Meeting Neighbors

I was on my way home from the Metro. Along the way I was taking pictures because I like my neighborhood and I'm going to miss it. In the last block before I got home, I happened across a neighbor, one I'd never seen out before, walking his three dogs...

Here we have Michael, Diva, and Mocha Joe. Mocha Joe is still a tiny puppy. Soooo cute!

Diva was really excited about having her picture taken.

I mean really excited!

But, Mocha Joe, the one who followed me and made me stop to pet and take photos, is my favorite new puppy friend.

Lesson to remember: A camera can be a really nice "in" to meet people.

Sixteen

My picture for today not only contains the number sixteen, it allows me to introduce the uninitiated to the wonders of Toothpaste for Dinner. Check it out, m'nerds!

We're packing up the office today. Not just my office, but all the offices in the "back room" where my cubicle resides. By Monday morning, we will have all new cubicles (that I get to enjoy for 9 days) and the new guy will be starting. I told the office manager that my supervisor is delusional about how much work we have to do and how much training new-guy-Bryan-with-a-"y" is going to need.

Only sixteen more days...

Bluegrass Revival!

A couple of my college friends rock out on a banjo and viola.



Go Tim and Phil!

For more, check out the website for their duo, The Olde Battleaxe.
Phil also has some pretty amusing stories at his place, Imitation Pickles.

Seventeen

Trying to find images for today was a craps shoot at best. All Google seemed to find was images related to a certain teen magazine to which I once had a subscription. Persistence paid off, though, and I found this image that isn't spectacular, but is light years better than the cover a teen rag.

The countdowns in the teens, people. I'm starting to freak out just a little bit.

In semi-related news, I learned today that a person had already been hired to replace me. His name is Brian and he will be SITTING AT MY DESK for the entirety of my last two weeks at the firm. This should be an interesting arrangement considering the fact that I have spent the majority of the last two months blogging, reading blogs and books, emailing, and other activities unrelated to work because there is nothing to do!!! Even if there was stuff to do, my job responsibilities could be passed on to a new employee in two days or less of training...a high school kid with a questionable work ethic could do my job tolerably well.

My supervisor just wanted to get someone in here before I left so that she wouldn't have to train him. She'll go to any absurd length to avoid work while maintaining her sense of power/authority. I'm going to miss some of my co-workers, but I will never miss the infuriatingly backwards way in which this office functions.

Only seventeen more days before I get to say good-bye to this place, hopefully, forever and begin living the life I want.

It's Coming...

Each year, around this time, I begin to feel restless. From the time I was 5 until I graduated from college (seventeen years), August was a time of preparation. Shopping for new clothes, buying school supplies, and, later, packing. Life was cyclical, each new cycle beginning in August/September with the inevitable return to school.

Since I graduated from college and started working full-time three years ago, life has blurred together with very little to differentiate one day from another. The seasons have changed but it made little difference in my daily routine; wake up, go to work, leave work, eat dinner, go to bed, rinse and repeat. However, with my upcoming matriculation at Princeton Theological Seminary (whose chapel is pictured above), August has once again become the month of preparation.

The cool breezes that have begun to blow signal the return of a calming cycle. If my desire to become a college professor comes to fruition, this should be the beginning of many years of the same cycle. Perhaps this is my Whiteness speaking, but I prefer my adventure mixed with a shot or two of security. It seems school is probably the perfect option for this girl.

Here's hoping I can convince some of my classmates to go apple or pumpkin picking!

Eighteen

Another day begins in my countdown to departure. I would like to celebrate at this restaurant. Unfortunately, it's in Ottawa.

Sigur Ros's website is entitled "eighteen seconds before sunrise."

This website will let you in on the eighteen standards "the geographically informed person knows and understands."

Finally, I'm not sure I would like this band (they play metal), but I sure do like their album cover for this countdown.



They've got the Green Day look goin' on.

Latino Laundromat

We live in a somwhat affluent neighborhood (million dollar homes and BMWs abound). Affluent folk don't need to go to the laundromat (they have these). Any bulky items that cannot be accomodated by their state-of-the-art washers and dryers are simply sent out to the cleaners. Unable to justify such an expense, as I contemplate my soon-to-be penniless state, I tossed my extremely large, overstuffed comforter in my backseat and headed to the laundromat situated but a mile from our apartment, in a mostly hispanic/latino neighborhood.

When I first walked in, I thought I was going to have to turn around and head home; Sunday afternoon seems to be a popular laundry time. I should have remembered that procrastination breaks all language and culture barriers. However, after a quick look around I found one available machine that would be large enough to accommodate my monstrous bedding.

Keeping one eye on the available washer, I hustled to the change machine to get ten dollars in quarters. With my pockets full of change, I grabbed my huge, green corduroy comforter and stuffed it into the single vacant triple loader. There was some trouble closing the door, but, eventually, it cooperated. I dropped in my four dollars worth of change and the laundry soap that I wisely brought from my own home stash so as to avoid dropping two extra dollars on one "serving" of soap, and started 'er up.

As soon as the washer started filling I found the nearest available chair and began reading C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce. After two or three minutes, I looked up only to see that the door was slightly ajar and nothing was happening. Getting just a little annoyed, I went to the machine and leaned my weight onto the pesky door; the machine began to fill again. Optimistically, I thought that once the washer began agitating, the door would suction itself closed in some miraculous way. A few moments into the wash cycle, I tested my theory. There was no suction. I managed to spill at least a gallon of hot, soapy water all over me and the dangerous-when-wet tiled floor.

My situation prevented me from notifying the attendant that there was a problem and my fellow launderers didn't seem at all interested in my plight. When I tried to communicate with them, they simply ignored the sounds coming out of my mouth. So, I continued my lean against the machine door as I read more about Lewis' ideas of heaven and hell.

As the attendant wandered about the building she noticed the flood I had unintentionally created and brought a mop to clean it up. Unfortunately, the predicament that caused the flood also prevented me from moving in any way to assist her efforts. She definitely didn't speak English, so I became the innocent victim of her hateful stares as she tried to mop around my wet, flip-flop clad feet.

My 24 minutes spent sweatily wedged against the door of a triple loader trying to prevent a flood of epic proportions probably looked more like the efforts of a frightened, inconsiderate white girl (who leaves her messes to be cleaned up by the hired help) desperately trying to protect her cheapish Martha Stewart comforter from the brown-skinned people. I heart language barriers!

(Fortunately, there were more dryers than washers and I picked one that worked properly.)

Nineteen

Before embarking on my exciting journey to Tanzania, Africa, in 2003, I stopped in London for a few days. While there, I visited several galleries and museums, including the Tate Modern. The Tate Modern had an exhibit of Eva Hesse's work during my stay. I don't know why I love her work, but I do. Both of the images I have chosen for the countdown today are entitled Repetition Nineteen. You can see more of Eva Hesse's work here (MOMA) and here.

In 19 more days, I will be embarking on another exciting journey to a not-quite-so-distant destination, but before I go, I will visit The National Portrait Gallery (recently reopened) and The National Building Museum.

Look What Followed Me Home

Found this on my skirt after I'd been home from the grocery store for well over an hour. Haha!

Blasts From The Past

Digging through all my stuff, preparing for my move, I've come across some childhood trinkets that have reminded me that I've actually had a wonderful life. Hope you're ready for some pictures!

Growing up, we didn't have a lot of money. My mother made Sleepy Time Bear one Christmas when she couldn't afford the "real" Care Bear that I wanted so desperately. My four year old eyes never noticed the difference. My twenty-five year old eyes treasure the difference.

Sometime before age ten, I fell in love with my full name. One day, at the county fair, we found this delightful, pink and purple, heart-over-the-"I," wooden rendition of my beautiful name...

Just a few weeks after I got it, I dropped it...

No worries, though, my Marvelous Mom fixed it for me every single time it broke. I've had it for over 15 years and I've finally decided to get rid of it. These pictures will be my only remembrance. Thank you Flickr.

Finally, we have my foal rug. I don't even remember the last time this was on a floor rather than rolled up crammed into a poster tube. But it still reminds me when I used to take naps on it. ;)

What fun it was to be a kid. Sometimes I still wish I was small enough for someone to play airplane with me or swing me by my arms.

Twenty

In my search for interesting items related to "20," I found this fun game. Seriously, the computer can guess what you're thinking...as long as you're honest about your answers. ;)

Don't you wish our money really looked like this?

In another 20 days, fourteen of them spent at the office, I will be packing my car and moving on with my life. My bedroom is now void of all furniture except the bedside table I've borrowed from my roommate and my lamp that will soon be packed.

Since the buyer came to pick up my bed earlier this afternoon, I've been trying to decide where to sleep. The living room doesn't ever get as cool as my bedroom, but hardwood floors could get pretty uncomfortable. Emily thought it was amusing when I suggested setting up my tent in the backyard. It would probably be pretty comfortable, but I think I might feel a little insecure, even in my "safe" neighborhood.

Whatever I decide, we all know it's just a temporary solution. Woot!

Beware: This Post About Underwear

A few weeks ago, Emily and I took a jaunt over to Target for a little Saturday afternoon shopping. While there, I found some Hanes on sale. Not just run of the mill briefs, either. These were some of the cutest underwear I've ever found for less than $10 retail. Click here if you want to see what they look like on someone.

Since I got them, I haven't worn anything else. I have eight pairs and do laundry about once a week, so it works out. They only show two colors on their website, but I got pink, blue, purple, and white from Target. The colored ones come with a plain pair and a stripe-y pair. I love the cute front seams and the wider waistband.

I liked them enough that I had to share my joy with others. As soon as I mentioned them, MKH got all excited because she had also discovered these wonderful panties. After our hearty endorsement, Emily decided to buy some for herself. This morning, she sent me an email that said, "I need to go buy some more little boy underwear right away! Nothing else is as good!!"

My advice to every girl/woman who reads this blog: Buy some, buy them now, you'll never go back! Best. Underwear. Ever.

Twenty One (That's Three Weeks!)

Twenty-one more days until I walk out the doors of my office for the last time...

Fortunately for me, that is a happy thought.

Where Are All The Women?

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you probably read (or, at least, skimmed) this post about the dearth of men in the pews at church. The statistics are clear, women are considerably more likely to attend church than men. But, could someone tell me, where all the female voices are? A hop over to the alternativeworship blogroll simply reinforces my question.

Why is it that women make up 60% of the church-attending population, but Christian leadership and Christian academia are still an old boys' club? I value these men's voices, as can be clearly seen by taking a quick look at my blogroll, but it would be nice to hear some female voices taking the lead in important conversations.

My involvement in RevGalBlogPals has given me a taste, but I pray that God will raise up many women of powerful intellect willing to wade into the male-dominated pool of scholarship. Please don't mistake me, I don't think most men have intentionally excluded women. In fact, I'm sure many of them are just as anxious to get women involved and up front as I am. It's time for the womenfolk to step up.

(Don't worry, I know that one finger is pointing at someone else, there are three pointing right back at me.)

Is Digital Better?

In the process of packing, I've come to realize that my photo albums, scrapbooks, and yearbooks take up more than a full suitcase of space. This morning, I was comtemplating possible fixes for this predicament. The solution I keep coming back to is to undertake the large project of scanning each and every one of my photos. That way, I would still have all of them, but they would take up no space. It would be fantastic to have all of my scrapbooks online. I certainly would be more likely to look at them and share with other people.

And, what I couldn't help thinking, was how great it would be to upload all the pages and then have a book printed. So it's not that I really want to get rid of the books altogether, I just want to trade the bulky books for something more streamlined and, probably more expensive.

Looks like Flickr has a good hook-up with Qo-op for this type of thing. Now, does anyone in the Arlington, VA area have a high quality scanner I could use???

Twenty Two

Conversation with co-worker this morning...

Me: Well, since I only have three more weeks here, I doubt that will happen before I leave.
Renee: Oh, Katie, you must be SO excited.
Me: Unbelievably so!

Only 22 more days to prepare for my upcoming move. Excellent!

Saddest Night of the Summer

Emily, MKH, and I are watching So You Think You Can Dance? The. Best. Show. Of. The. Summer. Period!

The finale was going along swimmingly until after Heidi danced her solo. Cat Deeley brought her to center stage and started opening an envelope. WTF?!! An envelope!!! Somehow the idiotic producers of SYTYCD? decided that the best plan for announcing who won and lost would be to have them dance a solo and then give Cat Deeley an envelope that contained their future.

Next up, was Donyelle. As soon as she came on the stage we knew she was a goner. Hello, no suspense.

Cat Deeley: So you know that we're looking for America's favorite dancer?
Donyelle: yeah...
Cat Deeley: I'm sorry...it wasn't you.

Shortly after Donyelle was kicked to the curb, Benji came out to dance. We were petrified as Cat opened the envelope thinking she was going to tell him, "Sorry, it wasn't you..." but badly dressed Cat "tricked our hearts" (as Emily would say). We would have to wait until after the break, until after Travis danced.

Then, while we were not paying attention, the clock struck ten and a truly unfortunate incident occured...our DVR stopped recording and skipped to the end of the show, revealing the results. Much screaming ensued. I'm not talking about a little screaming. I'm talking about all out girly shrieking, reminiscent-of-Mary screaming. We didn't want to see the results, we wanted the suspense.

We're finishing the show, pretending we don't know who won, but I'll let you in on a little secret: IT WAS BENJI!!!

Many hearts are glad, especially Mormon hearts, all across the country.

Twenty Three

For some reason, I have been intrigued by today's "countdown to seminary" Google results. Perhaps, it is because the first website I found gave me some insight into the Symbolic Meaning of Twenty Three. Apparently, even the chapter and verse numbers of the Bible are inspired. "Twenty three repeatedly occurs where the scripture is talking about prosperity, abundance, plenty or wealth." Who knew? Andrew Harris, of Biblenumerics, that's who.

One of my favorite bloggers, Dooce, also came up in my search because she writes a monthly newsletter to her daughter. Her twenty-third monthly letter came up in my search. This picture of her daughter and husband, which is featured in the post, is one of my favorites that has ever been on her website.

Now that the summer is on the decline, I also want to offer my readers a link to Twenty Three Tips for Keeping the House Cool. After all, summer will come again and we still have at least a month of it left.

Finally, picture time. To prove my love for Lost, I have chosen to use a picture of the Lost numbers, one of which is 23. The reward for Kate's capture was $23,000. Season 2, Episode 10 was entitled Psalm 23 and Eko quotes the psalm in it's entirety. 23 people in the tail of the plane survived the crash. More here...

Just Something I Found

My recent post in response to Paul Mayers' post, on Jason Clark's blog, about a talk he'd heard by David Murrow, author of Why Men Hate Going to Church, (whew, try to say all that in one breath) had me surfing around Amazon to find this book. I found it and as a result my Amazon homepage changed to show several more books about why men don't go to church and other related issues. One of these books was The Church Impotent: The Feminization of Christianity, by Leon Podles. The title of the book leads me to believe that Mr. Podles thinks feminine and ineffective are synonymous. The book description only serves to reinforce this idea (my own thoughts are in parentheses):

"After documenting the highly feminized state of Western Christianity, Dr. Podles identifies the masculine traits that once characterized the Christian life but are now commonly considered incompatible with it. In an original and challenging account, he traces this feminization to three contemporaneous medieval sources: the writings of St. Bernard of Clairvaux (interesting that Dr. Podles traces the feminization of Christianity to the writings of a man), the rise of scholasticism (someone tell me how many women were influential scholastics), and the expansion of female monasticism (okay, look, we've got some women in here!). He contends that though masculinity has been marginalized within Christianity, it cannot be expunged from human society. If detached from Christianity, it reappears as a substitute religion, with unwholesome and even horrific consequences. The church, too, is diminished by its emasculation. Its spirituality becomes individualistic and erotic (huh? I thought men were the sex-obsessed ones ;), tending toward universalism and quietism. In his concluding assessment of the future of men in the church, Dr. Podles examines three aspects of Christianity-initiation, struggle, and fraternal love-through which its virility might be restored. (And Jesus said unto them, "Go and make disciples of all nations...and, by golly, make sure you do it in a masculine, virile way!")"

I am interested in reading this book, if only to be able to say that I didn't dismiss it out of hand, but Dr. Podles isn't my real concern at the moment, one of the reviewers of the book is. The reviewer identifies him or herself simply as "a reader" and entitled the following "review" Can A Feminist Be A Christian? (Again, I've added some of my own thoughts in parentheses.)

"The long march through the institutions has resulted in a feminization of all the Christian orders. A simple reading of Genesis will remind these feminists that a woman is meant to be submissive to her husband as part of the penalty for misbehavior in the Garden of Eden. (So, to whom is a 25-year old single woman, living on her own, supposed to be submissive? Maybe I'm not a woman because I don't have a husband. Maybe I'll avoid getting married so as to avoid this punishment that God is meting out to half the human race for the misbehavior of both Adam and Eve. I wonder if this reader provides for his family "by the sweat of his brow" in order to gracefully bear his half of the punishment or if he's sitting at a cushy desk in an air-conditioned office.) Feminists call this historical, and want to right it, but in doing so deny the timeless nature of God. (Reader, next time we visit together, I'm going to count the ways in which your household doesn't correspond to Scriptural injunctions.) In doing this, they deny God (So God cannot be thought of in any way other than as male?) (in many Protestant faiths it is much worse than here stated in that to even refer to the Deity with a masculine pronoun means that one can be dismissed from the seminary). (Which seminary? Where?)

"What feminism has done is arrogate to itself the right to determine who and what God is, or in other words, deify their own will. (Every human who believes there is a God has come to a conclusion about "who and what God is." That conclusion may be right or wrong, but is always, in the final analysis, still only their own determination.) Their will is thus no longer subject to God, but is rather the determiner of God, the maker of God, and thus there is no belief at all in God within feminism, but only in their own will.

"Feminism is thus self-idolatry.

"This book lays out the situation within Catholicism. Within all the mainline Protestant orders the situation is even worse. (I get the feeling that reader is a Catholic who has rarely, if ever, set foot in a Protestant church, except possibly for spectating at particularly "crazy" or "liberal" churches in order to find things about which he or she can make broad generalizations . Of course, I could be wrong.)

"Feminist women are completely berserk, using the churches to justify their self-righteousness, their demand not only to be equal to but superior to men (Wasn't the Bible used to justify slavery, in which one race is superior to another? Haven't people used the Bible to support the supposed inferiority of women for centuries?), to murder unwanted children, to have equal pay without equal productivity (Equal pay without equal productivity would not be equal pay at all and I don't want it.), and to self-deification. Already there are Protestant churches in which I've heard feminist pastors dare to invoke the gnostic goddess Sophia in the church of Our Lord. (I'm sure this has happened, dear reader, but it's certainly not the norm, even among feminists.)

Such pastors have no right to call themselves Christian. This is not to say that they aren't religious, but they are practicing the religion that St. Paul threw over in Ephesus -- the worship of Diana -- or in other words -- witchcraft. That it is happening all over the western world is apparent. Podles' text is not nearly violent enough. He is a gentleman, where Christ was a tiger, in throwing imposters out of the church. (The only people I remember Christ throwing out of anywhere were the moneychangers in the Temple...While I am not of the school that believes Jesus was merely meek and mild, I don't see anything in the Scripture that supports the view that he was a "tiger.")"

Generally, I get quietly worked up about things like this and share my feelings with a few people, but, hey, now I have a blog and can be snarky for the whole world to see. :) Snarkiness aside, though, things like this really get my back up because they demonstrate what seems like a purposely limited knowledge of what feminism/egalitarianism actually is.

I don't want to be superior, I want to be equal, there is a difference. I don't want to construct a God based on my own ego because that would be one seriously flawed God, but I also know that parts of me are always going to be mixed in with what I think of God. Not all feminists want to indiscrimately destroy unborn babies, quite a few of us want babies of our own. Once again, a critic has seen extreme pieces of a movement and rather than learning more has decided that the extreme represents the whole. Feminism isn't perfect, but "masculinism" is an equally flawed solution.

Hilarity Worth Sharing

Click the photo to create your own "On Notice" list. h/t to St. Casserole.