Paul’s “G”odiva Spot

This morning, as I was moisturizing, it dawned on me that we all in life have our very own leit motif.  It is a sort of signature tune that, when one hears it, will know who he/she is even before they come bursting round the corner.  It is like a warning alarm that alerts you to the impending doom of constipated aunt Grimgerde who is coming to visit whether you like it or not, so brace yourself!  It is that thing that triggers a memory of someone that causes you to say, “AH HAH!  I know who that is!”

In the music world, a composer is said to have a leit motif in their composings.  I am usually able to tell the difference between Verdi and Wagner just by listening to the first few measures of the overtures to their various operas.  Each of these notes and chord combinations triggers a certain emotion or a certain sense of being that causes you to know where you are in a piece, and even what is happening.  Usually, one can even know through the leit motif what that particular composer was feeling at the time she/he composed the work.

We (The UMOA and assorted associates) are currently in rehearsal for a sort of play/opera entitled “Mozart: A Life Worth Noting”.  In it, we sing excerpts from his various operas and basically go through some of his letters from his youth to his death.  There is a definite leit motif through all of his works!  Whenever I hear Mozart’s music, I always get this overwhelming urge to fall desperately in love with sopranos, whereas whenever I hear Wagner’s music, I develop a craving for pigtails, horned helmets and brass bras!  OOOOOO!!!!!!  Speaking of horned helmets, guess what we will be doing in…well, I am sure sure if I am allowed to spill these beans just yet, so I shall remain silent…!! (*baritone chuckle*)

To get back to what I was…ah…saying, everyone of us has a leit motif and what I mean by that is that we all leave marks on the memories of those we know, and especially, those with whom we spend most of our time, and these memories can either be pleasant, or nauseating!!! For example, I remember my father’s mother, grandma Baker.  I remember her because she was the one who inspired me to learn how to cook and bake.  She was the one who told me about making sure to beat the batter in one direction so as to keep the strands going one way to make a cake bake evenly, and about how to use yeast.  I remember her mostly for high tea at her house at 4 o’clock on Saturday afternoons.  She would serve peppermint tea, biscuits, cake, or some other treat.  She was very traditional, and I loved that about her.  In her eyes, I could do no wrong, and she was someone I could hug and kiss and cuddle up to at any time.  My mother’s mother, grandma Campbell, was different.  She was not as affectionate, but I knew that she really loved me.  She and I would talk for hours about life.  The thing I remember most about her was her unwavering faith in God!  For someone who lost 6 out of 10 children to death, and her sight in her later life, she was still steadfast that God was her Father in heaven, and she instilled that in me, and it is carrying me, even now.

So this makes me wonder…What will people remember me for when I am no longer around?  I definitely know that I will NOT be remembered for a pigtail fettish, because that is just ridiculous!  Not to mention, very far-fetched!  I hope, however to be remembered for my pressurized gleeful expressions, my excesses on emotion, and my good hair days, whenever they occur of course.  I, above all else, want to be known as someone who fulfileld his God-given purpose on this earth, and that my life pointed someone else towards the light of Christ.  I want God to look at me and say, “You did good kid!”

Moi

Last Saturday, I went to see a viewing of the documentary entitled “Invisible Children” where in it, one sees the many sides of Africa, and by comparision, other countries where people are either ignored, forgotten, or both.  It is the story of a people, mainly children, who are living in constant fear for their lives.  Children, who are kidnapped, beaten, raped, forced into slavery, and forced to become immune to the horror of shedding blood.  It is the story of a people who are stripped of their right to live in peace, and where their voices are not heard by the rest of the world.

Often, when you see documentaries of the tragedies that are happening around the world, you only get so much information, and usually it is painted as if it is not as bad as one might think.  Very seldom do you get a group of people, who just decide to go to Africa, with no agenda, just to…document what they see.  So, let me share with you what I saw:

I saw a harsh reality that still exists in this world; the discrimination between class and race.  I saw the level to which the human mind can sink into depravity.  I saw men, women and especially children being treated like rabid animals.  I saw a level of cold-heartedness that you do not see in everyday life here, even amongst those that are considered to be on the wrong side of the law.  I could also see why it would be easy for someone to see such a documentary, and after, forget about it.  Nobody wants to see such gore.  Nobody wants to believe that such things happen in this world. I remember that on the tape that was shot, someone said that one cannot compare the two worlds; Africa and the U.S.  And why not?  The last time I checked, these people had arms, legs, a heart each, and blood pumping through their veins.  They are people, just like I am, and just like those who live in other parts of the world.  

I come from Jamaica.  Now we do not see the same level of violence that was seen in this documentary, but it is pretty darn close!  You will of course never hear of it because if you knew, you would never want to go to Jamaica to visit.  I have seen with my own eyes people being chased in the streets with maschettes and stones.  I have seen people turn cars upside-down, and burn them.  I have seen blood spilled before my eyes.  I have seen women wailing over their lost husbands and children.  I know, even on a small scale what kind of world we are living in!

So, what can we do about this?  The one thing I can do is pray.  As simple as that sounds, prayer is powerful and it is the glue that is holding Jamaica together even now!  I also speak out and make my views be known whenever it is needed.  

ONLY GOD CAN SAVE THIS WORLD!!!  And one does not have to believe in God to know that!

Moi 

No, I am not plaiting some poor girl’s hair into pigtails! 

I do not know why you all think I have some kind of pigtail fettish!  That is absolutely silly.  Ridiculous!  Far-fetched!!  Absurd!!! JUST PLAIN WEIRD!!!! And we all know that I have my certificate of sanity, so there is no reason to think I would be capable of such…Oh yes!  I was about to tell you what I am doing, wasn’t I??  How did I get so side-tracked??  You know I am so used to getting off the topic…(*snap*)  Here it is:

I am re-reading “The Purpose Driven Life”.   It is not that I have nothing better to do, but it is a really good book!  As I read the first chapter again this morning, the first line in the book says, “It is not about you.”  Life is not about us.  We are part of a much larger picture that God sees from beginning to end.  We are part of the fabric of the great tapestry that He has already woven, and we are already in place; it is just that we, by living, are constantly catching up to it and seeing more of it as it unfolds.  Every second of our lives, the moment it happens, becomes our past.  God has already seen it, and we only see it the moment it happens. 

The main thing that struck me about this first chapter is that one can search within himself/herself and find meaning, and purpose, and accomplish much in the world, and still miss the whole point of his/her existence.  It is so easy to think we have found it all, known it all, seen it all, and still not get it.  Everytime I tune in to Oprah (Yes!  I do watch Oprah, so get over it already!!), she always talks about purpose.  I have even heard her talk about God’s purpose, and then in the same breathe, she will talk about finding it within yourself the strength, drive, and reason for your life.  Now I do not know her personally, and cannot comment about her life, but it does make me wonder with all the good she does in the world, etc., if when she reaches the end of her life, would she be able to say that she has completed her God-given mission?

It makes me really wonder about my own life.  I remember when I was a child, from as far back as I can recall, I had always wanted to be a pilot!  To this day, I salivate whenever I see or hear an aeroplane flying overhead.  Last summer, when I returned from visiting my family in Jamaica, I landed in Toronto and was met by a friend.  He took me to a store near to the airport where they have books, models, and memorabilia on aircraft, both combat and commercial.  I just about LOST my milk!  I was happier and giddier than a schoolgirl in pigtails on steroids being fed with coffee and dark chocolate intravenously!!!  My friend almost had to drag me out of the place kicking and screaming.  Whenever I fly anywhere, I always get a window seat, and I like to sit near to the wings and engines so that I can listen to the hum of the engines and see the workings of the flaps, spoilers, reverse thrusters, propellors, etc.  It fascinates me to no end!  I even remember once flying an entire flight in the jumpseat in the cockpit on a boeing 727-300 series aircraft when I was about 10 years old.  I remember the pilots giving me a set of headphones so that I could listen in to the towers and their directions, and I could even understand some of the terms.  I was even able to verify what the tower said about the time of push-back from the gate, and they complimented me on my good ear.  I felt that THIS was my life’s calling!  I wanted to be a pilot!  Every toy in my closet, every drawing in my scrapbooks were ALL planes!  I would even go down to the airport in Jamaica just to go up to the Waving Gallery to watch the aircraft take off and land.  Yes, I know I need a life, but I just cannot help myself!!! 

I remember when I was actually going to begin flight training, and was told that I had to do a fair amount of physics.  So I took physics in high school for that sole purpose.  It was around that time that I had developed problems with my blood pressure that caused the doctors some concern.  For a 15 year old to have blood pressure issues, that was rather unusual.  I was told that the weight I was carrying at the time was the main problem, so I tackled that as well.  I walked, ran, and cycled at 4:30AM during the week to whip my body into shape.  After six weeks, I went back and was weighed and I was my right weight.  The doctor was so impressed and was sure that all was well.  He took my blood pressure and it was higher than it was when I went to see him the first time!  He was puzzled.  With that, I pretty much saw the writing on the wall, and knew that that dream would not come to pass.

Years later, I got the opportunity to study abroad, and I decided to get a business degree.  I went to abroad with a plan of eventually getting my MBA, and ended up with an MFA instead, in MUSIC!  I had no idea that I had the ability to sing opera.  I had always loved singing, but did not think I had the talent or even the daring to pursue a career out of it.  I went through a lot of searching to see if this was what God wanted for me, and all the roads led me to this point, where I am sitting in the Music Library at the University of Manitoba Faculy of Music writing this for you all, and myself to read.

I am still searching for God’s purpose for my life.  I do not know it fully, but I know that He knows.  I have a slight hunch that it has something to do with music and opera, but I do not know the whole picture.  This is where He calls me to trust Him and let Him lead me through it all.  Sometimes, it frustrates me, and I am sure it does frustrate you as well.  But seeing that God never gave up on me, I can neither give up on Him, nor His purposes for my life.  It is a day-by-day journey.  Some days I am OK, and sometimes there are more bad days than good days, and then, there are days when if there I do not have chocolate, somebody will get injured (!!!), but as long as I hang in there and stay the course, The Lord will show me that purpose and empower me to fulfill it.

Moi

Rossweisse Iceland is one of my favourite people in school!  She is a talented pianist as well as a good friend.  She and I went ‘RACHin’ last night in Eva Clare Hall.  Rossweisse is a pianist who was giving her collaborative recital.  She performed with three other artists, one of them being Abe Maracas, baritone. 

By the time it came time for us to perform, Rossweisse was in rare form!  She really was playing like I never heard her play before.  Those ivories were begging for mercy when she was done with the piano!  We performed six pieces by Rachmaninoff for voice and piano.  But before I continue, let me give you the scoop on the moments leading up to the recital.

At around 6:13PM I arrived at the school to begin my warm-up routine and to see if I can be of any help to Rossweisse in her prep-time.  She came bursting in, almost breathless, desperately looking for the key for the door to the hall.  The panic on her face tugged at my lymph nodes, and I felt compelled to do something about it.  I said, “Do not worry!  Stand BACH! I will save you!” Then I sprang into action.  She paced around the floor like a husband pacing in the hallway of a hospital delivery room, wondering why this was happening, and to her of all people, gasping desperately.  She had her hand on her forehead, palm facing out.  Her hubby, Osborne was of very little use at this point.  He was skipping daintily about like a lamb frolicking on an all-vegetable farm, where the owners are all strict vegetarians, with his video camera, setting it up, and just getting in MY way!  I had to beat him up!!

I lept to the other door, and with all my might, managed to conquer it, and open it.  At the sound of the open doors, there were cheers of glee and confetti, rejoicing at my triumph.  They all carried me into the hall, where I was fed grapes individually, along with a goblet of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice sweeted with wild honey.  After they made obeisance, I used my might to move the piano into position.  Osborne was also at this point getting in MY way again and I had to beat him up again!  Just as he was getting up from the beating, I beat him up again!  This process was repeated thrice more…at least.

Rossweisse began warming up on the piano.  Just then, a large viking pig named Squirlotte attacked us.  I just managed to stave him off.  After 4 minutes of wrestling, I managed to tie him up, skewer him with a spitrod, season him, put an apple in his mouth, roast and carve him up and feed the homeless downtown, and I still managed to get back in time to get ready.  Oh if Rossweisse only knew what I went through for her!

Then, I went downstairs, changed, and got ready without any excitement or ceremony.  I know you were expecting me to say that I flitted downstairs am-Punkte, had a emotional breakdown, wept, blew my nose on someone’s sleeve much to their disgust, had a coniption fit, hyperventilated, calmed down, got dressed, and then made a dramatic bounding entrance into the green room in preparation to sing my spleen out, but that would be exaggerating the truth just a bit, don’t you think?  I mean, afterall I am a very well-adjusted person.

THEN, we performed the six pieces by Rachmaninoff.  My favourite ones were “Dreams” and “Spring Waters”.  “Dreams” gives me the feeling of gliding effortlessly like an eagle in the sky, and the other one makes me feel like a freight train going full tilt with no brakes!

All in all, it was a FAB night!!!  Congrats Rossweisse!  And I am sure you had no trouble scraping Osborne off the floor.  If you did, next time, just roll him up like a carpet and throw him in the boot of the car. 

Moi

Once upon a time, there was a sweet librarian named Helga.  She worked in a magical library where music was everywhere.  From the strains of someone being tortured…I mean…coached by Dr. Lindstroem, to the sounds of CDs and records being played all the live-long day.

It was a place where magical things happened.  Nymphs and shepherds, with their little beating wings, diapers and bad permanents would come from their high births to skip daintily through the shelves and bookcases, while playing upon their little flutes and harps.  Often, Helga would join in the fun while playing the Wagner tuba, while zwiddling desperately behind them whithersoever they went.

Now Helga was never alone in this place.  She worked with her friend Lulu, who was also a very happy person.  At the stroke of 9:00AM, Lulu would pirouette into the library with an expression of desperate glee on her face.  Her eyes asparkle, she would burst in screaming, “hello all!”  They both would laugh and play and drink lots of coffee, while trading secrets on the latests bundt cake recipes, and what to get Moi as a treat. 

There was no need to lift a finger in this place.  Lulu would sing a song with lots of high notes, with Helga tootling away on the tuba, and while she would sing, little birdies would gather around overhead and chirp along.  The books would join into the fun and zwiddle themselves to their rightful spots on the shelves and cases.  The nymphs and shepherds would always sprinkle gold dust over everything, making it as light as a feather, so Helga and Lulu never had to walk anywhere.  They would float effortlessly hither and thither throughout the library.

One day however, something happened that sent Lulu just a bubble off-centre.  One morning as Helga was preparing her tuba for another day of glee, Lulu came in as usual, pirouetting in on point, and exuding giggles of exasperated and concentrated glee!  Then, it happened.  Helga looked into their bin of magic, and alas!  There was no more coffee!  “Lulu dear”, said Helga, “I am afraid that there is no more coffee. We are fresh out.”  Upon hearing that, Lulu flung herself to the floor.  She began convulsing wildly and at the same time, dark clouds were forming overhead.  As Lulu shook and shimmied on the floor, her hair all of a sudden became locked into uneven pigtails, her teeth all turned into fangs, and she emitted a horrible and frightening baritone chuckle, that made my heart faint and flounder in my bosom!!! “COOOFFFFEE!!!! NOOU COOFFFEEEE!!!!!”   She stomped her way through the library knocking everything over.  She, in her rage, ate three of the nymphs and two of the shepherds, burned one-third of the books by breathing fire on them, and started biting chunks out of the pillars.  Just then, Helga, who was oblivious to all of this exclaimed, “Oh, silly me.  We do have coffee!  I put it in the paper cupboard again and forgot about it.  Lulu, I will brew us some coffee.”  Upon hearing that, Lulu slowly transformed back into her gleeful self, and was bewildered as to why the library was in such a mess, and why there were bones on the floor.  Helga came to the front and her mouth dropped open upon seeing the mess.  They both blamed it all on the nymphs and shepherds, saying that they probably had an after hours rave with beer.  Then the two drank coffee, and all was well.

Nowadays, things are pretty much back to normal.  This morning, Lulu made her pirouette entrance, Helga is preparing her tuba for another day of bliss, as well as a pot of coffee!  But who knows what will happen when there really won’t be any more coffee (*insert rapidly repeating screechy violin screeches here*)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Moi

I am an absolute blank slate today with regards to blogging!  I really do not know what to say.

SO, this is what happens when I let my mind run amuck! 

Oh look!  The sun is shining.  How cute.  I wonder what the sun would look like in pigtails!  I do not know why people think I am crazy.  Donna always has so much energy.  Maybe she should learn how to zwiddle.  Actually, I think she does know how!  That explains it!  She is a closet zwiddler!! For the hour or so that I was asleep, I dreamt about a pig roast.  A nice succulant pig with a spitrod through it, roasting away and being glazed with honey and barbeque sauce, and with an apple in its mouth.  That car outside is staring at me!  It has accusing eyes!  I need chocolate!  I never whine! (*whimper*) Kitty hates me!  Yep!  She is out to get me!  I am tickled senseless.  Cindy-Lou loves is obsessed with the piccolo! She should just major in piccolo.  Mr. Neil Biel loves the zither…  I wonder what it would be like to live inside a neon light bulb.  What is Helga thinking?  Underneath that innocent, cross-eyed expression on her face lies the signature of a serial killer, or raging sadist…who knows!  You know, I am sure that the books, CDs, and records in the library are lonely and depressed.  They get used, or not used everyday and no one thanks them.  Maybe I should go back there and talk to them for a bit, at least until Helga catches me and threatens to have me certified and committed.  Helga just sneezed.  I said “gesundheit” which means “health” in German.  I remember when I started saying that word.  I heard Grover say it on Sesame Street when Kermit sneezed when Grover was a travelling nose salesman, and felt that Kermit needed a nose.  He held Kermit down and fitted him with a chintz coloured nose, much to Kermit’s distress…and then he sneezed, and Grover said…you guessed it.  I wonder if there is a Sneezer’s Anonymous Club for chronic and addictive sneezers.  Noses should never have pigtails!  Speaking of noses, I wonder when the rains are coming…I am fat!  I looked like a stuffed sausage dancing out on stage in Abe’s recital last night.  Dancing sausages!  HMPH!!!  No wonder people are out to eat me!  Whenever I dance people start drooling!  Well, as long as I can stay out of people’s ovens, I should be OK!  Lulu’s bach!  I know she is desperately awake this morning.  There is a sense of forced glee on her face.  That could be from a stiff cup of coffee.  The trees look naked!  Someone needs to knit them a sweeter…Naked trees should be sued for exposure…Come on now… Get it together Moi.  Trees cannot talk, and they do not care that they are naked.  I think they can.  I actually had a conversation with one a long time ago. Good ole’ Wimbley the weeping willow.  He cried and cried and I ran out of tissue.  I had to leave him, and he kept crying so much that I broke down and cried too, until someone told me that weeping willows do not really weep.  I still think they do. OK!  Time to do something intelligent now!  I’ll go find a head a hair to plait!  Willing or not, here I come!!

This was only a few minutes worth.  Actually I cannot type that fast.  Can you imagine if I went on all day with this???

Moi

HAPPY EASTER TO YOU ALL!

Easter is a time when Christians all over the world commemorate the birth of crucifixion death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus The Christ. It is also a time where different cultures celebrate different traditions. In Jamaica, particularly in my family, we eat fish on Easter Sunday. Also, we have a tradition of making a sweet bread loaf, called bun, made from dark ale, or stout, which we eat with cheese as an Easter snack.

There is another tradition is very also very popular. That is the collection of Easter eggs. All over the world, boys and girls  zwiddle desperately with glee over hills, valleys, and through forests and glades hunting for eggs. Now these are usually hard-boiled eggs with the shells coloured in different bright hues. The ones I am particularly interested in are usually covered in red foil-like wrapping and have the word “LINDT” written on front, in case you didn’t know it!

Now there is an issue that is distressing me that I would like to address. For the last two years or so, the Easter bunny has been M.I.A.! He/she, instead of being out delivering eggs (to moi), is now usually on strike, throwing a tantrum, taking a powder, or just plain being difficult, very much like his counterpart, the EVERDIVA-ESQUE cupid for February 14th, dressed in a diaper, sash and donning a bad $2.99 permanent.

I was watching SNL last weekend and one of the comic actors poured himself into a bunny costume, and, in lieu of Easter eggs, he had bottles of beer in his basket! Instead of delivering them, he drank them and was senseless drunk, and floundering all over the place!! So I guess that gives us another clue into the whereabouts of this hiddeously hare-brained rodent!

Now here is what I have decided to do about this. Either the Easter bunny makes with the eggs (I do not care if he/she is late!), or, there are a few recipes that I am just bursting to try, one of them being how to make HASENFEFFER in under ten minutes!

SO GET IT TOGETHER AND MAKE WITH THE EGGS ALREADY, OR BE SERVED OVER A BED OF STEAMED RICE AND STEAMED VEGGIES FOR DINN-DINN!!

I am glad you see things my way.

Moi

Last night, as is the case on most nights, I tossed and turned in bed until I was desperately awake at 4:00AM!  As I lay there, twiddling my thumbs for an hour until bathtime at 5, and I actually did twiddle my fingers, I was reflecting on the fact that we live in a changing world in the presence of a changeless God!

As humans, we have the interesting habit of changing our minds, oftentimes at a moment’s notice.  For example, I know people who change boyfriends/girlfriends like they do underwear i.e. everyday, every week, every month, or every spring…(EEEW!! The thought!!!).  There is a saying that says “it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind”, and we all know, having mothers, sisters, girlfriends, or desperately wish-to-be-girlfriends (*ouch!*) how true that is.  My apologies if I stirred up your subconsciousnesses with a stick! 

Now change can be a very positive thing.  It is part of how we grow.  There are many different changes that we go through physically, emotionally, mentally, and even socially.  Sometimes change affects others in a positive way and sometimes not.  Sometimes, change causes pain to those we love, and sometimes, change just…sucks!

However, one does not have to be a believer in God to realize that God does not change, because regardless of whether or not one believes that there is a God, that cannot change the fact that He has never changed and will never change.  Now how profound is that statement!  When you stop to think about it, if you look at what you have noticed over the last 15-20 years, you will note that there has been some major change or another that has taken place in the world.  I remember when platform shoes for adult men were en vogue!  I remember when polyester paisley shirts were all the rave and when everybody was zwiddling around desperately with an afro, real or synthetic!  I even remember some of my own fashion disasters!  I remember a time when I thought pink and blue were an excellent combination for clothes and anytime I think about it now, I become violently ill!!  Let’s see…There was the Napoleon hairstyle, the loud, multi-coloured baggy shorts, tapered legged pants, and I was even crazy enough to wear high tops once! I look back at those days and wonder if any amount of therapy can erase those memories from my fragile little mind!

Also, it is interesting to note that there are so many different religions and ways of thinking and living that have popped up as well.  Yet, God still remains the same.  So, I asked myself this question:  If God is still the same today as He was in times past, then where is His mind and heart with regards to us now?  Well, according to the Bible, it is clearly stated countless times that God does love us with an everlasting love.  It states that He punishes evil.  It states that He is jealous, refuses to be put in legue with anyone/anything else, has zero tolerance for disobedience, is used to getting His own way and knows more about vendettas than the Sicilian mob boss!  It states that God and sin cannot and do not ever mix.  It states that God casts down the proud and raises up the humble.  It states that God has a real soft spot in His heart for children, orphans, widows, the elderly and anyone who is defenceless. Therefore, if God is changeless, then it must mean that all the aforementioned facts still stand.  So then, why am I, a sinful being, still alive and zwiddling about before Him?  Well, the Bible also states that it is because of His great love for us, that He sent His only Son, Jesus, into the world to be the perfect sacrifice for us, and Jesus went willingly.  Throughout the course of history, God has ALWAYS required the shedding of blood for the remission of sin.  From the days of Adam and Eve, when they committed sin before God, He killed a ram and used the skin to make them the first of what would eventually become Dolce & Gabbana, Versace, Giorgio Armani, Vera Wang, etc.  When the temple was built, there were strict instructions laid down that people had to follow for the remission of sins.  From the gender, age, and species of animals that could be used as a sacrifice, to the rituals that the priests HAD to adhere to when entering and exiting the temple.  Did you know that as part of the priests garments, he had to have a long rope tied to his body so that if he missed a step and dropped dead, others could pull him out without entering into the “Holy of Holies”?  There were little bells that were sewn on to his garments and once he was moving about, one know that he was still alive.  If the ringing stopped, one knew it was time to pull Hubert out and prepare him for burial.  Shocking it is, and true too!

So then, when Christ was born into the world as was prophesied, He lived, fulfilled His purpose, and was crucified.  His blood was shed for us.  So now, whenever anyone who believes in the saving blood of Christ falls into sin, whenever God raises His hand to condemn him/her, Jesus points to the permanent sacrifice that was made on the cross, and because of that sacrifice, we receive mercy and love instead of judgement.  To put it even more simply, it is like Jesus, through his sacrifice made His Father is pair of glasses to look through.  God looks at us through the lenses of Jesus.

Now I do not know about you, but I choose to walk with God and to do as He says.  It is safer, more secure, saves time, the directions are free, and, most importantly, you give the control of your life to The Being who made you, and who knows more about you than you could ever know!  How cool is that!!

Moi

I have decided to butcher this old Julie Andrews/Sound of Music ditty with my own cutsie little twist! Instructions: You must actually sing this for it to have any effect! 

Beryll in pigtails and other impressions

Casper accusing of said same obssessions

Helga in point shoes, in tulle skirts and rings

These are a few of my favourite things…

Jeanette and Penny go pink posey picking

Cle-o-pas stewing in sauce that is sticking

Moonbeams that shine on my halo and wings (*grin*)

These are a few of my favourite things…

Melvin says “cook moi!” and I’m running squealing

With his bowl of chestnut stuffing revealing

Moi tied to spitrod o’er fire that stings

That is NOT one of my favourite things!

When the bundt falls, when the eggs break

When I feel so bad,

These mem’ries of favourite things you now know

Will certainly drive me MAD!!

Now sing this with the tune you know from the movie, using each syllable for each note, and tell me what you think.

Moi

I have a friend named Cleopas Krittermann!  I consider him to be very wise, learned, mature, and very respectful of the environment and flowers!  He has a desperate knack of the obvious!  For example, he will look me square in the eyeballs and tell me, “Moi, if my hunch is correct, and if I am abreast of things, it would be safe to assertain that you are still living!!”  I tell you he is the most astute person I know, not to mention, excessively intelligent and an avid athlete. He never walks anywhere.  He zwiddles everywhere he goes.  I can usually hear him zwiddling along from afar. We have actually zwiddled together thrice before!!  I remember this one time at band camp…Wait a minute!  Sorry. Wrong story!!

He once told me that being condemned to being moisturized everyday should be made a life sentence for the most vile offenders!  I took this to heart and did ponder much upon it.  You know, it made me ask the question: Why are men afraid of spas, skin moisturizers, manicures, and other reasonable lexmark turbofaxes thereof??

Well, thanks to Cleopas, I think I can use my intellect to bring some answers to this burning question.

One reason that men are afraid of such therapies is that it challenges the testosterone-filled ego.  To think of a hardened man getting his nails done is unthinkable in the world of men.  They would much rather prefer walking around all dry and crusty and filled with dead cuticles and flakey scalps. 

Another reason men are afraid is that there is a well-kept secret amongst men.  Some men are afraid of the smallest things!  I have, with my own eyes, seen men cowering in fear upon seeing mice, roaches, needles, and even ladybugs!  It is not like having a legitimate fear, like that of being eaten, or something similar to that.  I think it is hilarious that a woman can have any man backed up into a corner and in her power with a pair of tweezers!

A third reason is that men in generally whimps when it comes to pain!!!  Yep, ladies!  We are.  But I am sure you already knew that.  Women endure discomfort every month in the form of menstruation.  They actually squeeze people out of their bodies.  And the most horrifying of all of all, THEY WAX!!!!  So, it stands to reason that any beauty treatment would make any man go weak in the knees, woof their cookies on the spot, or just curl up into the foetal position, sucking their thumbs on the floor and yelling for mother!

So, anytime Cleopas sees me walking in his general direction with lotion on my hands, he automatically assumes the worst and runs for his life screaming and flailing desperately.  He will be OK.  I know that he will come around. I am, however, puzzled by his constant desire to see me boiling away in a cauldron over an open flame.  I do not know what it means, but I am sure that one day, my little mind will be able to grasp this profound idea.

Moi