For Christmas Week...

I swiped this from the Good Reverend's FB page. It's part of a message he's preaching tomorrow at the home church.

"Jesus sits in heaven, next to His Father, the hour before He must suspend His ability to remember He is God...before He places Himself into the earthly protection of a human whose race He must ultimately rescue. The hero of the universe setting off on a journey to save a planet. Never has love been so reckless, to prove itself so intimate, so real, so tender, so beyond the power of fear, sin and death."

He's a good speaker, the Good Reverend...

My Response to a Friend's Status...

Somewhere between meringue and nougat is where you'll find Jesus and me hanging out. We'll sit in a shell of the stuff and just scoop moundsful from the walls, directly into our mouths. It's called divinity for good reason.

Write that down, kids...

Beam Me Up...

We just got back from Phoenix, so what do you think I'm going to talk about? That's right: Bluetooth.

Wyoming recently passed a law banning handheld cell phone use while driving, so I wanted to get a hands-free device. I sent out my resident expert on all things technical and gadgety (the Cat Daddy), who is always up for a trip to Best Buy. He came back with a little box the size of a pack of Post-Its and said something to the effect of "Behold, your new speakerphone." Then he hooked it up for me. This involved clipping it to the sun visor. Then he told me how to link it to my celly. So I did.

So now when I get into the car, the lady inside the speaker says, in a pleasant yet slightly robotic British accent, "Battery level is high." And it gives a little ding and she says, "Connected to Motorola phone." When I want to make a call, I hit the button on the box and speak as if I'm talking to my cell phone. I tell it to "Name Dial," and then I tell it who to call, and THEN if I have more than one number for that person, it asks me which one to call. And then it does.

Now, the only touching I do at all is hitting the big button on the box when I want to make a call, and then again when I hang up. I do not touch my cell phone in any way. My cell phone is usually folded up and put away in the diaper bag, sometimes in the way back of the car...and I can still make a call with my nifty speakerphone.

It reminds me of the com-badges on Star Trek: The Next Generation. You know, the ones they wore on their chests, and they would hit it and say "Transporter room, one to beam up," or "Get us out of here, NOW!!!" I could hang my little speaker box around my neck, and people would look at me weird (and probably think "Dang Trekkie"), but it would be essentially the same as a com-badge, minus the tracking capabilities. There's a cell phone app for those, I believe.

The more we can do with technology, the more it amazes me. Right now, at this very minute, I'm having a conversation of sorts (via Facebook) with two guys in completely different parts of Phoenix. And I'm in Cheyenne. I can listen to the same radio station anywhere in the country, thanks to satellite radio and streaming audio. My computer isn't even connected to anything except its power cord, and yet here I sit, surfing away.

Friggin' amazing...

I Want the Blue Crap...

The Cat Daddy likes cherry Chapstick, followed by the original. He really prefers the orange, but they don't make it anymore, so he settles for cherry. I like the dark blue one with a hint of menthol. The Cat Daddy despises that one. So I don't have to share all that often.

Today in the car the Cat Daddy asked to borrow my Chapstick. I said, "Lemme look for it. Don't you have your red stuff?"

He said, "I don't know. Awww, don't tell me yours is the blue crap."

"Yep."

"I don't like your blue crap."

"Too bad; that's what you're stuck with."

Then His Highness very solemnly piped up from his big-boy vantage point in the way-back: "I want the blue crap, Daddy."

It took a minute. The Cat Daddy, my mom, and I were laughing too hard to say anything...