Saturday, September 27, 2008
Three In One - Finally!
I finally have the pictures from Tali's Baptism for your viewing pleasure. I loved this ceremony. She was baptized, chrismated and communed for the first time - three sacraments received all in one day. Absolutely beautiful! (This is my first attempt at a photobucket slideshow. I'm afraid the captions didn't work out...)
Friday, September 26, 2008
Why women use the bathroom in pairs...
Someone sent me this looong ago, I read it, laughed hysterically then promptly deleted it and never saw it again. Finally today a good friend thought I needed to read it - thanks so much Clemmy! I am posting it here so that I can always go back and read it when I'm having one of "those" days. If you've already seen it, well, sorry. I'm posting it anyway.
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, ti ny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made con tact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're ce rtain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing fro m your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, ti ny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made con tact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're ce rtain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing fro m your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
I haven't laughed this hard since....
I discovered The Sneeze. While link- clicking on random blogs I found Cake Wrecks and I just have to share it with you. The author of Cake Wrecks also reminded me of this blog which I found long ago and had forgotten. Get ready for the hilarity!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hey Ms. Morecraft Get your Submission off My Politics!
McCain's recent choice of Sarah Palin has booted him forward solidly into the heart of Americans. Sure, there are many who disagree with her politics or are scratching their heads over her lack of credentials but when push comes to shove I think what we Americans want is somebody we can trust and McCain, in a stroke of pure genius, pulled this energetic mother of five from an almost mythical land seemingly out of the proverbial magic hat. If nothing else, the Republican ticket now has our Attention.
On one of my many yahoo groups, somebody posted this today. It didn't take far into this missive to get my hackles up. This is exactly the sort of poor guilt-mongering exegesis that I was able to wipe cleanly off my feet on the way out the door of the ICCEC. Honestly, by the time we walked out of the CEC for good I felt if I ever heard the word submission again I would run screaming to the nearest bar. Until, that is, I read this article by Frederica Mathewes-Green and began to get a proper, Orthodox perspective of the scriptures with which I'd been beaten over the soul for the previous ten years. Anastasia's post on Orthodox priesthood also helped me realize that the suppositions about submission upon which I had based my supposedly Christian response to the men in my life were all out of whack.
I am solidly grooving with those critics of Sarah Palin who wonder how in the world is she going to get it all done and still be The Mom. I am all in favor of Mom-dom as a woman's first priority. However, who the heck am I to judge this one?! There are many who look at me and wonder how I get it all done - many, I'm sure, who come to the conclusion that I must be neglecting someone along the way. If God has gifted Sarah Palin for this position then so be it. I am not one to throw scriptures at her out of context and outside of church tradition. Perhaps we will be seeing a lot of media footage of our Vice President shuttling from place to place with a 5 year old son in tow. Who's to say she can't take her kids to work? I don't know how she's gonna do it and of course the jury isn't out yet as to who our next president will be so it may all be simply idle speculation. But for me this election isn't about the Issues (although there are several issues that are near and dear to my heart), it's about putting into office the sort of human being who will honor God in all of his/her decisions. Now, that is the heart of the matter and what I've read of Sarah Palin, she's the best thing going....
On one of my many yahoo groups, somebody posted this today. It didn't take far into this missive to get my hackles up. This is exactly the sort of poor guilt-mongering exegesis that I was able to wipe cleanly off my feet on the way out the door of the ICCEC. Honestly, by the time we walked out of the CEC for good I felt if I ever heard the word submission again I would run screaming to the nearest bar. Until, that is, I read this article by Frederica Mathewes-Green and began to get a proper, Orthodox perspective of the scriptures with which I'd been beaten over the soul for the previous ten years. Anastasia's post on Orthodox priesthood also helped me realize that the suppositions about submission upon which I had based my supposedly Christian response to the men in my life were all out of whack.
I am solidly grooving with those critics of Sarah Palin who wonder how in the world is she going to get it all done and still be The Mom. I am all in favor of Mom-dom as a woman's first priority. However, who the heck am I to judge this one?! There are many who look at me and wonder how I get it all done - many, I'm sure, who come to the conclusion that I must be neglecting someone along the way. If God has gifted Sarah Palin for this position then so be it. I am not one to throw scriptures at her out of context and outside of church tradition. Perhaps we will be seeing a lot of media footage of our Vice President shuttling from place to place with a 5 year old son in tow. Who's to say she can't take her kids to work? I don't know how she's gonna do it and of course the jury isn't out yet as to who our next president will be so it may all be simply idle speculation. But for me this election isn't about the Issues (although there are several issues that are near and dear to my heart), it's about putting into office the sort of human being who will honor God in all of his/her decisions. Now, that is the heart of the matter and what I've read of Sarah Palin, she's the best thing going....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
