Sunday afternoon pantry meal:
Chicken coated in olive oil and garlic salt and cracked pepper, sauteed with green beans, pecans, and raisins. Served over brown rice.
The result was a little bland, although fragrant. Instead of rice, which is dry without a sauce or gravy, I should have served oil and rosemary potatoes broiled in the oven. I'm not sure, but I think the rosemary would have complemented the garlic well.
The coating on the chicken was perfect, and the combo with the pecans and raisins was really tasty -- the savory chicken piece, burst of sweet raisin, and the nutty flavor and texture of the pecan made me think of a description from one of the Redwall books (if you have read them, you know what I mean!).
Now...if only I had cannoli from Cafe Lalo for dessert...
14.2.10
16.1.10
Nothings and Whats-its
I was able to catch up with two long-lost friends today. One called to inform me that she was purchasing "Rub n' buff" from Hobby Lobby. After recovering from the initial shock of that news, I was able to enjoy the conversation. The second friend did not send me into quite the same state of confusion, thank goodness.
As today is the Saturday of a long weekend (thank you, MLK), I spent much of it in books. I continued my meandering through Julia Child's "...Life in France," sailed to the West Indies with Olaudah Equiano, and even took a short voyage on the "Wide, Sargasso Sea" with Jean Rhys. In between chapters, I walked, cleaned house, went bike shopping with my roommate, and stocked up on groceries after last week's "WATER CRISIS." From henceforth we must refer to the aforesaid events in capital letters in order to stress their signficance. The WATER CRISIS is, apparently, more important to Jacksonians than the crisis in Haiti (note use of lower-case letters); and, you will all be happy to know that Harvey Johnson is "having a hard time wrapping [his] mind around the situation." I don't know about you, but I'm feeling better already.
News Flash: The latest selection for the Third Monday of the Month Book Club is Grendel, by John Gardner. In a brief bit, I will arise from my flowery beds of ease and head to Barnes and Noble to purchase my copy. I will not be caught unprepared this month. Come March, I will be choosing the Book Club selection. So far I am considering the following: So Brave, Young, and Handsome; The Painted Veil; Tess of the D'Urbervilles; All Hallow's Eve; and The Poisonwood Bible. It may end up being one of the books listed above or another selection as yet to be thought of.
30.12.09
Lucius Millford's Day with the Queen
The conversation at The Stewed Rat often took on hushed and subdued tones whenever Emma Penn-Worthington dropped by. Lucius Millford, owner of The Stewed Rat, would groan audibly into his cash register when he saw Emma's generous frame corking up the doorway. Emma, an aspiring authoress who had developed a fancy for Lucius Millford, was one of those corpulent, determined females who stare men in the eye as a way of cowing them into submission. Lucius, blessed with a sunny nature and winsome smile, could not withstand one of Emma Penn-Worthington's withering stares. He shrank in dismay behind the counter, hiccuping into his sleeve.
A contralto of cavernous origins rang out: "Lucius Millford, what ARE you doing sniveling behind that counter!? I want you to come to Mother’s flat this afternoon and convince her to attend the Queen’s birthday party at Windsor next week. She positively declares she will NOT attend, despite all my gentle remonstrations, and YOU must come set her right! She MUST attend the Queen – it is her patriotic duty! Lucius! ARE you listening?”
With this last staccato burst, Emma had leant her ample arsenal upon the counter, and Lucius had an absurd idea, as helpless victims often do in the midst of their fear, that the entire counter vibrated with her voice.
“Ah…yes…Emma…that is to say, I’m rather occupied this afternoon here at the, ah, Rat – Mrs. Grindle says I absolutely must stay behind today and check on the books, and….”
Emma rapped her umbrella smartly on the counter.
“Nonsense! You know Mother loves you dearly, and surely anything Mrs. Grindle has for you can wait. I insist.”
“Oh very well, Emma…”
“Wonderful! Come by for tea – I will be waiting!” With that, Emma Penn-Worthington gathered her umbrella (more like blunderbuss, thought Lucius), notebooks, and handbag and once again squeezed through the ancient doorway of The Stewed Rat.
“Hang it all,” said Lucius to himself, “I shall now have to explain to Mrs .Grindle that I won’t be staying.” Lucius had a mental image of himself as a mouse, being scooped up in a dustpan by Miss Penn-Worthington while Mrs. Eula Grindle held the rubbish bin. The female sex certainly had its share of intimidations.
“Oh hang it all and dash it,” he said again and slouched off in defeat.
At that very moment, as our hero hung his obliging head in despair, you, dear reader, should know that on the other side of town at The Pilfered Pig sat one Delia Bunbutter laboring under the unkind discipline of that most unrelenting of tutors: unrequited love. For you see, Delia’s heart belonged to our hero.
*****What will happen to Lucius, Emma and Delia????**********
A contralto of cavernous origins rang out: "Lucius Millford, what ARE you doing sniveling behind that counter!? I want you to come to Mother’s flat this afternoon and convince her to attend the Queen’s birthday party at Windsor next week. She positively declares she will NOT attend, despite all my gentle remonstrations, and YOU must come set her right! She MUST attend the Queen – it is her patriotic duty! Lucius! ARE you listening?”
With this last staccato burst, Emma had leant her ample arsenal upon the counter, and Lucius had an absurd idea, as helpless victims often do in the midst of their fear, that the entire counter vibrated with her voice.
“Ah…yes…Emma…that is to say, I’m rather occupied this afternoon here at the, ah, Rat – Mrs. Grindle says I absolutely must stay behind today and check on the books, and….”
Emma rapped her umbrella smartly on the counter.
“Nonsense! You know Mother loves you dearly, and surely anything Mrs. Grindle has for you can wait. I insist.”
“Oh very well, Emma…”
“Wonderful! Come by for tea – I will be waiting!” With that, Emma Penn-Worthington gathered her umbrella (more like blunderbuss, thought Lucius), notebooks, and handbag and once again squeezed through the ancient doorway of The Stewed Rat.
“Hang it all,” said Lucius to himself, “I shall now have to explain to Mrs .Grindle that I won’t be staying.” Lucius had a mental image of himself as a mouse, being scooped up in a dustpan by Miss Penn-Worthington while Mrs. Eula Grindle held the rubbish bin. The female sex certainly had its share of intimidations.
“Oh hang it all and dash it,” he said again and slouched off in defeat.
At that very moment, as our hero hung his obliging head in despair, you, dear reader, should know that on the other side of town at The Pilfered Pig sat one Delia Bunbutter laboring under the unkind discipline of that most unrelenting of tutors: unrequited love. For you see, Delia’s heart belonged to our hero.
*****What will happen to Lucius, Emma and Delia????**********
29.12.09
Here Am I, Lord, Send Me. . . .Even So, Lord, Come Quickly
Here I am, Lord, send me! The corruption of my heart is such that I have never said those words with the intention of staying put if the Lord asked me do so. "Send me!" means, "Send me to those starving in Africa, or those dying for the gospel in China;" "Send me!" means, "Send me until I get uncomfortable or until I start thinking of the next thing to do;" "Send me!" means, "Send me where I want to go in order to fulfill selfish ambitions for my life." Seldom does "Send me!" truly mean, "Lord, send me where you want me to go, including right here where my feet are currently planted." Bringing us to that place is often painful, and usually involves watching with regret as dreams and ambitions lay unfulfilled.
The longing to be all that we were meant to be, the longing to pursue dreams and ambitions in accord with our skill and God's Word, is Biblical, it truly is, and is proof positive that we were not made for this world.
So, as the Lord loosens my feet at my current job, a list of ambitions for my life had to be made. What is the next thing in my life? Where do I want to go next? What topic of study should I next pursue? How can I save the world and bring in the kingdom? I made a list of 10 things (in no particular order) that have come to me in the past year (2009), and jobs/subjects/ideas that have captured my imagination. Commentary welcome.
1. Pursue an African Studies degree at the University of Cape Town.
2. Start my own consulting business.
3. Get a Masters degree in my chosen field.
4. Teach English as a second language overseas for a year.
5. Teach at a rural school with Teach for America.
6. Become a journalist, freelance writer, columnist, editor, whatever!
7. Join the foreign service.
8. Become an analyst for a government bureau or agency.
9. Transfer my masters studies into a PhD program in literature.
10. Find a job overseas cleaning toilets if I have to, and just live abroad for a year or two, tent-making, building relationships, and learning a new language. If it was good enough for Paul, surely it's good enough for me.
All this talk of ambition, as MacBeth discovered too, has ramifications on our choices in life, our mortality and the prospect of heaven. A Dutch film by the name of Babette's Feast explores the idea of choices in life through the lives of three women: two sisters who live in Lapland, and a Frenchwoman by the name of Babette. In the film, which I won't spoil for you, the two sisters both make decisions against ambition and in favor of service to the people of their village. Enter into their lives, many and many years later, Babette, who comes to serve the two sisters as a housekeeper. By the end of the film, the two sisters have learnt more about grace from Babette than in all their years of deprivation and mortification, and the lessons they learn bid them realize that in heaven, they will be all they were meant to be, even if circumstances and choices on this earth have thwarted their ambition.
Yes, we are called with the church-militant to usher in the kingdom of Christ on earth, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and to prepare for the second coming of our King, but it won't happen in our lifetimes. It won't happen by our efforts. It won't happen because the Lord allowed us to fulfill our fondest earthly dreams, nor will it NOT happen because the Lord did NOT allow us to fulfill those dreams. Nothing He calls us to will result in the final ushering-in of the kingdom. So why labor? Why call us for an impossible task? Because He who is in us is greater then He who is in the world. Why? Because we bring Christ to a broken world, and it is Christ who will usher in the kingdom of our God. "His kingdom is forever."
Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
The longing to be all that we were meant to be, the longing to pursue dreams and ambitions in accord with our skill and God's Word, is Biblical, it truly is, and is proof positive that we were not made for this world.
So, as the Lord loosens my feet at my current job, a list of ambitions for my life had to be made. What is the next thing in my life? Where do I want to go next? What topic of study should I next pursue? How can I save the world and bring in the kingdom? I made a list of 10 things (in no particular order) that have come to me in the past year (2009), and jobs/subjects/ideas that have captured my imagination. Commentary welcome.
1. Pursue an African Studies degree at the University of Cape Town.
2. Start my own consulting business.
3. Get a Masters degree in my chosen field.
4. Teach English as a second language overseas for a year.
5. Teach at a rural school with Teach for America.
6. Become a journalist, freelance writer, columnist, editor, whatever!
7. Join the foreign service.
8. Become an analyst for a government bureau or agency.
9. Transfer my masters studies into a PhD program in literature.
10. Find a job overseas cleaning toilets if I have to, and just live abroad for a year or two, tent-making, building relationships, and learning a new language. If it was good enough for Paul, surely it's good enough for me.
All this talk of ambition, as MacBeth discovered too, has ramifications on our choices in life, our mortality and the prospect of heaven. A Dutch film by the name of Babette's Feast explores the idea of choices in life through the lives of three women: two sisters who live in Lapland, and a Frenchwoman by the name of Babette. In the film, which I won't spoil for you, the two sisters both make decisions against ambition and in favor of service to the people of their village. Enter into their lives, many and many years later, Babette, who comes to serve the two sisters as a housekeeper. By the end of the film, the two sisters have learnt more about grace from Babette than in all their years of deprivation and mortification, and the lessons they learn bid them realize that in heaven, they will be all they were meant to be, even if circumstances and choices on this earth have thwarted their ambition.
Yes, we are called with the church-militant to usher in the kingdom of Christ on earth, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and to prepare for the second coming of our King, but it won't happen in our lifetimes. It won't happen by our efforts. It won't happen because the Lord allowed us to fulfill our fondest earthly dreams, nor will it NOT happen because the Lord did NOT allow us to fulfill those dreams. Nothing He calls us to will result in the final ushering-in of the kingdom. So why labor? Why call us for an impossible task? Because He who is in us is greater then He who is in the world. Why? Because we bring Christ to a broken world, and it is Christ who will usher in the kingdom of our God. "His kingdom is forever."
Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
18.4.09
What Manner of Love
I must have a gardener's heart, for I experienced the indescribable thrill of new life upon seeing the first bean plant sprout in the garden. I suppose this is a mere inkling of what a mother experiences when she sees her newborn child for the first time, but my heart did leap up when I beheld this little sprout, all covered in soil and dirt, an ugly duckling of a plant soon to be a swan. I can only hold my breath and hope that the little plant will live and thrive in my backyard. After all, I can't claim any credit for growing it. My only contribution was actually taking a seed and sticking it in the dirt with my thumb. I guess the Lord's handiwork does its job -- the rain to water, the sun to warm, the dirt to feed.
It makes what Paul says about instruments in the hand of the Lord take on a new dimension: the Lord doesn't really need me to do anything; he allows me to participate in his wonderful work by delegating the task of stuffing a pitiful-looking seed into the dirt. Even the least of jobs in the Kingdom of Heaven is of the greatest joy when done on behalf of the Father and in the knowledge that it is a gift from Him. "Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us: that we should be called the Sons of God."
13.4.09
Things that Inspire Me
25.10.08
A Tale in Four Fits
Buying a new house is always more than just buying a new house. Once you move everything into the space, you realize that some things you accumulated better fit the 10 rentals you lived in previously. You also realize that stuff is overwhelming. As a result, I have put myself through several "stages of adjustment," eerily similar to the "stages of mourning" I might add, since acquiring my new townhouse.
In the first place, it absolutely unforgivable to watch Home and Garden television while you are in the process of purchasing or moving into a new home, especially as a first-time homebuyer. I do not have cable, but a week before moving I dog-sat for a dear friend who does have cable. She has the Home and Garden channel, she has the Style network, she has TLC....need I say more? Anticipating what my new home might be rather than what it is created a sense of discontent. Putting my furniture into that space only made the discontent worse as I realized that my home and my things lack the cohesion and consistency touted on decorating shows. Does the blue pseudo-Chinese vase purchased at the junk store for $1.00 really fit with the cottage-style seersucker sofa in khaki and sage? The dilemma only worsened.
From anticipation to discontent, one moves quickly into guilt. Er...at least I did...it's a kind of fall-back mechanism from my Scottish Presbyterian roots. Not a bad thing in its place, not entirely helpful either. In this case the guilt over the fact that I owned a home and a bunch of stuff when I should be an itinerant forever -- because isn't it more spiritual to be able to tote all your belongings in a car...or better yet, not even own a car, but tote all your belongings on your back -- resulted in a furious purge. I took a large box of useless knick-knacks from junk stores, clothes I never wore, and items that I liked but didn't need to the Salvation Army. So, even though my motive -- penance -- was wrong, the result was right. I did not need the $1.00 blue pseudo-Chinese vase OR the wrought iron bird cage with one missing leg.
The only way to explain the next stage is that it is probably entirely peculiar to my own personality. I live my life in fits. I grade huge stacks of papers in one night as a result of a fit of responsibility. I bought the house in a series of fits. Fit the First: look at the house. Buy the house within less than a month. Fit the Second: pack in one day. Fit the Third: move in one day. How can I explain Fit the Fourth except that it was a bright Columbus Day morning, and I did not have to be at school. So, why not rip out the carpet?
Ripping out the carpeting was not really the best way to satisfy my desire to feel settled in my surroundings, so in order to compensate, I hung pictures. Now I am living in a partially furnished townhome, with cement flooring in the living room, and no immediate funds to purchase the new flooring. I have come full circle, in a way. I have a DIY project, and very little funds to do it, and am beginning the process of reevaluating my belongings to see what I can use in which spaces.......much like a Home and Garden television show. Arg!
In the first place, it absolutely unforgivable to watch Home and Garden television while you are in the process of purchasing or moving into a new home, especially as a first-time homebuyer. I do not have cable, but a week before moving I dog-sat for a dear friend who does have cable. She has the Home and Garden channel, she has the Style network, she has TLC....need I say more? Anticipating what my new home might be rather than what it is created a sense of discontent. Putting my furniture into that space only made the discontent worse as I realized that my home and my things lack the cohesion and consistency touted on decorating shows. Does the blue pseudo-Chinese vase purchased at the junk store for $1.00 really fit with the cottage-style seersucker sofa in khaki and sage? The dilemma only worsened.
From anticipation to discontent, one moves quickly into guilt. Er...at least I did...it's a kind of fall-back mechanism from my Scottish Presbyterian roots. Not a bad thing in its place, not entirely helpful either. In this case the guilt over the fact that I owned a home and a bunch of stuff when I should be an itinerant forever -- because isn't it more spiritual to be able to tote all your belongings in a car...or better yet, not even own a car, but tote all your belongings on your back -- resulted in a furious purge. I took a large box of useless knick-knacks from junk stores, clothes I never wore, and items that I liked but didn't need to the Salvation Army. So, even though my motive -- penance -- was wrong, the result was right. I did not need the $1.00 blue pseudo-Chinese vase OR the wrought iron bird cage with one missing leg.
The only way to explain the next stage is that it is probably entirely peculiar to my own personality. I live my life in fits. I grade huge stacks of papers in one night as a result of a fit of responsibility. I bought the house in a series of fits. Fit the First: look at the house. Buy the house within less than a month. Fit the Second: pack in one day. Fit the Third: move in one day. How can I explain Fit the Fourth except that it was a bright Columbus Day morning, and I did not have to be at school. So, why not rip out the carpet?
Ripping out the carpeting was not really the best way to satisfy my desire to feel settled in my surroundings, so in order to compensate, I hung pictures. Now I am living in a partially furnished townhome, with cement flooring in the living room, and no immediate funds to purchase the new flooring. I have come full circle, in a way. I have a DIY project, and very little funds to do it, and am beginning the process of reevaluating my belongings to see what I can use in which spaces.......much like a Home and Garden television show. Arg!
8.7.08
I Shall Conquer This!
I'm so glad Caroline posted this on her blog. She worked tirelessly on Saturday to clear the side yard and these are the fruits of her labor. Thank you, Caroline! It looks marvelous!
I confess, this process has ruined me on renting forever, and I spent part of Saturday looking at townhouses to buy. After all, I am 27 and while "a young man in possession of large fortune must be in want of a wife," a young woman in possession of a good job and frugal habits must be in want of a room to call her own (uh...mixing my literary references there....).
In the meantime, faithfulness means stewarding my little postage stamp of rental property -- thanks to Caroline and Christina, that process is just a little bit less overwhelming.
20.6.08
Losing to a Rug
I had an epiphany this week. Despite having painted my bedroom in the new house a clean, bright yellow and having arranged my furniture in what I thought a visually pleasing manner, I have been unhappy with the results. Up until this week I could not figure out what was niggling me about the room, even though I pondered the problem often. When I moved into the new house I gave my brother my old orange persian rug. It never matched anything in a room of blues, white, and yellows. Instead I put a small green rug at the side of my bed to catch my feet on cold mornings. This week I realized that the little green rug looked lost in a vast expanse of hardwood floor and seemed anchored to nothing. Inspiration struck somehow, and I moved the rug into a diagonal position in front of the blue armchair in the corner. The effect was as if earth and heaven had come together. Just one small detail like that, once it became anchored to another object, all of a sudden had an identity of its own.
Each piece, although individual and unique, needs something within the whole to anchor it, to fix it, and to give it identity. It could be that I've just had Bonhoeffer and Paul's epistles on the brain recently, and I don't want to be super-spiritual, but it struck me that this is also a spiritual truth about our place within the body of Christ. Who knew that losing to a rug could mean finding an important, encouraging truth?
Each piece, although individual and unique, needs something within the whole to anchor it, to fix it, and to give it identity. It could be that I've just had Bonhoeffer and Paul's epistles on the brain recently, and I don't want to be super-spiritual, but it struck me that this is also a spiritual truth about our place within the body of Christ. Who knew that losing to a rug could mean finding an important, encouraging truth?
10.6.08
Oscar
Stephen is out of town this week, so Oscar has come to stay with Auntie Liz. He is endlessly fascinated with Caroline's room, mostly because the door stays closed most of the time (hence heightening the curiosity factor). We had to move Henry the Beta Fish to a new (ahem...less accessible) location in the house when Oscar came to stay. We feared for Henry's life. Although Oscar has no front claws, he pretends to be a fierce beastie and could very easily swat Henry out of the water. I have high hopes of the two becoming firm friends, but it's not looking very optimistic right now. Just today Oscar said to me, "It seems to me that there is the smell of fish about your house. Have you emptied your trash lately?" It makes me think that he is on to our little trick.
Until I can supervise their introduction, Henry will have to stay aloft.
Until I can supervise their introduction, Henry will have to stay aloft.
7.6.08
Public Libraries and Such
I visited the Eudora Welty Library on State St. for the first time in 8 years after having moved away and then returning. I anticipated being welcomed back with open arms as a patron thirsting for the written word, eager to keep the dying public library system afloat, ready and willing to add my voice to the meagre few who still love the "stacks" for something other than a place to make-out. Instead I found myself victim to bureaucracy.
Did I need help? (Yes ma'am. I would like to get a library card please). Had I ever had a Hinds County Public Library Card? (Yes...). Did I have my card with me? (No...). Did I realize that it is a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card? (No....but, you see, I moved away and am only just returning to the area after several years). Unless you have your library card, you cannot check out books. (Even with my driver's license?) No. I don't make the rules, Miss. It's a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card, and you cannot check books out without a Hinds County Library card in your possession. (Well, I don't have any money with me...do you mean that I have to leave and come back?) It's a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card.
I get the point.
Moving out of town does not constitute as not having a Hinds County Public Library card. It constitutes as having lost your Hinds County Public Library card.
So, I withdrew my $20.00 from the bank ATM down the street in order to pay the $2.00 fee -- the thought of the gas money wasted niggling at me all the while -- only to find that my conscience was smiting me because I had argued with the librarian. As if to add insult to injury, I had to humble myself to leave the library, first of all, and then to apologize for leaving with a bad attitude.
And who says that sanctification can't occur at the circulation desk of a public library? If anything, that's where it ought to begin. With the everyday people and the everyday bothers of everyday life. Surely it ought to begin with the lady behind the desk at the Eudora Welty Public Library who may or may not know the Lord, but who the Holy Spirit used to convict me of pride.
By the way, I checked out Agatha Christie's "They Came to Baghdad," Dorothy Sayers' "Murder Must Advertise," Arthur Ransome's "Secret Water," and P.D. James' "Creatures of Men." "Creatures of Men" is the only one I do not recommend.
Did I need help? (Yes ma'am. I would like to get a library card please). Had I ever had a Hinds County Public Library Card? (Yes...). Did I have my card with me? (No...). Did I realize that it is a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card? (No....but, you see, I moved away and am only just returning to the area after several years). Unless you have your library card, you cannot check out books. (Even with my driver's license?) No. I don't make the rules, Miss. It's a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card, and you cannot check books out without a Hinds County Library card in your possession. (Well, I don't have any money with me...do you mean that I have to leave and come back?) It's a $2.00 fee to replace a lost public library card.
I get the point.
Moving out of town does not constitute as not having a Hinds County Public Library card. It constitutes as having lost your Hinds County Public Library card.
So, I withdrew my $20.00 from the bank ATM down the street in order to pay the $2.00 fee -- the thought of the gas money wasted niggling at me all the while -- only to find that my conscience was smiting me because I had argued with the librarian. As if to add insult to injury, I had to humble myself to leave the library, first of all, and then to apologize for leaving with a bad attitude.
And who says that sanctification can't occur at the circulation desk of a public library? If anything, that's where it ought to begin. With the everyday people and the everyday bothers of everyday life. Surely it ought to begin with the lady behind the desk at the Eudora Welty Public Library who may or may not know the Lord, but who the Holy Spirit used to convict me of pride.
By the way, I checked out Agatha Christie's "They Came to Baghdad," Dorothy Sayers' "Murder Must Advertise," Arthur Ransome's "Secret Water," and P.D. James' "Creatures of Men." "Creatures of Men" is the only one I do not recommend.
13.6.06
THE SAGA OF THE PHONE
By: Sara
Today was the culmination of the struggle with the company formerly known as Cellular South. Culmination, yet not the commencement. My sights are still looking longingly toward that far off country where cell phones always work and your contacts will never be erased. I look with a certain wavering expectation, although it is somewhat dim in its outlook. 4 phones in two weeks. "Could there be herein a basis here for a country song?" my mind ponders....
I walk up to a phone service representative, explain that this current phone is only 3 days old, and am told that the technician will man-handle it, certain to come out ahead. 25 minutes later, I am cheerfully told that I've been given a new phone. Great! This is the 4th time I've been told that in 2 weeks. De ja vu? Then, still smiling, the lovely phone service representative informs me that the expert phone technician could not get to the point of turning my phone on, and therefore, I will not be able to retain or retrieve any of my contacts that have been painstakingly gathered over the past 2 weeks. Well, thank you. No other way around it? No, I'm terribly sorry-it's your phone's fault. Yes, my phone that you gave me 3 days ago.
I walk out to the parking lot and start laughing out loud, an activity which I carry on all the way back to my office, where I am planning on punching in the only contacts that I know off the top of my head. Alas! By my brilliant powers of deduction, I discover that this refurbished phone has not had its old contacts or calls erased. Is there some kind of legal issues involved here? In case one ever needs to find it, there is no actual physical number to the Cell South building in Clinton. You just have to be put on hold for 30 minutes until you finally get someone who can tell you how to manually erase all those contacts if you refuse to go into their store again, an assertion that I vehemently made.
NOW YOU KNOW.
By: Sara
Today was the culmination of the struggle with the company formerly known as Cellular South. Culmination, yet not the commencement. My sights are still looking longingly toward that far off country where cell phones always work and your contacts will never be erased. I look with a certain wavering expectation, although it is somewhat dim in its outlook. 4 phones in two weeks. "Could there be herein a basis here for a country song?" my mind ponders....
I walk up to a phone service representative, explain that this current phone is only 3 days old, and am told that the technician will man-handle it, certain to come out ahead. 25 minutes later, I am cheerfully told that I've been given a new phone. Great! This is the 4th time I've been told that in 2 weeks. De ja vu? Then, still smiling, the lovely phone service representative informs me that the expert phone technician could not get to the point of turning my phone on, and therefore, I will not be able to retain or retrieve any of my contacts that have been painstakingly gathered over the past 2 weeks. Well, thank you. No other way around it? No, I'm terribly sorry-it's your phone's fault. Yes, my phone that you gave me 3 days ago.
I walk out to the parking lot and start laughing out loud, an activity which I carry on all the way back to my office, where I am planning on punching in the only contacts that I know off the top of my head. Alas! By my brilliant powers of deduction, I discover that this refurbished phone has not had its old contacts or calls erased. Is there some kind of legal issues involved here? In case one ever needs to find it, there is no actual physical number to the Cell South building in Clinton. You just have to be put on hold for 30 minutes until you finally get someone who can tell you how to manually erase all those contacts if you refuse to go into their store again, an assertion that I vehemently made.
NOW YOU KNOW.
21.5.06
1.5.06
Heaven
Heaven is not here, it's there. If we were given all we wanted here, our hearts would settle for this world rather than the next. -- Elizabeth Elliot
"Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and voice oppressed.
I know not, O I know not, what joys await us there,
What radiancy of glory, what bliss beyond compare.
They stand, those halls of Zion, all jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng;
The Prince is ever in them, the daylight is serene.
The pastures of the blessèd are decked in glorious sheen.
There is the throne of David, and there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
And they, who with their Leader, have conquered in the fight,
Forever and forever are clad in robes of white.
-- Bernard of Morlaix, 1146
"Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and voice oppressed.
I know not, O I know not, what joys await us there,
What radiancy of glory, what bliss beyond compare.
They stand, those halls of Zion, all jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng;
The Prince is ever in them, the daylight is serene.
The pastures of the blessèd are decked in glorious sheen.
There is the throne of David, and there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
And they, who with their Leader, have conquered in the fight,
Forever and forever are clad in robes of white.
-- Bernard of Morlaix, 1146
20.4.06
They Call Me: The Victorious Roach Trapper
I had a twenty-minute standoff with a roach the other day, thereby revealing that I am the most indecisive person I know. The roach was there, in the cupboard, second shelf, as I reached up to get the spices I needed to cook dinner. It was just calmly sitting on the shelf, in plain view. In horror, I closed the cupboard hastily, frantically debating what I should do to dispose of said roach. I left the room to reconnoiter. Tip-toeing back into the kitchen, I had the brilliant idea that if I sneak up on it and squash it with haste I wouldn't have time to think about the horrible sound it would make.....too late, I was already thinking about it, imagining in horrible detail every crunching and squishing noise it would make. The noise of my imagination became deafening and I dropped the shoe, ready to consider plan B.
Plan B: the vacuum cleaner. I'll use the vacuum attachment, thereby keeping me at least 3 feet away from the roach, to suck it up into the vacuum cleaner. I rigged it up, turned it on, and began to imagine the horrible sound it would make as it slid through the vacuum tube and thence into the bag. AND, what if it wasn't dead when it reached the bag?! Would it crawl out through the tube to haunt me? I would never be able to sleep in my apartment again. Turn off the vacuum cleaner and put it away.
Plan C: trap the roach in a cup, sliding a piece of cardboard underneath and release it into the wild. I stood there, cup in one hand, cardboard in the other debating what the best angle was for roach-trapping. Not wanting him to escape, I analyzed each angle carefully. Taking a deep breath I advanced. The roach began to bounce up and down. Frightened, I retreated. Another agonizing 5 minutes passed. I began to approach a second time. The roach remained stationary and I pounced. Whimpering, I deposited him as far from the apartment door as I could and put the cup in the dishwasher. Victorious Roach Trapper.
Plan B: the vacuum cleaner. I'll use the vacuum attachment, thereby keeping me at least 3 feet away from the roach, to suck it up into the vacuum cleaner. I rigged it up, turned it on, and began to imagine the horrible sound it would make as it slid through the vacuum tube and thence into the bag. AND, what if it wasn't dead when it reached the bag?! Would it crawl out through the tube to haunt me? I would never be able to sleep in my apartment again. Turn off the vacuum cleaner and put it away.
Plan C: trap the roach in a cup, sliding a piece of cardboard underneath and release it into the wild. I stood there, cup in one hand, cardboard in the other debating what the best angle was for roach-trapping. Not wanting him to escape, I analyzed each angle carefully. Taking a deep breath I advanced. The roach began to bounce up and down. Frightened, I retreated. Another agonizing 5 minutes passed. I began to approach a second time. The roach remained stationary and I pounced. Whimpering, I deposited him as far from the apartment door as I could and put the cup in the dishwasher. Victorious Roach Trapper.
22.1.05
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