My Nonna likes to say, "you got computers, you got nothing but trouble." (side note: imagine that with a high-pitched Italian accent.) Anyway, apparently it applies today because my wireless router has been flaky. Grrr.
But that's beside the point right now. Have any of you seen these new VW commercials. Truly awful! And what about those new Pizza Hut commercials with the Muppets and Jessica Simpson. Terrible!
I'm with John Derbyshire. Pop culture IS filth!
Clarification: It is the Pizza Hut commercials that I think are filth. I simply dislike the VW commercials - they annoy me, that's all.
I'm getting itchy for springtime. It is my favorite season of the year, and I can smell it on the wind. Waiting for the flowers to appear is better than any Christmas anticipation I felt as a child.
But, I'm traveling again, and in Idaho right now it's raining. Not thunderous downpours, but slow, steady rain. The kind that really wakes up the earth. How I love this time of year - even in the cold Northwest.
I enjoy reading Testosterome. She is inspiring, and I was caught by her discussion of her halo:
"...at my best, my halo is more like a decent flashlight running on its last few minutes of double-A power. Shining. Out. For all. To see. I guess that's all any of us can ever boast -- and none of it without God's grace."
This reminds me of one of my favorite songs, written by a Canadian band with no Christian connections that I can tell. Nonetheless, they stumbled upon a truth that simply rocks my world:
"Reflected light / To another's sight / And the moon tells a lover's story. / My borrowed face / And my third hand grace / Only reflect your glory"
I love that imagery. Here we all are, moons in the night for others to see the glowing reflection of the Son upon our faces, not of our own power - because we have none. Telling the story of a love we haven't earned.
Beautiful. I hope my halo looks like that.
I see some of the strangest things on the road, so it's only fair to share with you good folks. That way, we can mock them together. Here are a few businesses I saw today, all within a few miles of each other:
Bushwhackers Hair Salon - seriously! How do you think this place stays open?
El Gringo Mexican Restaurant - perhaps Bubba is in the kitchen making "tacos"
Stinker's Filling Station - can't tell if this references the proprietor, the fuel, or the customers
The Youth Ranch - the other, other, other white meat or maybe some new form of dairy
Note: I was actually Iris in this little quiz. But, I want to be Rose. ;-)
You are a Rose:
You are creative, sensual, passionate, and bold. You pour your heart into everything that you do. Alluring and gifted with strong sex appeal, you very easily draw people in with your animal magnetism.
Symbolsim: The rose has always been a flower heavily loaded with symbolism. In general it symbolizes desire, passion, beauty, and enchantment.
Which Flower are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
A big sign that said:
"Guns, Knives, Accessories
Divorce Kits from $35 and up"
Perhaps they're trying to encourage a peaceful resolution to those nasty irreconcilable differences?
Heightened airport security is old, old, old news, but this weekend (flying back from Mexico) reminded me of a few things.
After 9/11, my travel schedule continued unabated, which put me in the unpleasant situation of frequent searches. You know the kind - off with the shoes, the belt, the hairclip, the earings, anything that might remotely be made of any kind of metal. Several times, I was pulled aside for the special screening where you get to bypass the metal detector in favor of the wand.
And once, the button on my jeans set off the alarm. Not only did I have to unbutton my pants for a look, but the screener lady realized that my underwire (!) was setting off the detector, too. So, she commenced with the MANUAL inspection of my bra. Yes - humiliation in public. Nice memories.
Which brings me to survival tactics. After having my luggage regularly searched with a fine-tooth comb and submitting to far too many personal inspections, I decided to turn the table. I began to pack my most personal items on the top of the clothes in my suitcase. Ladies, think feminie hygiene products, whether you actually need them or not.
Nothing abbreviates the invasion of your privacy like an explosion of products flying into the face of the screener and across the airport floor. Of course, because you're forbidden to touch your luggage or shoes, the crazy screener people have to chase it all down and repack it.
Ah, sweet revenge!
(Wish I had remembered to do this in Cabo.)
