Funniest Thing I've Seen This MONTH!

Wedding on the Bayou!. . . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlqhb9D6ajg

Raindrop was here

Do you ever have one of those days when you just have an absolute, undeniable, searing urge to vandalize something? Stress is a bitch.

Quote of the week. . .

Dude was crazy. Dude was, in the memorable phrasing of Nikki Giovanni, ''just mean.'' Essentially there's no story here, except for a paranoid a--hole who went DEFCON-1. He may have been inspired by Columbine, but only because he was too dim to think up such a scenario on his own.

- Stephen King on the Virginia Tech murders and subsequent reports that Cho Seung-Hui had raised alarms in the English department with his writing.

See entire article here.

A Priest, a Rabbi and an Imam walk into a bar. . .

Well not quite, but if they did we might see more world peace.

I've recently been reading a book titled, "The Faith Club: A Muslim, A Christian, A Jew-- Three Women Search for Understanding" which is the diary of three women who sat down to write a children's book about the commonalities of their three faiths and ended up with a friendship that endured not only the discovery of differing faiths, but the dissection of their own and in turn a revelation of what each holds to be their own personal truth. It is a wonderful read that demonstrates just how similarly rooted our religions are, and how connected we all are as human beings in our search for that connection and guidance from something greater than ourselves.

One great thing I took from this book was the permission to question religion, including a quote, by an Episcopalian priest, "The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty. It's okay to have doubt, everyone does." If we could all find the courage to ask these questions of ourselves and each other and listen to the answers provided without judgement, our earth could be a much more peaceful place.

Carpooling with Rain Man

A recent car ride home with Adam. . . . .

The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Mommy, there’s God’s house! Remember when he had his Christmas lights on? The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Bugs can’t hurt us. If we didn’t have bees we wouldn’t have fruits and flowers. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Buzz Lightyear gets Zurg. He says, “Not today, Zurg!” Pew, pew, pew, pew. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. I only have fwee Care Bears. Four Care Bears. . . actually two. I need to get another Care Bear ‘cause I only have four Care Bears! The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. Mommy, don’t sing. I don’t want to talk right now! The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. The sun goes up, the moon goes down. The moon goes up, the sun goes down. . . . . . .

Let her be healed. . . .

Jamie got tubes in her ears last week. If you’re not familiar with this procedure you can get details here, but basically they put a tiny passageway in her ear drum so fluid will drain rather than build up and cause infections – which has happened almost as many times as she is old. We were referred to a doctor at Doernbecher’s Children’s hospital which is wonderful in the sense that it is the best, most advanced hospital in the state but bad in the way that I have always said a little prayer every time one of those telethon things were on that I would never need to step foot through those doors.

But step we did, out of the cold, gray, dawning sky, through the swoosh of the automatic doors and into that uneasy, heavy silence of the hospital lobby. As we waited our turn to check-in, I scanned the room filled with grade school artwork and whimsical statues. A twenty-foot mobile of colorful handcrafted birds soared above us, all of it a fanciful façade for the life and death scenarios playing out within the building. . . . the tests, the prayers, the results, the hopes, the relief, the goodbyes. Every door holding the potential for each, like a game of Russian roulette played between fate and the lives of our children. My throat tightened at the thought.

They called our name at the front desk and then proceeded to batter me with routine questions. . . . Child’s DOB?. . . . SSN#?. . . . Insurance policy number?. . . . . religious preference? Religious preference? My mind reeled as to why they cared about our religious preference and then it hit me. Like a 2x4 to the back of the head. My mouth opened, but it was a second before the words fell out . . . . no preference. I thought about saying Christian, or Jewish, but the only thing swirling in my mind at the moment was, if Jamie was in the position of actually needing prayers, would it really matter which one? Just pray, dammit.

We were sent up to the eighth floor, where all surgeries take place. We stepped out of the elevator and followed the signs to our destination – a place I was guiltily grateful was in the opposite direction of the pediatric ICU. We were led back to a curtained area with chairs, a TV and a small bed surrounded on three sides by white metal bars. The “crib” seemed like something from a 50’s era pediatric psych ward and Jamie helped complete the image by jumping on the bed while holding the onto the bars and babbling. Which was almost as charming as when she decided to throw toys in the direction of passing nurses like some kind of zoo monkey.

Over the next half hour they took her vitals and gave her a sedative that I strongly believe should be prescribed to all children between the ages of two and four. At 8:00am I carried her back to the OR doors and kissed her good-bye. After all the emotions and macabre thoughts that had run through my head in the lobby, I was actually quite calm as I handed her over to the nurse. . . and thankful that I now had a moment to stuff my face with the other granola bar I had brought along for Damonn. Which is exactly what I was doing when the doctor came out a mere twenty minutes later to tell us all was well. After another hour of screaming from our tired, groggy and starving child we were given the ok to go home much to the relief of the weary, worried, tired parents in close proximity, I’m sure.

Back in the lobby, clutching my red-faced wailing bundle of blonde curls waiting for Damonn to bring the car around, I couldn’t help but guess at the illnesses the patients coming and going around us might be facing. My stomach churned at the thought of dealing with more than our mere three-hour procedure. How would I deal? What would I do? I guess, in the simplest terms, I would do exactly what I did today. Hand over my child with faith in the best medicine available and pray to any God available that the doctors hand her back healthier than she came in.

Heaven on a Sunday Afternoon

Grins and screeches, elbows in my ribs
Climbing, clawing, make room for three
Peanut butter breath, shining eyes
Love and laughter piled on the couch
Is there anything better than this?