On Coffee and Mullets

Coffee is my favorite legalized drug-- in fact, I dare say that I prefer coffee to beer, simply because I do not require beer to wake up in the morning. (Well, not yet anyway…) How should one “get on my good side?” If you are so unfortunate as to have fallen from my good graces, I suggest you buy me a cup of coffee. Much like the Balm in Gilead “soothes the sin-sick soul,” so shall a cup of coffee free you from any and all infractions.

Anyway, I write this from a quiet café table at an Amarillo Starbucks dangerously close to the home of my parental units. Yes—you heard (read) correctly—I am once again in the home of my idyllic childhood upbringing, bored out of my mind and yet, strangely busy. I am currently trying to forge random theological thought into a coherent sermon for Sunday, hence the coffee and Starbucks. The barista gave me a complimentary pastry and upgraded my measly tall Guatemalan to a towering coffee behemoth, simply because I had to wait for my coffee to be brewed. More coffee plus free baked goods just for waiting for freshly brewed caffeinated goodness? Seems a little out of sorts, but hey, who am I to turn down a freebie…

I feared this week might be a little on the dull side, since most of my friends have left this area or are otherwise occupied. Due to the pestering of my somewhat controlling but well meaning mother, I have had an assortment of doctor’s appointments. A cavity here, a filling there, plus a prescription for contact lenses--time for extreme Meredith Makeover!

I also got my hair cut; something a little less “country” and a little more “rock ‘n roll.” Ok—to be perfectly honest, I think my hair may be a little mullet-y which now means I am an aspiring theologian with a quasi-mullet— interesting. That sigh you hear is the sigh of frustration from Communion of Saints. “O! Meredith! What hath we wrought?” they ask themselves. I realize that I am probably the source of much exhasperation for such heavenly beings, yet, I humbly ask for forgiveness for my many foibles and the grace to proceed through life, with or without mullets.

Is there life after Greek Camp?

Like a thunderstorm on a sultry West Texas afternoon, Greek arrived, unleashed its fury, and stopped as suddenly as its beginning. Those of us who weathered the storm are now sitting on the porch, staring at the blue sky, scratching our heads and marveling at the deluge that was Greek camp.

As soon as the “rain” subsided, many of my friends scattered to the four corners of the earth, just as cockroaches scatter when you turn the light on in the kitchen. With no Greek paradigms to memorize (or in my case, ignore) and no other school work looming in the distance, life seems a bit vacant. Free time, of course, is no curse, but with so many of my brethern and sistern gone, life is dull. In an attempt to fill this new void in my life, I utilized the following time wasters:

Reading sections from the Book of Common Worship

Reading the Directory for Worship in the Book of Order (for you non-Presbyterians, that's part of the constitution for the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A)

Updating my address book

Learning how to mail merge said address book into mailing labels

Cleaning my dorm room

Dropping off more possessions at the Goodwill in an attempt to further simplify my life

Checking everybody’s blogs

Exciting stuff, no?

…sigh…at least on Monday, I leave with my family for the Texas coast. Even though, according to SOME people, the Texas Gulf Coast is but a dim lightbulb compared to the sparkling diadem that is the Pacific Ocean, I enjoy the beach, regardless of quality, and anxiously await my vacation.

Furthermore...

...and yes, my blog is now pink...

...I'm not sure why...

...sometimes, it's nice to get out of your comfort zone...

...you know, march to the beat of a different piccolo...

...circle your nouns....

...be a rebel, with a cause!

Don't Worry, Be Happy

You might have seen the book, 14,000 Things to be Happy About, at your local bookstore, perhaps lodged between other quasi-gimicky "inspirational" gift books. My eight grade English teacher, apparently a devoted fan to such gimicky gift books, challenged us to keep our own "Happy Lists." Thus, we chronicled whatever inspired happiness in our pubescent pre-teen hearts; I can only surmise what I may have written down.

In the spirit of innocence and naivete, I have submitted a short list of life's blessings that are keeping me sane during these dwindling days of Greek...

thank-you notes
small children
dogs
Betty Crocker rainbow chip frosting
best friends
rain
zip-lock baggies
Shiner Bock
crisp bed sheets
colored pencils
yarn
coffee
wide, toothy grins
medium point writing pens, especially the gel-ink variety
books and book stores
grandmothers
vodka tonics
Muppets

Paper, Rock, Scissors

The following is an editorial from my hometown newspaper, the Amarillo Globe News. Note how this is not the opinion of some letter-writing wacko, but rather is the collaborative effort of the Globe News editorial staff. I am appalled and offended by the shallowness of this letter's content, its lack of theological understanding, and its underlying mysogyny. Enjoy!


June 24, 2006

"Thinking Out Loud"

The nerve of Neil Armstrong.

As he became the first man to set foot on the moon, Armstrong uttered the now famous phrase: "That's one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind."

If the politically correct illness plaguing the nation continues to infect society, in the near future Armstrong may wind up being considered a white sleeveless undershirt-wearing wife-beater rather than an historic astronaut.

Sound far-fetched?

If religious leaders begin bowing down to the P.C. altar, what chance does Armstrong have?
The Presbyterian Church (USA) General Assembly recommended Monday that church members use other references for the Holy Trinity - the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. One alternative mentioned was "compassionate mother, beloved child and lifegiving womb."
In other words, get rid of the perceived references to maleness.

Lord, no matter your gender, help us.

For the sake of argument, those who think Armstrong was only referring to members of the good ol' boys club may not be from the moon, but they're definitely from another planet.
It should be remembered that when Jesus taught his disciples to pray, he began with the phrase, "Our Father in heaven ..." - Matthew 6:9.

And that comes straight from the Man himself, and the message is intended for all mankind.