So sorry

At the end of my last post, I made the big mistake of changing my own subject. I was writing about two novels blah blah blah, when I all of a sudden veered into making a silly, unprovoked, and irrelevant dig at Oprah. I'm sorry for that. The earlier mention of Oprah in that article was actually relevant, but the later one did more harm to my point than it did any of good. I hope that in the future I will not fall into such a temptation. Oprah, as I am sure that the first thing you do every day is check my blog, I apologize.

A Tale of Two Novels

The good thing about a long commute is that I can listen to a lot of recorded books. The bad thing is that some books can make you retch! I've been listening lately to "The Time Traveler's Wife" and I can't wait to finish it. I know, you say, "Change the channel!" as if I was surfing through the dozens of stupid TV channels, and actually stopping to watch things like Bones, or Oprah, or Redneck Wedding. Well, this is like one of those (only worse) but after 5 or 6 cds, and hoping it would get better, I find myself stuck and wanting to see if it gets even halfway decent before it dies.
Were you ever driving down a country road in Wisconsin and someone says, "Phew, SKUNK!"?
If you're like me then your automatic reaction is to take a big sniff! And then, once you've officially concurred, you start the monitoring sniffs to determine when you can safely breathe again without encountering the awful fumes. If you recognize this scene, then you understand why I have to finish this dreadful book (only four more appalling CDs to endure). And yes, I feel a certain amount of obligation to the author (I'm a sucker for a salesman too, once I let him in the door).

The good thing about a quiet lunchroom during the work day is that I can spend my little time reading, and I have lately been reading Steinbeck's classic classic, The Grapes of Wrath. I know, I know: "You're 51 years old and haven't read that yet?" you say. Too true. Started once a few years ago and now I don't know why I stopped. Maybe I was distracted by a dead skunk.

Anyway, I am so thrilled by Steinbeck's poignant description of the vital details of his character's lives. His grasp of the human condition is impressive and amazing. My world view and Steinbeck's are not in sync, but his descriptive genius I love.

I am involved with both books right now, and both about half way through. Perhaps Steinbeck is benefiting by the comparison, or what's her name, is being hurt by it, but I can't imagine a more disparate pair of novels: Where he makes every fact a relevant and important one, she includes whole characters and story lines that never matter. Where he describes the turn of an eye and I can relate with a joyous or tragic empathy, her descriptions are meaningless and contradictory.
Whereever his story is going, I can't wait to either rejoice or cry with my dear cousins, the Joads.
Wherever her story ends, I can barely care. I think my only remaining interest is in the pseudo science fiction theory and I expect to end up scoffing wholeheartedly at that!

I wonder; did Oprah recommend this The Time Traveler's Wife? Would she have supported The Grapes of Wrath?

So what's a mere month?

Ok, so now it's been four months.
Just thought I'd sneak a comment in here before the new year.
I went spinning off the highway this morning on the way to work in Sturgeon Bay. Thank God I was not hurt and the truck was undamaged.

Catch you later...

Yipes, it's been a whole month!

Image by the LOCAL via Flickr

I'd better write something today before September rolls in. I've been so busy with keeping busy that I haven't taken any time to write. And there is always so much to write about that I can't think of anything to say (?)! You know what I mean...

So my son Josh has sold another t-shirt slogan! That makes 3 in 5 months and 1200 dollars in his pocket! If he can keep making money like that sitting in a chair, my poor back will have something to say to this old man. I am very proud of him! Oh, you want the slogan? "If your pants are on fire, being a liar doesn't seem so important." I may not have that exactly right, but you get the idea. Go to www.threadless.com and check out 'puppetmeat' to see his previously printed ideas.

Victoria is off for the weekend at her boyfriend's parents' farm. She met Jeremy's Mom before but just met his Dad last night. She said that he was drawn to her like a bee to honey (and he used to raise bees!); and I said, of course! She is quite the girl, and she has finally met the guy who just may (barely) deserve her. He treats her well.

We are all looking forward to Noah's coming home for the weekend, but it looks like that will be next weekend. Everyone misses the young man, but it should work out better next week for a lot of reasons.

While I'm on the subject...

Image by cafemama via Flickr

So many dish washing memories are coming to the surface.

When I was a kid (number 6 out of 8) there were always a lot of dishes to wash, and we each had to take our turn being in charge of that chore. It seems that the one around 10 years old was responsible for the task, and of course, there always was someone around that age.
I kind of think that I probably got really gypped by this system. When I was 10, there were still 4 or 5 older siblings in the house, and two younger ones! By the time Barb (the youngest) was 10, who was around to make dirty dishes? Not too many!
The up side to that problem was that I got to practice my engineering skills to the max. Let me tell you, the dish drainer did NOT look like the picture here! 10 place settings plus all of those serving bowls and pots and pans? It was a veritable mountain of delicately balanced trip wires. With a well thought out foundation of plates and bowls, one could achieve quite the megalith. Pity the poor kid who was assigned to disassemble the monstrosity, though he could use this training to be on the bomb squad!

Once that intricate pile was established, however; I found it to be a great place to send in the troops. Dozens of my little green army men could find refuge in there, scouting and taking aim over the low country of the mesa (table) far below. They were perfectly safe in there until some uncaring troll of a sibling came along and reduced their sanctuary to orderly stacks of plates and bowls!

Ah, the good ol' days!

Ok, the coast is clear...

Image by eiratansey via Flickr

Did I say that I love to wash dishes? I did. So now I'll have to explain.

I like any job that lets me take it from chaos to order, from messy to neat, or from dirty to clean. There's just so much satisfaction in such a process! Washing dishes (by hand of course) is the prime example. The used dishes are a dirty, disorderly pile of germs and useless clutter, but within short order can be transformed into a ready stack of practical, hygienic utensils.

The real value in all of this for me is the analogy potential. I think about washing, and what it means, and what it means for me. Washing, according to merriam-webster(definition 6a in the link below), is separating.

http://mw1.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/wash

When I apply soap and water to a dirty plate the stuck on foodstuff gets separated, and goes down the drain. So as I wash, I think about how Christ separates my sin from my spirit! It is said that we are 'washed in the blood'. My first thought there has always been 'yuck!'. Wouldn't all that blood just make you stained red? And that's not very clean. But when an ore is 'washed' in a chemical bath the valued mineral is separated out while the washing agent flows away with the waste.
The same holds true for we who submit to being 'washed in the blood'. It is only the shed blood of the sinless Savior that has the capacity to separate the dirt of my sin from the image of God created in me. The blood doesn't just pour over me and soak me till I'm stained red; it does a separating, and thus saving, work in me that makes me new and prepared to go into God's presence.
So yeah. I like to wash dishes. But I would also like you to wash the dishes!

Here she comes.

Image via Wikipedia

more later...