tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-248086862024-03-07T19:50:44.563-08:00larin-offeringslarinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.comBlogger195125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-6824394261566250562013-10-04T18:47:00.000-07:002013-10-04T19:23:12.203-07:00The newest, but not the greatest (unless you're referring to the dog)I'm not certain, but I might be the world's worst blogger. I see that it has been almost a whole year since I last posted anything, and then it was reactionary stuff. (Well, we're now in the midst of a government shutdown, so the reactionary stuff is still close to the surface, but I'll spare you.) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEWBI5sdwa_93vGkHuP3zFpzsEZ206ns9oKOox2CEba3YG79qf8Lhr7qxDSuhS8CJfcg9BVRJlyvbHFx6Jh9sjL4hTexX9yh60BnCVNqhwyUU-YNKD1tFd3vxM8vjp8f5va71/s1600/537855_4753607357191_339220906_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwEWBI5sdwa_93vGkHuP3zFpzsEZ206ns9oKOox2CEba3YG79qf8Lhr7qxDSuhS8CJfcg9BVRJlyvbHFx6Jh9sjL4hTexX9yh60BnCVNqhwyUU-YNKD1tFd3vxM8vjp8f5va71/s200/537855_4753607357191_339220906_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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Indeed it has been so long that I'm surprised I remembered my password--that was after I figured out how to find a log-in place. But I made it, so I've spent a bit of time switching some things up, cleaning some links out, etc. Maybe someday I'll find a new program to make some new banners. (Are they still called that these days, or did that pass by, too?)
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I'm in the middle of cleaning and creating an art space, but I don't have any new art made or even in progress. I'm feeling too lazy to post my newest photos. So I guess I'll revert to random silly things in my world, and share some photos from sometime since last November. I guess if I hadn't told you they weren't the most recent you wouldn't have known, huh. Silly me. Shall that be random silly thing number 1?
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Of course not.
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Silly thing #1: My house is clean. Well, that might be relative compared to yours, but for me, it's clean and tidy, having <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAocLNkJ_zq7ZWzvoJ6Ls-VwEDFUn1O-RjmAZDeJbOFC92XZvmfLYzwhg6jfrgDopMzd7mQI-3Uv9q584Fi5Bd4E8SyyAnd2z9iGlf1WdG28WaasG5GfuVI12einTgR3k26v8/s1600/1187_4753610397267_949378016_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAocLNkJ_zq7ZWzvoJ6Ls-VwEDFUn1O-RjmAZDeJbOFC92XZvmfLYzwhg6jfrgDopMzd7mQI-3Uv9q584Fi5Bd4E8SyyAnd2z9iGlf1WdG28WaasG5GfuVI12einTgR3k26v8/s320/1187_4753610397267_949378016_n.jpg" /></a></div>spent time mopping, vacuuming, laundering, dusting, etc. this week. I even vacuumed parts of the ceiling. And then I vacuumed parts of the dog (and we both lived through it!).
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Silly thing #2: Last month I purchased what I like to call my "Dr. Who" shoes. They are navy canvas high-tops with stars. While they might not quite look the part, I always feel Number 10-ish when I put them on. (Although my son has informed me that Number 10 wears low ones, while Number 11 wears high tops; either way they make me feel like I could be a companion.) I make sure to say "Oy!" a lot when I wear them and try to avoid situations that involve running, lots of running. I did attend our local Comic-Con dressed as Number 4 last spring. But the kids have the photos of that.
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Silly thing #3: Our local comic book store closed this year, but we still were able to pick up some new drawings by comic book artists at the aforementioned Comic-Con. (You'll have to look at previous posts to see the earlier entries in our collections.) This year's additions were the Jeremy Brett Sherlock for me, a Benedict Cumberbatch Sherlock for my daughter, and Bacon Tardis drawings for all of us.
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Silly thing #4: This whole post is very self-centered. That's actually ridiculous, rather than silly. Sorry. I just feel like I have to break the ice somehow and get something posted. Now I have to get back into a habit. Then I need to get a new verb...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfz1se70Ldvs_Ap2o-wIYe3zAfeb7k9Eslm7NywPm2ax9a07woN1D8GzfWQwHTHYF4mBbMjWatRxUdLzjRdZC8KVvFXVDmRICYvHjuMegaiMFWwfIXPtMURp552pZb826Unh9/s1600/DSC_1180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfz1se70Ldvs_Ap2o-wIYe3zAfeb7k9Eslm7NywPm2ax9a07woN1D8GzfWQwHTHYF4mBbMjWatRxUdLzjRdZC8KVvFXVDmRICYvHjuMegaiMFWwfIXPtMURp552pZb826Unh9/s320/DSC_1180.JPG" /></a></div>
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May God bless you where you are. Here's hoping I'll see you again soon. Yes, I know. That should probably be here's hoping you see me again soon--as in write more often. And more meaningfully. Much more meaningfully.
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[Note: I have been trying to add photos for an hour now, and it <strike>just won't show them</strike> is finally working. <strike>But for now, no photos, which is a bummer because we have an attractive dog.</strike> Now I shall leave you with photos of our rather attractive dog as he is running, lots of running, but not away from the vacuum, although that is how he usually looks when the vacuum is visible.] <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppQCVFTGQIz7gibu7JEkwmRm1ecZd_UUt2azZjxYShxlmn7nMlgLgbDV5LhHdsoXfym5dzQihgKi2pv3SXiUJVDrc95_OsN1dM_CH_NM4zpzPOSCn_C4MRFVx34VsaBjavjUw/s1600/DSC_1150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppQCVFTGQIz7gibu7JEkwmRm1ecZd_UUt2azZjxYShxlmn7nMlgLgbDV5LhHdsoXfym5dzQihgKi2pv3SXiUJVDrc95_OsN1dM_CH_NM4zpzPOSCn_C4MRFVx34VsaBjavjUw/s320/DSC_1150.JPG" /></a></div>larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-7992223364945751172012-11-04T10:51:00.000-08:002012-11-05T10:02:11.028-08:00"Why Can't We All Just Get Along?", a Modern Cry of Angst, or Get Over Your Bad Self Already!While I will be very glad to have the elections over this week, I am concerned for the long-term health of our country. We are terribly divided right now, but the worst part is all the venom that constantly spews from all directions. Unfortunately I do notice a stronger tendency from one side to try to hush the other. Believe it or not, last I checked, we ALL still have the right, in this country, to believe what we want.
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Unless, of course, you don't agree with me--then you're a hater! Now I don't believe that, but it seems a significant portion of our population does, and that side with the strong tendency to want to hush the other that I mentioned earlier hushes people most effectively by labeling. Their especial favorite is "hater." In an effort to fight back, everyone else has now also begun using this handy little pejorative, which in the end would make us all haters.
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Most of you have probably figured out that I'm conservative on most issues. But guess what--that doesn't mean I hate anybody. It doesn't mean I wish bad things on you, or that I hope you'll die some slow and painful death if I don't agree with your political or religious positions. It simply means that I don't agree with you. End of story.
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So if I post something to my FB wall or blog about something that you don't like, or that offends you in some way, it is only a reflection of what I believe. It isn't a death wish on YOU, or hatred directed at YOU, or meant to persecute YOU. Really, it has very little to do with YOU at all. If I wanted to be a stinkbutt to YOU, I would just post it on YOUR wall and get it over with. I mean, if I want to be nasty, I'm going to make sure it's obvious--I'm going to do the job right or my mother might make me do it again! (That's a family joke from the days when I spent too many hot July afternoons re-tamping fence posts that still wiggled.)
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So get over yourself already. If you can speak your beliefs, then why can't I? I don't post, or re-post is more like it, half the stuff I agree with because I know it would offend someone else. I try to be polite that way. I try to be "tolerant."
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The thing that frustrates me, though, is that so many people see even one disagreement as evidence of hate. No matter which news outlet I read (and I do read more than just conservative ones), if I take the time to dip into the comments, it doesn't take long to find people calling each other names that would embarrass a convict and using language that would make a sailor blush. The topic doesn't matter--it can be a disagreement about politics or religion, or it what's the best way to cook the *&$%^# turkey you stupid %#&^$!!. Golly folks, that seems a little more like hatred than my rather tame tax rant from a couple days ago. My only four-letter words were probably pronouns like "your" or prepositions like "into" or "from" (as in, "why should the government take your money from your pocket and put it into theirs every chance they get?" Oops, there was another four-letter word: take. Certainly that one should be offensive!).<BR>
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But can we recover from all this incivility? That's part of what concerns me so much. Remember this--no matter who wins next week, conservative or liberal, we ALL still have to live with each other. (Unless there is some sort of mass exodus, which I don't think is likely.) That last sentence is so important, let me repeat it: No matter who wins next week, WE ALL STILL HAVE TO LIVE WITH EACH OTHER. Will we still disagree? Most likely, but that doesn't mean we have to be so horrible to each other. My children and yours are growing up in this world.
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If you want the world to not be such a hate-filled place, why don't some of you quit perpetuating it by finding hate every time someone doesn't agree with you. We have some mighty fine rights granted us in the Bill of Rights, but the right to not be offended just isn't in there. Instead we have this nifty thing called Freedom of Speech. And since we don't all believe the same thing, sooner or later your freedom and mine are going to meet like the Titanic and the iceberg. But stop equating that occurrence with "hate" already. Hate would be if one of us pulled out a gun and shot the other one over it.
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Even if you encounter true hatred, how you handle it determines if that hatred continues or not. If you continue to exercise your Imaginary Right to Not Be Offended, by exercising your right to exist in a Constant State of Huff, then you are breathing life into the problem. You make the choice to allow that hate, to wallow in that mud. The old expression about drinking poison to spite one's enemy comes to mind here. A number of my loved ones don't see the world through the same lens I do, so I live in a world of self-imposed censorship in order to live in some semblance of peace. That's my choice, too. I've pulled up my big girl socks and accepted that fact. Listen up world--now it's your turn to do the same, because no matter who wins next week WE ALL STILL HAVE TO LIVE WITH EACH OTHER. The alternative is too ugly to desire.
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(P.S. For anyone who ever reads my blog, you'll notice that I have refrained from bringing my faith into this discussion. I could share many of God's directives toward peace, unity, love, etc., but I didn't because I want to reach out to some who do not recognize the authority of God, let alone God's Word. I will say that Jesus summed all God's directive into two commands, one of which was to "love each other as we love ourselves," which is many times stated in secular terms as "treat each other how you would want to be treated." Got it? Good.)larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-55308756241527598502012-05-28T20:41:00.000-07:002012-08-08T08:54:48.828-07:00Morbid vs. Sappy: Which Wins Out?I guess I'm just morbid. Either that or I really suffer from a lack of sappitude. I really am a sentimental person in many ways--it's just sappiness that I can't stand. For instance, today on Facebook one of the young people I know posted this message: "Sometimes you love someone so much that not even the truth can change your mind." I'm sure this is meant to fan the flames of young twitterpation, but my immediate thought was, "I wonder if the mothers of serial killers feel that way?" Edward Gorey was one of my favorite artists when I was a child. Does that speak volumes?
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(This post is dedicated to Carrie and Andria--you'll both understand...)larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-89522305693726945562012-05-05T17:48:00.000-07:002012-05-28T20:41:46.055-07:00Today's Adventures in ArtToday my children and I attended our local comic book store's annual National Free Comic Book Day event. We duly chose some new comics to read, and then eagerly stood in line for free drawings from our local comic book artist guild. My son and I have done this for the last three years, now (if you look in my archive you will see the previous year's drawings). This year <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been working on some drawing projects of my own this week. While watching some history videos I've kept my hands busy drawing some cards for a school project, but I've neglected to take any photos. What I can share, though, is the other thing I've been drawing, which is a graphic for the Medieval/Renaissance Faire my other school is putting together for June. It needs a bit of tweaking still, then I have to figure out how to turn it into something computer usable when I don't have any fancy programs...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After visiting the comic book store, we went to the library and perused the wares at their semi-annual book sale. I scored a handful of art instruction books on things like collage and self-portraiture. Yesterday one of my students gave me a set of cards with John Singer Sargent watercolors on them for teacher appreciation. Happy art times. :-)larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-56018104463381951512012-04-29T18:50:00.002-07:002012-04-29T18:51:49.675-07:00NO Soliciting! And I Especially Mean Your Advice!The world would be a much better place if more people could understand that unsolicited advice is usually just a cover for hurtful criticism. A recent conversation has left this thought spinning around in my head like an out-of-control top as it hits on all the tender places in my heart. (There aren't many tender places in my heart, so it really isn't good to damage the few that I have...)
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Really, let's examine this concept for a moment or two. How often is the unsolicited advice about something like how to rid one's home of ant invaders in the spring time or how to properly wash a cast iron pan after burning dinner into all those little cast iron pores? More often the advice is about how to deal with the problem (that one didn't know one had) with one's favorite aunt (whom the critic doesn't like) who is coming to visit in the spring, and really all one wants to do is whack the critic with said unwashed cast iron pan. Anyone have any advice about how to refrain from such violence when confronted with such a situation? Just to be clear--I am now soliciting!
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Criticism is received with so much more grace when the door has been gently opened, by either the critic or the receiver. When the advice isn't wanted it often doesn't fall on the proverbial deaf ears. Instead the advice falls with all the grace of a bowling ball onto a land mine. I don't even want to contemplate the end result, but if one is over about the age of twelve, one can probably fill in with a vivid enough mental picture. Of course, if we were all living in a P.G. Wodehouse novel, great hilarity would ensue, but unfortunately most of us live in the darker section of human nature that more closely resembles a Shakespearean tragedy where we are left brooding like a Danish prince. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's human nature to want to fix things, but why is it so much easier to fix other people's things than our own? And it seems to be especially true of things that we have no experience of in our own lives. "I know I've never been in your situation, but if I had been this is what I would do..." While the book of Proverbs in the Bible does tell us in many, many, many (did I tell you how many?) places to listen to advice and accept instruction, there is another place in the book that tells us to pull the plank out of our own eye before fiddling with the speck of dust in someone else's. True advice isn't veiled criticism.
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The world would be a better place if more people could learn to tell the difference. That's all.
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Tune in next week, when I discuss the true importance of people's opinions...
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(This blog is getting classier; we've upgraded to color cartoons! Of course it is Sunday.)larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-11785794803531551572012-04-26T22:52:00.003-07:002012-04-26T22:56:01.720-07:00Random Teacher Moments1. Playing with the layout a little tonight. Not sure what to think, but I don't really have much time to spend thinking about it, so perhaps it's a moot point. Really, I'm just procrastinating a bit. I should be writing about William the Conqueror or grading exercises on simple, compound, or complex sentences. (That last one would be a simple sentence with a compound verb. Wait, was that an unclear antecedent? Wait, what was that? No, What's on second. Oh yeah...)
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2. Strangely enough I do not dream in grammar or history. Tonight I might have strange dreams, though: one of my students showed me how he could pick his nose with his tongue. This moment came after another boy wanted me to touch his knee to feel the strange spot on it that he can make pop. I declined. Recently a third grader offered to let me check him to really see if he had a cold. I assured him I would take his word for it. Older students have their own kind of weirdness, but I can't really think of any right now.
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3. I finally tried a cakester today. My daughter (who is my student) called me a traitor, while her friend called me a cake-sniffer (inside joke for you Lemony Snicket fans). Last year our little school divided into factions over the cakesters and actually made signs that they carried around that said things like, "Down with cakesters!" I have to confess that I now side with that faction.
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4. Today's art class had it's own moments of weirdness, nose conversations aside. What began as finishing a pop art assignment ended as an impromptu lesson on Jackson Pollock and a lot of noise. Some days I prefer the lessons that involve slides and quiet, but it's always fun to watch the students jump into the spirit of an assignment and discover something they enjoy (did you catch that subordinate connector that sets up contrast? We learned about that in writing lab today). I was especially pleased when one student told me he had planned his harmonious color scheme. Yes, they do listen through the noise!
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5. I guess William is waiting for me. I'm almost done writing out the notes, and I like history, so there really is no good reason to not dive in. My brain is just tired. I never realized how much work has to be done outside the classroom until I became a teacher. The work just never ends.
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6. Oh yeah, William...
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Graphic: http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/MEDwilliam1.htmlarinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-62682863772159610492012-04-07T10:03:00.000-07:002012-04-07T10:04:04.464-07:00Why Can't We All Get Along, or R-E-S-P-E-C-TIt never ceases to amaze me how on the internet people seem to think it's perfectly acceptable to criticize and condemn and to do so with such vitriol, bile, and foulness. Does it really make you a better person to be so cruel because you don't like something? Does it make our society a better place to exist? <br /><br />Most often I see this happen with posts of a political or religious nature, but today I see that people are already sniping about Thomas Kinkade's death. If someone didn't like his art, is it really necessary to tell the world in such nasty terms? Does it make them morally superior to do so? I'm not saying people can't or shouldn't have opinions or different tastes. What is frustrating is that people today don't seem to know how or when to share those things in a respectful, considerate way. <br /><br />Deep sigh.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-15463631888052384252012-03-29T09:18:00.004-07:002012-03-29T09:25:47.047-07:00Tired of Silliness“Your mind knows only some things. Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything. If you listen to what you know instinctively, it will always lead you down the right path.” --Henry Winkler quotes (American Actor, b.1945)<br /><br />This quote was posted on Facebook recently, and I have to say that it just frustrates me to no end. I read the news and I wonder how anyone can believe this kind of tripe--I mean stuff. Did Ted Bundy's instincts lead him down the right path? How about Jeffrey Dahmer? Gang fights? Are they following their reason? I doubt it. Maybe this philosophy works if you're directing a movie or when you're playing a character, but I have some serious doubts about following it as a life philosophy. <br /><br />The thing that irritates me the most, however, is that people don't stop to evaluate the reasonableness of the statement before posting it. Are we so desperate for sugar candy to make ourselves feel good about everything we do? Ugh. Where's the man in uniform to show up and tell us to stop being so silly? The world really needs him right now. <br /><br />Or maybe I need to dump my Facebook--it might spare me some frustration.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-57963062419046930392012-03-19T23:37:00.008-07:002012-03-19T23:54:18.259-07:00Random Randomness (Mostly Involving Dentists)I suppose it's time for another very random blog post before I shuffle off to dreamland tonight.<br /><br />1. My dishwasher creates a rhythmic sound as it washes. I'm not sure I like it. Perhaps it should be comforting, or something, like a safe sort of household white noise. But I actually find it rather annoying.<br /><br />2. My children think it's funny that they can't remember the new dentist's name. Of course, I don't know the new dentist's name either.<br /><br />3. So last night I drew a cartoon about the dentist. (I've never drawn a cartoon before.)<br /><br />4. I have spent hours today reading and writing about Charlemagne, only stopping to take my daughter to the dentist. (Are you seeing a pattern here?)<br /><br />5. (Okay, I have to tie this all together somehow...) The only rhythmic sounds at the dentist's office were also annoying. (Does that work?)<br /><br />6. Need a good laugh? Watch the Dentist Secret Society sketch. My daughter wants a bazooka for her next dental visit. It will certainly be funnier than this post. (Although this post might be weirder.)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncWAeIHcIh1CIMz3ztD5nU2fGji15-RfMy4mGs-2ICs86TBu3IRI5pDr1B5WGyzvU2kCtF2mlYiCN9PwzMmKdiOiTCfjZO4ys2rxudEIokkWFQUMNIYzeee_14yp-pX86NLpT/s1600/DSC_1133.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncWAeIHcIh1CIMz3ztD5nU2fGji15-RfMy4mGs-2ICs86TBu3IRI5pDr1B5WGyzvU2kCtF2mlYiCN9PwzMmKdiOiTCfjZO4ys2rxudEIokkWFQUMNIYzeee_14yp-pX86NLpT/s320/DSC_1133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721868997152175410" /></a>larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-81661122497072892792012-02-07T22:30:00.000-08:002012-02-07T22:59:46.908-08:00My Cantankerous Mood, OR, Just Think About It!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhmQ5R_B2AONDuC_49-6tlpav54jpqRF54cqayOvOEDgAiBwgNha3VrdPgMAO2DTTO9rFmCO9z_6pVIo4wifJ2LWqmGPQsYnpf52CLTRSXYsjesMkoDOBKgjEnk54mHUvxJDr/s1600/475px-The_Scream.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhmQ5R_B2AONDuC_49-6tlpav54jpqRF54cqayOvOEDgAiBwgNha3VrdPgMAO2DTTO9rFmCO9z_6pVIo4wifJ2LWqmGPQsYnpf52CLTRSXYsjesMkoDOBKgjEnk54mHUvxJDr/s320/475px-The_Scream.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706649048977925906" /></a><br />I'm feeling cantankerous lately. I wish people would think about things more deeply than how it makes them feel. <br /><br />Today I saw a post with a cute picture that said something about how God made you just the way you are and loves you that way, so be yourself. Honestly my first thought was "Really? That's what He thought when He looked down and saw Ted Bundy? 'That's just the way I made you, and I love you that way, so be yourself!'?" Personally I can't agree. If God loves us just the way we are, then why bother to send His Son to cover our sins? He loves us, yes, but not in our natural human state.<br /><br />I know that a lot of people would want to argue with me and say something like, "Well, what they meant was that people shouldn't have to conform to what the world says, like being skinny or looking perfect, etc." Yes, I would agree. God's Word tells us not to conform to the things of this world (Romans 12:2 "And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."). But Romans 3:10 also reminds us that no one is righteous, and Romans 3:23 says "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." So, you're right--God loves you whether you're skinny or fat, but He's more worried about the condition of your heart than the size of your body. Unfortunately, more and more the mantra of "God loves you just the way you are!" is a convenient cover for behavior that is inappropriate (what the Bible frequently refers to as sin). God made an even better cover for sin, though! Romans 5:8 "But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Why not try that cover instead--it's a far better one!<br /><br />If you are offended by this (I've been seeing a lot of posts lately about people not wanting to be offended; since when was that desire listed in the Bill of Rights?), then go vent to someone else. I'm not interested in being jumped on. I'm sorry if my world is too black and white for you. But being an art teacher I know that if you squint at all those middle shades of grey in your world long enough, they'll all start to look that same, like fog (you know it's awfully hard to see in the middle of that stuff).<br /><br />If you are a Christian, please think your faith through more deeply than just cute sayings that make everyone "feel good." Read through Proverbs and see how often Wisdom is lifted up. Grow your faith, think it through, and have reasons for what you believe (Peter tells us to do that, too). If you have questions, ask someone you trust and work them out. <br /><br />And if you're not a believer at all, then that's fine, too, but please, please, please, people! Start thinking about what you say and believe!<br /><br />Oh, and that picture at the top is NOT the cute picture that accompanied the post that set me off. That painting is Edvard Munch's "The Scream." It does a pretty decent job of showing my mood lately.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-6893655072114488722012-02-03T10:22:00.001-08:002012-02-03T10:32:21.941-08:00It's My Blog and I'll Gripe if I Want to, Gripe if I Want to, OR, You Should Gripe, TooI've been reading posts and articles with great interest lately. Three thoughts are sticking with me right now. <br /><br />1. "If everybody is special, then nobody is special." A quote from an article about artists and fame in our modern society, and how young people equate success with fame in our media-driven, everybody-has-to-feel-good, no-one's-viewpoint-is-ever-wrong society. That quote should be self-explanatory.<br /><br />2. Building off that comment and stemming from conversations about the morality of abortion: if everyone's viewpoint is equally good and should be respected, then do I have to respect and tolerate the choices of people like Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy? How can you have law and order in a society where everyone's thoughts/opinions/desires (which is from whence their viewpoints usually come) are equally valid? Why do we want to live in such a society?<br /><br />3. Our society really needs to go back to teaching critical thinking, because our leaders (aka politicians--and I do mean ALL of them!) are really good at not answering questions, as shown by the President just a couple days ago. Yet, so many people don't see that the answers are like conjurer's tricks designed to shift our attention to the other hand/issue. Kudos to the woman who asked the question for attempting to make him address the issue.<br /><br />If you want to share your thoughts, feel free to leave a comment. Just note that my comments are moderated, and I have the ability to not share them. Yes, everybody wants to rule the world, and this is my own little piece of it, baby.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-34370367045578347652012-01-25T22:49:00.000-08:002012-01-25T22:56:20.932-08:00An Extremely Brief ComparisonPreparing for art class tonight brought me to the realization that Hobbits would be Art Nouveau, while Saruman would be Art Deco. Dark, but Deco. <br /><br /><br /><br />(Okay, okay, there are probably better categorizations, but I'm only teaching Nouveau and Deco tomorrow.)larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-48525515990201100382012-01-09T21:29:00.000-08:002014-05-27T21:57:09.403-07:00A Rumination on LiteratureI'm preparing to begin the journey through "Beowulf" with my students this week. The joy of teaching the great stories of the world is uncovering the timeless and universal truths in them. What can we learn about the human condition? How do we travel through this life? How do we stay true to our beliefs, frequently in the face of events we never anticipated? Where do we turn in the face of despair, desperation, and the darkness we encounter? How do we remain inspired, and where do we find joy? <br /><br />As a teacher I find joy in discussing these questions with students. I am doubly blessed by the fact that I teach in a Christian school and can approach these questions from a Biblical worldview. I am continually fascinated how often Biblical truths emerge in places where they might not be expected, such as the ancient Greeks or in Norse myths, which is what we looked at last week in class. <br /><br />Tonight I am reviewing some notes a colleague shared about "Beowulf," and I'm excited to see elements that we both marked for deeper exploration, albeit not always from the same vantage point. While teaching art classes I have often remarked to students how different artists can tell the same moment from the same story in such different ways and with such different perspectives. As I read such lines as "Behavior that's admired is the path to power among people everywhere" I can imagine the conversation that will take place in class as we ponder the impact and truthfulness of such a statement. But that doesn't mean the discussion will follow my vision, which is part of the beauty of teaching because in those moments I frequently learn from the students as much as they might learn from me. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIDnroukx790XVHoXivfLlVDGSktrbMseNwJBkR2L791i0CPGdI6zeD73ndZMA5monMWvMFgKU0_RpuaG0U-0PFcsgjUSauwRcr2x14mtsKW61dMerfwMnKVb1u2j6PVf0dHU/s1600/36999_1404359708093_1205388215_31035346_7362465_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVIDnroukx790XVHoXivfLlVDGSktrbMseNwJBkR2L791i0CPGdI6zeD73ndZMA5monMWvMFgKU0_RpuaG0U-0PFcsgjUSauwRcr2x14mtsKW61dMerfwMnKVb1u2j6PVf0dHU/s320/36999_1404359708093_1205388215_31035346_7362465_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695884607859682658" /></a><br />Tonight I am excited for tomorrow. That might not be quite so true when my alarm sounds in the morning, but by the time we reach class the excitement will have returned. We will open our "Beowulf" books and take the first steps on our next literary adventure as we step through the door to a new time and place. J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote, “ 'Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.' ” <br /><br />Let the journey begin!larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-48145093066714873052011-12-24T11:38:00.000-08:002014-05-27T22:02:59.022-07:00Waiting in AnticipationWhy is it that our Christmas tree changes after December 25? The beauty is still there, but the magic has evaporated, swirled away into the cold of a new year. While December 24 possesses the most mystery of any day in the year for me, December 26 is reality. The sole difference is the anticipation. For many Christians the whole season is one of anticipation, otherwise known as Advent. This year anticipation has been made new to me like never before.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRgE0VoqKOInvaBW37_SnTu9jaiivqeLn52H5Ii6O4QEvqsXFT4llPUhc_Z2Lf2DDn88oH4s4YH2yGkrmqZ7pNDavWVJYQFdS0bYnaCtPdktIHdch1sW8PpBMoCt_wbqyvcbn/s1600/DSC_0401.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRgE0VoqKOInvaBW37_SnTu9jaiivqeLn52H5Ii6O4QEvqsXFT4llPUhc_Z2Lf2DDn88oH4s4YH2yGkrmqZ7pNDavWVJYQFdS0bYnaCtPdktIHdch1sW8PpBMoCt_wbqyvcbn/s320/DSC_0401.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689802407369958306" /></a>Early in December I was set to give a chapel on Advent when I received some startling news about five minutes beforehand. A rather routine medical test had shown some unusual results, and, after another test, the verdict was a pre-cancerous condition. I had not expected this outcome, and considering that I have lost six family members to cancer, the dolorous news left me shaken. Someone had said the C-word in the same sentence with my name. I did not give my Advent message (and am thankful for the teacher who stepped in with such little notice). More doctor visits were scheduled, and a different kind of Advent began for me.<br /><br />Anticipation. My life has been alive with it these past few weeks. The fear of unknown procedures that certainly would involve pain was offset by the obvious need to know what my state of health actually was. One nurse suggested that I could put off a procedure until after Christmas, but my need for resolution was stronger than that, despite all my dread of needles and knives. "Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you..." reads part of Psalm 55:22, and in the moments leading up to appointments with what felt like doom, I gave Him my cares. What else could I do? Even those wonderful, supportive people who have been through the same thing could not take the physical pain for me, could not take the disease away if I had it, could not erase the anxiety in my mind. Only one could grant me peace as I pondered the worst, as I spent my days anticipating test results.<br /><br />In those quiet, woeful moments as I tried desperately not to worry, I realized that I was encountering a different sort of Advent. Every day was full of anticipation. Did I dare look at my phone during the school day? What if the doctor had called and it was going to be the worst news? Would I want to know then, or could I wait until the end of the day? Could I be strong? Deuteronomy 31:6 (frequently referred to in other places in the Bible, as well) reminded me to "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Could I let go of my worries to feel peace in the face of, and in the place of, fear? <br /><br />With so many normal Christmas season concerns pushed aside in my mind (sorry my present wasn't wrapped--I've been preoccupied; walking hand-in-hand with my son as we shop, not totally caring if I buy your gift, rather than racing from store to store; leaving decorations packed and not worrying about a perfect home [aside from one peevish moment when a change of plans brought out the ugly part of me]; listening to the songs about heavenly peace with a new attitude), a new question arose. If this is what anticipation is like, then what should my anticipation of the Savior's return be like? Do I wait for His return with the same anxiousness that I waited for test results? I have never been one to wake up everyday wondering if today will be the day of His return. Instead my philosophy has been that everyday is one day closer to <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTx49H2O4wdzMABJOOM21rYNnnyoDLFuTQOmB0N9fXEKnOF6Rae1wqJ9ZQ5jFR1Rge__gvqj23UZWD5JKkAnwFlPESA21Zod0KO56RBOo2vlOEtFJJZ4iKdc3aVpVitDqNFiGN/s1600/DSC_0441.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTx49H2O4wdzMABJOOM21rYNnnyoDLFuTQOmB0N9fXEKnOF6Rae1wqJ9ZQ5jFR1Rge__gvqj23UZWD5JKkAnwFlPESA21Zod0KO56RBOo2vlOEtFJJZ4iKdc3aVpVitDqNFiGN/s400/DSC_0441.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689801540690185698" /></a>fulfillment of that promise, so let's live in His service everyday. (Boy do I fail miserably everyday. Please don't get me confused with those Christians who think they don't fail--I'm more than aware of each stumble I make.) Today, however, I am thinking anew of what anticipation is like and how I wait for the Savior, because that is what Advent is all about: It is the season where the saints (in the Biblical sense) look ahead to the Second Coming even as we prepare to celebrate the First. <br /><br />New, according to Merriam-Webster, means "taking the place of what came before." And that is just what I have in terms of my understanding of anticipation. I pray that something will touch you this season in terms of your relationship with the true once and future King, Jesus. I also pray that it won't be as dire as my journey, which by the way has a happy ending. After two biopsies for two different kinds of cancer I am more than happy to report that I have neither. Praise God! I will be checking in with my doctor a little more frequently, but my prayers for good health have been answered in the positive. In Acts 5:19-20 the angel told the apostles to “Go, stand in the temple courts...and tell the people all about this new life.” My gift for you this Christmas is a prayer that you will find this new life in the form a of a baby born to restore the relationship between you and God. God's gift for you is redemption, but it is your choice to take it or reject it. Blessings to you today and everyday! (What good timing--my Christmas Pandora station has just begun playing Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus," which is exactly what I feel right now!)<br /><br />Luke 2<br /> 1 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register.<br /><br /> 4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.<br /><br /> 8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”<br /><br /> 13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,<br /><br /> 14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,<br /> and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”<br /><br /> 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”<br /><br /> 16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.<br /><br /> 21 On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-48079654158058500642011-11-28T10:44:00.000-08:002011-11-28T10:48:22.443-08:00Fear Not!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUGIji3ngMU3e19kiPYBnvBlPNLIL7C9DtZIOWiwYk6x0m5zz3NsvO9g3SdS4SZlkZMbo2mYnPoCGQiraMEDWML-g6wxvaU-4orUvJ56yipR-tWF0u5GxfoJ3lBLvXD43SBRj/s1600/annunc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUGIji3ngMU3e19kiPYBnvBlPNLIL7C9DtZIOWiwYk6x0m5zz3NsvO9g3SdS4SZlkZMbo2mYnPoCGQiraMEDWML-g6wxvaU-4orUvJ56yipR-tWF0u5GxfoJ3lBLvXD43SBRj/s400/annunc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680119582318336498" /></a><br /><br />Luke 1:26-38 Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!”<br />But when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and considered what manner of greeting this was. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name JESUS. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David. And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His kingdom there will be no end.” Then Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I do not know a man?” And the angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God. 36 Now indeed, Elizabeth your relative has also conceived a son in her old age; and this is now the sixth month for her who was called barren. For with God nothing will be impossible.” Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.<br /><br />Painting: "The Annunciation" by Orazio Gentileschilarinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-30035114121528272932011-11-21T11:09:00.001-08:002011-11-21T11:16:08.193-08:00Random Winter Throughts#1: The picture in my banner was the bottom of a table at Borders. Good-bye Borders; we loved you, but obviously not often enough.<br /><br />#2: The snow is still falling here.<br /><br />#3: The snow has created a mental shift in my brain that has bypassed Thanksgiving and moved straight to Christmas. I'm so confused.<br /><br />#4: Now it's time to change the wallpaper on my computer to a suitable Christmas art image. A couple years ago I used some gorgeously colored angels from a Giotto fresco, but need to find something else now. Any suggestions? <br /><br />#5: Snow tires are a nice invention. So are comfy chairs, warm blankets, and cups of cocoa.<br /><br />Back to grading...larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-64057787259638693262011-11-07T13:05:00.001-08:002011-11-07T13:11:02.342-08:00A Rich Life"Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing." -- Camille Pissarro<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOc-XSxHB4vH1_zm6xV2nacy9zucM15Bm7XOpzL6iJk2fPojuJoJuDj1fbMd984W-TBmtYoyWZ0l9rmiENeIfL1wHIigE0U6Yy7WkjR0kQ00vQGXKi28lA_jc5a9zQBvs2ksM/s1600/Gel%25C3%25A9e-Blanche-%2528Hoarfrost%2529-large.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOc-XSxHB4vH1_zm6xV2nacy9zucM15Bm7XOpzL6iJk2fPojuJoJuDj1fbMd984W-TBmtYoyWZ0l9rmiENeIfL1wHIigE0U6Yy7WkjR0kQ00vQGXKi28lA_jc5a9zQBvs2ksM/s400/Gel%25C3%25A9e-Blanche-%2528Hoarfrost%2529-large.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672363960281069714" /></a><br /><br />Image credit: (obviously) http://www.camille-pissarro.org/larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-56544345601251567282011-10-11T22:33:00.000-07:002011-10-11T22:40:03.874-07:00The Lost Art of Editing"'I'm the Imelda Marcus of sunglasses,' he laughed."<br /><br />The above quote is from an article about Bono and why he wears sunglasses. I'm not sure who Imelda Marcus is, but I bet she doesn't own as many shoes as Imelda Marcos did. (Yes, she is still alive [I did a quick check, hint, hint to the editor of the article]; I just don't know if she still owns as many shoes.) <br /><br />I know it can be difficult to find information on the internet sometimes, but shouldn't writers, editors, newspapers, bloggers, etc., at least give it the old college try? <br /><br />I'm done. We now return to the regularly scheduled programming.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-25106007064642473082011-09-27T19:34:00.000-07:002011-09-27T20:42:16.147-07:00Clean Before CleaningCleaning is not my favorite thing to do for two reasons. One, I just don't enjoy doing a task that will almost immediately need to be done again. Cleaning my house is like the directions on shampoo: wash, rinse, repeat. And I don't use my shampoo that way, either. Two, my mind has so much free time when I'm cleaning. Unfortunately, I don't always put it to good use, but instead ruminate on how much I dislike cleaning, which makes me cranky (I was going to say crabby, but I decided cranky sounded a bit more steampunk [see previous posts for more on that one]).<br /><br />My husband is a huge help with the housework, but some tasks seem to fall outside the vision of the other, and floor cleaning has always been my province. So a couple days ago I dug out some cleaner and prepared to mop. I have never found a floor cleaner that works to my liking, although I suspect it has more to do with the floor and all the little divots in the vinyl that was designed by someone who has NEVER cleaned a floor that has dirt stuck in ALL those little divots, but I digress. Since I had not used this particular cleaner in a while (it literally stinks, but it was what was under the sink), I strained to read the tiny directions. (Have you noticed how small things are printed these days? Surely it's not just me. What do you mean, your name isn't Shirley?) Listed shortly before the warnings about not putting this stuff in your eyes, which I wasn't tempted to do--it would be too near my nose then, was the admonition to clean tough spots before cleaning. <br /><br />"Hmm," and, "Double hmm," said I, as I dutifully pushed and pulled the mop across the floor. I have seen this direction before, and it always puzzles me. I'm supposed to clean the floor before I clean the floor? And just what am I supposed to use to clean it the first time? If the cleaner I am currently using isn't going to work then what should I use the first time? And if the cleaner I am currently using has to have something else used before it, then why should I use it now? Huh? Huh? <br /><br />Usually this is the moment when my mind takes a sharp left turn into self-pity, griping, and complaining (see that nice Oxford comma? I've recently been re-educated as to its importance). Shortly thereafter a family member will typically walk across the recently mopped and whinged floor and the pity party becomes a surprise party of the most unpleasant kind for said innocent loved one. This day, such was not the case, and the brain took a refreshing right turn.<br /><br />Cleaning the floor before I clean the floor seems like a ridiculous instruction to me. Yet, in our spiritual lives we do it all the time. One of the most amazing things I can think of is that Jesus came to save me--the spiritual equivalent to my dirty floor, replete with divots. Why should He care about me unless I'm at my best, I wonder. Shouldn't I be at my grandest and finest to stand before God in any capacity? Even before I can ask Jesus to be part of my life? How can I attend church if I'm still covered with the dirt of the world? It's easy to become wrapped up in these worries and forget the truth of Romans 5:8, "but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." <br /><br />Wow. Those words still surprise me sometimes. I don't have to clean me <span style="font-style:italic;">before </span>I can accept Christ's gift. In fact, that cleaning is the gift, and He does the cleaning. I'm not without responsibility afterwards; I should try to live in a way that doesn't attract so much dirt. Neither am I without struggle, as Paul talks about in many places, including Galatians 5:17. Living the Christian life is not easy, but it's sure easier with a good cleaner. He's the best one I've found, that's for sure. And I must confess that it does cheer me to think that the floor is only temporal and I won't be stuck cleaning it for eternity.<br /><br />Here's my best advice: Don't be stuck cleaning before cleaning. Let The Professional do it.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-27984696690425931182011-09-11T20:27:00.001-07:002011-09-11T20:43:36.794-07:00Steampunk Me, or, The Confetti of My Mind (Redux)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSF6n6Q5JT_oJ4L5eR7aiq7JOZJquxNDaHlIHFs-GriUbnT0bBsu959roL4rLwcTCQ7Tx_6PeyhbkB_6z-k8Ry1IYRmbkov49LUMrrsTkgtGXsYyluWSf5D67Y7pkYqKc4hqA7/s1600/DSC_0044.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSF6n6Q5JT_oJ4L5eR7aiq7JOZJquxNDaHlIHFs-GriUbnT0bBsu959roL4rLwcTCQ7Tx_6PeyhbkB_6z-k8Ry1IYRmbkov49LUMrrsTkgtGXsYyluWSf5D67Y7pkYqKc4hqA7/s320/DSC_0044.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651310145706867634" /></a><br /><br />Despite the fact that it is a time-honored tradition in art, I have never drawn a self-portrait before. This one is for my friend Jenny, and it is drawn with a blue mechanical pencil, then inked with a pen that streams smearlessly. (See the previous posts for some understanding.) While the pen might flow smearlessly (the manufacturer's word--not mine) it does not flow globlessly (hey, if they can do it, why can't I?). That is not the reason I'm sneering, however. It just seemed like fun. As did the steampunk. (Again, see the previous posts.) I think I need a <a href="http://www.steampunkemporium.com/store/steampunk_weapons.php?__utma=1.949091483.1315718534.1315723220.1315798442.3&__utmb=1.1.10.1315798442&__utmc=1&__utmx=-&__utmz=1.1315798442.3.3.utmgclid=COyGi8q5lKsCFQjCKgodSlRfsw|utmccn=%28not%20set%29|utmcmd=%28not%20set%29|utmctr=steampunk&__utmv=-&__utmk=171204384">vaporizer</a>, too.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-22064704794847335812011-09-07T13:17:00.000-07:002011-09-07T13:23:36.221-07:00TOTALLY random thoughts, or, the confetti in my mind currentlyRandom thought 1: We really need to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle again soon.<br /><br />Random thought 2: Those purple morning glories at my son's new school were one of the loveliest shades of purple I've seen in a long time.<br /><br />Random thought 2.5: The purple hat at the store was awfully nice, too, but I get hat hair so badly.<br /><br />Random thought 3: If the man at the bank had steel spikes extending from his hands he would look just like Wolverine, and it would make picking up paper a whole lot of fun. <br /><br />Random thought 4: The banner on my blog has snow on it. Since it's 95 or so degrees outside I should really change it, but this is Idaho in September, which means it will snow again soon.<br /><br />Random thought 5: Steampunk. How badly do I want that book? Advice?larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-88795586272955385462011-08-08T21:57:00.000-07:002011-08-08T22:07:16.328-07:00Stream of Consciousness ConvertibleIn which I relate a silly moment of word and image association. Ready? Good.
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<br />As I'm driving down the road between the golden grain fields on my way home today I pass a man walking and he looks hot but I pilot the car out away from him to the far side of the road to give him space but the driver behind me doesn't do the same as I see when I look in the rear view mirror and I see how my hair is blowing a bit in the wind because I don't have air conditioning and the windows are rolled down and I am reminded how I'm so tired of arriving at wherever with hair that looks like I've never even heard of such a thing as a hairbrush, but oh well, such is life, but then I think how other people drive convertibles and aren't mistaken for barbarians which makes me think of the Inspector Lewis episode that I recently watched where the lady arrived in a convertible and she was wearing a headscarf to help tame said hair and that must be the key and I remember that once, years ago, I drove a convertible loaner car while my own was being resurrected from near totalling and that I tried wearing a headscarf but found it very unnerving because it kept wanting to fly off and it's not easy to be comfortable driving a convertible with a scarf blowing out behind because it makes one think of Isadora Duncan--unless one drives with the top up.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-83576743862786792732011-08-06T18:03:00.001-07:002011-08-06T18:03:49.497-07:00New Word for YouStick this word in your vocab: yestreen. It's of Scottish origin and means "last evening or night." As in, "My husband barbecued steak yestreen." It was yummy, too! What did you do yestreen?larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-39998580524767835812011-05-08T17:43:00.000-07:002011-05-08T19:11:16.934-07:00Get the Lead Out<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyE57AOEQ_JGQHsrtU2xMxRZ9G7N6wjrey3MbuHJ0p1tyFd_Wbf20pJqAScB-NgUUQYXNoxNmgCJFnupcQN-7rAwnWKE_Mk52HAypbrYyEqmWqWF0EmZ10UupjHcv8zqo9AQK/s1600/DSC_0234.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyE57AOEQ_JGQHsrtU2xMxRZ9G7N6wjrey3MbuHJ0p1tyFd_Wbf20pJqAScB-NgUUQYXNoxNmgCJFnupcQN-7rAwnWKE_Mk52HAypbrYyEqmWqWF0EmZ10UupjHcv8zqo9AQK/s200/DSC_0234.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604527339848875474" /></a><br /><br />My daughter is teaching me the ins and outs (no pun intended) of mechanical pencils. This is a big deal for me; I've watched so many students waste time fiddling with mechanical pencils that I have been on the verge of banning from my classroom at times. However, being a bit of a pen, pencil and paper freak, I couldn't quite bring myself to separate a student from his or her writing implement of choice. (Classroom management can be a fine art.) Furthermore, while I've always loved the feel of a good 6, 7 or 8B pencil for drawing, I've seen students who can work wonders with mechanical pencils. Not long ago a mechanical pencil made its way into my drawing bag and I have used it for very light sketches underneath some little watercolors, but otherwise I steer clear of this writing implement.<br /><br />All that changed yesterday. My son and I went to the Free Comic Book Day event at our local comic book store to wait patiently in line for a free drawing by a comic book <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhCs8ioygJi4guxdUcWKBlSA3qRTdOU7a5-iHdfLQPgZzKRnwJWPMGTWxK2UDOlnGbtY30VqA6v3qR1RQ7bjIV6kXRO51jOMuYkzuGfrz-j7NRFfdE8UnyuUe_RQsKwhIUvau/s1600/DSC_0235.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhCs8ioygJi4guxdUcWKBlSA3qRTdOU7a5-iHdfLQPgZzKRnwJWPMGTWxK2UDOlnGbtY30VqA6v3qR1RQ7bjIV6kXRO51jOMuYkzuGfrz-j7NRFfdE8UnyuUe_RQsKwhIUvau/s200/DSC_0235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604526631050514242" /></a>artist. We discovered this event last year, and it was love at first sight for me. Own an original drawing for the cost of standing in line? Wow. (Thank you to those artists!) Last year my son and I each chose Star Wars clones as subject matter. This year we challenged the artists: my son chose a Halo character and I wanted a drawing of Asterix. Neither artist had drawn these characters before and seemed to enjoy the new subject matter, too. But back to the mechanical pencils.<br /><br />Part of the joy for me is to watch the artists work, and I noticed that several of them were using blue lead while sketching. Now, I have to confess that I'm old enough to have used a waxer for paste-up, so blue immediately makes me think non-repro. But I wasn't sure why they were using it. So I asked. The answer? It doesn't smear as much as regular graphite and is easier to incorporate into the inking. Cool. While I'm not a comic book artist, that was enough for me. Art store field trip! <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvX0oSyLhyFkuepLjR2NyW5AnN0ZCbSYVPS2_snLCZHh9RdnYRN6ckIpFsgYPi_Ble-kp83CWVmvmCAUZJ2WBICkib4vjXMlc4uGPjLAvcjWFg4uFkfIoRsqTT2J96a9SmMGVB/s1600/DSC_0240.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvX0oSyLhyFkuepLjR2NyW5AnN0ZCbSYVPS2_snLCZHh9RdnYRN6ckIpFsgYPi_Ble-kp83CWVmvmCAUZJ2WBICkib4vjXMlc4uGPjLAvcjWFg4uFkfIoRsqTT2J96a9SmMGVB/s200/DSC_0240.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604527892317546034" /></a><br /><br />So this afternoon my daughter is showing me how to prep a mechanical pencil for use. It's true--I have used a waxer, but never replaced lead in a mechanical pencil. But I'm all ready. And as soon as I'm done sketching I will ink something with the pens my daughter bought me for Mother's Day that promise to "Stream Smearlessly." That's really what it says on the package. Yes, the marketing sold me. How could I resist a made-up word like that! :-D<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimljtuPQHU0Ezhya9dCsBFmN_lPnKD2bApEVZg1EsK4klztut3OGmmsxh4JWtPXmmpK93c2hzdJb9BDV92oUeb0hDOuEKLvC0xG2jUWmrDpFgQdyogIvRw6VWmdlVGjwlxnVQp/s1600/DSC_0239.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimljtuPQHU0Ezhya9dCsBFmN_lPnKD2bApEVZg1EsK4klztut3OGmmsxh4JWtPXmmpK93c2hzdJb9BDV92oUeb0hDOuEKLvC0xG2jUWmrDpFgQdyogIvRw6VWmdlVGjwlxnVQp/s200/DSC_0239.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604529103588328706" /></a>larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24808686.post-33700633462021796502011-03-16T20:55:00.000-07:002011-03-17T21:46:35.717-07:00Novus Nomen MaximusLast year my favorite name from history was <a href="http://www.livius.org/jo-jz/julius/vindex.html">Vindex</a>. Of course, you have to know that in Latin (and this fellow was a rebellious Roman senator) a V is pronounced as a W. I know, silly, but hey, the seventh graders loved it.<br /><br />Well, as of yesterday I have a new favorite, also from Roman history. Meet Mettius Fufetius. An unfortunate fellow, Mettius Fufetius was the leader of Alba who decided to <a href="http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=Liv1His.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=27&division=div2">betray his alliance with the Romans</a> during a battle. But he was outmatched in intelligence by his opponent, Tullus Hostlilius. Is it just me or does it seem really unwise to fight a man named Hostilius? At any rate, the betrayal was a stupid (are we still allowed to use that word?) choice and ended with Mettius Fufetius <a href="http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=Liv1His.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=28&division=div2">being executed</a> in a fashion that Livy says "was the first and last time that fellow-countrymen of ours inflicted a punishment so utterly without regard to the laws of humanity." Poor Mettius Fufetius.<br /><br />Roman history is full of interesting, unusual names like <a href="http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=haaren&book=rome&story=scipio">Scipio Africanus</a> (<a href="http://essays.quotidiana.org/seneca/scipios_villa/">nothing poor</a> or stupid about him!) or Quintus Quinctius Cincinnatus or Publius Manlius (another seventh grade snicker inducer). Another name new to me this year that could be a favorite is Spurius Fusius, appointed Roman spokesman of a compact that Livy says was "in a long metrical formula, which is not worth the trouble of quoting here." The compact was before the <a href="http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=haaren&book=rome&story=horatii">battle between the Horatii and the Curiatii</a>, which is a story that is worth the trouble quoting, to, um, well, coin a quote. <br /><br />As I leaf through Livy there is no shortage of names that sound slightly silly to us today. But I remember reading Wonder Woman comics from the 1940s when I was a kid and being surprised at the old-fashioned quality of the names that were then only 30 years old. I'm sure the Paulines and Abigails of that era didn't feel old-fashioned any more than the Romans sounded silly. And names aren't the only things that go in and out of style, later seeming foolish, humorous or bizarre--orange shag carpet anyone? <br /><br />Hmm, do you think Mettius Fufetius wore bellus-bottomi? (Sorry, Matt J., but only a little.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8wWTb-QsLXdh8mXx9iWJlbQdr6fug9zpIVt3CWlnv9Sq3oKyqO-pZrLa_MJJ2zUCoTGLT_kUXJQvviX59N-PeUl16TuK_QdllvGf9cLiI9Ec1WPt-vwc9NaQEuhQIfAS808C/s1600/758px-Jacques-Louis_David%252C_Le_Serment_des_Horaces.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 317px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju8wWTb-QsLXdh8mXx9iWJlbQdr6fug9zpIVt3CWlnv9Sq3oKyqO-pZrLa_MJJ2zUCoTGLT_kUXJQvviX59N-PeUl16TuK_QdllvGf9cLiI9Ec1WPt-vwc9NaQEuhQIfAS808C/s400/758px-Jacques-Louis_David%252C_Le_Serment_des_Horaces.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584897939502464018" /></a><br /><br />Painting of "The Oath of the Horatii" by Jacques-Louis David.larinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630120664007002583noreply@blogger.com0