But note that it's a German Shepherd!This morning I thought about the kids at Pathway (nothing unusual) and realized one of the things I like about them is that they’re almost always so happy and full of energy. Yeah, every once in awhile one of them is upset or pouty, but for the most part they are flying bundles of cheer with big smiles across their faces. How do you not love that? Granted, they go home with mom and dad, not me. I understand they have a darker side (we raised two of the species). But I love that they love being at Pathway, that it’s a highlight of their week.
When I get tired, or sick or both my stomach comes to the top. And if you’re 75% Scandinavian that means it can easily come out your eyes. All it takes is thinking about dear friends who are struggling. The good news is that I walk Jack before the sun is up so nobody sees it, or my lips moving as I pray for them.
Why do people who consider themselves artists not want to smile when having their picture taken? Is it because they want us to take them seriously and they think smiling makes that less likely? The artificially serious pose seems especially incongruent for the Christian artist. Shouldn’t joy be a sine quo non of that term?
Things I don’t care about at all but which seem to be getting a lot of news coverage:
This is SO cool and charged with masculinity that Tim Allen will be grunting all night.
SR-71
I had to go out this afternoon and “run errands.” (Those are Pam’s code words meaning “wander through a variety of stores for an indeterminate amount of time.” For me it meant the bank, Home Depot and Goodwill.) I was reminded how much I hate driving around here this time of year. All the aging snowbirds are back in Sun City from their northern climes and will be for the next three months, at least. They drive big Buicks with a turn signal perpetually on. They can’t be seen from behind because they’re too short for their head to be above the seat back. Pull up alongside and you’ll see them peering over the steering wheel - on which they have a death grip at 10 and 2 - wearing those scary plastic sunglasses that go over their regular glasses. They drive 10 mph below the speed limit and leave three car lengths in front of them at a red light. Going around a corner means feeding the steering wheel into the other hand in 6” increments. Hand-over-hand turning is out of the question. They can’t turn their head, so don’t expect them to look over their shoulder. And why bother, really? They’ve already signaled their intention to pull into your lane.
AAAARGH!!!
I think America is, or at least has been exceptional. But as a dispensationalist I can’t make a case for American exceptionalism. Doesn’t fit with Scripture. Sarah Palin notwithstanding.
After our experience with Al I worry about Jack getting Valley Fever. We learned Greyhounds are especially susceptible so it wouldn’t be too surprising. Every time he sneezes I wonder, “Is this it?”
It wasn’t that long ago I succumbed to the baser societal trends and sent out an annual Christmas letter. I’m giving serious thought to sending this year’s missive as a PDF to everyone for whom we have an email address. Is that totally tacky?
When I get tired, or sick or both my stomach comes to the top. And if you’re 75% Scandinavian that means it can easily come out your eyes. All it takes is thinking about dear friends who are struggling. The good news is that I walk Jack before the sun is up so nobody sees it, or my lips moving as I pray for them.
Why do people who consider themselves artists not want to smile when having their picture taken? Is it because they want us to take them seriously and they think smiling makes that less likely? The artificially serious pose seems especially incongruent for the Christian artist. Shouldn’t joy be a sine quo non of that term?
Things I don’t care about at all but which seem to be getting a lot of news coverage:
- Brett Farve’s games-played streak. So he showed up for work. So what?
- The Golden Globes. Just ‘cause critics liked it don’t make it good. And visa versa.
- Sarah Palin meeting Kate Gosselin
- Scarlet Johansson and Ryan Reynolds getting divorced. I wouldn’t know who they are if either of them walked through the front door and kissed me on the mouth. Although I’m prepared to say that Scarlet is more welcomed to try that than Ryan.
This is SO cool and charged with masculinity that Tim Allen will be grunting all night.
SR-71
I had to go out this afternoon and “run errands.” (Those are Pam’s code words meaning “wander through a variety of stores for an indeterminate amount of time.” For me it meant the bank, Home Depot and Goodwill.) I was reminded how much I hate driving around here this time of year. All the aging snowbirds are back in Sun City from their northern climes and will be for the next three months, at least. They drive big Buicks with a turn signal perpetually on. They can’t be seen from behind because they’re too short for their head to be above the seat back. Pull up alongside and you’ll see them peering over the steering wheel - on which they have a death grip at 10 and 2 - wearing those scary plastic sunglasses that go over their regular glasses. They drive 10 mph below the speed limit and leave three car lengths in front of them at a red light. Going around a corner means feeding the steering wheel into the other hand in 6” increments. Hand-over-hand turning is out of the question. They can’t turn their head, so don’t expect them to look over their shoulder. And why bother, really? They’ve already signaled their intention to pull into your lane.
AAAARGH!!!
I think America is, or at least has been exceptional. But as a dispensationalist I can’t make a case for American exceptionalism. Doesn’t fit with Scripture. Sarah Palin notwithstanding.
After our experience with Al I worry about Jack getting Valley Fever. We learned Greyhounds are especially susceptible so it wouldn’t be too surprising. Every time he sneezes I wonder, “Is this it?”
It wasn’t that long ago I succumbed to the baser societal trends and sent out an annual Christmas letter. I’m giving serious thought to sending this year’s missive as a PDF to everyone for whom we have an email address. Is that totally tacky?
3 comments:
Yep, it's masculine--except for the capri pants he's wearing.
You can send out your Christmas letter as a PDF. Be sure to label it as "environmentally friendly" to avoid the "tacky" label. I would love to read it!
Instead of writing a Christmas letter, tell people to buy a subscription to your blog.
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