Finding Zen

Twas A Quiet Night

We had a fire going.  One of the great things about this house is that we have a wood burning fireplace.  Do you have any idea how exciting a WOOD burning fireplace is for a gal from Florida who thought all 'logs' came wrapped in the utility section of your local grocery store?  Anyway.  The fire was crackling, we sat cozy in the family room.  Zack lounged out on the big couch, and I sitting in my chair knitting away, Deal or No Deal on the tube...when suddenly a big ol light comes scanning across our friggin BACKYARD.  Zack runs to the back doors to find a police helicopter hoovering over our house.  AWESOME! 

You see, the only thing separating our hood from THE HOOD is a big fence and a street called Memorial, where people have bad luck.  Clearly,  the police were on the hunt for someone not so nice.  And looking for them in our backyard.  So Zack and I got all freaky.  And he starts running around the house flicking lights off.  Grabs a hammer out of the utility room.  Now we are in the dark and I'm not happy.  We get in to a nervous argument about lights on vs. lights off and why The Probably Armed and Ready To Shoot Us Man on the loose will be LESS likely to choose our house to duck into with the lights off.  Or on.  I'm beginning to wish we were as festive as every other house on the block with their blow up Santas and their 8,000 icicle lights.  And not the ONE, OBVIOUS sticks out at night like a sore thumb, LOSER house.  And NOW the boy is trying to turn off all our interior lights??  Great idea!  Lets look even more vacant.

His theory is that the perp can't see in with the lights off.  I think screw the Perp, I'm the one who needs to see.  So what to we do?  Take one look at eachother and then our unsuspecting dogs nestled in their beds and threw them outside!  Suddenly sitting back to Deal or No Deal was much easier.  Until we began to consider that while the perp wouldn't get far in our yard with our Cujos on the prowl, what if they shot our dogs?  All in all, it was a pretty anxious night.  But tell me, what are you supposed to do if there is a killer on the loose in your neighborhood? A. Turn all the lights on hoping to look awake and alert?  B. Turn all the lights off and sit paranoid with a hammer in hand?  Or C, sacrifice your beloved animals by throwing them in the yard and hoping for the best?

 

Jesus Music

Much like the Doobie Brothers,  "Jesus is just alright with me...".  Not only is Jesus just alright, but when Allison Krauss sings about "oh brother lets go down to the river and pray", I'm ready to call up my Jesus lovin' brother for a swim.  I'm not Christian.  I'm not Jewish, or Muslim, or even as much as I'd like to be, Buddhist.  I'm just Stella.  (and I'm really not even that.)

I do love me some good music though, and I've been rootin around I-Tunes for some new stuff.  Yesterday, I followed one of those 'other listeners liked...' links after browsing through some Nickel Creek (Borderline Jesus Music with enough fiddle to make it feel a little less freaky), and stumbled upon a gal named Mindy Smith.  Ahh...Mindy's voice in that 30 sec sound clip was like honey.  A bit like The Sundays.  One might even say, heavenly.  Sold.  To the Sister of a Christian who hasn't listened to her Jars of Clay cd since 1993 when she REALLY wanted to impress him.  Rain, Rain wasn't so bad, but I didn't even know who I was lifting myself up to. 

So this morning I downloaded Mindy's entire CD.  I was very excited.  I plopped down into the couch and grabbed my knitting...and let Mindy loose on the Bose speakers.  Within the first three songs I began to notice a trend.  References to He, and YOU, and being saved.  Uh oh.  But in my naivety I was falling in love with her sweet voice and the suggestion of heartbreak and new love.  Ahhh...I know how it can be.  Until the next song she mentions going over to a neighbors house and asking if he has the KEY to heaven.  Oh for the love!

Soon enough, by track eight, it is very clear that Mindy and Jesus are tight, and I have just spent 9.99 to add Holy Music to my poor unsuspecting husbands I-Pod.  And I'm sorta pissed.  I feel a little lied to.  A little like - THEY GOT ME!  (Yes, a little edgy, I got witnessed one too many times by the Tallahassee Church of Christ in college).  So anyway, where was the disclaimer?  How could the I-TUNES people have just conveniently left the little Mindy Loves To Sing About Jesus DETAIL out of the artist bio?  I mean, its fine that Mindy loves Jesus and Gang, but STELLA DOESNT.  She loves, Jack Johnson and Gang.

Let me try to explain it to you.  It's like...it's like let's say I came on here one day and wrote this passionate love story, about me and some dude....and of course it was fictional, because, we all love Zack but it was gripping, and passionate, and it made you think of that guy you dated in college.  But then you get to the end of my story and I reveal that the man's name is Spidey.  Short for Spiderman.  How do you feel about that?

You love Spiderman...he's great.  He does good things - has a decent reputation.  But you KNOW I didn't really meet Spidey.  You now worry that what I really need is some therapy.  Kind of a bummer eh?  Yeah.  Well, thats how I feel about Jesus Music.  It sorta creeps me out.  Because when people start talkin all desperate and romantic and lustful about relationships with quasi-fictional characters, it's sorta whacka-doo.

It's disappointing because Mindy's voice is so beautiful, but I don't want to hear about where to find the keys to heaven.  Really.  I don't.  Because I'm still trying to find the keys to my car.  Tell me how to be a better listener.  A better friend.  A better lover.  Sing to me about birth, and death, and new beginnings.  I want to hear about good sex, and great conversations, rainbows and sunsets!  But nails in my hands and being SAVED?  Naa, I'm good.  Because Jesus is just alright with me.  Oh yeah!

This all just makes me laugh, because I understand even more now why my brother and sister-in-law both always preface a G-O-D or Jesus remark with "Not to sound all....'you know'....".  Yes.  I know.  And thank you for playing to my sensitivities.

I'm Not Worthy

I'm sucking this blog thing lately.  Can you tell?

Chickens:

*Why ruin perfectly brilliant chicken salad AND/OR coleslaw, AND/OR apple pie, with RAISINS?  Or even worse...DATES?  It's like, paprika on deviled eggs.  Or...or, relish in egg salad!  No wait.  I got a good one, CHILI PEPPER IN CHILI!!!  What is up with that?  bleh.

*I am still ungainfully unemployed. 

I have nothing to say about anything these days - thus the blog silence.  But here...here is something.  I done built a website for a good friend, who also happened to be the man who married Zack and I.  He is a cowboy man.  A mountain man.  A manly man.  The sort that has done and seen just about anything and everything you can imagine.  He tells unbelieveable stories, and knows Jack Hannah.  Yeah, beat that.

But most exciting of all, is that despite all his mountain manliness...he is an incredibly talented artist.  One whose work I admire and in an attempt to help publicize his art, I have 'launched' him on the WWW.  Here.  WWW.TOMWOLFEART.COM. 

Merry Festivus and Happy Channuka.

 

I WILL Make this...

OMG, this is the most awesomest throw I've ever seen.  I want it, I need it, I have to have it.  And Garnet Hill is smokin crack to suggest I pay $320 for it.  Looks like I can't avoid crocheting any longer.   Maybe with little Vernie's help, I can do it.  Of course...   

After I find the money to buy THESE shoes...

   

Oh.  Yeah.  And about that 'modeling gig' - for those inquiring minds.  I went to the modeling agency - sat in the waiting room....tried to ignore the framed photo of a half-naked 'Honey' from Atlanta giving an interview for a magazine, informing her readers how its not about how big your cock is, but what you do with it.  I noticed a hanging clipboard of sign-in names hanging on the wall, my name listed 4 rows down from Janet Jackson.  Riiiight. 

I interviewed, they wanted to 'sign me on' as one of their models and convinced me I would be perfect for the spa gig, that they would call me on Friday (last Friday) and would I please select one of their photo session packages for headshots.  They gave me the 'payment plan' schpeel.  Later that day I consulted with a photographer friend of mine - contacted the agency and said I would rather use my own photographer... and that my friends, was the end of my modeling career that never was.

They didn't call on Friday.  I didn't get the spa gig.  Gisele can sleep at night.  And you're all bastards for not breaking it to me softly from the get-go.  I could have handled it ya know?