The weather today is ‘nice’.
By ‘nice’ that means it’s not raining, but it’s blowing winds and ugly grey clouds that herald the oncoming storm (oooh, Doctor Who reference!)
I had planned to go hiking this morning, but I have the soul of a Californian and I am NOT going out to wander in wild spaces in this weather!
*curls up under the duvet and tries to nap*
Waitaminute, this isn’t my Christianity blog…
I try to be polite. I try to smile and nod and just let it go. It’s none of my damn business how you choose to express your faith, and trust me, my faith can take a lot of shaking and knocking about. but this comic is the last straw.
The tag line on the comic is, “You’re supposed to give up something you love.”
NO.
THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU ARE “SUPPOSED” TO DO.
This, THIS is what Lent is about. This is what is being read in every Episcopal church in the US today, right out of the Book of Common Prayer:
Dear People of God: The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord’s passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.
I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance, and as a mark of our mortal nature, let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.
Faith is not about giving up. Faith is about gaining belief, gaining trust. Repentance is not about giving up. Repentance means, literally, turning away. Turning away from those things that are not compatible with Christian life. I’ll allow that not eating chocolate may be a piece of self-denial, okay, good. Where’s the rest of it? If you’re going to join the Dirty Forehead Club, you’ve got to do the rest of it, too. This is not just some ha-ha, lookit me, I’m reading the Bible! kind of holiday. This is hardcore, a six week boot camp of the Christian Life, and that’s not just what you eat. That’s what you say, what you read, what you do.
It’s tough, yo. And there’s nothing but the grace of God to get you through it.
And another thing: You’re not supposed to go around telling people what you’re doing for Lent! It’s right there in the Gospel reading for today, Matthew 6:17-18:
But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
So STFU already about the chocolate.
Things that are good in Cheeseburger Casserole:
1) Chickpeas
2) Tomatoes
3) Cheese
4) Burger
5) Noodles
Things that are not good in Cheeseburger Casserole:
1) Raw kale
Things to do next time I make Cheeseburger Casserole:
1) Make sure the feckin’ kale is cooked before you stick it in the oven.
One of the nice things about having cooked so much is that I will look at a recipe and go, “Well, that’s nice and all, but if I do THIS and THIS, I’ll like it BETTER!” I did that with The Sweet Life’s Cheeseburger Casserole recipe. Thanks to a fairly well loaded fridge, the only thing I had to cook was the noodles. After they were done, I dumped a bunch of stuff into the pot, including a handful of chickpeas, a tin of diced tomatoes, and chopped raw kale, and mixed. Tossed it into the oven for 10 minutes, called it done, and stuffed it in the fridge for lunches for the first part of the week.
I took a photo of my Cheeseburger Casserole, fresh out of the oven, and it’s so pretty, with the red and green and the noodles and the cheese… but my buddy is currently using the jump drive to upload photos to something he calls “Project Big”.
Don’t ask. Seriously. Do. Not. Ask. Because if you ask, I will have to tell you, and then when I tell you you will not be able to unlearn it. No one’s invented brain bleach yet.
Anyway, the casserole came with me to work yesterday, and I nuked it for 2 minutes on high. It’s good. It would be a lot better if I wasn’t constantly getting the funky texture of raw kale in the middle of my squishy oozy gooey casserole, but you live and learn.
Tonight I’m making more cornbread and the Snobby Joes recipe. Sans maple syrup. It still tastes good.
I can tell Watchmen because in the last 72 hours, over 100 people* have come to my site looking for “Watchmen” (because of this post, wherein I tell you GO SEE IT, GO BUY THE COMIC, JUST THROW YOUR MONEY AT ZACH SNYDER AND ALAN MOORE, YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.
WATCHMEN WATCHMEN WATCHMEN EEEHEEEHEEEEEEEE!
TWEEEEEELVE DAYS! March 6th, 2009! YAY YAY YAY YAY!
Ooops, is my fangirl showing again? I CANNOT TELL. OMG YAY.
I read a lot of Kate Harding dot Net. Why? Because the people over there, not just the bloggers but the commentors, are AWESOME. There’s snark, and there’s information, and there’s support.
And there’s the repeated refrain to be who you are, every day, every hour, every minute. Even if it’s a struggle. Don’t let others tell you who you should be, don’t let the haters decide if you’re happy or not.
And I’m waving my hanky in the air and shouting “Preach it!” and putting in earplugs and loading the page whenever people around me start talking about their diets (the earplugs? Literal, yo).
This morning, though, I woke up and the first thought that popped into my head was, “Waitaminute, if one of the main reasons the trolls over there demand we all put down the baby-flavored donuts* is so that we’ll get married, why is the first argument out of Kate and Fillyjonk and Sweet Machine’s mouths usually, ‘Thanks, we’re happy being fat, and our partners are happy with our fat, too!’”
Well, here I am to tell you all right now, I am fat, and I am single, and that’s okay.
Oh, boy howdy, there’s a stigma in this culture about being single, just as big and insidious as the ones about fat people. If you’re single, you’re lonely, you’re unstable, you’ll work late and like it because you won’t be going home to an empty house, you don’t deserve the vacation time because the other person who asked has a family…
Don’t lie. You read one of those and thought, “Well, yeah, single people are totally like that— HEY! Mary Sue tricked me into facing my own prejudices!”
Nyah, nyah, boo boo! I made you THINK.
I “need” a partner just about as much as I “need” to fit into size six jeans. Just as being fat doesn’t stop me from going out and enjoying life, neither has being single. I go out to the movies. I travel. I even– gasp, shock, horror!– eat ALONE. In RESTAURANTS!
I don’t need a partner to complete me. If someone comes along whose strengths compliment my own, yeah, then I’ll be all over that, you bet your sweet bippy.
Until then, I’m willing to wait and not willing to compromise my sanity and health for some ridiculous ideals of beauty and normalcy.
Or, So You Want To Have A Roommate and You’re Looking on Craigslist?
I’ve found my last four living situations on Craigslist. It took reading thousands of posts, visiting over a hundred houses, and lots and lots of cardboard boxes. Those are my credentials, here’s what I’ve learned:
Before you start, know what you’re looking for.
Make a list. Your list is, of course, going to be different from mine. We’re different people! At the bare minimum, come up with a price range you can afford (both with and without utilities) and an area of town you’re interested in. My list also includes things like wireless Internet, within four blocks of a Frequent Service bus stop, and ABSOLUTELY NO DRUGS. This makes it easy for me to rule out places where one of the advertised perks are “420 a-ok!”
Write an introductory email.
I suggest you do this before you start looking at listings. You’re a total stranger asking to move in with this person. Give them the basics of your life: work, school, what you do on weekends for fun, and that list of things that you are looking for. If you have a blog, add a link. Then, when you find a place you’re interested in, you can just copy and paste!
Come up with a method of keeping details straight.
Every email I sent off, I made an index card. I put the advertised rent and the neighborhood/address on the top line. As details coalesced, I added email, phone number, directions, housemate name(s), and appointment time on the front. I took the card with me to the appointment, and then as soon as I left, I made more notes on the back, about the house, the space, and whether I thought it was good or not, and when the decision would be made.
Do not schedule appointments to see houses too close together, and call immediately if you’re going to be late, you’re lost, or you’re not going to make it.
I used to ensure housing appointments were at least two hours apart. It’s rude to be late. It’s also rude to just no-show.
Do not lie.
I cannot state this enough. This will just cause problems, and the last thing you need in your life is housing drama. If you can’t stand other people smoking, don’t say “Oh, it doesn’t bother me”. Because you may have to live with people chainsmoking in the kitchen.
Trust your gut.
Do you get a weird vibe? Are you afraid to walk to your car in the dark in this neighborhood? Does the room in the basement creep you out? There’s a reason. Go with it.
Follow up, even if it’s to say “Thanks, but no thanks”.
Again, this is just part of not being rude and letting someone else have a chance.
Sign a lease before you hand over money, and ensure you have keys as soon as you hand over money.
Unless you have a signed lease, you are just a guest in the house and you can be kicked out at any time.
Get renter’s insurance
You will NOT be covered by your landlord’s policy.
IF…
…you order four different drinks
…give very odd instructions to the professional barista on how to make them
…demand she go into the back and fetch you a different type of soy
…shuffle the cups around while she’s making themso she can’t remember which drink was which
…you snap your fingers and complain loudly about how slow people are today
You had DAMN well better tip more than a dollar.
You know who you are, lady. And you should be ASHAMED of yourself.
Heh. I got my rantypants on over at Punk Rock HR today. Nick, who works in HR somewhere, posts a pretty decent comment about what to do to impress interviewers in this economy.
And then– oh, my dears— and then he says at the very end of his post:
Look into substitute teaching. In some areas it is as easy as having a bachelors degree and paying a small fee for a certificate.
What follows is my rantypants, which I totally posted over there, but THE WORLD MUST KNOW!
So, you want to try substitute teaching? Six hours of letting kids watch a movie, and then you’re home in time to catch Oprah? Sounds good, huh?
Substitute teaching is like no temp job you’ve ever had. There will be a lesson plan. Do you know how to read lesson plans? It may be a subject you are not familiar with. Can you project confidence and control in the midst of chaos? This gig involves public speaking. Lots of it. And there will be dozens of pairs of eyes, watching you, ready, willing, and able to point out every mistake.
There will be children. They are not just small adults, they are individuals in the process of learning about themselves, the world, and how to interact with it (this goes double for teenagers, who may think they are adults and even look kind of like adults).
There will be parents. They don’t care if you are just a sub. You are in charge of their child for a goodly portion of the day, and by God, if you do something they even think is a little bit out of line, you will hear about it. They will also ask you to just change their little sweetum’s grade, Sweetum didn’t mean to turn it in four weeks late without spellchecking it.
There will be other teachers. These are people who have spent anywhere from two to twelve years in graduate school, learning how to be a better, stronger, faster teacher. They have to deal with the lesson plans, the children, the parents, the administration, and the bureaucracy. 50% of teachers wash out of the profession in the first three years. These teachers? Are the survivors. Your MBA does not impress them.
These teachers are also your clients. They are the ones who will call the sub service. They will be asked if there is a specific sub they wish to have first dibs.
Did you market yourself as a professional educator, dressed for work and able to follow directions and maintain classroom discipline? Did you network, providing business cards with your name, qualifications, and sub number? Were you respectful of the front office people and thank the principal for the opportunity?
Or did you schlep in, explain how this is only until you get on your feet, sneer at the glitter and the cutout paper trees, and complain all through lunch about the quality of the cafeteria food?
I have some food posts. Really. Somewhere. The big problem? I lent my card reader to my buddy in March of ‘08, right before he went to Europe and Africa for SEVEN MONTHS.
He seems to think this means he owns the card reader. Our lawyers are discussing a shared custody agreement.
Anyway, I promise to make it ouver to Ping sometime this weekend, despite the fact I’ve never eaten at Pok Pok. Even though I live right frickin’ there…
I’ve been enjoying Danny Choo’s guest blogging over at BoingBoing. Matter of fact, I have a little crush on him. He’s a guy who dresses up like a Storm Trooper and dances in Shibuya, then posts the video footage edited to Rick Astley songs.
I mean, the only way to make him more attractive to me is to put him in a Joss Whedon show.
Here you go. Rickroll your office. You know you want to.
(eta: This is apparently Post 666, which may have something to do with the fact that it won’t frickin’ load properly)
I’ve always had this habit of taking a word and using it as a swear for a while, then dropping it. It became very prevalent, however, when I was teaching elementary school (they kind of frown on you if you drop the f-bomb in the middle of the classroom).
Mind you, I was teaching about the same time as the Firefly/Serenity mania was hitting its peak, so there’s a couple of classrooms of kids who don’t realise that hui-al lei roughly translates “shit on your head” and are probably still saying it when they stub their toes.
Frell and frack will always be perrenial favorites, but the word I keep hearing myself say lately is:
Booger.
Closely followed by boogerbreath. And if I’m really het up, it’s CONFOUNDED boogerbreath.
I’m not sure why I felt the Internet needed to know this about me.
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