I wrote this blurb as part of my post a week ago, but decided it made it unnecessarily long. So here it is as a separate post...
Church is one of those things that, for some reason, the Cat Daddy and I pretty much have to do to feel like ourselves. I get fussy about saying "must" and "should" and such when it comes to God and his things. More often than not people turn perfectly healthy "shoulds" into some kind of point system where if they go to church, or [insert spiritual discipline here], or whatever, then they're on the "right track" or "right with God" or some quantifiable standard that God probably doesn't really care about. And/or they get all mixed up about the order of things and equate "church" with "God," and oh boy, you get into a whole other tangled mess when you can't distinguish between the two.
That said, there is the reality of cause and effect, and it tends to be that when Christians associate with other Christians there is a lot of encouragement and strength to give to each other...not to mention the healing and growth and all, that results from hanging around with people who are in the same place, or have been there and have wisdom to offer. Then there's the whole worship-thing...worshipping God is a good thing, and while you don't need to be in a church to do it, church does provide a set-aside time to deliberately focus on and meet with God. So that's good. So we go to church.
The hard part then, in my opinion, is finding a church that's a good fit. From my own Christian (Protestant?) perspective there are certain non-negotiables--a church has to believe in the Bible as a whole and not preach things that aren't in there (or if they do they should offer a disclaimer). Man's big-s-Sin, and needing forgiveness, Jesus dying on the cross and rising again, salvation by grace and not works, etc--all essential in a healthy Christian church.
Beyond that, there's a ton of room for personal tastes and whatnot. Dunk or sprinkle, frequency and methods of communion, service format, music and preaching style, overall church culture...the possibilities are endless. People, myself included, can get all bent out of shape about these finer points, so I do think it's a good idea to try to match yourself with folks who believe at least somewhat closely to what you do on at least some of these.
For example, my personal dealbreakers include snake handling, dress codes, and membership requirements. I have issues with dress codes--mainly a belief that they don't belong in church--so basically if there's any sort of dress code at all, I'm probably not going to stay because I couldn't submit and keep a happy heart about it. As for membership, it doesn't bother me, per se, but being somewhat of a transient-type, membership as a requirement for service and ministry just doesn't mesh with moving frequently. I'd be spending half my time in mandatory classes and trial periods. Yes, I do believe you should know and trust the people who are ministering in your church; I just don't believe sitting in a weekend class ensures such things. I wrote about this long ago, so I'm not getting into it now.
Snake handling...no way no how. Ever...
Mar 16, 2008
Mar 12, 2008
Why, In the Backyard of Course...
I'm Telling You--Rogue Deer...
Some may recall a short post I did a while back about coming into contact with some deer, and their reassuring me that they did not, in fact, want to pummel me to the ground.
For all you scoffers--the Cat Daddy had a meeting today, where one of the boss-people told them to beware of deer on the base here because "...they are out to kill you."
Apparently, there is a rash of deer-strike incidents on base each year--40 or so. Some years back, the base commander at the time couldn't understand why people couldn't avoid hitting the dang deer. After investigating further, it was discovered that the car damage was in many cases due to side impacts by the deer.
In other words, the deer were going after the cars.
In other words, rogue deer.
Another commander on base now tells of his experiences of going cycling on base, only to be teased and tormented by several deer darting in & out of his path.
The Cat Daddy brought me up to speed on the standard, posted procedures should I encounter these ruffians while driving on base. I am to brake in a straight line only--no swerving into a neighboring lane. A split second before impact I am to let up on the brakes because apparently this reduces the chance that the deer will end up in my lap; all around a very bad thing, indeed.
Rogue. Deer.
For all you scoffers--the Cat Daddy had a meeting today, where one of the boss-people told them to beware of deer on the base here because "...they are out to kill you."
Apparently, there is a rash of deer-strike incidents on base each year--40 or so. Some years back, the base commander at the time couldn't understand why people couldn't avoid hitting the dang deer. After investigating further, it was discovered that the car damage was in many cases due to side impacts by the deer.
In other words, the deer were going after the cars.
In other words, rogue deer.
Another commander on base now tells of his experiences of going cycling on base, only to be teased and tormented by several deer darting in & out of his path.
The Cat Daddy brought me up to speed on the standard, posted procedures should I encounter these ruffians while driving on base. I am to brake in a straight line only--no swerving into a neighboring lane. A split second before impact I am to let up on the brakes because apparently this reduces the chance that the deer will end up in my lap; all around a very bad thing, indeed.
Rogue. Deer.
Mar 10, 2008
SI Joint Dysfunction (or, My Arse Is Outta Whack)...
It's hard to find stuff about SI Joint Dysfunction (or specifically in my case, sacral shear) on the internet, but today I found a couple of sites and even a book. What I didn't find were which (if any) PTs in the area do work on this sort of abnormality...but that's just a matter of calling around and maybe seeing the doc to see if (s)he knows.
But boy was I grateful to find the info I did. More grateful than even I realized, because I sort of cried a little bit in relief. Sensitive soul that he is, the Cat Daddy laughed at me...but he didn't balk when I immediately ordered the book, so I'll grant him some leeway.
Stupid SI Joint Dysfunction...
But boy was I grateful to find the info I did. More grateful than even I realized, because I sort of cried a little bit in relief. Sensitive soul that he is, the Cat Daddy laughed at me...but he didn't balk when I immediately ordered the book, so I'll grant him some leeway.
Stupid SI Joint Dysfunction...
Mar 9, 2008
Church Hunting--The First (grrr)...
I hate church hunting.
Selecting a church is a big deal and (in my opinion) requires much consideration and time, if one is to really integrate with the church community and be able to minister from his/her gifts and all that. Sort of like dating before marriage. Sort of.
Some people like dating, and it does have its place, but I prefer working from within marriage...so church hunting is a rather painful thing for me. You can't really skip the dating aspects, because that would be a little forward and would probably freak people out. No, you have to take it in order, and endure the chatting, and newcomer welcomes, and asking loaded questions to see where they really stand on certain things, since statements of belief can sound glorious and right up your alley, but then you find out the finer points are right out for you. Similar to the college girl who says "I wanna marry a man who's sold out to Christ, and really seeks him and can be a spiritual leader for our family," but then finds out that her really sold-out man is all of those things, but also disappears entirely during the college basketball season (where she hates sports), and thinks that she should stay home and raise 10 babies when she was thinking 2 would be plenty and she'd like to work after a while. She's better suited to a guy who is not only sold out, but also happens to want the same things out of life that she does.
That, but with church. Which brings us to the Cat Daddy's and my style. We tend to gravitate toward places where the target demographic (I love that term) is the young and hip 20-something. Ish. But we don't want all-out anarchy just for the sake of being different. The non-negotiables still have to be there as far as Biblical teaching goes (Jesus, our need for salvation, his death and resurrection, grace and not works, etc.). Further, now that His Highness is in the picture the kids' stuff is more of a factor. And there must be an overall feel of ragamuffin-ness, where I can be a little crazy and people won't balk. Because I just am.
I haven't even mentioned denominations--primarily because I think, especially as time goes on, that while a church's denomination might clue you in to some of the doctrinal nuances, it doesn't necessarily tell you anything at all about their overall feel. In the past 7 years I think I've been a part of churches in 2-3 denominations (this is including the historically-Baptist church that was comprised mainly of closet charismatics--very nice ones, I might add), along with 2 nondenominational churches, and my tastes haven't fluctuated THAT much. This is why I think the way I do about denominations.
So, today's experience was a local Foursquare church, which I consider along the charismatic-ish lines. The whole baptism-in-the-Holy-Spirit, speaking in tongues, physical healing-thing. More or less. Totally met the non-negotiables, and has a team-oriented focus, in that the members do a lot of initiating the various ministries and community outreach. And about half the men were wearing some form of Hawaiian shirt. Very cool and oh-so-California. We attended with some friends of ours who live in the local area, which made it somewhat less uncomfortable than usual.
Still, I sat there with the same pit in my stomach as I do every first Sunday in a new place, over-analyzing every song, word spoken, and outfit worn to get a feel for the place. Then I realized what I was doing & tried to stop. Then I thought I should be able to do it because dangit, I'm in transition. So I went to the bathroom during greeting time, didn't fill out a connect-flap, and eschewed the candy-containing welcome packets. I shook hands with the pastor (who seemed to be a very reasonable person) and answered all questions non-committally.
The sermon (message?) was fine. They emphasized the word "saved," they mentioned healing and such a couple times, and there was an encouragement of being all fired up in one's Christian walk. General idiosyncrasies you'll find in any charismatic-type church. But nothing terribly extreme--no one was screaming out in tongues, running up & down the aisles giggling, or passing out the lap cloths that they cover the ladies' legs with after being slain in the Spirit. Which I say with fondness and/or affection, because all it really means is that I'm getting better at observing people's denominational bents.
The worship team was big, as far as worship teams go. They had drums, percussion, guitars, bass, and several vocalists. They even had a brass section, for crying out loud. All in all over 10 people on stage. The music would be classified as "contemporary," but only in the same sense that Amy Grant and Twila Paris were contemporary in the 80's. Definitely not the edginess I've become accustomed to in the past couple years. I didn't know any of the songs, but they were more updated than the standard double-time choruses I've heard whenever I've gone to a charismatic(ish) church.
I have decided that when observing people doing spiritual and/or churchy things from an outsider's perspective, the spiritual and/or churchy things almost always come across as kind of hokey. I'm pretty sure this is all-but-unavoidable. Each church has its own little rituals and inside lingo, which are rightfully aimed at its members/regular attenders, and if you're not accustomed to them they can seem a little bizarre. Sort of like watching another couple call each other "pookie" and "muffin," and wanting to retch, while thinking nothing of calling your own partner "snoogums" and "puppykins." So I felt awkward, for example, when prompted to give the Lord a clap (I never clap for God. Long story.). But not offended or put-off.
Afterward we picked up His Highness from the nursery and bade our friends goodbye. Once we were in the car, the Cat Daddy asked what I thought. I replied by asking what he thought. He said "I loved it!" and I said "liar." Seriously though, I said that if we found no better fit, I could come here with confidence that it's a fairly healthy place and wouldn't harm us...but that it was the first Sunday and we should look at least a few more places to see what's out there. But no, it didn't scream "church home" to us, so the hunt will continue.
Thankfully, the hunt for good Mexican food has been infinitely easier. Today we tried another little local place, and again I nearly wept for joy at the sheer deliciousness of it all. The approach is straightforward, really--to find good Mexican food, go to places near Mexico. If you find real Mexican people running the shop, it's practically a shoo-in.
If only church were as simple...
Selecting a church is a big deal and (in my opinion) requires much consideration and time, if one is to really integrate with the church community and be able to minister from his/her gifts and all that. Sort of like dating before marriage. Sort of.
Some people like dating, and it does have its place, but I prefer working from within marriage...so church hunting is a rather painful thing for me. You can't really skip the dating aspects, because that would be a little forward and would probably freak people out. No, you have to take it in order, and endure the chatting, and newcomer welcomes, and asking loaded questions to see where they really stand on certain things, since statements of belief can sound glorious and right up your alley, but then you find out the finer points are right out for you. Similar to the college girl who says "I wanna marry a man who's sold out to Christ, and really seeks him and can be a spiritual leader for our family," but then finds out that her really sold-out man is all of those things, but also disappears entirely during the college basketball season (where she hates sports), and thinks that she should stay home and raise 10 babies when she was thinking 2 would be plenty and she'd like to work after a while. She's better suited to a guy who is not only sold out, but also happens to want the same things out of life that she does.
That, but with church. Which brings us to the Cat Daddy's and my style. We tend to gravitate toward places where the target demographic (I love that term) is the young and hip 20-something. Ish. But we don't want all-out anarchy just for the sake of being different. The non-negotiables still have to be there as far as Biblical teaching goes (Jesus, our need for salvation, his death and resurrection, grace and not works, etc.). Further, now that His Highness is in the picture the kids' stuff is more of a factor. And there must be an overall feel of ragamuffin-ness, where I can be a little crazy and people won't balk. Because I just am.
I haven't even mentioned denominations--primarily because I think, especially as time goes on, that while a church's denomination might clue you in to some of the doctrinal nuances, it doesn't necessarily tell you anything at all about their overall feel. In the past 7 years I think I've been a part of churches in 2-3 denominations (this is including the historically-Baptist church that was comprised mainly of closet charismatics--very nice ones, I might add), along with 2 nondenominational churches, and my tastes haven't fluctuated THAT much. This is why I think the way I do about denominations.
So, today's experience was a local Foursquare church, which I consider along the charismatic-ish lines. The whole baptism-in-the-Holy-Spirit, speaking in tongues, physical healing-thing. More or less. Totally met the non-negotiables, and has a team-oriented focus, in that the members do a lot of initiating the various ministries and community outreach. And about half the men were wearing some form of Hawaiian shirt. Very cool and oh-so-California. We attended with some friends of ours who live in the local area, which made it somewhat less uncomfortable than usual.
Still, I sat there with the same pit in my stomach as I do every first Sunday in a new place, over-analyzing every song, word spoken, and outfit worn to get a feel for the place. Then I realized what I was doing & tried to stop. Then I thought I should be able to do it because dangit, I'm in transition. So I went to the bathroom during greeting time, didn't fill out a connect-flap, and eschewed the candy-containing welcome packets. I shook hands with the pastor (who seemed to be a very reasonable person) and answered all questions non-committally.
The sermon (message?) was fine. They emphasized the word "saved," they mentioned healing and such a couple times, and there was an encouragement of being all fired up in one's Christian walk. General idiosyncrasies you'll find in any charismatic-type church. But nothing terribly extreme--no one was screaming out in tongues, running up & down the aisles giggling, or passing out the lap cloths that they cover the ladies' legs with after being slain in the Spirit. Which I say with fondness and/or affection, because all it really means is that I'm getting better at observing people's denominational bents.
The worship team was big, as far as worship teams go. They had drums, percussion, guitars, bass, and several vocalists. They even had a brass section, for crying out loud. All in all over 10 people on stage. The music would be classified as "contemporary," but only in the same sense that Amy Grant and Twila Paris were contemporary in the 80's. Definitely not the edginess I've become accustomed to in the past couple years. I didn't know any of the songs, but they were more updated than the standard double-time choruses I've heard whenever I've gone to a charismatic(ish) church.
I have decided that when observing people doing spiritual and/or churchy things from an outsider's perspective, the spiritual and/or churchy things almost always come across as kind of hokey. I'm pretty sure this is all-but-unavoidable. Each church has its own little rituals and inside lingo, which are rightfully aimed at its members/regular attenders, and if you're not accustomed to them they can seem a little bizarre. Sort of like watching another couple call each other "pookie" and "muffin," and wanting to retch, while thinking nothing of calling your own partner "snoogums" and "puppykins." So I felt awkward, for example, when prompted to give the Lord a clap (I never clap for God. Long story.). But not offended or put-off.
Afterward we picked up His Highness from the nursery and bade our friends goodbye. Once we were in the car, the Cat Daddy asked what I thought. I replied by asking what he thought. He said "I loved it!" and I said "liar." Seriously though, I said that if we found no better fit, I could come here with confidence that it's a fairly healthy place and wouldn't harm us...but that it was the first Sunday and we should look at least a few more places to see what's out there. But no, it didn't scream "church home" to us, so the hunt will continue.
Thankfully, the hunt for good Mexican food has been infinitely easier. Today we tried another little local place, and again I nearly wept for joy at the sheer deliciousness of it all. The approach is straightforward, really--to find good Mexican food, go to places near Mexico. If you find real Mexican people running the shop, it's practically a shoo-in.
If only church were as simple...
Mar 7, 2008
And Just Like That, There It Is...
You all know about the frigid Midwest, right?
Our stint in CA is quite temporary--we're here long enough for the Cat Daddy to do some training, and then we're off to the frozen tundra for 4 years while he puts said training to good use. I was REALLY hoping not to go to North Dakota. Montana would be OK, but of all the options I wanted Wyoming, mostly because of the base's proximity to civilization, friends, airports, and such.
Well, guess what--it's Wyoming.
The Cat Daddy met with one of his new bosses today, and she was surprised that he hadn't been told yet what his follow-on assignment would be. So she made a call and said something like "Where's the Cat Daddy going?" and they told her.
While ND would have fed my martyr complex to no end, my healthy side is entirely grateful. We will be within a half day's drive of the Z's, the mothership (Eddie Bauer Outlet), and some fantastic skiing. And DIA, so people can get to us fairly easily, and vice versa. To be fair, I probably shouldn't call it the "frozen tundra" anymore. Maybe something like "land of tumbleweeds and snowy ranches"?? I'll have to think on that one...
And oh-by-the-way he also found out that the "6-8 months" here is really more like "5 1/2 months," which caught me by surprise, but I think after some processing I'll decide that I feel neutral about it.
But I'd better go find some beaches to jog on, posthaste. No time to waste...
Our stint in CA is quite temporary--we're here long enough for the Cat Daddy to do some training, and then we're off to the frozen tundra for 4 years while he puts said training to good use. I was REALLY hoping not to go to North Dakota. Montana would be OK, but of all the options I wanted Wyoming, mostly because of the base's proximity to civilization, friends, airports, and such.
Well, guess what--it's Wyoming.
The Cat Daddy met with one of his new bosses today, and she was surprised that he hadn't been told yet what his follow-on assignment would be. So she made a call and said something like "Where's the Cat Daddy going?" and they told her.
While ND would have fed my martyr complex to no end, my healthy side is entirely grateful. We will be within a half day's drive of the Z's, the mothership (Eddie Bauer Outlet), and some fantastic skiing. And DIA, so people can get to us fairly easily, and vice versa. To be fair, I probably shouldn't call it the "frozen tundra" anymore. Maybe something like "land of tumbleweeds and snowy ranches"?? I'll have to think on that one...
And oh-by-the-way he also found out that the "6-8 months" here is really more like "5 1/2 months," which caught me by surprise, but I think after some processing I'll decide that I feel neutral about it.
But I'd better go find some beaches to jog on, posthaste. No time to waste...
Mar 6, 2008
Housegoddess...
Chewymom put up an interesting post today, talking about gender roles in the church. More specifically, she explores an essay by Mark Strauss where he states that the "women's movement" didn't just come up out of nowhere, but rather started amid places where women and their gifts were not valued.
I'm all sensitive about gender roles right now, being in my 4th day as a stay-at-home-mom. One thing I appreciate about the Cat Daddy is that he's always said he doesn't think there's anything I can't do. Except maybe father children, but come to think of it I don't believe he was the one who pointed that out. So when I get all bent out of shape about submission and women's roles in the home and church (a hot-button for me), I have to talk myself down a bit and remind myself that my husband is comfortable with my level of influence, which I'm pretty sure means he believes I'm "in submission." And if I've got the support of my husband, that's a wonderful thing.
I'm not sure why it's such a button pusher. I've been highly fortunate, I think, in that I've done all sorts of "non-traditional" things in my life with very little kickback. Well, very little kickback to me directly; I've heard plenty of folks parade their views around like some sort of pious peacocks without having any sort of real knowledge or experience to back them up (um, I would have to include myself in there as well on plenty of issues I really have no idea about). And then I get all freaked out that someone's going to tell me I have to stop doing something I enjoy. And when anyone tells me I have to do or not do something, I dig my heels right in and refuse to budge. So I guess that's where that comes from at the root: my control issues. As usual. =)
As to the gender roles specifically in church, I suppose I fall more in the egalitarian camp, but with a strong conviction (and I'm pretty sure that Chewymom--and lots of others--would agree) that we women need to encourage each other in whatever and whoever God has made us to be. Those who are good at the decorating, and crafting, and cooking and such should be free to do what they're good at and valued for it because believe me, you don't want me attempting to scrapbook your most cherished memories or do anything visually artsy. So if others do it, that means that I don't have to be pressured into it, right?
That sounds terrible; I'm really not into this solely for my own gain (although it helps)...what I mean to say is let's let everyone work from within their gifts, just like these guys are saying. No subpar decor from me (the Cat Daddy's the one with taste in our family), but when it comes time to be, for example, a small-groups guru, I'm your man.
Or woman. Whatever...
PS--But just for fun click here
I'm all sensitive about gender roles right now, being in my 4th day as a stay-at-home-mom. One thing I appreciate about the Cat Daddy is that he's always said he doesn't think there's anything I can't do. Except maybe father children, but come to think of it I don't believe he was the one who pointed that out. So when I get all bent out of shape about submission and women's roles in the home and church (a hot-button for me), I have to talk myself down a bit and remind myself that my husband is comfortable with my level of influence, which I'm pretty sure means he believes I'm "in submission." And if I've got the support of my husband, that's a wonderful thing.
I'm not sure why it's such a button pusher. I've been highly fortunate, I think, in that I've done all sorts of "non-traditional" things in my life with very little kickback. Well, very little kickback to me directly; I've heard plenty of folks parade their views around like some sort of pious peacocks without having any sort of real knowledge or experience to back them up (um, I would have to include myself in there as well on plenty of issues I really have no idea about). And then I get all freaked out that someone's going to tell me I have to stop doing something I enjoy. And when anyone tells me I have to do or not do something, I dig my heels right in and refuse to budge. So I guess that's where that comes from at the root: my control issues. As usual. =)
As to the gender roles specifically in church, I suppose I fall more in the egalitarian camp, but with a strong conviction (and I'm pretty sure that Chewymom--and lots of others--would agree) that we women need to encourage each other in whatever and whoever God has made us to be. Those who are good at the decorating, and crafting, and cooking and such should be free to do what they're good at and valued for it because believe me, you don't want me attempting to scrapbook your most cherished memories or do anything visually artsy. So if others do it, that means that I don't have to be pressured into it, right?
That sounds terrible; I'm really not into this solely for my own gain (although it helps)...what I mean to say is let's let everyone work from within their gifts, just like these guys are saying. No subpar decor from me (the Cat Daddy's the one with taste in our family), but when it comes time to be, for example, a small-groups guru, I'm your man.
Or woman. Whatever...
PS--But just for fun click here
Mar 4, 2008
Teensy Bit O' Discipline...
He hates the vacuum cleaner.
Our little potted palm may or may not have survived the trip out, so in the spirit of positivity I'll say it's convalescing in the living room until the temps are over 60F at all times.
Well, a certain little mister enjoys rummaging in the dirt and mulch, and then scattering it on the ground and/or eating it. In Mass on the hardwood floors--gross but no biggie. In CA on the very light carpet--no way no how.
So I tried the little hand slaps to no avail. His expression actually took on a delighted and beastly look as he gleefully reached right back in for more to scatter. Of all the nerve!
I did the old remove-and-distract, and was planning to leave the mess for the Cat Daddy (God bless him--the poor Cat Daddy bears the brunt of my knee jerk reactions, I'm afraid. Thankfully I only act on them about 31% of the time), but I decided that with the vacuum cleaner sitting out and ready less than 20 feet away from me I should suck it up and...well, suck it up. The dirt, that is.
My expression took on its own delighted and beastly look as I remembered--His Highness hates the vacuum cleaner. Which is a bummer, since we all know that when we make a mess we have to clean it up, and that the usual way to clean a carpet is with a vacuum.
So I commenced to vacuuming the mulch. He commenced to screaming. Interestingly enough, however, he did not leave the room--something which I would not have prevented. I may be a mean mommy, but I'm not sadistic or anything. He still wanted to be near me, but was insistent that I turn off the big red monster NOW.
I did not linger. I finished the job and powered down. I summoned him with snuggles and explained about cleaning up after ourselves. As Cloud & Townsend would say, I offered plenty of empathy and held firm on the limit. Thus far (which may or may not mean anything), he has not gone near the palm again.
So Mommy learns a little bit more...bwuahahaha!
Our little potted palm may or may not have survived the trip out, so in the spirit of positivity I'll say it's convalescing in the living room until the temps are over 60F at all times.
Well, a certain little mister enjoys rummaging in the dirt and mulch, and then scattering it on the ground and/or eating it. In Mass on the hardwood floors--gross but no biggie. In CA on the very light carpet--no way no how.
So I tried the little hand slaps to no avail. His expression actually took on a delighted and beastly look as he gleefully reached right back in for more to scatter. Of all the nerve!
I did the old remove-and-distract, and was planning to leave the mess for the Cat Daddy (God bless him--the poor Cat Daddy bears the brunt of my knee jerk reactions, I'm afraid. Thankfully I only act on them about 31% of the time), but I decided that with the vacuum cleaner sitting out and ready less than 20 feet away from me I should suck it up and...well, suck it up. The dirt, that is.
My expression took on its own delighted and beastly look as I remembered--His Highness hates the vacuum cleaner. Which is a bummer, since we all know that when we make a mess we have to clean it up, and that the usual way to clean a carpet is with a vacuum.
So I commenced to vacuuming the mulch. He commenced to screaming. Interestingly enough, however, he did not leave the room--something which I would not have prevented. I may be a mean mommy, but I'm not sadistic or anything. He still wanted to be near me, but was insistent that I turn off the big red monster NOW.
I did not linger. I finished the job and powered down. I summoned him with snuggles and explained about cleaning up after ourselves. As Cloud & Townsend would say, I offered plenty of empathy and held firm on the limit. Thus far (which may or may not mean anything), he has not gone near the palm again.
So Mommy learns a little bit more...bwuahahaha!
Mar 3, 2008
Ok, So I Cheated...
The cable (and thus the internet capabilities) won’t be installed until tomorrow, 3/4, but I’m writing today, 3/3. How am I doing this, you ask? Well, I’m typing in Word, and I’ll save it until I post tomorrow, where Blogger will let me change the posting date to 3/3. So you’ll never know the difference. I’m slick that way…
So, Lompoc. Awesome town. Sort of a sleepy, coastal place. CA 1 runs right through it, but there isn’t much to see as far as touristy-stuff, and the beaches in the immediate area I’m told have nasty undertows, so you wouldn’t want to come to swim. Swimming’s down the road, closer to Santa Barbara. So from what I can tell, it’s pretty much all locals. We do have Wal-Mart, several major grocery and fast food chains, and Home Depot. Then there are tons of locally-owned businesses. Like many places in the Southwest, there’s a lot of Hispanic influence. We found good (good) Mexican food within 24 hours of our arrival. Then we went back the next day. We might eventually get around to trying some of the other options…but then again there may not be a need. I do want to try the “authentic” fish & chips place. It’s called Alfie’s, and you can’t get much more British than that. If they wrap the food in newspaper I’ll know it’s a keeper.
The town is nestled in rolling, green hills. The kind of hills that make me love California. They’re way too steep to attempt building anything on them. As far as I can tell, they’re divvied up into several ranches, but other than the occasional cows & horses they are largely untouched. Driving through them the other day I thought “I would love to live here,” and then it dawned on me that I DO live here, and I nearly wept for joy. But then again, that might’ve been the Mexican food.
Santa Barbara is 50 or so miles away. The only time I’ve spent there so far is the airport, and it took me about 5 seconds to determine that it is the single, most fantastic airport in all of humanity. To begin with, it’s tiny. Everything operates from within one very small terminal, which itself looks like some sort of hacienda, or something. Spanish-style stucco and tile, lots of lush bougainvilleas and other greenery, signs with 70’s Spanish-looking lettering, the works. None of this “The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only-blah blah blah” stuff; there is no white zone. The short term parking lot would fit inside a gymnasium, and is directly in front of the terminal. It feels like pulling up to Fantasy Island. I looked around for where I should claim my lei, but sadly there was no one handing them out.
The reason I was there: my mom had flown in to return His Highness. I pulled up a little late, since I had allowed 20 minutes or so for them to de-plane, fight their way through the crowds and down to baggage claim, etc., like at Logan. I soon learned that this extra time cushion was highly unnecessary. When they landed, Mom was surprised to find that there were no jet ways; they disembarked via sky stairs. And since Mom was heavily laden with all the baby-travel-paraphernalia, the pilot was kind enough to carry His Highness down the steps. I thought that was nice. They were directed to Baggage Claim A, where the ramp worker rolled up with a cart of baggage, straight off the plane, and the passengers claimed their bags from the pile. Everything took all of 5 minutes, so they were stuck waiting for me instead of the other way around.
As for the house, it’s as good as it gets for a sight unseen rental. We’ve upgraded to 2 bathrooms and a 2-car garage, but there’s no way we’re getting 2 cars into that garage with all the shtuff we’ll be storing for our tenure here.
Oh dear, His Highness awakes. More later…
So, Lompoc. Awesome town. Sort of a sleepy, coastal place. CA 1 runs right through it, but there isn’t much to see as far as touristy-stuff, and the beaches in the immediate area I’m told have nasty undertows, so you wouldn’t want to come to swim. Swimming’s down the road, closer to Santa Barbara. So from what I can tell, it’s pretty much all locals. We do have Wal-Mart, several major grocery and fast food chains, and Home Depot. Then there are tons of locally-owned businesses. Like many places in the Southwest, there’s a lot of Hispanic influence. We found good (good) Mexican food within 24 hours of our arrival. Then we went back the next day. We might eventually get around to trying some of the other options…but then again there may not be a need. I do want to try the “authentic” fish & chips place. It’s called Alfie’s, and you can’t get much more British than that. If they wrap the food in newspaper I’ll know it’s a keeper.
The town is nestled in rolling, green hills. The kind of hills that make me love California. They’re way too steep to attempt building anything on them. As far as I can tell, they’re divvied up into several ranches, but other than the occasional cows & horses they are largely untouched. Driving through them the other day I thought “I would love to live here,” and then it dawned on me that I DO live here, and I nearly wept for joy. But then again, that might’ve been the Mexican food.
Santa Barbara is 50 or so miles away. The only time I’ve spent there so far is the airport, and it took me about 5 seconds to determine that it is the single, most fantastic airport in all of humanity. To begin with, it’s tiny. Everything operates from within one very small terminal, which itself looks like some sort of hacienda, or something. Spanish-style stucco and tile, lots of lush bougainvilleas and other greenery, signs with 70’s Spanish-looking lettering, the works. None of this “The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only-blah blah blah” stuff; there is no white zone. The short term parking lot would fit inside a gymnasium, and is directly in front of the terminal. It feels like pulling up to Fantasy Island. I looked around for where I should claim my lei, but sadly there was no one handing them out.
The reason I was there: my mom had flown in to return His Highness. I pulled up a little late, since I had allowed 20 minutes or so for them to de-plane, fight their way through the crowds and down to baggage claim, etc., like at Logan. I soon learned that this extra time cushion was highly unnecessary. When they landed, Mom was surprised to find that there were no jet ways; they disembarked via sky stairs. And since Mom was heavily laden with all the baby-travel-paraphernalia, the pilot was kind enough to carry His Highness down the steps. I thought that was nice. They were directed to Baggage Claim A, where the ramp worker rolled up with a cart of baggage, straight off the plane, and the passengers claimed their bags from the pile. Everything took all of 5 minutes, so they were stuck waiting for me instead of the other way around.
As for the house, it’s as good as it gets for a sight unseen rental. We’ve upgraded to 2 bathrooms and a 2-car garage, but there’s no way we’re getting 2 cars into that garage with all the shtuff we’ll be storing for our tenure here.
Oh dear, His Highness awakes. More later…
Mar 2, 2008
We Made It...
Yep, we made it safely. I'm in Starbucks handling the online necessities, but I won't have time to really write until the cable's hooked up Tuesday (at earliest).
In a nutshell, we arrived Friday, the house is great and Lompoc rocks.
Stay tuned...
In a nutshell, we arrived Friday, the house is great and Lompoc rocks.
Stay tuned...
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