The Best Blonde Joke Ever

I normally don't post things like this, but this is truly the funniest blonde joke ever. Read it all the way to the end; it's totally worth it.

Dadadadada

Scene: early morning, in a car.

Mr. Thel: ...blah blah blah, and it would have been fine if the leever was longer. [I can't remember what the hell we were talking about, but somehow it involved a lever. That's all we need to know about the preceding conversation here.]
Thel: Heh, yeah. ...Wait, the leever?
Mr. Thel: Right.
Thel: Like the soap?
Mr. Thel: Yeah.
Thel: Don't you pronounce it LEVER when you aren't talking about the soap?
Mr. Thel: No, only when I'm talking about a jacket.
Thel: When...what?
Mr. Thel: Like your jacket.
Thel: What?
Mr. Thel: Your lever jacket. [laughter]
Thel: ...Okay, but seriously, when on earth did you start pronouncing it "leever?"
Mr. Thel: That's how I've always said it. I guess it's a British thing. Like "batt'ries" instead of "batteries."
Thel: Batrees?! Oh my god, you've got to be kidding. You have NEVER said the word "batt'ries."
Mr. Thel: Yes I do, that's how I say it! "Batt'ries."
Thel: [dies laughing]

2006 Book Resolution: Book # 1

I made a New Year's resolution to read an average of a book a week for the year. It sounds like a lot, but some books are a one-day project, and I'm not restricting myself by genre or topic. As a super-fast reader, I don't think this resolution is unattainable. The problem with being a super-fast reader is that I don't tend to retain everything, so at some point I want to start writing a review of each book just after I finish it.

Dream big, right?

Uh, spoilers for the final book in the "His Dark Materials" series by Philip Pullman may follow. Vague ones, but nonetheless.

Book #1:
Title: The Amber Spyglass
Author: Philip Pullman
Date Started: December 30, 2005
Date Finished: January 3, 2006
Ill-informed first thoughts: I liked this series quite a bit, but this final book kept losing me. The ending...maybe I just need to go back and re-read all three books in the trilogy to put all the pieces together, but I felt a sense of loose ends at the end of the book. I wasn't quite sure why the two main characters' experience in chapter 35 had the effect that it did on the world; was it ever explained just why that was the critical, universe-saving act? (Probably, and I missed it by reading too quickly for comprehension!) Still, I like the premise, and the idea of overthrowing the Kingdom of Heaven and establishing the Republic of Heaven...it tickles me.

Incidentally, I dog-eared a page in chapter 34 on which a character muses, "This was the very thing she'd told Will about when he asked if she missed God: it was the sense that the whole universe was alive, and that everything was connected to everything else by threads of meaning. When she'd been a Christian, she had felt connected, too; but when she left the Church, she felt loose and free and light, in a universe without purpose....and it was plain that everything was throbbing with purpose and meaning, but she was cut off from it. And it was impossible to find a connection, because there was no God."

Very shortly thereafter that character does find a connection to the universe without God; I folded the page down because it was so much the opposite of my experience. When I "left the church," it was because I felt cut off from the universe--a universe that seemed alive and interconnected--by the image of God I'd been given. Only after I dropped that image of God did I feel able to be connected to the universe. As a Christian, I'd felt afraid of so much of the universe--afraid that liking something too much would be sinful, afraid that the very act of experiencing some aspects of reality would make God angry, or sad, or something. So I'd tiptoed through the living, roiling, throbbing universe, keeping my head down and my hands over my ears so as not to tempt myself to enjoy it too much.

And then I thought, why is it here, then? Why set up this gorgeous, complicated, heartbreaking reality if it's only to be crept through as blindly as possible? What is it for if not to dance in? I would rather, I thought, spend my life (the only blip of existence that I am certain of having) bathing in this wild reality, wallowing in it wholeheartedly, than timorously shielding myself from it all the days of my life.

I'm still working on the wallowing. Hence, the book project. If I am fortunate and have fifty more years alive in this messy lovely world, and I read only fifty books a year, then I will be able to read 2,500 more books in my lifetime. A mere drop in the bucket when you think of all the books in all the libraries and bookstores of the world, crying out for readers. If I don't dive in and greedily drink down as many of them as possible in the time alloted me, then I will truly have a reason for shame.

Well, Isn't That Just Dandy

First thing this morning, the first business day of the new year, what do I find?

Fraudulent debit card charges by someone in Edmonton, to the tune of about $1,000 over the weekend.

I do at least have the comfort of knowing that it wasn't any lapse of caution on my part that caused my debit card information to be ganked. No, I had a message from my bank Friday night saying that a block of card numbers had been "compromised," mine among them. I found the fraudulent charges this morning before I could even return the bank's call.

*sigh* And here I was truly optimistic about 2006! What a way to start it off.

Baby girl

It is my great pleasure to present to you the newest member of the Mr. and Mrs. Thel family.

Chloe, say hello to the internet:



She's been with us for two days now, and we're already in love. It doesn't hurt that she's perfect! Um, seriously--I have heard her bark exactly one time in two days (while we were playing tag in the yard this morning) despite all the other neighborhood dogs' frequent barking. She's housetrained, obedience trained, spayed, healthy, and happy. Her previous owners were loth to part with her, but their situation had changed and they didn't feel like they could provide everything she needs anymore. They obviously took great care of her and loved her very much, and we will carry on in the same vein.

Yep, we're going to become one of those insufferable couples whose dog is their "baby." And we're going to have a blast doing it, I'm here to tell you.

Welcome to our family, Chloe!

Whoa

I was trying to find the classic Eschaton post wherein Atrios coins the "Preznit giv me turkee" phrase to link to for my previous post. My Google search took me to the 2003 Koufax awards for best lefty blog, where Atrios' post won for most humorous post. And there, to my surprise and amusement, I found my own comment quoted in the award text:

Commenter Mike remarked that Atrios’ post “was better than a New Yorker cartoon.” That is high praise indeed, in my estimation. Silencia noted that the post “quickly entered the lexicon of my household, and still elicits giggles every time it is spoken, always in a plaintive, childish voice.” Yes, our media often speaks in a plaintive, childish voice and Atrios’ post captured that voice perfectly. Congratulations, Atrios.

Silencia! That was the name I used for awhile, and I remember making that comment. Mr. Thel still occasionally pulls out his munchkin voice to mumble, "Preznit giv me turkee?" or "I kep my mouf shut." How crazy to find that quote, almost two years after I emailed and forgot it.

Preznit Giv Us Turkee

Internet, I am, at this very moment, baking a pumpkin pie. This pumpkin pie is no ordinary pie. Multiply this pie by the square of its radius and all you will have is a full belly area the size of Rhode Island. I was going to say Texas, but it isn't that big.

It's the first pumpkin pie I've ever baked, in fact. I even made the crust from scratch. I'd express my pride, but since the baking of the pie is still in progress, and the true test of its mystical properties will not come until sometime tomorrow evening, I will refrain. Anyway, I cheated on the crust by not going so far as to make the kind that requires the carefull rolling.

Mr. Thel and I are staying in Seattle for Thanksgiving this year. We spent Veteran's Day weekend with family in exchange for staying home and relaxing this weekend. Veteran's Day just happened to fall on the first Friday after we bought a new car! Well, not a brand new car, but a year-old car with barely 14,000 miles on it is new enough for me. Since its mileage was so nice and low, we quickly drove it to Oregon to click up another thousand miles on it. That way the car knows right from the start exactly the kind of hard work it's in for during our term of ownership. Although, as long as I'm anthropomorphizing the car, it probably took one terrified look at the old yet-to-be-sold car in our driveway and had a good idea how much we travel by car.

But not this weekend, thank all the gods. I have no love for Thanksgiving travel, and I'm delighted to just have a four-day weekend without the large travel brackets surrounding it. I get the impression that people doubt the sincerity of my pleasure to have a nice quiet Thanksgiving weekend, just me and Mr. Thel; a couple of friends from work sort of made sad faces when I burbled about how the two of us are just going to have some traditional Thanksgiving food and spend the weekend being lazy, and invited us to come spend tomorrow with at their respective family events. Um, thanks? --but no.

Thanksgiving isn't a holiday I have any great love for, anyway. At least since leaving home nine years ago, [--oh my god, I've been on my own for nine years already? Like, a third of my life? Holy shamoly....] bad things have tended to happen to me around this holiday. In 1996 I was in a minor car accident while carpooling down the freeway. In 1997 I was diagnosed with cancer the day before Thanksgiving; it's hard to top that when trying to find a real holiday buzzkill. Two Thanksgivings in a row found me going through relationship breakups. After that I started dreading the whole damn month of November. Although nothing awful has happened for the last couple of years, I still find myself wanting to hibernate through the month.

This year, though, I'm optimistic. Perhaps the curse of November has been broken. I have a pie in the oven, and tomorrow for the first time I'll be preparing a Thanksgiving dinner of my own. (Mr. Thel is in charge of the turkey, however. My kitchen skills skew more toward the baking side of things, not so much the meat side.) Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, green bean casserole (OF COURSE), and le pie, which is now cooling and to which I am going to give a tentative, pre-tasting thumbs up. It isn't burned, or runny, so it looks promising.

May tomorrow bring you a stomach full of good food (and unburnt pies), a house full of exactly as much activity with family and friends as you desire, and a heart full of joy.

What do you mean, high-strung?

Or, It's So Funny Because It's True

[Mr. Thel walks into a room containing several of his co-workers.]

Co-worker #1: Hey man, your ears must be burning.
Mr. Thel: Oh yeah? What's going on?
Co-worker #2: We were just talking about you.
Mr. Thel: What about?
Co-worker #1 [with mock-solemnity]: We have arrived at a conclusion.
Mr. Thel: And?
Co-worker #3: Well, we have decided...You need to start smoking pot.

Autumnally Yours

I never can quite decide whether I love October or hate it. We're still having these crisp sunny days, but they sprout from chilly mornings that make getting out of bed so very unappealing. I feel like I'm steeling myself, "girding my loins" for the long grey months ahead, the interminable string of soggy mornings waiting for the bus and the equally dreary afternoons of blowing my nose and clutching a cup of tea in my office to warm my clammy fingers.

On the other hand, October does mean hot cups of tea in my office, and busting out the fun hats and scarves, and snuggling in under the down comforter. So it's a mixed bag.

It makes me pensive. I've been thinking about reconciliation a lot lately. As you know Bob, I've spent a few years trying to distance myself from the religion in which I was raised. Like a lot of people, when I found that I couldn't and didn't believe in it anymore I felt all grouchy and bitter about the whole thing. I thought I could just wash my hands of it all, but it wouldn't all come off. Damn sticky stuff, the religion you're raised with.

In the process of re-evaluating my religious beliefs, I was also revising my political opinions--because nothing's as fun as simultaneously breaking down all of your lifelong assumptions about God and government! Wow, I wonder why those first few years after graduation were so unhappy and tumultuous... Anyway, as I became more aware of issues of social justice I heard a mention of an intriguing church. The description I heard was intriguing enough to make me Google it, and the snippets I found about Keystone United Church of Christ added just enough to my curiosity to make me visit.

After much procrastinating, finally one Sunday almost two years ago we walked through Keystone's doors. Four or five people sat chatting in a cozy lobby area between the entrance and the sanctuary, and they immediately welcomed us in and got us each a cup of coffee. I was surprised by the small size of the congregation after all I'd heard and read about the good work of this group, but it was a pleasant surprise.

I was in for a pleasant shock as soon as the service started, too. The song leader, a woman near my age who simply stood and led us in song with a gorgeous voice and flute playing, opened the music time by noting that one of the hymns we would be singing contained gender-exclusive language. "Instead of singing, 'God will bring his people peace,' we're going to change it to be more inclusive and sing, 'God will bring God's people peace,'" she said.

I can see the way some of my old Christian friends would roll their eyes at that, but I was delighted. That was exactly the kind of thinking that had helped ostracize me from the faith of my childhood: once I stopped thinking of God as a cosmic-sized man, and started pondering the feminine aspects of God, it didn't seem like I could possibly be referring to the same God I'd grown up with. The Christian friends who were alarmed by any mention of a feminine aspect of God only confirmed my sense that I wasn't "thinking like a Christian" anymore. So to hell with it, I thought. I felt pretty sure there was Something here, Something you might call God, Something that grounds and contains and surrounds and sustains the entire span of existence; but apparently if I didn't think that Something was limited to one set of people's impressions of it (or him or her), I couldn't be a Christian.

That was perfectly fine with me, though it did make me inordinately resentful of Christianity--right up until the moment Melissa stood up and asked us to sing a hymn to God and deliberately refrain from gendering God therein. And from then on, every Sunday I heard Rich Gamble speak I thought, "Well, I can call myself a Christian if that's what it's all about." When they started organizing last year's Festival of Hope, two days of a craft market / rummage sale that tries to raise $10,000 every fall, every single penny of which is donated to organizations that are fighting poverty around the world, I thought, "Sure, I can call myself a Christian if that's what it's concerned with."

But obviously I've still been thoroughly ambivalent about the whole thing. I have so much baggage with that word, that book, that set of beliefs. Blah.

So when I heard they were starting a six-week group to study one of Marcus Borg's books, The Heart of Christianity, I signed up. I am intensely interested to hear what this group of people has to say about what the heart of Christianity is for them. If it doesn't rely on literalism and fear, what does it rely on? If it doesn't make claims about its own exclusive hold on the truth, what claims does it make?

Wow, this post is incoherent. We met together for the first time last night, and I will have more to say about it. Of course Marcus Borg says it all better and more succinctly in his book, but you know...I'll still hash it all out on my own.

And that's what October is doing to me this year.

Serenity (no spoilers)

Ahhh, Serenity...

I didn't get lucky enough to go to one of the advance screenings they had during the summer (did they even have more than one in the Seattle area?), but I *did* get lucky enough to see it on opening night in the theater! I half-expected it to be sold out, but I went online on Thursday and got tickets to last night's 7:00 showing. We got to the theater just after 6:00 and there were already about twenty people clumped up in the lobby waiting for the doors to open. They let us into the theater about 6:20 where we sat and enjoyed the enthusiasm of all our fellow moviegoers, whose excitement was overflowing and contagious. (On my way out to the lobby to use the restroom, I passed a couple of guys just heading into the theater; one of them turned to his friend, his eyes aglow, and couldn't restrain his quiet "Eeeeeeee!" of delight.

I really enjoyed the movie. And it was so much fun to watch it in that theater, with a bunch of people who already loved the characters from watching Firefly, and all laughed and gasped and applauded together intermittently.

Everybody go see it. I *really* want to see another movie in that 'verse, with that bunch of characters, so go make it a hit. If I can, I'm going to see it again this weekend or this week, to absorb all the details I'm sure I missed last night--the pace of the dialogue was just as rapid as anything else Joss Whedon's ever done, and I didn't have time to watch the background very closely.

I've been looking forward to seeing it all summer, so three cheers for a Serenity that didn't disappoint.