This will possibly border on crass. It will definitely be a strange post. Oh wait, I guess most of them are.
When shopping at Target today I discovered something.
A majority of our hard-earned money goes toward things that make waste more aesthetically pleasing. Don't get me wrong, chances are really good that I won't make any major changes in my spending habits, but, well, it's something to ponder at nearly 10 p.m. on a Monday evening.
I spent $30ish at Target. A pair a clearance Capri's cost under $7.00. A bag of cat litter $2.40, chips $4.00, and a large industrial sized package of toilet paper cost $13.00.
What's wrong with this picture? How about $15.00+ for waste management, that's what.
Like I said, there won't be a lot of big changes on the horizon, but life is just like that, eh?
The critters and I want to greet you with a hearty. "Happy Friday." But, the critters generally use non-verbal greetings such as a power jump with paws planted on your chest followed by everyone's favorite wherein eager snouts visit places where the sun doesn't shine and the wind doesn't blow, followed by a juicykiss upside your do. Those friendly little furballs would be Lily and Lola, the extroverts. (You can watch just a fraction of what they do when excited by clicking on the box. I will get better footage one day so you can see them in all their glory.) Now Feral -- the wild one, and Stealth Cat -- aka The Screamer, will either hiss and disappear, stalk your ankles or have a wicked ugly cat fight that will curl your do. Maybe I should be the only one who wishes you a hearty "Happy Friday." It should probably be a freestyle poem of the lameish period. Ode to Friday Friday, Friday. You of short hours and lightning speed minutes. Though the sky be drear and gray, The sun of hope and expectations Rises in the breast of all who work in cubicles. I've heard it said that Friday Just doesn't do it for weekend workers... But should I care? Melancholy, tortured artiste that I am? Shall I abuse Friday, Mayhap name a restaurant after it, A disco, or a song? Scoff. Fri, fri, fri, what does fri mean? Is that where fish on Fryday originated? Fri, fri, free...freeday? Yes, that must be the origin of this beautiful word. Wallace didn't yell freedom. No, he was calling for Freeday. It's on film. May the sun shine upon you on the morrow, but only after you've gotten your beauty slumber. May Saturday drag slowly, seeming endless, unless you have an awful list of chores. May Monday delay. Enjoy Friday.
So what does one wax eloquent about on a deliciously sunshiny and mild Thursday? Let me strain my brain.
I'll answer Xta's and Kim's comments. Xta = : ) Oh, I'm reading, Kim. Just not promoting anything. I'm reading in my car (while waiting, not driving, of course) before bed, between chores, while pup-sitting.
Actually, I couldn't swing a cat by the tail without hitting a book in progress. Note: PETA supporters, I would never swing a cat by the tail, especially mine. Three words. Teeth, claws, revenge. Which reminds me of one of my all time favorite jokes. The book title and author jokes like Yellow River by I.P. Freely.
My favorite is slightly off-color in the traditional wording. So I'm going to leave it to your imaginations.
Book Title: Cat's Revenge Author: Claude (pick your poison...think body part or heck, go for furniture). I did compose and enter the following poem at Chip MacGregor's annual bad poem contest. He probably won't pick it because I did go with the birthday theme and this puts me in the majority. But, I think it's really awful and I did mention two things he really liked last year. A moose and puppies in dangerous situations. I left out his favorite lines though. love, love, love love, love love, love, love.
Chip, it's your birthday, it's your birthday. So dawg, consider this yo b-day rappin poem.
Dude, sweet b-day wishes, as you eat you cake. Doncha worry bout no carbohydrate Doncha cry about puppies on da loose not about the contracts or Alaskan moose Just put you feet up and take a breath Life's just that until it's death.
See the other really great contenders hereBad Poem Contestand it's not to late if you want to try to beat me.
No reviews, no interviews. And since I started the whole Monday thing, I might as well see this through.
Tonight's theme -- prayer meeting highlights.
One of our youth has created a virtual pastor, our pastor, on some little hand-held gaming device. Even has the goatee. Pretty sweet.
A NEST of spiders has taken over a fake ficus tree and spun a bridge to a music stand. Fortunately, the decorating deaconess found this nest (after brushing her hair against it) (ha,ha...in sisterly love, of course) and two big, strong elders came to the rescue. One big, strong elder was no less than my handsome, spider-eradicating husband. He was even dressed for the part. He didn't have time to "change hats" before coming to church so he was decked in his sleeveless t-shirt. Upon his entrance into prayer meeting our 21-year-old wiseacre daughter said. "Dad, put those guns away."
(I have no idea where this child got her lip. )
If you couldn't tell, we're a fairly casual group on Wednesday evenings.
While the spider hunt was going on, I had a conversation involving Belgium Waffles.
Yes, we did get praying done, thank you very much.
Thursday is lurking and you know what comes after it. Hang in there...
Possible lame post warning. Keep reading at your own risk. Of course, it's likely you consider all my posts lame but keep coming back in hopes that you'll find something of value.
If you don't follow Dancing With the Stars, think Hollywood Squares and musical chairs melded with serious physical challenges and you may have a good idea what the show is about. Basically, celebrities of all types are paired with professional dancers and taught to dance. Those with the highest scores, half professional judges, half popularity with anyone who takes the time to dial or click, move on to the next week and start all over again with a new challenge.
Dancing With the Stars (DWS) is a guilty pleasure. I've watched a total of three reality television shows and this is one. I decided to give it a try since I actually had three free hours one week. Yeah right! (Watching on the Internet makes it less painful since commercials are very limited.) Now I'm hooked.
I've watched and loved Trading Spaces and What Not to Wear before DWS and thought I liked them for the practical advice and all the pretty colors. But then I realized that there is serious spiritual allegory and application in both of those shows. (Yeah, I'll share my thoughts some day.)
As I've watched the unfurling drama in DWS, I've discovered some fascinating truths there, too. Each week a Olympic gold medalist and NFL player of the year are pitted against...actors and all of a sudden viewers are able to see changes within the competitors. Big changes. People who started out thinking DWS might be great exercise, some nice visibility and/or fun realize they want to see the thing through.
Instead of snarkiness and backbiting, there seems to be a developing family that cheers for and actually wants to see others succeed. Each week brings another mix-up and another contender rises to the surface.
Everyone realizes that each week is new and challenging for all and all are at the mercy of judges, benevolent or not so benevolent.
What an interesting picture of Christianity as it should be. All of us with our own unique talents and experiences working toward the same goals, cheering on those who rock at the Samba while we may excel at the Viennese Waltz, knowing that our performance is only part of the process and that the process itself is the major point.
The process that shapes and changes me so that I can begin to see myself as I need to so that I can do what I was created to do.
Apologies extended to any brave souls who read beyond this sentence.
Mixed-Up-Ode to Monday
Monday, you are infamous. Second only to Friday in your 15 minutes of fame spotlight. How many melancholy songs mention you by name?
So really, should you be dismayed that
PEOPLE LOATHE YOU.
Let me tell you why you inspire my passion.
Every Monday morning robs me of sleep. It's true...even on busy Sunday I sleep an hour later. I can't help it if I get a little cranky while suffering sleep deprivation.
I like my job, really I do. But I like it so much more on Friday, and so, so much less on Monday.
And you make me feel guilty, too, Monday. How can I rejoice and be glad in this day that God has made when it's full of sleep deprivation, work and crankiness?
Good news. Tomorrow is Tuesday which is much closer to Friday.
