it. This then inspired me to locate more unsuspecting places to inflict my unused remaining portions of wallpaper border upon. Surely there are TONS of areas in my house that could use a dose of dragonfly? As I notice myself actively curbing the lemming tendency to find new, fresh surfaces which are in need of my forcible home improvement touches, I can't help but think that those cats had better watch out. Between them, there is an awful lot of untapped surface area.

Random Percussion

If I muse in deliberate freeform thought long enough, random thoughts pelt me like a rainstorm. It never fails to fascinate me how quickly my mind can shift gears and ponder meaning and superfluities within the same breath.

Here is a sample of the mind of Lachen from 4:30-4:45 this afternoon as I shopped through the aisles of my local grocery store:

It is interesting that often when I am wholly on the acute needs of one child, the other one inevitably gets into trouble. LaLa fell down and scraped herself and while I was nursing that wound, JoyBoy decided to go scuba diving in the toilet again. I need to remember to keep my eyes and ears alert and not be so intensely focused that I fail to notice the chaos brewing behind me.

As a nation, we may want to keep this in mind. Not to us all: China and North Korea are playing with the toilet while we are bandaging up scrapes in Iraq and Afghanistan. Granted, our efforts are noble and necessary, but so are the eyes and ears in the backs of our heads.

Surely every magazine is not running the same story and press photos of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes this week...

I feel so awful for those children who are losing their lives and limbs to sharks in Florida and other places this summer already. But a part of me also knows that if we swim with sharks in mutually growing numbers, there is an increasingly statistically real possibility that we are going to see ample bites , maimings, and deaths resulting from shark "attacks" each year. The ocean is the home of some very big fish. Some with lethal teeth and genetically bad attitudes. And they are dangerous. To swim where they live is to take on that risk. My heart hurts for the human lives we lose to sharks each season. But my head tells me there is a simple solution - as no shark I have ever heard outside an SNL skit climbs out of the water, walks to our home, clubs us over the head, and then drags us into the ocean.

Only humans behave and prey on others that way. We are the true predators, not the sharks.

WHY can't they find Natalee?

Why is it inevitable that almost any given grocery store shopping cart has one of the following 4 flaws: an unearthly loud squeak when in motion, one wheel that is completely immobile, broken child straps, or is prone to listing to one side so badly that you have to lean on the cart heavily if you wish to actually go forward in a straight line?

LaLa is right - broccoli is "little trees".

What are the actual differences between toothbrushes that cost $.99 and those that cost $6.99?

That guy looks like the Unibomber. Wait - is that the Unibomber? Should I follow him? Didn't they already catch the Unibomber? If they did, this guy is his twin, I swear. What do I do if this IS the Unibomber, right here in the frozen foods section? Dial 9-1-1? Duck and cover behind the raviolli? Wait ~ is the Unibomber bald?

Velveeta cannot be cheese. Real Cheese has to be refrigerated. Velveeta just sits there on the shelf for who knows how long. That scares me. What the heck IS Velveeta?

We're onto you guys. We know you deliberately place the older milk out to the front of the refrigerated display, hoping we'll just take it quickly without looking at the expiration date. We're going to choose the milk at the BACK. We're onto you guys.

I can't imagine the immense pain of not knowing where my child is and must remember to pray for Natalee Holloway and her family tonight.

Butter is on sale. I don't really NEED butter right now, but it is on sale. If you buy something you don't really need because it is on sale, is that wise or unwise?

If someone created Bible-character-cereal, I'd buy it. It HAS to be better than some of the nonsense here. Mud & Bugs? Surely that is far less appetizing than David and Goliath Crunch would be. Maybe my inspired creation of Adam & Eve Apple Crisp with marshmallow serpents would allow me to retire early with my vast cereal empire earnings.

And that's only fifteen minutes. I should charge admission. Or get some therapy.

Hiatus

If you didn't notice my weeklong absence, please kindly humor me and just pretend you did.

Freshly back from a lovely trip to my Mom's house with the kids, I am balancing the delightful combination of a refreshed soul bounding around in an utterly exhausted body. So, with all apologies for the lack of advance notice of my brief abandonment of this blog for 7 days, I will humbly retire to sleep off the effects of the 4-hour drive home now. Hopefully, this will allow me restoration to a more lucid state of being, thus allowing me to be back with you in relatively short order.

The degreee to which you begin to crave your own bed towards the end of a trip away from home is overwhelming, isn't it? I'm off to happily reaquaint myself with mine.

Cheers.

Father's Day Heartsong

TO COPPER ON FATHERS DAY

To the person I respect most on this planet,
my hero,
my inspriation,
my source of wickedly funny jokes,
my comfort,
the holder of my soul,
the one who knows me best,
my lover,
and the incredible father to our sweet children,
I offer these clumsy words from my heart...


A Father is born
from moment one
when first emerges
the tiny daughter or son

That miraculous event
begins the lifelong journey
- a souls's advent -
transforming mere man into "Daddy".

To be a father
you only must be
the very best version of yourself
with utter trust in the Almighty.

Leaning not unto your own understandings,
relying on wisdom from the Word
as into your humble hands have been given
these precious children's lives to shepherd.

You have forever been changed, my love
your place in our children's lives eternally set,
for no other role you shall ever embrace
is more meaningful than this chance that you get

To shape the future of our precious children
to mold and hold their hearts in your grip
to train them up in the way that they should go
and to love and encourage them when they trip.

I am priviledged to watch you rise
to the challenges parenting can bring,
I gain comfort and wisdom from watching you devote
your whole self to your children's well-being.

As the Father of my children and the man I adore,
You have given me the gift of your love all over again
once for me as your best friend and wife,
once more as beloved father for our children:


As your infants' sorrowed cries
Cause a quickened pace
After chubby toddler's fall
Your fingers wipe tears from her trusting face

Sharing giggles with your baby boy
when you tickle him in the spot only you both know
Dancing with your sweet daughter
As she stands on your shoes, tiptoed

Teaching tiny fingers to throw a ball
rewarded by squeals of utter delight
Soothing middle of the night fears of the dark
with comforting cuddles and prayers of insight

Rising long before the sun to begin
another long and intensive work day
to provide so lovingly for your family
and allow Mom to stay home while you are away.

When at long last returning home
as sun threatens to set
The abundantly happy cries of "Daddy!" greet you
and comprise the best present you could ever get.

On this special Father's Day,
please receive our thanks anew
As both my beloved husband and their precious Daddy
we truly and forever will always love you.

Kate and Tom

There are ample reasons I consistently choose to sit in the rooting section for purely endeavored LOVE, even when its flower surprisingly blooms in the most unlikely of barren fields, or in the dead of winter.

I am actively resisting the bandwagon urge to choose cynicism when commenting on this one. The ever-bizarre Scientology aspect of it all nowithstanding, I believe that there continue to emerge incredible, lasting, loving relationships that defy the odds against them, and sincerely wish them the very best in their endeavor toward that goal. After all, it is these love stories that inspire us with their continued triumphs and perseverance through trials by fire, thereby refining and deepening commitment, love, and the power of the human heart. Who knows if this relationship will become worthy to be included in that elite group? Only time will tell, but I choose to put my money on the hope that it could be - knowing that love exists in unconventional packaging often and that NOTHING is larger or beyond the power of God to transform for His glory and purpose. Critical to me is the resistance with all my might the poisonous cynicism that is a far-too automatic response for the vast majority of us these days. It is far easier to be cynical than to be hopeful. But when has THAT criteria ever daunted me? :)

Here's to hoping. And to believing in God, through whom all things are possible.

OK. Seriously. Please go home...

The Micheal Jackson trial is over, guys.

Seriously, did you hear? He was found not guilty by reason of a 93-page jackknifed jury instruction and a-less-than-angelic complaining victims' Mom. But I digress. The point is, it's finished. Game over.

Those of us who live near Neverland would like to resume our normal lives. Please?

We'd like to go to the gas station without being incessantly honked at by strangers in Oregon plated cars with Jackson posters glued to every possible surface, waving large, "Free At Last, Thank God Almighty He is Free At Last!" (a moment while I vomit) signs while Thriller blares from the stereo.

We'd like to be able to drive to our children's ballet classes past Figueroa Mountain Road without having to skillfully navigate the crazed CIRCUS of fans still loyally swarming the entire area surrounding the gate to his property, hoping for a glimpse of him or at least a tossed away Snickers wrapper.

We'd like the media to please stop asking us how we feel about the verdict when we are at the market just trying to buy Dr. Pepper and broccoli and the occassional Tri Tip for our dear husbands.

PLEASE. We know he lives here and this has been a hoot. But we live here too and we are normal everyday people who are fatigued by all of this nonsense. He is not going to go to jail on this one, OK? You did your jobs well and I imagine Mr. Jackson is grateful. But now it is time to be polite and go home. Please?

Thanks.

Off The Charts

Well, he finally did it. Joyboy has reached the 30 pound mark.

AT 15 MONTHS OLD.

No, we are not overfeeding him. Exclusively breastmilk until he was nearly a year old, and then normal amounts of baby food and solids. We limit sugars and he only drinks water - no juices. His favorite foods are carrots, sweet potatoes, and rice.

Sheesh.

Weighing and measuring each of my children causes me regular bouts of amused disbelief. LaLa, my 4.3 year old, weighed in today in at 31.5 pounds. This puts her at just under the 25% percentile for weight (50% for height). Joyboy, who is three years younger than she, emerging from my womb a mere year and three months ago, already tops the charts at 30+ (I saw the .5 flicker on my scale) pounds. He is making a solid showing somewhere between the 97 and 99% percentile for weight. Couple that with being in the 75'% percentile for height and I am becoming increasingly convinced that we are certainly not rearing a frail little man over here.

If he keeps gaining 2 pounds per month of his life, I will be scared. Because at that rate, my darling, precious, adorable son will outweigh me by his 4th birthday.

Cross Categorization

In my world, nearly everyone fits within two distinct relationship categories when it comes to shopping and food.

SHOPPING

With respect to shopping, you are either a HUNTER or a GATHERER. If you typify a "Hunter" (my best friend is an excellent example of this type), you know in advance the exact item(s) you are seeking, create a list, and approach the store or stores with a stopwatch, exact change, and a map. If, on the other hand, you tend to be a "Gatherer" (like my darling sister, mother, and almost every other female in my genetic lineup), time is clearly not of the essence as most shopping (grocery aside) is looked upon as a bit of a scouting adventure, often involving several rounds in a given day, peppered by periodic food and bathroom-related breaks.

FOOD

Here, there are also two categories of defining relationships to food, though distinct shades of grey do exist. For a large portion of our population, food/ meals/ eating is a critical element to their enjoyment and meals often anchor the day. These are EVENT EATERS. For those of you food uber-aficionados populating this category, a typical day is often entirely planned around meal schedules and menus. The enjoyment of food is not limited to the actual meal - it includes the preparation, the ingredient shopping, the presentation, the subtle flavoring, the ambiance, or the restaurant dining experience. Food becomes a welcome centerpiece and a focus at various points in time throughout the day. The taste, texture, and presentation of food are pleasurable for their own sake and eating time is JOY time. This type does typically enjoy and excel at cooking, and has a mature palate. And if wine is an option with dinner, they'll know which type and vintage best compliments the specific flavors of food comprising the meal.

My darling 15-month old is already well on his way to becoming the KING of this category.

Then there are those of us for whom food, meals and the whole shebang are more accurately described as a "means to an end". We are the SURVIVAL EATERS. If the human body suddenly did not need food to survive, very little would be altered in our realities. We realize the necessity of eating and engage in consuming our meals largely to avoid starvation. But eating is not an event unto itself, and is most often accomplished as an afterthought or in tandem with other "more enjoyable" activities: driving, working, gardening, talking on the phone, or painting one's fingernails (I admit nothing). We simply are not interested in pursuing CARPE DIET: seizing the opportunity to each meal into a delectable culinary feast. The difference between turkey from the deli and turkey we've spent 4 hours marinating and roasting is negligible to us, Taco Bell would be the source for both lunch and dinner on most days if left to our own devices, and we have been known to actually forget whether or not we have eaten on any given day (again, I plead the 5th).

Now, granted, these food relationship categories do include definite shades of grey, usually involving holidays such as Thanksgiving, which are marked by a traditionally huge dinner which qualifies as an EVENT, even for us lackadaisical food types.

The realizations leading to this Lachen Superfluous Classification System are long-evolved. I am still increasing my awareness as to the "whole other world" of vast food appreciation happening beyond the limits of my perception. For you see, when "what to have for dinner" is so far down the priority list it often goes unrecognized, it is incredibly difficult to comprehend how integral food can be in the lives of others. And if you are not familiar with the "shopping as a distance event" philosophy, accompanying someone who is a well decorated athlete in this field on a shopping excursion can be utterly exhausting, a tad bit amusing, and just a wee bit frustrating.

Over the last 18 months, I have been led (by gently insistent force) to embrace the antithesis of my natural inclinations, and both eat and shop against type. With the arrival of my second child and the adoption of my stay-at-home-full-time-work-only-part-time-Mom status, I now have a 6:00 deadline for dinner, which involves some degree of preplanning and actually sitting down with my family to enjoy the fruits of my labor. And because there are few "breaks" a Mommy gets to take free-of-charge, visiting the local shopping mall or even a simple Home Depot store can be turned into a rejuvenating "spa-like" experience if you walk slowly enough and really spend time savoring your perusal of the endless displays of knob pulls in the kitchen and bath department. Plus, considering that so many of my friends and family are "Gatherers" and my love for them causes me to want to spend time with them at any opportunity, I do find myself sitting outside many a fitting room door while wondering exactly how many stores there could possibly be within a 6 block radius?

Making the quite voluntary leap across categorical boundary has been a stretch for me. And even though the meals I cook for my family are ready on the dot and prepared with love, I still yearn for the days of Freebirds buritto's eaten while doing three other things on the way to do something else. And though I do wander the aisles of my local home improvement warehouse (they haven't called in the white coats yet but I'm sure it's just a matter of time) and accompany beloved family and friends on what can only be described as shopping "triathelons", I have been known to bow out mid-session. I find a happy place to curl up (usually outside the dressing room where someone I love has been camped out for 45 minutes), and dig into the Dr. Pepper and magazine I tucked into my purse before we left the house.

See? I'm learning.

California Golf Course Population Growth

This is not about black or white.

This is not about the Nation of Islam, politics, music, media, a D.A.'s vendetta, police mistreatment, plastic surgery, misunderstandings, harrassment, screaming fans, or money.

This is about a pedophile.

Who poses a present, ongoing risk to himself and others.

Whose mind is not well and judgement is dangerously impaired.

Who preys upon children under the warped guise of innocence, hiding the evil behind the sugary veil of Neverland.

The skill of a plastic surgeon can forever alter a face, but not the soul. And though a jury of human beings can grant freedom to the body, they cannot release the soul, which will eventually come to rest at the feet of God. On that Judgement Day, all will be held accountable before God in the only court whose ruling metes out eternal consequence to every one of us.

As another celebrtity joins O.J. and Robert Blake on the impossibly green golf courses of my illustrious state, I cannot help but mourn the stark absence of justice for the victims of crime at the hands of those whose fame contributes a most handy 'Get Out Of Jail Free Card'.

IF THE GUY HAS A HIT, YOU MUST ACQUIT?

Apparently.

Right On! The Nancy Pearcey interview

The following exerpt is from an interview with an incredibly brilliant, Christian evangelical wordview-focused intellectual mind, Nancy Pearcey. She is the author of a new book, TOTAL TRUTH. from which much of the questions asked of her stem. This woman so closely mirrors my own thoughts on some more prominent topics of the Christian worldview that I find myself audibly breathing deep sighs of contented JOY as I read.

I am in awe that God so finely tunes minds such as Mrs. Pearsey's to be able to ponder and express so clearly many of the exact thoughts we have so often muddled around in our own craniums, but which we've left unexpressed out of inability or sheer distraction. And with such eloquence, evidence, and conviction. Christianity is not for those who check their minds and intellectual contemplation at the door. It is THRILLING to read and be challenged and taught by the wisdom of this woman. I find comfort in the intelligence of others who will inherit the Kingdom of heaven alongside me one day. Her words cause me new awareness of my own anemic capacity in some intellectual arenas in which faith is somehow pitted against science or modernity. I want to be more capable, more aware, more wise, more...

The complete text of her interview appears here, and is worth reading in it's ENTIRETY, especially for those who so often fail to see God's truth across the board, not limited ot science, politics, environment, protection of life, etc. She astutue, learned, wise, and humblingly intelligent in her analysis and presentation of facts and Christian apologetics from a worldview perspective.

I offer the following snippet to whet your appetite. Please let me know your thoughts:

Catez: One of the points that you make in Total Truth is that evangelicals have tended to "put all their eggs" in one basket by embracing political activism. Some people say all Christians should be involved politically and some say we shouldn't be involved at all. Is it as clear-cut as either of those two positions? Would you say our calling is a determinant in deciding our position?

Nancy: Working out an intentional Christian worldview certainly includes a biblical view of politics, but that it is only one part of our cultural engagement. We are also called to have a Christian worldview on economics, education, entertainment, and every other area of life. Of course, we all have to specialize in some field or profession. Because I live in the Washington, D.C., area, many of my friends are political professionals. But they are keenly aware that they are part of the larger Body of Christ, and that cultural renewal requires all of us to be faithful in the sphere of influence and responsibility where God has called us.In fact, I would go further and say that if we are not working out an overarching, comprehensive Christian worldview that applies across the board, we will not be effective even in politics. Why? Because we will get caught up in sheer activism. We may win elections, but we will not know how to address the deeper, underlying ideas that shape our culture. We will always be reacting to the latest outrage instead of acting intelligently in ways that establish justice and protect the public good.

Catez: Recently I had an interesting discussion on the use of the word "objective". Total Truth is about having an objective view and approach to the world I think. Does objective just mean factual and rational?

Nancy: Western thought is divided into two contradictory streams, often called the fact/value split. Francis Schaeffer used the imagery of two stories in a building - the lower story is what we know by science and reason, which is supposedly objective and publicly verifiable (fact), while the upper story is the realm of religion and morality, which has been relegated to subjective private experience (value). Once we understand this pervasive split, we will realize that "objectivism" and "subjectivism" are each only part of the story. As Christians, we want the complete truth.This has become an issue today among Christians who adopt the label postmodern. They tell us that the church must leave the modernist age behind and move forward into postmodernism, or risk becoming irrelevant. But this is based on the mistaken idea that modernism and postmodernism are sequential stages in history. In reality, they coexist within the same two-track divide I just talked about, which is endemic in Western thought. Modernism remains firmly entrenched in the lower level, in the hard sciences and the world of politics, finance, and industry. (No one designs an airplane by postmodern principles.) And postmodernism is simply the current form of the upper level. The two-realm theory of truth can be diagrammed like this:

POSTMODERNISM

Private, Subjective, Personal

_____________________________

MODERNISM

Public, Objective, Rational

This is not to deny that something new is taking place in our day. But a more accurate way to picture the change is that the two stories are moving farther apart from one another. In the lower story, modernism is growing increasingly materialistic and reductionistic. Today many scientists consider humans to be nothing but mechanisms - complex data-processing machines. At the same time in the upper story, postmodernism is growing ever more subjective and relativistic, reducing truth to private, individual experience ("true for me, but not true for you"). As Christians, our goal should be to reject this dichotomy altogether. All truth is God's truth, in every area or field. God has created a multi-dimensional world with many forms of truth - scientific truth, religious truth, moral truth, mathematical truth, artistic truth, and so on. That's why the title of my book declares that Christianity is Total Truth.

_________________

Please visit CATEZ's blog for complete text of this fascinating interview. Yahoo! Another deeply wise, intelligent, and meek WOG.

So inspired am I by her latest book and this interview, I could not resist sharing this with you.

RIGHT ON!

Out of the Box

One of my more candid friends jokingly chided me on my outfit today. Typical Mom-in-the-park sweatpants, T-shirt, sneakers, topped off by a rather expensive pair of sunglasses and a UV rated visor. She said I was 'Jackie O' from the neck up, but elsewhere ~ pure 'comfy Mom'. She said I defied category, and wondered jokingly if I was making some kind of a statement of sorts?

Though not deliberately, I do believe there IS a statement or two to be gleaned from the conversation inspired by my attire.

The MICRO ~ (OR: me standing up for my beloved sweat/T-shirt-meets-Hollywood ensemble...)

A. All of my clothing was clean when I left my house. After a lunch with two children and 90 minutes in the dirt, grass, bark and a brief foray into the bushes to retrieve my wandering son, all bets were off. But I did START OUT with a freshly laundered outfit.

B. I am in the park with two kids under four ~ this is not a fashion runway/ other appropriate place for haute couture. Granted, my sweatpants and T-shirt are not the most alluring ensemble, but they are super comfortable and allow me to move and enjoy the real reason I am here: to play with my children and to enjoy the day. Besides, bark chips tend interfere with high heels and cause quite a nuisance to silk, cashmere, and acetate.

C. The pricey sunglasses and visor, in addition to wearing TWO different kinds of sunblock, speak to my avid dedication of active combat against the sun. Having experienced a very serious skin cancer incident in 2002, I will never again step into the sunlight without these bare essentials. Considering my level of concern and unwavering militance about sun protection, it speaks highly of my degree of personal restraint that I do not wear a NASA approved helmet outside ~ instead opting for the more socially acceptable old Hollywood look: prominent sunglasses, visor, and occasionally a wraparound scarf. Hey, for me, sun exposure is deadly serious.

The MACRO ~ (me diving into deep thoughts from a shallow launching pad of a conversation)

This exchange, though brief and entered into playfully, circled around my mind quite a bit today and migrated across topical lines into other genres. I ended up here:

WHY is there a persistent need to classify and categorize? People, trends, politics, religion, etc. We have this abiding need to sort things into piles in our minds, don't we?

Particularly with people, is this effort done for our own comfort? Is it for peace of mind - the ability to feel safe and confident that we "know" someone? That we can easily dismiss ideas or people whose "boxes" we do not share or like? Is it because, in this rapidly changing world of blurring edges, we need to create finite definitions and then work to fit people into them ~ rather than realzing the futility of such broad strokes of pidgeon-holing?

My friend was correct ~ I did defy categorization this morning. And I unabashedly enjoyed inhabiting that space, actually. I find it an arrogant or disrespectful notion that we all should so clearly and crisply fit into contrived versions of who we should be, according to an amorphous set of standards. Where did we come up with these lists of criteria anyway? Why is it that we are unsettled when someone exists outside of the boxes we so want them to fit within in our minds? So much so, that we often shove people into our ill-fitting, stereotypical categories, close the lid on those boxes, and sit on the lid until they quiet down and cease their escape attempts?

My outfit notwithstanding (those who know me personally do eventually succumb to the realization that my loyalty for sweatclothes is here to stay and that my "work-clothes" are joyously traded for my "real clothes" at every opportunity), I doubt there are many who could be accurately and totally embody the idea we've formed in our minds of who they "should be" based on our perceptions of their roles, their religion, their family, their political party, their affiliations, their education, their culture, or their relationships.

I find reality much more rewarding to contemplate, but embracing the truth of who people at at their core involves actively shedding our contrivances. And allowing our perceptions of others to be pure, not filtered through our pre-conceived notions and contrived version of who they are.

For myself, although shock value is not a highly prized goal of mine, I do find amused satisfaction when something I do, say, believe, or am at my very inner core surprises someone close to me. When the balance of my life seems odd to others, that alone is fulfilling in its miniscule way. What seems an odd marriage of conflicting influences of choices to some:

*Ugg Boots with my grandmothers' pearl earrings,
*"Republican" who is saturated with environmental causes, supports legal civil unions, and is personally invested in the committment to healing the AIDS crisis in sub-saharan Africa and in efforts to solve generational poverty, hunger, and human suffering world-wide
*NRA member with well-honed, accurate aim who absolutely abhors hunting and hopes to never face a "real-life" scneario in which I would need to fire my gun
*Former regional ballerina who is ridiculously clumsy offstage, etc.)

are, in truth, the ingredients of BALANCE in my life.

We do each other such a disservice when we are satisfied with a meager anemic categorizations of our fellow human beings around us. That is not to truly understand people and know them at their core. Rather, it is the safe route we take to in effort to deliberately AVOID the effort of truly understanding one another and learning each others' souls.

Perhaps the unintended message of my clothing choices today is simply that balance is achieved by blending seemingly polarized elements together until your heart is at rest.

For me, my baggy sweatpants and Chanel glasses speak to the harmonious balance inherent in my life. It may look odd to some to wear what I wear, say what I say, or do what I do in the combinations I have chosen, but that is the point. I am who I am. I resist the boxes of watertight categories we employ in our attempt to sort and classify people so rigidly. What is the point of that, exactly? The effort seems to move us backwards instead of propelling us toward a wiser commonality of sharing the earth with people who, by God's design, are each unique, thus defying out system of sorting piles entirtely. Diversity is only a positive step if we do not make it a goal, but a PROCESS toward reaching the destination of seeking to know and love one another as God first loved us. Now THAT is a worthy goal I can get onboard with.

Even if it sometimes does involve an errant pairing of a NASA visor helmet with Ugg boots and a wicked pair of sunglasses.

Ah, balance.

Stiller Omnipotence

Did I miss the memo officially declaring Ben Stiller omnipotent? At the midnight hour, as I channel surfed, I noted his presence simultaneously appearing in four movie channel movies (well, one was the same movie in Spanish on Latino HBO), a "Madagascar" sneak peak, and several talk/news shows. I think he was live on two of them.

Pursey Postscript

For those following along for the sheer heck of it, my Ebay adventure did result in a purse PURCHASE (yes, you read that right, I have officially traded money for a purse for the first time in my life). Though the price was not FREE, it was reasonable and did not require a second mortgage or even a small loan from Check Into Cash. And the cause is worthy as my current excuse-for-a-purse is getting rattier by the moment and has long since seen its heyday.

So, a bronzey-brown, medium-sized Kate Spade bag is on it's way to me soon.

It's not the same elation as when one wins an Olympic event, perhaps, but I do feel an oddball sense of accomplishment. Or is that deflation that I have succumbed to the pressure and conformed to join the purse-buying masses? Maybe a little early mourning of my duct tape and fraying drawstrings?

I'm feeling veclempt, talk amongst yourselves.

At long last, I'm finally becoming a purse grown up.

Flat Cat Bat

Copper was away from home last night to attend a seminar for work today. I struggle when he is away from home, especially overnight. Thankfully, it is not often (my heart goes out to military wives and those whose hubbies are away from home for extended periods of time). But each time I am alone at night, I become acutely aware of every creak and noise in my house, imagining the worse case scenario around every corner, and frightening myself to the point of goosebumps.

Last night, just before drifting off at a little past 1:00 am, there came a substantial crash from downstairs that sounded like glass breaking. Never one to sit idly by and ponder the possibility that someone is breaking into my house, I sat bolt upright and then leapt out of bed, grabbed my aluminum baseball bat, and flicked on every light on my way down the stairs to confront whomever was breaking into my home. I made lots of noise, deliberately, hoping to scare off the intruder before I had to confront him with my courage and my bat.

I whipped around the corner and saw two eyes staring right at me ~ dead ahead at almost eye level, like someone was crouched at my back door. Forgetting to turn on the light, I screamed and swung furiously at the eyes with all my might. I made contact. Hard. But but it was not with an intruder. And thankfully, it was also not with the owner of the very large eyes, my terrified cat Turtle, who managed to leap to safety about .0003 seconds before I flattened her. My blow landed instead on the sofa, effectively pounding the heck out of three unsuspecting down pillows with a loud but unsatisfying "whump".

Turtle has only come out of hiding once today, giving me an evil furtive stare as she darted to her food dish and then back to her secret happy place. My attempted apology was met with indignant hissing. I deserve it, I guess, for just about taking my beloved cat out with my baseball bat, thereby accidentally transforming the sweet, giant fluffball with eyes into a cat shaped pancake. Even though I regret scaring her, I'll bet that will be the last picture frame she'll ever knock over in the middle of the night. Which is much appreciated.

As for me, I gained new respect for myself. If that had been an intruder, he would have gotten a taste of the business end of my bat instead of my couch... or my cat.

Believe

When I was pregnant with each of my children, I began noticing a strange phenomenon happening around me. Suddenly, pregnant people were EVERYWHERE. In the market, post office, church, the park, the zoo, and even COSTCO ~ huge numbers of random women were pregnant all around me, somehow. It was as though I had developed acute pregnancy radar and it was on serious overdrive.

Was it a Mulder & Scully moment of unexplained random mass pregnancy within my general zip code? Likely not. My being pregnant was all-encompassing, and the most intensely miraculous and incredible experience I had ever journeyed through. Once my belly began humming with burgeoning life not my own I was granted this most awesome of bonuses: the awakened sense to notice other pregnant women where I would not have before. Suddenly, we were all sharing a delicious secret together ~ this most amazing phenomenon of harboring life within our variously lumpy bellies. I delighted in this newfound revelry of my eyes being newly opened to the sheer volume of pregnancies around me.

Because I was also pregnant, I was able to perceive and share the joy in lots of other people's pregnancies that otherwise would have passed me by unnoticed.

So it is with miracles and faith in our lives. The more we open our hearts, eyes, mind, and lives to God and to miracles ~ in essence, the more we BELIEVE, the more our lives are flooded with evidence, truth, and credence to the reality we have come to adopt by taking that scary initial leap of faith into a new understanding.

I sat in my church pew this morning, just silently weeping out of overflowing joy in recognition of the miracles taking place in the lives of others around me. In awareness of the power of God to work miracles, great and small, by faith alone.

The newly married couple who, after years of trying to conceive, is finally, joyfully pregnant.

The divorced woman who was loved and welcomed by our meek fellowship and is now celebrating the second year of new marriage to her new husband, a devout man of humble, abiding faith.

The family whose house was destroyed by fire, is now rebuilding and is being housed, clothed, and fed by members in the church until they can go home again.

The elderly man with a walking cane who was aided from his car to the chapel by a young woman who did not know him but loved him anyway because she saw the need.

The grandparents who bring their seven year old grandson to church every Sunday finally able to hear his voice beginning to sing the familiar music, as his life altering speech impediment is being triumphed over at last.

While singing with the worship team, my eyes floated over the crowd of people gathered in the chapel. I lingered for a few minutes on two boys ~ brothers ~ each looking to be about 12 or 14 years old. I had seen these boys arrive at church with their parents just moments before, both with wavy wet hair, surfboards strung atop their of their SUV. They stood in the chapel, ensconced in early morning fog, at 8:00 am on a Sunday morning with their parents, singing praise and worship music with all their hearts, souls, and might. No pretense, no agendas, seemingly no concerns about the ever-powerful pubescent sense of appearance: rather, they just stood there. They humbly and totally were just singing with their eyes closed in reflective reverence and their hearts poured into worshipping the Lord of Heaven and Earth.

They were the evidence of God's miracles happening around us. And the critical role of faith: to flick on the light switch so we can see what had once been glossed over or shrouded in darkness.

The powerfully moving image of those two boys praising God caught me somewhere about mid-sternum, and tears sprang. Two adolescent brothers praising God with innocent abandon in a humble chapel on an early Sunday morning. Right ON.

This might not strike anyone else as a miracle. But my eyes are opened wide and I see the power of God at work. With so many of our teens lost to such immorality or passive relativism ~ lost souls adrift ~ hope is alive. And it is strong. Miracles are still happening. But you have to want to acknowledge and celebrate them, want to see them, want to be aware on another level. Because I share a faith in God and the power to believe with these people, I am blessed to play firsthand audience to more and more of the everyday miracles happening around me. My eyes are opening and my heart softening to an increasing amount of God's work in the lives of others as He pours more sweat equity into me and more of my selfishness and ego is chipped away in the process.

I believe.

Because I responded to Christ's call love and grace for me and took the leap of faith into His arms, the evidence of His power, divinity, light, and actively working hand in the lives of others around me has been exponentially revealed.

Suddenly, I am seeing pregnant people again. Only instead of the miracle of life, I am witnessing the miracles IN our lives. My heart has been opened to the miracles of God around me, amplifying the stellar reality within me. God lives, He loves, and He reigns. He is at work everyday withint the lives in the people around us. Because I am awakened to their presence, my soul is being impacted and my socks are being rocked by the life-altering miracles of God happening formidably in our midst.

I believe.

Temptation, Thy Name is Ebay

Among other things (which, if you are me, usually includes at least one diaper and a ziploc snack bag of Cheerios), a purse is meant to hold money.

But when the act of buying the purse convincingly taps entirely all the money which was to be held by said purse, what exactly does the purpose of the purse become?

I have never actually purchased a purse for myself. Ever. The containers I somehow end up using as my purse are not designed for use as purses. But they work for me: A large wallet. An oversized vinyl "gift with purchase" bag from the Clinique counter (it is a classy one, mind you ~ be nice). A freebie hand-me-down from my Mom or Mother-in-law, neither of whom share my strange aversion to purse buying.

Since I am now 32 (which is so very different from being 31), I have decided it is time to grow up and actually BUY a purse. That, coupled with the reality that my current diaper-bag-cum-purse is apparently finally throwing in the towel ~ as duct tape is generally not a good look ~ has thrown me headlong into Ebay territory.

Because I am committed to do this purse thing 'right' and I am a much bigger fan of internet shopping than anything which requires me to schlep my children and I through stores in search of something I am buying under a bit of protest anyway, I turn again to Ebay. Ebay endlessly amuses me because, like Forrest's chocolates, you never do know what you're going to find on that site.

Do you know that there are some purses that cost more than MY CAR? Go surf a spell, you'll see. I began Purse Search 2005 last night by typing "Chanel purse" (because I like my Chanel sunglasses, OK?). Never did I think that this buying endeavor might involve the necessity of a second mortgage. Goodness. I then typed in "Brown leather purse". Clearly, only a limited improvement. Apparently, there are levels of inferior when it comes to purses, and my current state of purse is so low on the food chain that it doesn't even rate.

While there is a certain satisfaction in that, I think I am going about this wrong. When I finish this blog entry, I am headed back to Ebay with new search criteria keywords ~ "Cheap Purse", only because "Free Purse" would fail to elevate me from my rut. At some point, I feel that it may be the EFFORT that mattered more in this journey, not necessarily the end result ~ which might just be another gift with purchase from the cosmetics counter.

On Being an Eight Cow Wife

Copper's hands were sweaty, and the left one was nervously fidgeting with the seam of his pant leg while the right one grasped both mine and the edge of the delicate linen napkin.

He was self assured on the surface, but beneath there was the heart of the child, beating rapidly, excitedly, and with purposeful anticipation. We sat there together, across from my parents, on the edge of the most important conversation we would have in our young lives.

Copper, you see, was about to ask my Mom and step-father for my hand in marriage and their blessing on our union.

He had not asked me to marry him yet and would not for four more months. The actual proposal was personal, sweet, and very unexpected in its timing and delivery. But we were in love and committed to the destination of marriage, and sought the support and voluntary blessings of both of our parents on our aspirations to become man and wife BEFORE we formally became engaged.

Old-Fashioned? Well, I guess that depends on your qualification and comparison. For us, it seemed the most natural and respectful manner of seeking to marry, by seeking first the blessings of the family. But also, Copper's insistence with relegating me to such a position of honor, of respect and adoration by taking this step (among others) spoke volumes which have forever acoustically marked our relationship. My husband loves me. Greek has words for four kinds of love: agape, or spiritual love; storge, or familial love; the love between friends, or philia; and sexual love, the familiar eros. And in making this statement so honorably, he actually managed to demonstrate his love for me on all four levels of its original Greek definition.

Throughout our marriage, I have never forgotten our beginning. How, even from the start, my husband was willing to take steps that some would consider over-the-top or outdated to demonstrate his love for me and elevate me in his estimation to the highest level of honor and respect.

I am often reminded of the account of 'Johnny Lingo and his 8-Cow Wife' when I reflect on my marriage to my beloved Copper. Paraphrased, the story goes something like this:

On a trip to the Kiniwata Island in the Pacific, a young American explorer kept hearing a story about a local man from a neighboring island, Johnny Lingo, who was well- known and higly respected throughout the islands for his skills, intelligence, and savvy as one of the sharpest traders in the islands. Yet, what everyone related to this traveler most adamantly was that "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows for his wife." Intrigued by this unusual, oft-repeated remark and by the mystery and respect surrounding him, the American and set out to meet this Johnny Lingo guy.

A couple days later, he had his opportunity to travel to the island of Nurabandi, where Johnny lived. On the sail there, the traveler asked the boat captain about him.

"He is the most respected man in all the land. And the wealthiest and most intelligent. Everyone seeks counsel from him. But he is most known for one thing: five months ago, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He gave her father eight cows!"

The American traveler knew enough about island marriage customs to be duly impressed. Cows were given to the family of a bride by a husband as a form of "dowry". A dowry of two or three cows was average and four or five cows would net a stunning wife of near royalty status. He mused aloud, "Eight cows! She must be breathtakingly gorgeous!"

The response was unexpected. The boat captain simply said, "She's not ugly, but calling her plain would definitely be a compliment. She is skinny and walks with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She is scared of her own shadow. Her father was afraid wouldn't be able to marry her off at all. Instead of being stuck with her, he got eight cows for her. This price has never been paid before. No one knows why he did it and everyone wonders, but Johnny simply approached her father and said, "'Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.' Isn't that extraordinary?"

The traveler was now overwhelmed with curiosity about this local man of mythic proportion. When he finally arrived at Johnny Lingo's home, he was immediately impacted by his seriousness, intelligence, and gently earned command of others' respect. As they sat together in his house, engrossed on conversation, the American answered questions about his journey and the stories he had heard which led him to seek out Johnny Lingo.

"What do people say about me which leads you here?"

"They say your are the most brilliant, respected, and wealthy man in the islands.... but they also wonder endlessly why your marriage settlement was an unheard of EIGHT cows."

"They ask that? Everyone in Kiniwata and Nurabandi knows about the eight cows?" His chest expanded with pleasure and satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."

So that's the answer, thought the young explorer: Vanity.

But just then Sarita entered the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still for a moment to smile at her husband and then left. She was the most achingly beautiful woman imaginable. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, and the sparkle in her eyes, her dress and hair, all spelled self-confidence and pride. Not an arrogant and haughty pride, but a confident inner beauty that radiated in her every movement. She was stunning.

The American turned back to Johnny in disbelief. "She's...gorgeous! But this obviously, this is not the one everyone is talking about. She can't be the Sarita you married on Kiniwata."

"There is only one Sarita. Perhaps, she doesn't look the way you expected. Do you think eight cows was too many?" Johnny's smile was knowing.

"No, but how can she be so different from the way they described her?"

Johnny said, "Think about how it must make a woman feel to know her husband paid a very low dowry for her? It must be insulting to her to know he places such little value in her. Think about how she must feel when the other women boast about the high prices their husbands paid for them. It must be embarrassing for her. I would not let this happen to my Sarita."

"So, you paid eight cows just to make your wife happy?"

"Well, of course I wanted Sarita to be happy, but there's more to it than that. You say she is different from what you expected. This is true. Many things can change a woman. There are things that happen on the inside and things that happen on the outside. However, the thing that matters most is how she views herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. As a result, that's the value she projected. Now, she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands. It shows, doesn't it?"

"Then you wanted?..."

"I wanted to marry Sarita. She is the only woman I love and she is worthy of everything I have to offer her."

"But..." the American man was close to understanding.

"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The above is based partially on an article found in Reader's Digest (February, 1988). The original work was copyrighted by Patricia McGerr in 1965.
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Now, I would like to think that, save for those awful, aching months of puberty, I managed to dodge the homely bullet fairly unscathed. And ~ thanks be to God ~ I had grounded conviction of knew who I was in Christ long before I met my dear, sweet husband. But what Copper accomplished at our genesis and continues to do to this day is to honor me to the amazing extent that I have no choice but to endeavor to be the version of me that he believes in. That woman of God that He loves so much he would walk through fire for. His love convinces me of my worth and inspires me to aim higher ~ to seek to embody and fullfil the highest echelons of inner beauty, strength, and wisdom that HE sees in me.

In essence, Copper has followed God to my heart and led me to believe in the very best version of myself and to wholeheartedly and with gratitude offer that version to him as his wife.

It is an amazing gift. Worth 8 cows, four chickens, and perhaps even a horse. I love this man for the incredible person God has made him to be, and for his lovingly honorable reminders of the person God has made me to be. Our wedding was sheer celebration of the joy we have in helping one another enjoy the status we have in each other's hearts of being the "8-Cow-Spouse".

But even in the midst of such ecclesiastical revelry, this 8 Cow Wife has a sense of humor. On our wedding day, I presented Copper with his lovingly chosen wedding band. Upon the inside of which I had engraved to ready simply, "Put It Back On!"

Eight Cows. One Saucy Wedding Band. And love that will last a lifetime.

Funny Ha Ha

I'm sorry, but Best In Show is the doggone funniest movie I have ever seen.

I have been repeatedly watching it for the last 5 years since it's 2000 release, and I still can't stifle my laughter. And this from a decidely NON dog person.

The scariest part is that I have actually met ALL of these characitures at one point or another. Usually in Walmart on any given Sunday.