Even if you don't play handbells . . .

here is a nice distracting game to keep you from stressing too much over the minute details of Christmas preparation! I hear it is a lot like Guitar Hero.

Handbell Hero

Feeling irreverant:

Don't ask me about my inspiration for this!

I'm always a tad bit amused by Christians who the claim the label of "biblical Christianity" as though most Christians aren't "biblical". That and the "Bible believin'" Christians. Perhaps you mean you are a member of one of the One Thousand and One different denominations based on the newest, most recent, most absolutist and most accurate, mostest truest interpretation of scripture, purely and truly sola scriptura, and no other denomination that claims biblical Christianity is as valid as yours? It must be one of the newest and most sophisticated since you not only claim to believe in it, you claim to be "biblical". I realize it is lots and lots of fun to shake that Bible and try to claim "biblical Christianity", but pardon me for trying to point out that a lot of Christians think they have the Bible, too and are therefore biblical. It was the Roman Catholic Church, the original and very firstest of all first Churches that claims to be the truest of all Christian sects who formed and created the Canon--if memory serves. And they even read it, study it and believe in it, too! But it might have been before the Great Schism . . . now there are actually two original, very first and bestest Churches that can claim to be the truest and most right of all Christian sects or denominations with the claim of having the original Bible and even having created it. So, they might actually think of themselves as biblical, too. Heck! They can actually claim St. Peter and therefore most of the books in the New Testament were written by their very own Apostles! Definitely biblical. I actually think that the oldest extant Bible of all is in a monastery at Mt. Sinai--in Orthodox possession. It was my own Church that created the King James Version, THE most accurate version of scripture of all time according to some . . . er . . . uhm . . . protestant sects, authored and authorized by God himself.

*I could have my son sing that to a cool riff ... maybe I should try to revise it and add some rhyme*

"The Great Unraveling"

Today marks the beginning of the annual NaNoWriMo. It is the first time in three years that I haven't participated, if I don't. I have nothing, no idea. Ideas didn't get me anywhere for the past two years--last year less than the year before. I had a pretty decent idea last year, but the push to get words on the page derailed it and I had to force it forward very uncomfortably. My "critic" gets started and she just starts screaming! By the end of last years NaNo she was a raving lunatic.

Above is a potential title borrowed from an online friend on a forum. It intrigued me. There could be so many different directions to take it. One of the ideas I had, and I had considered this in past years, was to write a spoof on schism in TEC. Not this schism, but a fictitious one. And perhaps where I stumble is in my desire to write it so that all Episcopalians could get a chuckle out of it. Yes, all. Sometimes it helps us to laugh at ourselves.

My big stumbling block is that I try to think of a controversy, preferably based on scriptural interpretation of the two (or many) sides. I've thought of revisiting the old slavery controversy, but I would like to have the Internet discussions be a part of the process because I think the Internet has exacerbated what might have otherwise been a ripple in the life of most congregations. I've thought of using St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, 13-15. Vegans would have a secure hold on the scriptural debates. And it could be funny because few of us care what our neighbor eats--except that it might cause a ruckus at a potluck. I had three or four more good ideas, but today is November 1st and panic has frozen my brain. I considered Womens Ordination, but it is still a hot topic in some circles. I thought about the Great Commandment because it seems to be so overlooked. Pacifism might actually be a good one! And I have some great ideas where the war mongers have found justification for their point of view. And, I thought about Balaam's Ass. I like that story. Can an ass talk?

I attempted to brainstorm this idea with my friends, but they shut me down before I even begin. They wouldn't listen long enough for me to get to the spoof concept and my dilemma. It doesn't matter if it goes nowhere. I haven't published a NaNoNovel yet!

At any rate, I thought that a great way to write it would be to divide the month of November into thirty days. Yeah, I know! That's already been done. But bear with me here. I thought I could peg out thirty days during the past four--it isn't going on five yet, is it?--years and I could write a spoof journal entry each day, a recollection of what occurred on that day. So simple! Aim for my 1667 words per day and VIOLA NaNoNovelDone!

Late edition: As I've gone through the day I have grown more and more fond of Balaams Ass. I really like it!~ And just think how many times I could use the word "ass". I've always thought there was a deficit of cuss words in my fiction.

I'm married to an Okie!

My son and I get a kick out of this. We shouldn't but we always do.

I made a quick trip to Braum's tonight and once there I wondered if we had any salad dressing in the fridge. I called my husband on my handy li'l cell phone, "Do we have any ranch dressing?"
After a pause I heard him answer, "Uh huh . . . but some Franch would be nice."
There was quite a lot of background noise in the store. To double check, I asked, "What did you say?"
"I said, uh huh, but some Franch would be nice."
"Franch? Oh, okay. I'll get that at the grocery store tomorrow. Just so long as we have ranch."
A few minutes later, I climbed into the car where Ike was waiting for me, listening to his tunes. As I backed out for the drive home, I told him about the call. By the time we'd gotten to the left turn lane and were waiting for the traffic light, we were having great fun with it.
"I guess that if it comes from France it must be Franch." Gut wrenching laughter.
"We're ranchers here, so we think the Franchers are ranchers, too." Another bout of hilarity.
"We go to the restaurant and he wonders why he got ranch dressing instead of franch dressing." Aren't we just pitiful! Don't tell him we do this.

In other news: It is spring! The daffodils bloomed.

UPO!

We had a UPO experience this evening.

DH let our basset hound in and put her in her crate to allow her muddy feet to dry. No sooner did he close the crate door than he began searching for a mournful mewing sound that seemed to come from somewhere in that corner of the kitchen. Hannah sat facing the crate door observing us with baleful eyes--her usual posture. DH enlisted my help at that point. I bent down and looked into the darkest corner of the crate, behind Hannah's whipping tail, and saw two green glaring eyes staring back at me.

"Ebony is in her crate."

Strangely, at that very moment it seemed that Hannah discovered Ebony and managed to rotate her head to her tail position. That was stupid. A spat, a claw and Hannah nearly hit the top of the crate. DH opened the door and rescued her then had to crawl in on his belly to rescue the black cat from the black corner.

That wasn't the end of the mystery.

We put the dog back into her crate. A few minutes later she began scuffling around, searching excitedly for something that we couldn't see, but seemed to jump from one side of the crate to the other. Hannah was loving the hunt until the UPO (Unidentified Pesky Object) appeared to have managed to escape through the wire. We let Hannah out. Her excitement continued for a few minutes and then died off as though the UPO turned out to be a dustbunny hiding in a corner.

Shortly after dinner while watching TV, my own composure was rattled when Squeaky clawed her way up the back of the couch and caught my head. I lept up and peaked over the couch to see what the commotion was all about. Squeaky was pacing and sniffing, looking all around the back of the couch as though she'd caught sight of a UPO and then lost it. DH and I looked at each other and shrugged. We hadn't seen anything!

Squeaky's search continued, so we flipped the couch over. Nothing. She explored the entire couch and then drifted off to the corner of the dining room to explore under the buffet. We flipped the couch back and I sat down. No sooner had I managed to relax, than Ms Squeaky was clawing at the couch behind my back.

"Oh, for crying out loud! What IS it?" I said, jumping up and stepping away from the couch. Squeaky circled the couch at light speed in such a convincing way that I really did believe that there must be a UPO. She vanished behind the couch again. Just as I gingerly approached the couch to peak over the back again, my eye finally caught sight of the UPO. A fist sized fat object glided past my feet and seemed to vanish in the folds of my throw that had partially fallen to the floor. I squealled and jumped back, staring at the fringed edge of the throw.

"There," I pointed toward the throw and glared at DH who was still sitting calmly in his chair as though nothing whatsoever had happened. "It's there!"

"What is it?"

I made note of the fact that he was still sitting in his chair. "There really is a varmint! And it ran up under there."

He leaned forward slightly and looked in the general direction in which I was pointing. I gave up hope and began to examine the edge of the throw for the best possible hand hold so I could pick it up without coming close to the hiding varmint. Squeaky was still on the wrong side of the couch. I picked it up and--nothing.

A moment later and Squeaky came careening around the corner of the couch again, this time she was actually chasing a gray ball aimed directly at my feet. I lept back, squeeling. I'm so embarrassed! The leap changed the varmint's direction and he seemed to roll under the couch and vanish. In the meantime, I had gained the doorway.

DH remained seated as though he was merely a spectator at a sporting event. This time I pointed in his direction, "Get up and guard that side of the living room--don't let that thing get out!" I shrieked. I do not take UPOs lightly! I nearly had a panick attack when I thought of that varmint getting down the hall and into Ike's messy bedroom.

Two times Squeaky could have had him cornered and she let him escape. I was beside myself. That was when I bellowed my third command, "Get Hannah!"

DH dutifully released Hannah who went after the UPO with a vengence. She circled the couch several times, snuffling dust bunnies, and then followed the trail back to the buffet where Squeaky was in stalking position. Just as I thought all was lost, Hannah, hot on the trail of the now invisible UPO chased it right back to the place where it all began--her crate. DH strolled over to observe the commotion more closely, pulled the crate from the wall and watched Hannah dive behind it. She came back up with something hanging from her mouth. DH stood there in spectator mode until I bellowed one more time, "She's got it! Let her out!"

DH opened the door and out went Hannah. He closed the door and stood and watched her through the window, reporting on the sporting event that continued--thankfully--out of doors.

As he sauntered back to his chair, he muttered, "Ebony brought it in."