Just who do you think you are?

Fair warning:  I'm getting up on my soapbox.

As mentioned in a previous post, and as you are all no doubt aware by now, Borders is going out of business.  As the sales markdowns have been getting higher, we have been diligently helping Borders clear books off their shelves.

Last week, I was perusing the Biographies section (40% off--it was my civic duty).  All the usual suspects were represented:  Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, Gandhi, Bristol Palin....wait a minute, who?  Bristol Palin?  Really?  Then I started looking more closely at the shelves, and my horror began to deepen.  Susan Boyle...Linda Hogan...Ice-T...Paul Reiser...Jesse James...I was flabbergasted.  What important things had these people done to warrant having their lives' stories written down and mass printed?  Seriously, I was (and still am) dumbfounded by this discovery.

The only reason anyone has ever heard of Susan Boyle is because she is probably the least attractive person to ever almost win American Idol (apparently being female, older, generally physically unattractive, and able to sing very well is novel in this country).  Linda Hogan is famous, I guess, for being married to Hulk Hogan, who made his living pretending to wrestle people and act (poorly) in a few B-grade movies.  Ice-T got famous (infamous) for being in a music group that made songs about killing cops, and ironically now he's playing a cop on TV.  Paul Reiser...no idea.  He was in a semi-popular TV show in the 90's.  Jesse James is only known because he's on a TV show on the Discovery Channel about motorcycles, and he screwed up his marriage to Sandra Bullock around the time that she won an Oscar, which made his name well-known to everyone who doesn't watch the motorcycle show.  The subtitle of his book is "American Outlaw".  I guess he's trying to cash in on sharing his name with that other Jesse James...you know, the one who held up trains, robbed banks, and murdered people in the latter portion of the 19th century.  Something tells me the modern Jesse James would probably wet himself if he ever came face-to-face with the original model.

And Bristol Palin?  Famous only because she got knocked up out of wedlock right around the time that her mother became the Republican vice-presidential candidate.  The subtitle of her book says it all:  "My Journey So Far".  She's not even 25.  "My Journey So Far"? Really?  How much could there be to say?  Lived in Alaska, went to high school, got pregnant, got paraded on national TV because of my mom, and went on Dancing with the Stars (and lost).  Hey, I think I'll write a book about it!  What a great idea!  Plus, the subtitle suggests that, at some point in the future, there will be a sequel.  Anyone care to place any bets on that?

I am dumbfounded by the fact that someone thought these people's lives were important enough to write about, and shocked (and a bit scared) that they have actually sold books.  It is also, to me, presumptuous that they or their publishers should think that the story of their lives belongs in the same bookstore, let alone the same shelf, as people like Churchill, and Gandhi, and any number of other people who have actually left an indelible mark on this earth--people who have shaped it into what it is today, for better or worse.  Not to sound like a raging environmentalist, but how many trees had to die so Linda Hogan could tell her life's story?

Maybe it's a commentary on our society.  After all, publishers wouldn't publish books if they didn't think they would sell.  And, unfortunately, some of these books probably sold really well, which is pretty sad.  

Okay...off the soapbox now.  Just had to get that off my chest.

Model Mondays: Sentinel

This edition of Model Mondays showcases the Imperial Guard Sentinel, another vehicle from the Warhammer 40,000 table top miniatures wargame.  Warhammer kits, for the most part, are fairly easy to put together--there usually aren't problems with pieces not fitting together, etc.  It's a topic I really enjoy building.  The designs of their vehicles are...unique.  Plus, it's futuristic military sci-fi, and what's not to love about that?

The Sentinel is a scout/reconnaissance vehicle used by the Imperial Guard, which is the standing army of the Imperium of Man.  It is a two-legged walking vehicle, with one person inside.  The Sentinel can be outfitted with a number of different weapon systems, to include autocannons (which is what mine is armed with), rocket/missile launchers, flamethrowers, and plasma guns.  The Sentinel is also used as a heavy-lift vehicle, and can be outfitted with pincer arms instead of weapons in order to move crates, munitions, etc.

I wanted to go with a slightly different color scheme, but still wanted it to be camouflaged.  One of the nice things about building science fiction models is that, since the actual vehicle doesn't exist, you can use your imagination when building and painting.  The kit went together with very little problem, although it did take me awhile to figure out how I was going to pose the legs.  Each leg has two joints, and the foot is on a rotating ball, so I had lots of options for positioning the legs, which was dependent on how I was going to mount it.  The terrain piece that it sits on is pre-made--not my work, I found it in my local gaming store, already painted.  It's made of recycled rubber.  I attached the model to the terrain piece using just a bit of superglue on the forward foot.

 

The whole thing is about 5 inches tall, from the base of the rocks to the top of the Sentinel's antennae.

Comments are always welcome; enjoy the pictures!

The Soul Restoration Business

I was in the gym today, zoning out on the second floor and looking down on the poor schmucks sweating it out on the first floor.  In the distance, over in a corner by the heavy weights, a guy was falling and then getting up, over and over again.  I know what he was doing.  I did it for years myself.  He was practicing how to fall.

I was struck anew by something in the 23rd Psalm.  We all know how it goes:  God is our shepherd.  He will take care of our every need; He IS our every solution.  He will lead us in quiet and peace.

It then says:  He restores my soul.

What does it take to restore a soul?  As long as I've read this psalm, I've sort of basked in the restful, lush image of green grass, quiet waters.  I do think that's the point.  But the actual business of restoring a soul ain't for the faint of heart.  Shepherds were filthy guys.  In order to protect the sheep and do their jobs with, let's say, integrity, they got down in the dirt and the grime and the wool and the muck.

I think it's interesting that the psalmist uses the soul restoration line to finish the peaceful thought and transition to the more chaotic.  Then the shepherd will guide us down paths of righteousness and through the valley of the shadow of death where we will fear no evil.  I think we need restored souls to endure these trials.  I also think these trials are part of how He restores our souls.  I don't think it's all Irish countryside and bubbling brooks.

Going back to learning how to fall.  A few years ago I learned an Israeli fighting style called Krav Maga.  There is no respect for the opponent, no love of the fight; there is only survival.  The style assumes you will be outnumbered, out-weaponed.  It was born out of WWII and makes it clear that you will either survive, or you'll go down making your opponent very, very sorry.

The fight is close.  I mean, I mixed bodily fluids with opponents so much that after a while I never stopped to scrutinize whether my arm was covered in sweat or spit.  We wrestled.  In corners, on the floor, against walls, with fake knives, fake guns.  Just when we got the hang of it, instructors would blindfold us, or turn off the lights and blare the music, or make us fight our way out of a corner; one girl against 10 guys.  No way out.  Amidst all the hard rock and flashing lights and screaming, I could always hear my instructor.  He was screaming the loudest.  He was behind me, or visible just behind my opponents.

"Cross!  Left jab, NOW!  You can do this!"  The implication being, I know because I'm the one who taught you.


Who knows if I'll ever get in a real-world fight.  All I know is that I doubt most situations I'll find myself in will ever come close to those in the studio.  But the point is, I've been prepared.  My fighting spirit is ready.

I believe God restores our souls in this way, too.  Sometimes he shows us what we're meant to do by getting sweaty with us and working on our spiritual muscles himself.  So one day when we find ourselves on that rocky path of righteousness or descending into that valley, when we really need that spiritual muscle memory, we hear his voice above all the others and we remember, oh yeah - I've learned how to do this.  I can do this.

The Psalm ends, in one version, by saying that goodness and love will pursue me all the days of my life. As in relentlessly chase; follow closely after.

And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Amen.

TGIF, people!

HOW can it only be Wednesday?

This week is dragging, people!

The seeds of other worlds

"But while we are on earth, we grope almost as though in the dark and, but for the precious image of Christ before us, we would lose our way completely and perish, just as men did during the flood.  Much is hidden from us on earth but, as compensation, we have been given a mysterious, sacred sense of a living bond with another world, with a lofty and superior world; and, indeed, the roots of our thoughts and feelings are not in the earth but in other worlds.

"That is why the philosophers say it is impossible for us on earth to grasp the essence of things.  God took the seeds of other worlds and sowed them on this earth and they sprouted in His garden; everything that could grow, did.  And all that has grown remains alive and lives by its awareness of its ties to other, mysterious worlds, and if that awareness weakens or dies in you, then all that has grown within you will also die.  And you will become indifferent to life, will even come to hate it."

(Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov)

TGIF, people!

Eavesdropping

I'm plugging right along in Genesis; I'm up to Chapter 18.  In the beginning of this chapter, God visits Abraham in the form of three men.  Abraham rushes out to meet them, implores them to wait while he prepares a meal, then runs around like crazy, directing Sarah and the servants to prepare something tasty, and quick!

Then Abraham stands with the men as they eat.  And God asks Abraham, "Where is your wife, Sarah?"  He replies that she's in the tent.  Sarah, of course, is eavesdropping at the door of the tent, which the Bible says is "behind him."  I think this is hilarious.

Jesus gets all the credit for condescending to the natural world and becoming the God who meets us on our own human level, on our own turf so to speak.  And rightly so.  But this verse proves that God has been like this all along.  Not just in the New Testament; not just in our post modern interpretations of His Son.

I love how God speaks to Sarah - not just Abraham - during this visit.  He tells her that by this time next year she will have a son.  He does it in a way that perfectly fits the culture and norms of the time, but is tongue-in-cheek all the same.  I've seen this side of God before.  I was going through one of the hardest times of my life, walking along the road in my neighborhood, and I actually got so desperate that I asked God for a sign that I was doing the right thing.  I never ask God for a sign.

As soon as I asked, I heard the strangest music.  An ice cream truck had turned the corner behind me and was following me along the road, providing the kooky background music to my prayers.

Model Mondays: Titans!

Ordinarily, Model Mondays is a venue for me to showcase my model work.  However, I decided to take this edition to show some other people's work that I saw at a gaming convention recently.  These are models of Titans, from the Warhammer 40,000 tabletop miniatures wargame.

These models are made completely of resin (most mass-produced model kits are made of plastic), and they are VERY expensive.  The two shown here are a Wolfhound and a Reaver; the Wolfhound is the shorter of the two, and the Reaver has the missile pod mounted on top.  In the game and in the backstory, these Titans belong to the Imperium of Man; they are incredibly powerful, incredibly large, walking war machines.  They are crewed by several individuals, all of whom are located in the "head" section.  In the game, Titans are nearly impossible to destroy, as they have very strong shields and thick armor.  The Wolfhound is approximately 12-14 inches tall, while the Reaver stands about 3-4 inches taller.

Due to the cost of the kits (Wolfhounds are $500-$700, and Reavers are $800-$1100), Titans are usually only owned by players who are excellent modelers and painters.  Every Titan I have ever seen has been exquisitely painted.  I aspire to one day own one myself (even though I don't play the game), but my painting skills are a long way from justifying paying that much money for one kit.

Anyway, here are the pics...I hope to have what is currently on my work bench ready for the next edition of Model Mondays.  Enjoy!

Random Recommendations

These have served us well.  We recommend the following:

Goin' to town

In general, we avoid big chain stores like the plague.  We don't have the patience or the time to deal with them.  However, in order to restock our animal supply, these big stores are the best way.  The method that works best for us is to force ourselves to go once in a blue moon and basically clean them out.

Case in point, today...

We move like lightning, but still we saw a couple more items we needed on the way to the registers:

G said we look like hillbillies makin' the big trip from the mountains into town.  We better stock up while we're here!  Then we'll load up the horses 'n move on out!

From looking at this, how many animals would you guess we own?  Perhaps a small petting zoo?  Or a farm?

Just these little ones:

I'm thinking though, that from now on we're ordering this crap online.

TGIF, people!

Appetizers

For the foodie in you, just know that this post is sooooo not what you're expecting.  The foodie in me feels obliged to say that up front.

I've heard it said that some of the eternal world (i.e. heaven and hell) can be experienced here on earth.  Not in full, of course, but sort of in appetizer form.  As in, here's a taste of what's to come.  We're given only the most fleeting taste, designed to arouse our appetite and expectation of the full course.

As applied to heaven and hell, none of us know what to expect from personal experience.  We haven't gone on and seen for ourselves.  But I'm starting to take it on faith that this appetizer notion is true.  One of my favorite verses of the Bible is James 1:17 which says, "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."  I'm no Biblical scholar and I can't point to the original Greek, Hebrew, etc.  But in my modern reading of this, "good and perfect gift" means...good and perfect gift.  And to me, that means something like:

• sharing a laugh (or a cry) with a friend
• a glass of wine and a nap
• being in the middle of a good book, knowing I have miles to go before I sleep
• traveling
• loving on animals
• watching my friends grow their families (which feels like they're growing mine as well)

You get the idea.  I think those things that are good and perfect to me - and I don't mean this in a morally relativistic kind of way - are literal appetizers from heaven.  That laugh with my peep?  A preview of the eternal joy and happiness and complete perfection that is to come.  A glass of wine and a nap?  Just a dark hint of the pure relaxation and fulfillment of spending eternity with God and HIS peeps.  Who will be my peeps.  Heck, who already are my peeps; I just don't know them yet.

On the other end of the spectrum, I think we indulge ourselves regularly on Hell's buffet line.  There is a girl who hates me.  Actively.  She relishes in my mistakes and sets up hurdles, cackling and rubbing her hands together when I stumble.  Her hatred is intoxicating and before I know what I've done, I find myself at that buffet line, plate filled high with liquid carrots, wilted lettuce, rotten eggs.  My chin is wet and my hands are greasy. 

I've thought of punishment for sins as something in the future - not currently realized, but something that will manifest later.  And to a certain extent, this is true.  There are future rewards and punishments, both in earthly consequences of our actions and in eternal ones as well.  But there are current appetizers of those here, too.  In her hatred for me, this girl isn't just heading toward a hell of isolation and suffering, she's already there.  While setting traps for me, she's really wrapping that noose, that snare, tighter and tighter around herself.  She's living in the suffering caused by her own evil.

And when I hate her back, I do the same thing. 

Just food for thought.  Pun intended.  :)

This is why I'm hot

G's grandpa turned 90 last week and the whole fam damly went down south to celebrate together this weekend.  I don't know what's more awe-inspiring:  the fact that he's healthy, sassy and put-together at 90, or that we survived the heat and humidity.

People.  It was 112 degrees during the day!  And we're not talking a dry heat.  We're talking a 100% humidity heat.  We're talking, want-to-lay-down-and-die-if-you-have-to-go-outside heat.

We went out to lunch and I had not one, but two pina coladas.  Forget the lady-like behavior and decorum; I was dying.  That said, we had a good time.  Although the weekend was a quick blur, it provided many blessings.

The place where G's grandpa lives is awesome:

And we got to love on my niece, whom I'll call Jules.  Clearly they don't feed her enough.

She does more than sleep, though.  She also eats.  And drools a lot.  We should call her Drools instead of Jules.

And there was an abundance of pie (pronounced:  Pah).  As in, "Y'all wont suh mor pah?"

When we checked in to the hotel on the first night (late), we noticed all these crazy-looking trucks parked in the lot.  Stuff like this:

Let's just say there were some...interesting...people tailgating in the parking lot and the street.  Yes, that would be the parking lot of the hotel.

When we pushed our, you know, matching luggage through the scattered beer cans and up to the front desk in the lobby, the attendant goes, "Hi there!  Y'all here for the car show?!"

I turned to give G a look, but he was busy looking over his shoulder to see who she was talking to.  Low and behold it was us and we had to let her down gently.  No, in fact, we were not there for the car show.  But we know this this really cool guy who's turning 90...

TGIF, people!