Just Grab a Fork

Oh boy, how to say this, how to say this.... well, just dive right in... 


Well, I find I am wanting to start this post with "this sign really disturbs me and so I am sharing it with you dear blog readers, to see if it disturbs you, too" when it occurs to me that maybe that will not come across as a caring way to address you. And so I am conflicted... do I share and risk offending you or do I not share? But the truth is Devastatingly Handsome was kind enough to take the photo even though it caused Mr Music to slump down out of view in the backseat lest Someone See Dad Being Weird and think ill of him (Mr Music, that is) and obviously I want to share, and anyhow, it is only mildly disturbing, the sort of thing that spurs blog posts rather than visits to a therapist. So here it is:

This sign makes me about as conflicted about the tavern as I am about this post in general. What do you think about the meatballs? I am torn between their cuteness and the thought of eating a smiling, thumbs-up meatball. Would you order spaghetti there? And, do you find the chef's smile a bit evil? And, what is he holding behind his back?

Heart Day at Our House

This morning Mr Music greeted me with this little buddy he'd built for me for Valentine's day... so he has been named "Valentine." Is he not awesome?

And I am just a bit conflicted about whether I ought to post a picture of the Valentine dessert I made for tonight... see, Devastatingly Handsome has asked me not to post identifying photos on my blog, and, well, I made a mini-Devastatingly. So, here is the deal: I am going to post the picture and you are on the honor system that if you see Devastatingly IRL some day you will not say, "Oh, I know you. I saw your face on a cookie on carpebanana." Please. That would be bad for our relationship.

Burglars and Bananas in the News

I am very loudly in denial of the virtual white-out outside my window here and dreaming of my upcoming trip to Barbados and blogging instead of mentioning anything at all about hating snow.

AnyasFriendMe who also happens to be TobysBrotherMe and whose blog appears to be in even deeper hibernation than this one, sent me a message about a news item about bananas. It is at a site with the duh name of ireallylikefood.com . Makes me want to start one called ireallylikechocolate.com or ireallyhatesnow.com . But those are truisms, not blogs. Anyhow... here is the link of interest for those of us who like to carpe bananas. My dear bro commented that 

The only thing I found interesting in the comments was that three people who are allergic to bananas bothered to read and comment on an article about how good they are. I wouldn't waste my time reading an article on why kittens make great pets.

My thoughts on this post are 1) I do not think the writer has English as a first language and 2) if you try out the wart thing, let me know. I can just see strapping a peel to my leg or whatever and then telling people, "oh yes, it's a famous wart treatment."


However, this item about a burglar breaking in and folding laundry and preparing dinner is liable to make women across America think twice about home security. It also reminds me of a dream from many years ago, I think it was Miss Language who woke from a Really Scary Dream about a burglar who broke in during the night here and was making coffee and playing the piano. I much prefer the chore-oriented burglar if it is up to me. I foresee a new future for those security stickers that go on door windows:

This property not protected by dust bunnies only. Cleaning supplies are under the sink. I like my food spicy but please save some out  bland for DH. Make yourself at home and be sure to tidy up after yourself.

My Life in a Nutshell

(not) Busy

I am not doing a resolution per se this year but I am finding my self thinking about the word busy. We are getting our, uh,  somewhat late Christmas letter ready to go out, and I have determined to not use that four-letter word.


So, some of my thoughts.
~~~
Nothing in Scripture supports an assumption of our culture: that the busier you are, the more important you are (what does being "more important" even mean when we are all like slugs, albeit beloved slugs, made in the image of the Holy God?). 


The ESV uses the word only a few times ~ once as a passing excuse in I Kings 20:40; twice in reference to being busy with "wicked deeds" or "iniquity" (Psalm 141:4 and Isaiah 32:6); once contrasting being "busy at work" with being "busybodies" (II Thessalonians 3:11); and twice in Ecclesiastes (1:13 and 3:10), where the poet says he has seen the "business that God has given the children of man to be busy with." 
~~~
Maybe "busy" is just what we do in our twenty-four hours a day. And everyone fills them in some way, so maybe we are all equally "busy." Maybe it implies productivity - but that idol cannot stand. 
~~~
Even the vegetables know that feeling busy does not solve anything or reflect the face of God, it only makes me unwilling to serve others and serves as an excuse for my failure.

I'm busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You've no idea what I have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.

~~~
And yes, as I was formatting that, Miss Dog Lover came asking me to fix her belt on the back of her top. I nearly said it. I nearly said: "I'm busy." Bleh.
~~~
Why do I wear busy like a badge of some sort of goodness? Jesus said in John 17:4 that HE had "accomplished the work" that God gave Him to do. Could it be possible I am so arrogant I think God has given me more to do than He gave the Christ?
~~~
Challenge to self: no more self-righteous being too busy to love God and the people He made in His image. Care to join me in 2012?

Whaddya Think?

Devastatingly Handsome and I are planning a remodel on the family room, a basement room. Pine beaded walls, lots of shelving, and a bit of wall painted acanthus, I think, and Devastatingly wants ceramic tile floor. Today we went and looked and came home with the idea to use this area rug and the tile shown under it... 

do you think that tile works? 

Stuck in Neutral

Long time since I've done a book review, but here goes. I read the young adult book Stuck in Neutral by Terry Trueman. It is a very quick read and rather compelling. Shawn is 14 years old, completely disabled, and convinced his father is planning to kill him, yet Shawn has no way to communicate or do anything for himself. 


I really can't say if I like this book or not or if I would recommend it or not. I know I would not read it to any but the hardiest of children. There were parts that creeped me out (crept me out?) and also some parts I liked and found life-affirming. 


I was interested in Shawn's story because two of the Bananlets have significant cognitive disabilities and I am always trying to understand what life might be like for them or for others with even greater needs. The glory of this book is that it gives hope that even in cases that seem the most profoundly hopeless, we just do not know what sort of life is really there but is invisible to us because of inability to communicate. My favorite paragraph challenged me to reconsider what pleasures would be remain to someone completely disabled:

I love my mom, brother, sister, dad. Although I can't connect with things through my senses, there is an energy inside me and around me; somehow all the things I think about and remember turn to joy. Pure joy: favorite movies, paintings I've seen and loved, music on compact discs, pinecones, chocolate pudding, the taste of smoked oysters (thank you, Paul!) the sound of motors, a bright-red 1966 Ford Mustang. I love the  idea of books and the dusty smell of them on bookshelves, the scent of Comet in a stainless steel sink. I think of the way, on cool mornings in November, the sun pours in through my window, and covers my hands. I think about my baths every night with Mom dripping warm water from a big soft sponge down my back, the hairbrush passing through my hair after the tangles are all gone, all of it turning to joy. Life can be great, even for me. Even for me.