Katdish.net

Are you sitting at home thinking how truly awesome it would be to find a one-stop shopping place for all the things in life you really should not live without?

You’d love a Snuggie, but your dog’s nails need a trimming, a few rhinestones need to be replaced on your jean jacket, you need to increase your closet hanging space, your produce doesn’t have the fridge life you’d hoped for, you have bad mojo due to harmful foot toxins, you have a pesky overabundance of nose hair, your lace dickey is so 5 years ago, you’re having a hard time eavesdropping on your neighbors at the mailbox, you have no place to hang your bananas, there’s no good place locally to buy waterproof granny panties, you’d like to know what your cat is really trying to tell you, and your dryer is full of lint! Look no further, my friend!

One visit to the fine folks at Harriet Carter and your troubles are over, my friend! You can find all the aforementioned items and SO MUCH MORE!!! You’re welcome. Just trying to make all of your lives a bit easier. I’m generous like that.

P. S. – Who in the heck plays backgammon anymore? Wrapped in a Snuggie or otherwise?

Okay, peeps. Don’t get your grannie panties all in a bunch. You know you’re all my favorites for different reasons. But Koffi House is more like reading a book — a very, very good book.

Koffijah is a missionary in a “closed” country. For this reason, he does not go into great detail on his profile. He only recently started writing this blog, so you have an opportunity to read it in its entirity and get in on the “ground level”. I would highly recommend it — especially for my friends in ministry.

And Koffijah, if you’re reading this, thank you for sharing your thoughts and wisdom. Please continue to write.

Dear Punk kid who stole my son’s Yu-Gi-Oh Cards,

You and I both know what you did. You told me everything I needed to know when you avoided eye contact with me. My son is a very trusting kid. Because you guys were hanging out and having fun at the comic store, he naively assumed that he could leave his deck on the table while he left for a few minutes. The emptying of the pockets and the backpack was fairly impressive, but you and I know that you stashed it where it would not be found. I know you think my son is some rich kid from the suburbs, but as I type this, he is doing extra chores to pay for the eight dollar card that he had in his possession a total of 10 minutes.

When you took that card from him, you took away something else. You see, my son (much like his mom) is a bit of a square peg that never totally fits into the round holes carved out at school. When he goes to those tournaments, he is completely free to be himself and relax with other kids who are also square pegs. He will still enjoy going to these tournaments, but now that’s one more place he will have to have his guard up. You taught him a valuable lesson that only experience can teach, but still…

I want you to know something else. We went out to dinner tonight. My husband usually says the prayer for the family, but tonight my son asked if he could pray. Guess who he prayed for? That’s right…he prayed for you — that God would forgive you as he has forgiven you. Do you know what I’m going to pray for tonight? I’m going to pray that every time you steal another kid’s cards, you get caught. I want you to get caught stealing in a small way so that you stop while you’re ahead. It’s a much bigger deal when you move on to bigger things like old ladies’ purses and cars. The authorities frown on those things and you might even wind up spending some time in jail, and how suck would that be?

Even though my son is convinced that you took his card, he will still be your friend and he will continue to pray for you. He really gets the “love the sinner but not the sin” concept. But don’t be surprised if he wants to talk to you about Jesus. You might want to listen.

I would like to state for the record that my dh and I do not celebrate Valentine’s Day. If you read this blog on a regular basis, you know my anniversary is also in February. We celebrate that. I’m not hating on February 14. Feel free to spend your hard earned money on fattening chocolate, overpriced greeting cards and jewelry, dying flowers and stuffed animals that no one over the age of six should own. Okay, maybe I am hating on it a little bit…

But seriously, as a recovering pack rat, I am vehemently anti-crap. Have you been to Walmart, Target, et. al. the day AFTER Valentine’s Day? It is a virtual wasteland of pink, red and white leftovers that no one needed in the first place. While I am tempted to do so, I will not begin a rant about how there are about a million worthy charities that will suffer because of the economy, and how they could use the money that people will spend on sentimental, sappy, useless items; the recepients of which will keep forever so as not to feel like uncaring, heartless robots. Okay, maybe I’m hating on it A LOT!

Now girlfriends, don’t be mad at me for writing this. You know I’m not a girly-girl. In fact, when it comes to February 14, I’m kind of a guy. Truth be told, I’m not really romantic in the traditional sense of the word. Flowers, candy and jewelry are great if you like that stuff, but I’m a pretty low maintenance chick when it comes to personal, material things. The kind of things that I appreciate are more intangible: offering to take and/or pick up the kids from school or some extracurricular activity, emptying the dishwasher and loading it, picking up donuts on Sunday morning before church as I rush around trying to get ready, getting the kids up and letting me sleep in occasionally on a school day, picking up dinner when it’s obvious I don’t have a clue or a plan for the evening meal. These are all things that my husband does for me on a regular basis. He makes me feel special every day. For me, Valentine’s Day displays of love and appreciation seem forced, superficial and manipulative.

If this day is special for you and your main squeeze, please don’t take offense to my distaste of it. I may be hating on the manipulation behind the holiday and how incredibly depressing and left out it can make single people feel, but I would never hate on genuine displays of love and affection (as long as they are the appropriate and non-creepy variety). And speaking of genuine displays of love and affection, here is a commercial that is the complete opposite of that. It also makes me want to projectile vomit:

Conclusion: You give her a bear = She owes you something in return (wink, wink).

NOTE: For my male readers that think it would be a great idea to forward this post to their wives in lieu of the usual Valentine’s Day gift, I need to remind you of three things:

1. If February 14 is a special day for her, you might want to indulge her.
2. The couch is probably a lousy place to spend a Saturday night, and
3. I’m guessing your lovely wife does not fart then blame it on the dog — there are two sides to every coin.

Angela wrote a post about this too. Check it out.

For more helpful shopping tips for Valentine’s Day, check out my post on The Fellowship of the Traveling Smartypants

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.” – William Congreve

(“breast” is often misquoted as “beast”, but I think both would apply)

I have probably been to over 100 concerts. I have always loved music. There is not a specific genre that prefer, although most country music does not cut the mustard for me. Which is ironic because I most definitely have a voice that is well suited for country western songs. My criteria for a song is this: Does it move me? Does it reach into my soul and find a place to rest? If you are a lover of music, I suspect that, like me, there are certain songs and/or artists that help define points in your life. I was reminded earlier this week the CD “Jagged Little Pill” by Alanis Morrissette and “Nick of Time” by Bonnie Raitte were my anthems for several months after a particularly nasty break up. And then there’s Peter Gabriel. The lyrics to some of his songs and the way in which he sings them denotes a level of pain and longing that is almost palatable. I also believe that they expose what many refer to as “the God-shaped hole in his heart”. One of my favorites is “Come Talk to Me”, because while I am rarely at a loss for words, there are some feelings and memories that I hold on to for fear that speaking them out loud would leave me emotionally ravaged and unable to recover. God knows the depths to which I have been, and I have no secrets from my husband. Still, there are some places I have not gone. Is there something that you need to share with a loved one or trusted friend? With God?

Come Talk to Me

The wretched desert takes its form, the jackal proud and tight
In search of you, I feel my way, though the slowest heaving night
Whatever fear invents, I swear it make no sense
I reach through the border fence
Come down, come talk to me

In the swirling, curling storm of desire unuttered words hold fast
With reptile tongue, the lightning lashes towers built to last
Darkness creeps in like a thief and offers no relief
Why are you shaking like a leaf
Come on, come talk to me

Ah please talk to me
Won’t you please talk to me
We can unlock this misery
Come on, come talk to me

I did not come to steal
This all is so unreal
Can’t you show me how you feel now
Come on, come talk to me
Come talk to me

The earthly power sucks shadowed milk from sleepy tears undone
From nippled skin as smooth as silk the bugles blown as one
You lie there with your eyes half closed like there’s no-one there at all
There’s a tension pulling on your face
Come on, come talk to me

Won’t you please talk to me
If you’d just talk to me
Unblock this misery
If you’d only talk to me

Don’t you ever change your mind
Now your future’s so defined
And you act so deaf and blind
[And you act so deaf so blind]
Come on, come talk to me
Come talk to me

I can imagine the moment
Breaking out through the silence
All the things that we both might say
And the heart it will not be denied
‘Til we’re both on the same damn side
All the barriers blown away

I said please talk to me
Won’t you please come talk to me
Just like it used to be
Come on, come talk to me
I did not come to steal
This all is so unreal
Can you show me how you feel now
Come on, come talk to me
Come talk to me

I said please talk to me
If you’d just talk to me
Unblock this misery
If you’d only talk to me

As I stated at the beginning of this post, I have been to a lot of concerts. I have described the performance of this song to friends, and I was pleased to have found it on YouTube, because my description of it was woefully inadequate. It was so powerful to see it performed live. It may do nothing for you. That’s cool, music is such a personal thing. But I wanted to share it, regardless.

P. S. – How AWESOME is that bass player?

First things first: Do you know what happened on this day in history, February 10, 1996? If you’re a big chess fan then
a) you probably wouldn’t be reading this blog, and
b) you would know that IBM’s Deep Blue defeated chess champion Gary Kasparov.

But another very important, life changing event happened on this date. I married the love of my life. I know people always say stuff like this, but I mean it when I say that I don’t know where I would be without him. Or maybe I do and I just don’t want to think about something so depressing. Without him, I doubt that I would have stepped through the doors of a church again. Can you imagine how completely unbearable I would be if I didn’t have a relationship with Jesus? For this reason and countless others, I am quite literally eternally grateful for my husband. I love you, dear. This is for you:Okay, so I realize that it’s almost Valentine’s Day and whatnot, but I just now figured out how to make a movie with my very favorite Christmas gift, my new flip video camera! I’d never even heard of it before I opened it on Christmas eve. Here are three movies I’ve just created. George Lucas, eat your heart out!

Here’s me opening another one of my favorite gifts. And yes, my family IS that loud and obnoxious all of the time, so I come by it naturally.

(My son can barely contain his excitement at the thought of his mom taking over the Wii. And yes, those are the infamous plumber’s crack jeans.)

Now, here’s a gift for my son from Grampa (thanks, Dad):

And because I’m a proud mama, here’s my son Cameron knocking the snot out of a golf ball:

Yeah, he’s 11 years old, and he’s a REALLY good golfer. How far does he drive the ball? Consistently over 200 yards. (I know, I know…I’m bragging.) But still, pretty cool, huh?

No doubt, millions of you have been on the edge of your seats anxiously awaiting observations I promised about Ted L. Nancy’s book “Letters from a Nut”. (I realize that my site counter indicates a much lower number, but once it reached infinity, it started over. But I digress…)

“Letters from a Nut” is just that. It is a collection of letters that were actually written and mailed to an assortment of companies, individuals and heads of state. It has been rumored that Ted L. Nancy is actually Jerry Seinfeld, but this has never been proven in a court of law. Without further adieu, the following is one such letter and the corresponding reply:

Irony –
1: a pretense of ignorance and of willingness to learn from another assumed in order to make the other’s false conceptions conspicuous by adroit questioning —called also Socratic irony
2 a: the use of words to express something other than and especially the opposite of the literal meaning b: a usually humorous or sardonic literary style or form characterized by irony c: an ironic expression or utterance
3 a (1): incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result (2): an event or result marked by such incongruity b: incongruity between a situation developed in a drama and the accompanying words or actions that is understood by the audience but not by the characters in the play —called also dramatic irony tragic irony.

Thursday night, as I sat in front of my computer reviewing the post I had written for the following morning, I decided it would be a good idea for Jeff (pastor) to review it and make sure I didn’t have any glaringly obvious flaws as they pertained to “Zeke” and what he represented for C3 . I attempted to cut and paste the content into an email, but the the pictures became html codes and it was incredibly distracting. (Jeff’s a tad ADD himself.) I then got this brilliant idea that I would allow him publishing rights to my blog so he could review the post, then revoke said rights afterwards. It’s not that I don’t want him to post here. He can tell you that I have asked him on numerous occasions to guest blog, it’s just that he’s kind of busy. Besides, when I added him as a contributor, my giant head disappeared from the sidebar, and I knew how much all of you would miss that. But I digress…

So, all that happened. He added the disclaimer about Jesus being the Living Cornerstone and associated scripture. Which was great, because some people will look for any reason to tell you how whack they think your theology is. Anyhoo, I made the final changes, scheduled it to post simultaneously with my my SCL premiere, then revoked Jeff’s publishing rights. Except that I accidentally revoked my OWN publishing rights instead. I immediately called Jeff and told him what I had done. Irony? I’m not so sure. I think that situation would fall under the category of grace – unmerited favor, because he could have REALLY made me suffer, and trust me — we wouldn’t even be close to even in that department. So, do I have a point to this story? Not really. It just reminded me of the song “Ironic” by Alanis Morrissette:

and the fact that the situations described in that song are unfortunate, but not ironic. As a public service, I have decided to add some words to the song, thereby making it ironic. (You’re welcome.)

An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day (because he accidentally poked himself in the jugular vein with the pencil he used to fill out the winning ticket)
It’s a black fly in your Chardonnay (that happened to be an albino fly, so it was white)
It’s a death row pardon two minutes too late (because the electric surge caused by the execution resulted in the phone lines going out two minutes earlier)
Isn’t it ironic … don’t you think (no, not really)
Chorus

It’s like rain on your wedding day (in the Sahara desert)
It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid (for the bus)
It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take (from Governor Blagojevitch)
Who would’ve thought … it figures

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
‘Well isn’t this nice…’ (Okay, that actually is kind of ironic)
And isn’t it ironic … don’t you think
Repeat Chorus

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything’s gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face (and that is very unfortunate, but not ironic)

It’s a traffic jam when you’re already late (for your job as the head of public transportation)
It’s a no-smoking sign on your cigarette break (at the Marlboro plant)
It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife (to cut open the boxes of spoons)
It’s meeting the man of my dreams
And then meeting his beautiful wife (who works as a pharmaceuticals rep for Ambien sleep aid)
And isn’t it ironic… don’t you think
A little too ironic… and yeah I really do think… (no, not really)
Repeat Chorus

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out (which is nice, but not ironic)

Here’s some irony for you: Angry, white Canadian girl becomes international singing sensation with a smash hit called “Ironic”, which isn’t.

Okay, maybe I can connect all these rabbit trails. On a day when I had planned to sit at my computer all day and bask in the glory of my new found pseudo-celebrity status, I realize that I have to go the grocery store, the “oil changed required” light comes on in my car, and I get a call from the school nurse informing me that my daughter is running a fever and I need to come pick her up.

Do I consider this ironic? Nah. I consider that God saying to me, “Get over yourself You’re not that big a deal.”

Okay seminary students and those in positions of leadership at your local house of worship, how many of you have seen and/or used this particular model? If I understand this correctly, PRAYER is the foundation, MISSIONS, DISCIPLESHIP, FELLOWSHIP, MINISTRY & STEWARDSHIP are the pillars that support WORSHIP.

I suppose it’s a decent enough model, but here’s my problem with it: If you remove one or more of the center pillars, WORSHIP is still supported by the remaining outer pillars. Perhaps not the strongest support, but still, it holds up. MISSIONS and STEWARDSHIP are critical aspects of a healthy church, but not superior to the remaining pillars. Besides, I don’t ever recall reading that we are the Building of Christ. (While that’s technically true, 1 Peter 2:5 says “you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” This is in context of Jesus as the living cornerstone, not the cornerstone of an inorganic, static building.) I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that we’re supposed to be the Body of Christ. Oh yeah, here it is:

12The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. 13For we were all baptized by[c] one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. 14Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. 15If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 16And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 17If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? 18But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19If they were all one part, where would the body be? 20As it is, there are many parts, but one body. – 1 Corinthians 12:12-20

If the church is the Body of Christ, doesn’t it make sense that the model should be a body?

Maybe something like this:

• The head would represent prayer. Without it, the rest of the body could not sustain itself.
• The torso, or core would represent worship. Obviously, the head is not self-sustaining, and the torso by itself is of little use.
• The head (prayer) and core (worship) could function to form the body, but with extreme limitations. It could communicate with and praise God, but what about the other vitally important parts that form the complete body?
• What if one of the two legs were to represent ministry?
• And maybe the other leg represented equipping?
• Perhaps one of the arms could represent missions,
• And the other arm could represent outreach.

Yeah, that makes more sense to me. I like the idea of the church being a living, breathing vital body, made up of many parts all working in harmony with one another to form the Body of Christ. If this model was studied, understood and lived out by a church and its members, would they model Christ more effectively? In this model, maybe people would no longer associate a church with a building. Wouldn’t it be cool if, instead of someone saying, “Bob goes to such and such church”, they would say, “Bob is part of such and such church”. Maybe it’s semantics to you, but I think that it might begin to change how people viewed the church as a whole. Perhaps some people would forgo the attitude of “What does this church have to offer me?”, and begin to excitedly ask “What specific part am I meant to be here? How do I get the sense of fellowship and purpose that the people of this church seem to have?” That would be fantastic!

The next question I would ask is, “What is this model supposed to look like?” I don’t know about you, but using a representation of the physical Jesus Christ seems — I don’t know — disrespectful. Since I’m all about keeping things simple, what if you used a stick person? Okay, maybe that’s too simple (and lame). But what if you happened to be part of this core group of amazingly diverse and talented people? For the sake of argument, say the pastor of this group got the whole “church represented as a body” concept while taking post graduate classes at a Midwestern bible college and wrote it out on a piece of paper. Then he had a friend with a graphics design background make a mock-up of this idea. Awhile later, he asked an incredibly creative core group member with daft computer animation and graphic arts skills to come up with the final model. I wonder if it would look something like this:

Because that would be AWESOME!

(Please don’t misunderstand me — I’m not suggesting that a picture has that kind of power, but I think what it represents certainly does!)

I’m sure many of you must wonder, “How did katdish get so darned smart?” Okay, so maybe not, but cut me some slack, I’m trying to introduce a blog post, here. I don’t know what kind of learner I am, but I know that if you put something in the form of a catchy song, I’m very likely to remember it. I owe much to Schoolhouse Rock, including acing my 12th grade government exam where we had to write out the preamble to the Constitution. Does anyone remember that one? Very catchy indeed.

So anyway, I make a concerted effort not to discuss politics on this blog. I have already broken one of two of the rules about never discussing religion and politics. But this stimulus package is really astounding me. How can you spend your way out of debt? Why do I have to be fiscally responsible, but Washington wants to act like Amelda Marcos on a shoe shopping spree? Here’s my basic understanding of how a bill becomes a law:

Well, comparatively speaking, judging by the size of that little bill sitting on the steps on the capitol building, I imagine the president’s stimulus bill would equate to something like this:

Or maybe that’s just representative of the collective egos of our elected officials. (Sorry about the s-bomb in there, btw.)