I’m a bit shy right now to talk about this because I feel very uneducated and uninitiated in the whole arena of church holidays. I also went through a big thing at Christmas about not knowing if celebrating Christmas was right, and I’ve not come to a conclusion on that. But I’ve always believed in celebrating Christ’s death and resurrection, though I’ve never really had a good grasp on how best to do that.
I’ve celebrated Lent once or twice in my life, but not exactly in the fashion it is meant to be celebrated in. You know, I’d give up chocolate or something, but I wouldn’t replace it with prayer, and I’d hardly remember I’d given up the thing at all and either eat it forgetfully or never miss it. And I don’t recall really doing it with the right motives either – it wasn’t for sobriety or remembering Jesus’ fast in the wilderness. It was just, I suppose, something to do.
I’ve celebrated Good Friday and Easter in many of the traditional ways, but I’ve never really gotten the concept of Ash Wednesday or Palm Sunday or Maundy Thursday, etc etc. I’ve never been in a church that took much note of these things. I’m unfamiliar.
But – and here’s where I get shy – I feel like my ‘spiritual walk’ (I’m not a big fan of Christian-isms, but what else do I call it?) could really benefit from it. I could benefit from forty days of sobriety to contemplate my fallen state and pray as Jesus prayed in the wilderness. I could benefit from removing something noticeable from my life to remind me that I am human and ‘just a vapour that appears for a little while and then vanishes away’, as James 4 says.
For this reason I am also drawn to Ash Wednesday. A day to recognise that I am dust, to repent (sackcloth and ashes, as practiced in the Old Testament), and also to praise Jesus for not just dying on the cross for me but raising himself and thus offering me life!
I want to observe these symbolic practices because I need help. I am so fallen and so far from God and the queen of All Things Hypocritical. I want to repent. I want to contemplate my humanity and be humbled – humiliated even! I think so often of how righteous I am, how good my theology is, how wise I am – I am a fool! I am filthy, my theology is nothing, and I don’t love. Yet I am forgiven. I am loved by God. I am counted righteous by Jesus blood. What a reason to celebrate!
So if you see me on Wednesday walking around with a cross of ashes on my head, I haven’t become Catholic (it isn’t just an RC thing, you know), but I do recognise my need for a Saviour. I’m not more holy or anything because of it, I’m really just a weak girl who needs things like this to be reminded of who He is and who I am not.
Also allow me to link to this, a Lent Blog to help us all reflect as Easter approaches.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Rangers 2 - 2 Villareal
We drew. Which is better than a loss, but only slightly. Without getting into the nitty gritty, a draw is better for the away team than the home team, so Villareal still has the advantage. Now we need to do some serious butt-whooping in Spain to get through to the last eight in the League.
So - I will refrain from the play by play, and instead offer a few observations I made over the course of the night.
We were really dead close up. Row I. I think Riquelme heard me boo. Boooo!
First Observation:
Like any true supporter of a great cause, we want to pass our love for Rangers onto our children. We want the kids to follow Rangers and like football and all that. But we absolutely do NOT want our kids to develop sectarian attitudes. I’d love to treat our kids one day to football games, but what about the negative environment that, let’s be honest, is a Rangers crowd? What about all the people screaming anti-Catholic remarks and singing anti-Ireland songs? How do you explain to your child that this is wrong when it seems so much an ‘innocent’ part of supporting your football team? This is a huge issue, one that I imagine many, many people struggle with when it comes to supporting Rangers or Celtic, Hearts or Hibs, or whichever other rival teams there may be. It’s such a huge issue that I don’t really even know how to talk about it. I just don’t want our kids to develop this attitude or go around heaping abuse on people for their religious affiliation. But I want them to support Rangers for Rangers’ sake, for the football, and not for their Protestant background.
Sectarianism aside, there’s also the issue of the unbelievably coarse language and gestures that go on in a game. Now, before you start thinking too highly of me, let me say we are not above shouting abuse ourselves. Nothing like a football match to bring out the potty mouth in you. And I don’t believe swearing is wrong (in the proper context. But that’s for an entirely different post altogether.). But how does one relay this balance to a child, what is appropriate and what is not appropriate? For instance, if someone were to yell to a player, 'What the f* was that?!', I would consider that vastly more acceptable than for instance shouting to the opposing team, 'You insert sectarian slur here bastards!' Sigh. Again, it’s too big of an issue for me to deal with adequately here, one I don’t understand and can’t relate to. Sectarianism is wrong. Downright wrong. I love Rangers, I hate sectarianism. I’m an adult though, not a child, and I don’t know how to teach a child these things.
Is that Dado Prso coming up for the header? It looks like him through the blur. Anyway, I like Dado, I’m very sorry he got booked and won’t be playing in the next leg. We need him.
Second Observation:
On a lighter note, I love the camaraderie at football games, particularly Rangers games, and I love the noisiness of Rangers crowds. When we scored our two points, each was met with jumping, shouting and hugging the perfect stranger next to you in sheer exaltation. (Kinda makes you wonder why church isn’t that way, like when someone commits their life to Christ?) I love the deep booming swell of a stadium full of people (mostly men) singing or chanting or clapping or stomping in unison. Ibrox is known for its noisy supporters, and it’s even more amazing when you watch an away game on TV and the tiny corner reserved for Rangers supporters is making more noise than the entire stadium full of fans for the home team. I love that.
Last Observation:
The only actual match comments I have to make are as follows:
a) The first penalty score by Villareal so sucked. Prso handled the ball for some moronic reason and that set the tone for the whole game. Even though Lovencrands is a bit of a rocket, cheers for the equaliser!
b) This new offside rule makes no sense to me. I was just getting around to understanding the old one and then they bring in this new one and Villareal scores with it. Grr.
c) I *heart* Chris Burke. I also kinda *heart* Thomas Buffel. I hope they achieve big things.
So - I will refrain from the play by play, and instead offer a few observations I made over the course of the night.
We were really dead close up. Row I. I think Riquelme heard me boo. Boooo!
First Observation:
Like any true supporter of a great cause, we want to pass our love for Rangers onto our children. We want the kids to follow Rangers and like football and all that. But we absolutely do NOT want our kids to develop sectarian attitudes. I’d love to treat our kids one day to football games, but what about the negative environment that, let’s be honest, is a Rangers crowd? What about all the people screaming anti-Catholic remarks and singing anti-Ireland songs? How do you explain to your child that this is wrong when it seems so much an ‘innocent’ part of supporting your football team? This is a huge issue, one that I imagine many, many people struggle with when it comes to supporting Rangers or Celtic, Hearts or Hibs, or whichever other rival teams there may be. It’s such a huge issue that I don’t really even know how to talk about it. I just don’t want our kids to develop this attitude or go around heaping abuse on people for their religious affiliation. But I want them to support Rangers for Rangers’ sake, for the football, and not for their Protestant background.
Sectarianism aside, there’s also the issue of the unbelievably coarse language and gestures that go on in a game. Now, before you start thinking too highly of me, let me say we are not above shouting abuse ourselves. Nothing like a football match to bring out the potty mouth in you. And I don’t believe swearing is wrong (in the proper context. But that’s for an entirely different post altogether.). But how does one relay this balance to a child, what is appropriate and what is not appropriate? For instance, if someone were to yell to a player, 'What the f* was that?!', I would consider that vastly more acceptable than for instance shouting to the opposing team, 'You insert sectarian slur here bastards!' Sigh. Again, it’s too big of an issue for me to deal with adequately here, one I don’t understand and can’t relate to. Sectarianism is wrong. Downright wrong. I love Rangers, I hate sectarianism. I’m an adult though, not a child, and I don’t know how to teach a child these things.
Is that Dado Prso coming up for the header? It looks like him through the blur. Anyway, I like Dado, I’m very sorry he got booked and won’t be playing in the next leg. We need him.
Second Observation:
On a lighter note, I love the camaraderie at football games, particularly Rangers games, and I love the noisiness of Rangers crowds. When we scored our two points, each was met with jumping, shouting and hugging the perfect stranger next to you in sheer exaltation. (Kinda makes you wonder why church isn’t that way, like when someone commits their life to Christ?) I love the deep booming swell of a stadium full of people (mostly men) singing or chanting or clapping or stomping in unison. Ibrox is known for its noisy supporters, and it’s even more amazing when you watch an away game on TV and the tiny corner reserved for Rangers supporters is making more noise than the entire stadium full of fans for the home team. I love that.
Last Observation:
The only actual match comments I have to make are as follows:
a) The first penalty score by Villareal so sucked. Prso handled the ball for some moronic reason and that set the tone for the whole game. Even though Lovencrands is a bit of a rocket, cheers for the equaliser!
b) This new offside rule makes no sense to me. I was just getting around to understanding the old one and then they bring in this new one and Villareal scores with it. Grr.
c) I *heart* Chris Burke. I also kinda *heart* Thomas Buffel. I hope they achieve big things.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
‘…and I’m cool like that’
Just thought I’d start this day with a revelation.
‘We be to rap what key be to lock…’
It’s a line from Digable Planets’ hit ‘Cool Like That’. I’ve been diggin’ the DPs since I was 15. I’m 23 (and three-quarters) now, so I’ve been diggin’ them for almost nine years. I know the album ‘Refutation of Time and Space’ like the back of my hand. It’s awesome, by the way. If you’re into, say, the likes of Jurassic Five or perhaps just want to chill to some funky, jazzy rap, totally look into them. ‘Blow Out Comb’ is excellent, too, by the by. ANYWAY, not the point. The point is, I’ve heard this line about five million times, and yet I never understood it. ‘We be to rap what key be to lock.’ I’ve tried vainly for years to work out the meaning of this line in my head. You must be thinking, ‘Uh, duh.’ But there is a reason why this line never made sense to me. I got that it was a comparison, I mean, I did do practice SATs in high school, and if this had been written ’we:rap :: key:lock’, as long as it had been written out, I would’ve had no problem. And it’s not even that I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I heard him perfectly. My problem was that I always thought he was saying, ‘We be to rap what Key be to Locke’. As in John Locke. And I knew who John Locke was, but I couldn’t think of anyone who would be related to Locke in any sort of way whose name was Key. So for years I’ve been hoping to come across an economist or philosopher or something along those lines by the name of Key, so I could finally get the full gist of this phrase. No, really. Then this morning…. I just got it.
Secondly on the blog agenda, is President Bush for real? I generally don’t get into politics, either in real life or on this blog, but I just read this… and I mean, huh? I am by no means a Bush supporter, but I do actually end up spending the tiny bit of time I do speak about politics trying to defend the man, because everyone here is just so aggressively anti-Bush. But you read things like this and really just wonder, does he have a brain cell? Is he really a malfunctioning robot or what?
Edit by Scott: I wouldn't say this is related to Bush, really. More just general US government nonsense. Not that I support Dubbya, but I don't think he personally had a hand in this one, seems a little small-fry for the most powerful man in the world to be dealing with.
In other news, (I don’t want to end the post with nothing better than an article about Bush’s mush-for-brains):
1. I tried to create an improved sequel of the fab hair from yesterday and ended up with Medusa-head. Hair Tip of the Day (and the only one you’ll ever get from me): If you discover a great way to fix your hair, NEVER try to improve upon it. Yesterday, I merely blow-dried my hair, held the roller to the top of the strand and wrapped the hair around it and finis! After seeing the great look it created, I sprayed with gel spray to get the curls to stay and that was that. This morning, in order to get the curls to stay better all day, I first moussed my wet hair, blow-dried, rolled and then sprayed with rollers in hair. EVERYONE PLEASE LISTEN. This is SUCH A BAD IDEA. My hair is in a ponytail today.
2. The Ladies’ Evening last night actually ended up being quite a good time. Mostly because I am the Pictionary Queen, and also because I have fantastic dramatic poetry reading skillz, but really because my friend Emily did such an amazing job of talking about the love relationship between us and God, as well as our worth as women. Bravo, Emily. If I can get her to give me her speech, I’ll post it somewhere for the interested.
3. It looks like I might get to hang out with Michaela next week sometime, as she’ll be in the area. Super hurray for new friends, ya’ll. Hurray for friends who wear the same shirt in the same colour from the same shop (bought on the same sale for the same price) and who also like things like coffee, cheese and pretentious places in Glasgow. Tchai Ovna?
4. Finally, Rangers game tomorrow….oh. my. goodness. I don’t know if I can stand the excitement!!!
And now, back to your regularly scheduled websurfing.
‘We be to rap what key be to lock…’
It’s a line from Digable Planets’ hit ‘Cool Like That’. I’ve been diggin’ the DPs since I was 15. I’m 23 (and three-quarters) now, so I’ve been diggin’ them for almost nine years. I know the album ‘Refutation of Time and Space’ like the back of my hand. It’s awesome, by the way. If you’re into, say, the likes of Jurassic Five or perhaps just want to chill to some funky, jazzy rap, totally look into them. ‘Blow Out Comb’ is excellent, too, by the by. ANYWAY, not the point. The point is, I’ve heard this line about five million times, and yet I never understood it. ‘We be to rap what key be to lock.’ I’ve tried vainly for years to work out the meaning of this line in my head. You must be thinking, ‘Uh, duh.’ But there is a reason why this line never made sense to me. I got that it was a comparison, I mean, I did do practice SATs in high school, and if this had been written ’we:rap :: key:lock’, as long as it had been written out, I would’ve had no problem. And it’s not even that I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I heard him perfectly. My problem was that I always thought he was saying, ‘We be to rap what Key be to Locke’. As in John Locke. And I knew who John Locke was, but I couldn’t think of anyone who would be related to Locke in any sort of way whose name was Key. So for years I’ve been hoping to come across an economist or philosopher or something along those lines by the name of Key, so I could finally get the full gist of this phrase. No, really. Then this morning…. I just got it.
Secondly on the blog agenda, is President Bush for real? I generally don’t get into politics, either in real life or on this blog, but I just read this… and I mean, huh? I am by no means a Bush supporter, but I do actually end up spending the tiny bit of time I do speak about politics trying to defend the man, because everyone here is just so aggressively anti-Bush. But you read things like this and really just wonder, does he have a brain cell? Is he really a malfunctioning robot or what?
Edit by Scott: I wouldn't say this is related to Bush, really. More just general US government nonsense. Not that I support Dubbya, but I don't think he personally had a hand in this one, seems a little small-fry for the most powerful man in the world to be dealing with.
In other news, (I don’t want to end the post with nothing better than an article about Bush’s mush-for-brains):
1. I tried to create an improved sequel of the fab hair from yesterday and ended up with Medusa-head. Hair Tip of the Day (and the only one you’ll ever get from me): If you discover a great way to fix your hair, NEVER try to improve upon it. Yesterday, I merely blow-dried my hair, held the roller to the top of the strand and wrapped the hair around it and finis! After seeing the great look it created, I sprayed with gel spray to get the curls to stay and that was that. This morning, in order to get the curls to stay better all day, I first moussed my wet hair, blow-dried, rolled and then sprayed with rollers in hair. EVERYONE PLEASE LISTEN. This is SUCH A BAD IDEA. My hair is in a ponytail today.
2. The Ladies’ Evening last night actually ended up being quite a good time. Mostly because I am the Pictionary Queen, and also because I have fantastic dramatic poetry reading skillz, but really because my friend Emily did such an amazing job of talking about the love relationship between us and God, as well as our worth as women. Bravo, Emily. If I can get her to give me her speech, I’ll post it somewhere for the interested.
3. It looks like I might get to hang out with Michaela next week sometime, as she’ll be in the area. Super hurray for new friends, ya’ll. Hurray for friends who wear the same shirt in the same colour from the same shop (bought on the same sale for the same price) and who also like things like coffee, cheese and pretentious places in Glasgow. Tchai Ovna?
4. Finally, Rangers game tomorrow….oh. my. goodness. I don’t know if I can stand the excitement!!!
And now, back to your regularly scheduled websurfing.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Fab Hair
This is a picture of my fabulous hair (slightly midday droopy). I don’t know what inspired me this morning to attempt a look I’ve never known how to achieve before, but something did, and I feel like I’m finally making use of those expensive layers I had cut into my hair six months ago.
I am posting this picture of my hair only so I can post while at work through Flickr, and because I had no other pictures that were worth posting, I had to take one of something, thus my hair, and in the bathroom so no one would see me being a narcissistic freak in the glass reception area of a very expensive independent high school.
(And yes, that is the same green turtleneck that seems to appear in every picture I post of myself. I love that turtleneck. I wear it at least once a week. I hope I’m not the only one who thinks it looks great on me.)
So, loophole blogging effort complete, let’s talk about my weekend!
In fact, let’s take this baby all the way back to Valentine’s Day and work our way forward, shall we?
As my darling Scott has already told you, we had a fantastic Valentine’s Day. I know a lot of people have serious issues with this holiday, but I stand right next to Kirsten Cohen from The O.C. in saying it is one of my favourite holidays of the year. Ever. And this isn’t because I was one of those hot, perky cheerleader-type girls who always had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day to fill me with many blissful memories for years to come of the days when I was hot, perky and a cheerleader. No. I rarely had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, and I can honestly say that until Scott came along, each one disappointingly did not live up to my expectations of what a romantic Valentine’s Day should be. Still, I loved it.
*Let’s just stop for a moment to give a shout-out to Matt Yeager who one year in high school brought a whole bucketful of roses to school just to hand out to any girl who did not have a rose. It’s men like that who should be made President.*
Anyway, so I love the Valentine’s. And ours was good. I love gin, I love Scott and I love Valentine’s Day, so what could be better? Plus, I love The Lighthouse in all its architectural glory which is where the great event ('Cocktails By Design') is being held. So that was that, two gin and cranberries (with a slice of lime, which is very important), a cosmopolitan, a dry martini twist, a Tom Collins with elderflower and a Sapphire Rose later, and I slept soundly dreaming of all the ten botanicals that make Bombay Sapphire better than your traditional gin (which only uses four botanicals. Pssh.).
Wednesday came and went with no excitement that I can recall.
Thursday – this is something to mention. Since back in, something like September, I’ve been anxiously awaiting the UK release of RENT on the 17th of February. I had my new RENT shirt all clean and ready for the big night – JUST TO FIND OUT THEY’VE POSTPONED THE RELEASE TO APRIL. What a load of turd-rockets.
Friday, we all got off work an hour early, and since we were on the shorter holiday schedule as it was, I left at 3.00. Brilliant. We were all going out that night, though, for the photocopier’s last day, so I rode the train to Greenock, wandered about the shops for an hour and then rode back to Glasgow. I actually enjoyed this, despite all the train. I had half a pizza at an Italian restaurant for dinner and then got to utilise my new cocktail expertise at Frankensteins, a most horrendous booty club that plays Frankenstein on the many TV screens overdubbed with bootylicious R&B pop songs mixed with dancealiscious house beats. Their idea of a cocktail list was two cocktails, neither one anything classy, so I stuck with traditional gin and cranberry for the evening (incensed by their constant forgettage of the lime). It was a good time. Jamie danced. Ooh… I wonder if I can post a picture from my phone…
Saturday was da best. Scott and I journeyed down to Edinburgh for Sarah’s surprise baby shower. It was such a good time. She’s due in two weeks so prayers for her and Jonathan and the littlest Viper Quimby would be a great thing! Aside from getting to snack on fondue, cucumber sandwiches, cookies and brioche, all in the name of baby shower, I got to finally meet the beautiful Michaela who is now back in the 'Burgh. Hurray for internet friends. I like Michaela very much, and I especially like the fact that she spends a significant amount of time in Glasgow, meaning I’ll actually see her more than just once in a blue moon like the other 'Burghers. Anyway, well done to Ashley, Neyir and Judith for a really beautiful baby shower. Now let’s bring on the baby!
Finally, ya’ll. The round-up. Sunday was normal and uneventful, aside from the preteen Bible study I’ve been landed with (which went surprisingly okay – no knives to my throat, and while the kids didn’t answer any of my questions, at least they didn’t act up through the lesson) and our date to see Final Destination 3 which is as perfect(ly ridiculous) as we hoped it would be. Today ought to be fairly normal, aside from the Ladies’ Evening which I got roped into attending and, ahem, singing at and, ahem, reading a poem written by not me at. (Ugh, I just ended a sentence with a preposition! And I’m not going to fix it either.) And Tuesday ought to be normal, and then….
WEDNESDAY!!! RANGERS!!! IBROX!!!!!!! GOVAN FRONT SEATS WHERE THE PLAYERS MAY ACTUALLY HEAR ME SHOUT ABUSE AT THEM!!!!! NOT THAT I KNOW HOW TO SHOUT ABUSE, I JUST LOVE THE IDEA OF IT!!!!!! I LOVE FOOTBALL!!!!!!! I LOVE RANGERS!!!!!!
Play by play to be expected. (Not really.) (I hope not.) (But maybe.) (Good chance of it.)
I think I wrote this whole post just to get to Wednesday.
I am posting this picture of my hair only so I can post while at work through Flickr, and because I had no other pictures that were worth posting, I had to take one of something, thus my hair, and in the bathroom so no one would see me being a narcissistic freak in the glass reception area of a very expensive independent high school.
(And yes, that is the same green turtleneck that seems to appear in every picture I post of myself. I love that turtleneck. I wear it at least once a week. I hope I’m not the only one who thinks it looks great on me.)
So, loophole blogging effort complete, let’s talk about my weekend!
In fact, let’s take this baby all the way back to Valentine’s Day and work our way forward, shall we?
As my darling Scott has already told you, we had a fantastic Valentine’s Day. I know a lot of people have serious issues with this holiday, but I stand right next to Kirsten Cohen from The O.C. in saying it is one of my favourite holidays of the year. Ever. And this isn’t because I was one of those hot, perky cheerleader-type girls who always had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day to fill me with many blissful memories for years to come of the days when I was hot, perky and a cheerleader. No. I rarely had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, and I can honestly say that until Scott came along, each one disappointingly did not live up to my expectations of what a romantic Valentine’s Day should be. Still, I loved it.
*Let’s just stop for a moment to give a shout-out to Matt Yeager who one year in high school brought a whole bucketful of roses to school just to hand out to any girl who did not have a rose. It’s men like that who should be made President.*
Anyway, so I love the Valentine’s. And ours was good. I love gin, I love Scott and I love Valentine’s Day, so what could be better? Plus, I love The Lighthouse in all its architectural glory which is where the great event ('Cocktails By Design') is being held. So that was that, two gin and cranberries (with a slice of lime, which is very important), a cosmopolitan, a dry martini twist, a Tom Collins with elderflower and a Sapphire Rose later, and I slept soundly dreaming of all the ten botanicals that make Bombay Sapphire better than your traditional gin (which only uses four botanicals. Pssh.).
Wednesday came and went with no excitement that I can recall.
Thursday – this is something to mention. Since back in, something like September, I’ve been anxiously awaiting the UK release of RENT on the 17th of February. I had my new RENT shirt all clean and ready for the big night – JUST TO FIND OUT THEY’VE POSTPONED THE RELEASE TO APRIL. What a load of turd-rockets.
Friday, we all got off work an hour early, and since we were on the shorter holiday schedule as it was, I left at 3.00. Brilliant. We were all going out that night, though, for the photocopier’s last day, so I rode the train to Greenock, wandered about the shops for an hour and then rode back to Glasgow. I actually enjoyed this, despite all the train. I had half a pizza at an Italian restaurant for dinner and then got to utilise my new cocktail expertise at Frankensteins, a most horrendous booty club that plays Frankenstein on the many TV screens overdubbed with bootylicious R&B pop songs mixed with dancealiscious house beats. Their idea of a cocktail list was two cocktails, neither one anything classy, so I stuck with traditional gin and cranberry for the evening (incensed by their constant forgettage of the lime). It was a good time. Jamie danced. Ooh… I wonder if I can post a picture from my phone…
Saturday was da best. Scott and I journeyed down to Edinburgh for Sarah’s surprise baby shower. It was such a good time. She’s due in two weeks so prayers for her and Jonathan and the littlest Viper Quimby would be a great thing! Aside from getting to snack on fondue, cucumber sandwiches, cookies and brioche, all in the name of baby shower, I got to finally meet the beautiful Michaela who is now back in the 'Burgh. Hurray for internet friends. I like Michaela very much, and I especially like the fact that she spends a significant amount of time in Glasgow, meaning I’ll actually see her more than just once in a blue moon like the other 'Burghers. Anyway, well done to Ashley, Neyir and Judith for a really beautiful baby shower. Now let’s bring on the baby!
Finally, ya’ll. The round-up. Sunday was normal and uneventful, aside from the preteen Bible study I’ve been landed with (which went surprisingly okay – no knives to my throat, and while the kids didn’t answer any of my questions, at least they didn’t act up through the lesson) and our date to see Final Destination 3 which is as perfect(ly ridiculous) as we hoped it would be. Today ought to be fairly normal, aside from the Ladies’ Evening which I got roped into attending and, ahem, singing at and, ahem, reading a poem written by not me at. (Ugh, I just ended a sentence with a preposition! And I’m not going to fix it either.) And Tuesday ought to be normal, and then….
WEDNESDAY!!! RANGERS!!! IBROX!!!!!!! GOVAN FRONT SEATS WHERE THE PLAYERS MAY ACTUALLY HEAR ME SHOUT ABUSE AT THEM!!!!! NOT THAT I KNOW HOW TO SHOUT ABUSE, I JUST LOVE THE IDEA OF IT!!!!!! I LOVE FOOTBALL!!!!!!! I LOVE RANGERS!!!!!!
Play by play to be expected. (Not really.) (I hope not.) (But maybe.) (Good chance of it.)
I think I wrote this whole post just to get to Wednesday.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Mixology
Under command of the fairer partner in this marriage, I blog.
I blog about Tuesday night.
Guys, that was Valentine's day. Hope you didn't forget.
Well, I rushed home from work, got changed and rushed out again. We were heading up to Glasgow for the evening, Lori had a surprise for me. She'd been planning this for months/weeks, which suited me, since it relieved any pressure I had to organise a romantic dinner or *shock* cook again.
I was planning to wait until we had actually got to the place before finding out what it was, but the intrigue was too much, so I made Lori tell me on the train. We were going to a Mixology lesson.
The more musically minded of us may have thought I was learning to be a DJ, but nay! We were in training to become the bartenders of the future, courtesy of Bombay Sapphire gin.
It was a perfectly splendid little event, they showed us around their exhibit of out their glasswork, which was all very nice, then took us back and gave us some gin'n'juice.
Then commenced the real fun. After the obligatory sales pitch/history lesson from the chap taking the class, he started to show us how to mix cocktails the gin way. We learned gin martinis, cosmopolitans, Tom Collins' and something called a Sapphire Rose. Lori actually got to make one out in front of everyone, I think she did a cosmopolitan.
Predictably, it had too much gin in it. Not a surprise for me, I can tell you.
At the end, we were given a goodie bag each, so we now have 2 limes, 4 cartons of cranberry juice, 4 cool glasses, some recipe cards/coasters and a list of all the good cocktail bars in Britain.
We might go back, purely to get more of those glasses. They are that cool.
Then we shared a fish supper on the train home, after meeting Pete in the train station. Then back to his for a cup of tea, then I took Lori to bed. The cocktails had taken their toll, after all.
Sorry for the fragmented writing style, I've been up since 6 o'clock, been to uni all day, work all evening and then on to my parents house for an hour or so before getting home. I am rather tired, and I'm up at 6 again tomorrow, working at 7.
/cry.
I blog about Tuesday night.
Guys, that was Valentine's day. Hope you didn't forget.
Well, I rushed home from work, got changed and rushed out again. We were heading up to Glasgow for the evening, Lori had a surprise for me. She'd been planning this for months/weeks, which suited me, since it relieved any pressure I had to organise a romantic dinner or *shock* cook again.
I was planning to wait until we had actually got to the place before finding out what it was, but the intrigue was too much, so I made Lori tell me on the train. We were going to a Mixology lesson.
The more musically minded of us may have thought I was learning to be a DJ, but nay! We were in training to become the bartenders of the future, courtesy of Bombay Sapphire gin.
It was a perfectly splendid little event, they showed us around their exhibit of out their glasswork, which was all very nice, then took us back and gave us some gin'n'juice.
Then commenced the real fun. After the obligatory sales pitch/history lesson from the chap taking the class, he started to show us how to mix cocktails the gin way. We learned gin martinis, cosmopolitans, Tom Collins' and something called a Sapphire Rose. Lori actually got to make one out in front of everyone, I think she did a cosmopolitan.
Predictably, it had too much gin in it. Not a surprise for me, I can tell you.
At the end, we were given a goodie bag each, so we now have 2 limes, 4 cartons of cranberry juice, 4 cool glasses, some recipe cards/coasters and a list of all the good cocktail bars in Britain.
We might go back, purely to get more of those glasses. They are that cool.
Then we shared a fish supper on the train home, after meeting Pete in the train station. Then back to his for a cup of tea, then I took Lori to bed. The cocktails had taken their toll, after all.
Sorry for the fragmented writing style, I've been up since 6 o'clock, been to uni all day, work all evening and then on to my parents house for an hour or so before getting home. I am rather tired, and I'm up at 6 again tomorrow, working at 7.
/cry.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Roundabout
I forgot to mention - I passed my theory test. Now the only thing between me and driving freedom is the practical which I will book on Friday (seeing as it's 45 freaking pounds to book). I can't wait to drive again.
Monday, February 13, 2006
neglect
Hi guys.
I've realised as of late that our blog is steadily getting boringer and boringer. And we've been neglectful of the blog, and Scott doesn't even blog at all any more...
I'd like to say we've been busy, but that would be a lie.
I've been going through a lot lately, internally. I'm a very open person who needs girlfriends to talk to and share her feelings and experiences with, and since I've been very much without that for a long time, I've not surprisingly become a very closed person. Poor Scott. The woman he married is not the same woman he's married to now. But he loves me. He gives me so much support. He takes care of me and understand me and comforts me.
I've been this alternate Lori for a very long time now, or at least what feels like a very long time now. But a few weeks ago, I did some serious decision-making about my attitude and self-seclusion; I simply cannot go on like this. I can't trudge through life waiting for the next phase, dragging my frown around like a stuffed dog on a leash, and wasting the experiences God intends for me to have.
Anyway, I decided I was going to 'better myself'. I developed a renewed interest and motivation in my poetry and have been working diligently to get some poems ready for submission to a competition. I have kept up with my running. I am considering joining the Bronte Society and a writers' circle when I move to Glasgow.
But yesterday at church I was awakened with another realisation. I'm still living for myself. Whether in a depression or in self-improvement, I'm still looking out for No. 1. The message on Sunday was about idolatry. Three different kinds of idolatry were mentioned, though they were not all-inclusive, and I realised how much I fell into the last category: self.
No matter how happy I try to make myself, no matter how much I try to snap out of this stupid depression I've been in, nothing is going to change if that is my focus. It's like walking through a forrest and staring at your feet the whole time. You'll end up just rambling about and never get anywhere. You've got to take your eyes off yourself and look forward - then you'll possibly get somewhere.
I don't think my decision to enjoy myself is a bad one. It just has the wrong slant. Joining the Bronte Society and writing poetry are good things. Running is a good thing. But I ought to be looking higher. I ought to be seeking Jesus. It's for him I live, is it not? At least, it's because of him I live, though I can't say with honesty that I am living for him.
I want things to change in my heart. I want to accept life as it is right now and do whatever it is that I am meant to be doing right now. I want to live for Jesus. I want to take my eyes off me and put them on Jesus and on others. I want to be a better wife to Scott. I want to be a better person overall. I want to be someone that makes a difference in others' lives.
But I'm so selfish.
I've realised as of late that our blog is steadily getting boringer and boringer. And we've been neglectful of the blog, and Scott doesn't even blog at all any more...
I'd like to say we've been busy, but that would be a lie.
I've been going through a lot lately, internally. I'm a very open person who needs girlfriends to talk to and share her feelings and experiences with, and since I've been very much without that for a long time, I've not surprisingly become a very closed person. Poor Scott. The woman he married is not the same woman he's married to now. But he loves me. He gives me so much support. He takes care of me and understand me and comforts me.
I've been this alternate Lori for a very long time now, or at least what feels like a very long time now. But a few weeks ago, I did some serious decision-making about my attitude and self-seclusion; I simply cannot go on like this. I can't trudge through life waiting for the next phase, dragging my frown around like a stuffed dog on a leash, and wasting the experiences God intends for me to have.
Anyway, I decided I was going to 'better myself'. I developed a renewed interest and motivation in my poetry and have been working diligently to get some poems ready for submission to a competition. I have kept up with my running. I am considering joining the Bronte Society and a writers' circle when I move to Glasgow.
But yesterday at church I was awakened with another realisation. I'm still living for myself. Whether in a depression or in self-improvement, I'm still looking out for No. 1. The message on Sunday was about idolatry. Three different kinds of idolatry were mentioned, though they were not all-inclusive, and I realised how much I fell into the last category: self.
No matter how happy I try to make myself, no matter how much I try to snap out of this stupid depression I've been in, nothing is going to change if that is my focus. It's like walking through a forrest and staring at your feet the whole time. You'll end up just rambling about and never get anywhere. You've got to take your eyes off yourself and look forward - then you'll possibly get somewhere.
I don't think my decision to enjoy myself is a bad one. It just has the wrong slant. Joining the Bronte Society and writing poetry are good things. Running is a good thing. But I ought to be looking higher. I ought to be seeking Jesus. It's for him I live, is it not? At least, it's because of him I live, though I can't say with honesty that I am living for him.
I want things to change in my heart. I want to accept life as it is right now and do whatever it is that I am meant to be doing right now. I want to live for Jesus. I want to take my eyes off me and put them on Jesus and on others. I want to be a better wife to Scott. I want to be a better person overall. I want to be someone that makes a difference in others' lives.
But I'm so selfish.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Patriotic Parcel
Teehee! I think I discovered a way to blog from work!!! (Pictures anyway.) It will make a series of posts, I think, for which I apologise, and will likely change when I get home, but for now, hurrah!
EDIT: Psuedo-editing, i.e., merging to one post, accomplished at 17.57, i.e., as soon as bloody possible because it was annoying the crap out of me.
I received a note through the door requesting a pick up for a parcel at the post office Tuesday. Eager to find out what it was, Scott and I retrieved <-- this parcel on Wednesday. Our eyes were dazzled by the stars and stripes, and a patriotic hand rested abreast my heart. (Ok, the second part didn't happen.)
I asked Scott to take a picture of me in my new shirt (my Christmas present from my sis-in-law-to-be). This is what he took.
So I had to take the picture myself. But I'm making the ugliest face ever, and my hair looks like it hadn't been washed in two days (it hadn't), so I spared you the trauma.
Thanks, sis-in-law-to-be! I love it, and it's a perfect fit. Thanks for the CD, too!
Now, for Cat Pictures!(Yes, I've become that person.)
Demure and non-chalant, that's my Clementine.
Rem isn't very photogenic like Clem is. Rem is a fighter, not a lover, of the camera.
'I like being held by my armpits.' Translation: 'I'm a bit of a slow cat.'
'I listen to obscure bands and put arty photos of myself on myspace. I so don't care, by the way.'
'Gah, I really hate that camera.'
'WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!'
**** And finally, The Highlight of My Day
Note reads:
'to Lori
from Christopher
as freinds'
A pupil brought both me and the other receptionist a Valentine rose today. He's our favourite kid, he's so sweet and charming, and he literally made my day!
EDIT: Psuedo-editing, i.e., merging to one post, accomplished at 17.57, i.e., as soon as bloody possible because it was annoying the crap out of me.
I received a note through the door requesting a pick up for a parcel at the post office Tuesday. Eager to find out what it was, Scott and I retrieved <-- this parcel on Wednesday. Our eyes were dazzled by the stars and stripes, and a patriotic hand rested abreast my heart. (Ok, the second part didn't happen.)
I asked Scott to take a picture of me in my new shirt (my Christmas present from my sis-in-law-to-be). This is what he took.
So I had to take the picture myself. But I'm making the ugliest face ever, and my hair looks like it hadn't been washed in two days (it hadn't), so I spared you the trauma.
Thanks, sis-in-law-to-be! I love it, and it's a perfect fit. Thanks for the CD, too!
Now, for Cat Pictures!(Yes, I've become that person.)
Demure and non-chalant, that's my Clementine.
Rem isn't very photogenic like Clem is. Rem is a fighter, not a lover, of the camera.
'I like being held by my armpits.' Translation: 'I'm a bit of a slow cat.'
'I listen to obscure bands and put arty photos of myself on myspace. I so don't care, by the way.'
'Gah, I really hate that camera.'
'WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!'
**** And finally, The Highlight of My Day
Note reads:
'to Lori
from Christopher
as freinds'
A pupil brought both me and the other receptionist a Valentine rose today. He's our favourite kid, he's so sweet and charming, and he literally made my day!
Saturday, February 04, 2006
If I Were a Superhero...
my superpower would be destroying things. Naturally this means I'd be a villain, unless by some miracle I got to be the endearing Screech-like character who always mucks things up, but is so lovable you forgive him/me, because it all worked out in the end.
Scott has dubbed me The Great Destroyer, and never has an alter-ego been more appropriate. Whether it's throwing a red rug into the wash just to find out at the end of the cycle that it isn't machine-washable and having to clean out the machine of all the red fibers and the tangled net of matting which have all molded into a big, grimy, slimy mess or dropping a glass bottle of fine olive oil on the kitchen floor while barefoot or tripping over a cord in a friend's house and snapping it in two, thus rendering them phoneless and internetless, it's always something. And it's something every day. Scott has a bet that I can't go a single day without destroying something, and so far he's winning this bet. I try, I really try, to be careful, to not drop the straightening iron on my toe or wack Scott in the face with my foot or knock over the floor lamp or not drop my mobile on the concrete, but it's of no use. I'm seriously the clumsiest person on Planet Earth. And such a power is really hard to come by.
I lurk around this blog, Daring Young Mom, and she says she has the super-power of always being able to find the closest parking space in a shopping centre. It seems she really does. Well, my super-power would probably end up blowing up her parking space, with her car in it, and probably on the day she decided to take all her most prized jewels into the bank for safe keeping. Sigh.
So, in the spirit of villains and superheros, I give you this:
What Type of Villain are You?
mutedfaith.com.
Scott has dubbed me The Great Destroyer, and never has an alter-ego been more appropriate. Whether it's throwing a red rug into the wash just to find out at the end of the cycle that it isn't machine-washable and having to clean out the machine of all the red fibers and the tangled net of matting which have all molded into a big, grimy, slimy mess or dropping a glass bottle of fine olive oil on the kitchen floor while barefoot or tripping over a cord in a friend's house and snapping it in two, thus rendering them phoneless and internetless, it's always something. And it's something every day. Scott has a bet that I can't go a single day without destroying something, and so far he's winning this bet. I try, I really try, to be careful, to not drop the straightening iron on my toe or wack Scott in the face with my foot or knock over the floor lamp or not drop my mobile on the concrete, but it's of no use. I'm seriously the clumsiest person on Planet Earth. And such a power is really hard to come by.
I lurk around this blog, Daring Young Mom, and she says she has the super-power of always being able to find the closest parking space in a shopping centre. It seems she really does. Well, my super-power would probably end up blowing up her parking space, with her car in it, and probably on the day she decided to take all her most prized jewels into the bank for safe keeping. Sigh.
So, in the spirit of villains and superheros, I give you this:
What Type of Villain are You?
mutedfaith.com.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
God's Good Gifts (for today!)
(Presbyterians, have no fear, this has nothing to do with faith healing or speaking in tongues.)
I just wanted to tell everyone about how kind God is.
I know most people don't believe in God, and many of those who do, don't believe God bothers with stuff like this. Many people would call what I am about to describe as coincedence, luck or fate. But I believe in God and I believe that he does care about stuff like this so behold:
We don't have millions of cash to throw around. We're not poor, we're not desperate, we're not searching for a roomy cardboard box to move into, but we ain't loaded. So extra things like, oh for instance, tickets to see Rangers take on Villareal in Scotland's first trip to the last 16 of the Champions League, aren't really on our budget's list of priorities. However, things like, oh those tickets, are quite big on MY list of priorities. I knew we didn't have an extra £80 floating around just waiting to be spent so we didn't either bother to try and book tickets when they went on public sale. I had resigned myself to not going. I'd watch it on the big screen at the pub while eating a steak pie and beans. However, the Awesome Season-Ticket Holder, who also goes by the name of Jamie, had put in for two tickets for us just in case. Meanwhile, Scott and I, while examining our 'Budget Forecast' which I so expertly put together while not working at work, noticed that we had several bills we didn't have to pay this month, like council tax. No, it wasn't related to the Special Angel we have that lurks about and pays our phone bills and drops cash in our letterbox*, it was just, well, in my opinion, God's timing. So then, today, Jamie phoned to say the tickets had actually come in and if we still wanted them, they were still ours. So first, this is where I think God gave us/me a good gift we did not deserve or need. You may think this is stretching it, but not me. I am certain that God cares about even the small details like going to a football game that means a lot to us in this insignificant little world we dwell in. We could afford these tickets if we wanted. Now enter the Unbelievable Amazing and Stupendous and Loving Husband, who also goes by the name of Scott. I left the decision up to him, because a)he is just simply better with money than me and my emotions played far too big a role in this situation to make a wise decision and b)he is the head of this household**. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Unbelievably Amazing and Stupendous and Loving Husband, after careful consideration, agreed to let us purchase the tickets. Ladies and Gentlemen, my second item on my Super-Selfish Wishlist has been granted to me, by no cause of my own and by my in no way deserving or earning it. Despite my posting my selfish and ungrateful wishlist, God gave me something that was really important to me.
(Ok, now almost all of you are desperate to mock and smirk and make snarky*** comments, which you are most certainly free to do.)
But next (no, that was not all), I can hardly call this coincedence or luck. One thing we are out of is dishwasher tablets. Sure we can go get some, but we haven't had the time and until our recent discovery of certain bills not needing paid, we didn't really actually want to waste our money on such a thing when dishes CAN (I've been told) be washed by hand. But today, when I checked the mail, we had received a small parcel. Lo and behold, it was a free sample from Tesco. And lo and behold, it was a free sample of dishwasher tablets. Again, smirk and mock, but come on, I think God's just reminding us He's there and regardless of all the unreasonable stupid expenses coming up****, we won't have to sell any kidneys or play three chords on a guitar in the streets with a paper cup that says, "Tips pls".
Ok, that's all. I didn't type this up to convince anyone that God is real, I just had to share my good experiences, and well, give the glory to God since that's where I believe the excitement and glory should go.
*Recently we had what we decided could only be a Special Angel following us around. We had a phone bill mysteriously paid for - that we ABSOLUTELY did not pay ourselves - and had £60 dropped in our letterbox with an anonymous note. We have been very thankful for this Special Angel or Special Human who has either made an error or thought of us with love and generosity.
**Many people are offended by the idea that the man is the head of the household. You are free to disagree but please do not attack us for believing this very strongly for our own home. Neither of us believe in Scott bullying or bossing me around or lording it over me, but we do believe that Scott has the last say in situations that have been discussed, such as the purchase of extremely pricey football tickets. A woman may find this very irritating, but imagine for a moment that your husband just spent £80 of your shared money on football tickets without you having any say or when you were concerned about finances or when you really didn't want him to. Yes.
***'Snarky' is a new word I've discovered, and I love it and have been desperate to use it. It's so good.
****Come this fall we'll have a whole new set of stupid visa expenses to pay as we go through the visa process all over again to petition for my 'indefinite leave to remain'. This also means that we need to have an awesome-looking bank account starting around April to convince the British government that we are financially kick-ass enough to allow me to live in Britain fo-evah. That's all I'm saying.
I just wanted to tell everyone about how kind God is.
I know most people don't believe in God, and many of those who do, don't believe God bothers with stuff like this. Many people would call what I am about to describe as coincedence, luck or fate. But I believe in God and I believe that he does care about stuff like this so behold:
We don't have millions of cash to throw around. We're not poor, we're not desperate, we're not searching for a roomy cardboard box to move into, but we ain't loaded. So extra things like, oh for instance, tickets to see Rangers take on Villareal in Scotland's first trip to the last 16 of the Champions League, aren't really on our budget's list of priorities. However, things like, oh those tickets, are quite big on MY list of priorities. I knew we didn't have an extra £80 floating around just waiting to be spent so we didn't either bother to try and book tickets when they went on public sale. I had resigned myself to not going. I'd watch it on the big screen at the pub while eating a steak pie and beans. However, the Awesome Season-Ticket Holder, who also goes by the name of Jamie, had put in for two tickets for us just in case. Meanwhile, Scott and I, while examining our 'Budget Forecast' which I so expertly put together while not working at work, noticed that we had several bills we didn't have to pay this month, like council tax. No, it wasn't related to the Special Angel we have that lurks about and pays our phone bills and drops cash in our letterbox*, it was just, well, in my opinion, God's timing. So then, today, Jamie phoned to say the tickets had actually come in and if we still wanted them, they were still ours. So first, this is where I think God gave us/me a good gift we did not deserve or need. You may think this is stretching it, but not me. I am certain that God cares about even the small details like going to a football game that means a lot to us in this insignificant little world we dwell in. We could afford these tickets if we wanted. Now enter the Unbelievable Amazing and Stupendous and Loving Husband, who also goes by the name of Scott. I left the decision up to him, because a)he is just simply better with money than me and my emotions played far too big a role in this situation to make a wise decision and b)he is the head of this household**. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Unbelievably Amazing and Stupendous and Loving Husband, after careful consideration, agreed to let us purchase the tickets. Ladies and Gentlemen, my second item on my Super-Selfish Wishlist has been granted to me, by no cause of my own and by my in no way deserving or earning it. Despite my posting my selfish and ungrateful wishlist, God gave me something that was really important to me.
(Ok, now almost all of you are desperate to mock and smirk and make snarky*** comments, which you are most certainly free to do.)
But next (no, that was not all), I can hardly call this coincedence or luck. One thing we are out of is dishwasher tablets. Sure we can go get some, but we haven't had the time and until our recent discovery of certain bills not needing paid, we didn't really actually want to waste our money on such a thing when dishes CAN (I've been told) be washed by hand. But today, when I checked the mail, we had received a small parcel. Lo and behold, it was a free sample from Tesco. And lo and behold, it was a free sample of dishwasher tablets. Again, smirk and mock, but come on, I think God's just reminding us He's there and regardless of all the unreasonable stupid expenses coming up****, we won't have to sell any kidneys or play three chords on a guitar in the streets with a paper cup that says, "Tips pls".
Ok, that's all. I didn't type this up to convince anyone that God is real, I just had to share my good experiences, and well, give the glory to God since that's where I believe the excitement and glory should go.
*Recently we had what we decided could only be a Special Angel following us around. We had a phone bill mysteriously paid for - that we ABSOLUTELY did not pay ourselves - and had £60 dropped in our letterbox with an anonymous note. We have been very thankful for this Special Angel or Special Human who has either made an error or thought of us with love and generosity.
**Many people are offended by the idea that the man is the head of the household. You are free to disagree but please do not attack us for believing this very strongly for our own home. Neither of us believe in Scott bullying or bossing me around or lording it over me, but we do believe that Scott has the last say in situations that have been discussed, such as the purchase of extremely pricey football tickets. A woman may find this very irritating, but imagine for a moment that your husband just spent £80 of your shared money on football tickets without you having any say or when you were concerned about finances or when you really didn't want him to. Yes.
***'Snarky' is a new word I've discovered, and I love it and have been desperate to use it. It's so good.
****Come this fall we'll have a whole new set of stupid visa expenses to pay as we go through the visa process all over again to petition for my 'indefinite leave to remain'. This also means that we need to have an awesome-looking bank account starting around April to convince the British government that we are financially kick-ass enough to allow me to live in Britain fo-evah. That's all I'm saying.
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