tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-133979752024-03-07T10:47:57.717-05:00RONdezvousModerately filtered cogitation and occasional tales of
Rienstra-family trials and triumphsRon Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.comBlogger254125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-59044808418176744232011-03-31T13:49:00.015-04:002011-03-31T14:37:37.782-04:00Fine Arts FunPip volunteered to do a 10-minute slot at the Fine Arts fair at his school this week. We worked up a couple pieces, with Mia joining in on percussion. I thought he did a great job.<br /><br />He is reading a lead sheet for the first song, <span style="font-style: italic;">I Take You For Granted</span>, a composition of mine from some years ago. (I hear it now and think it sounds like a cross between an American Jazz standard and a Sesame Street song some muppet would sing).<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzTiXAR6oWfddKjYNqGTKS3extYj2tlMce7j8Wk4P1SE66RsBwxIF3QR7AMNW5U1o43MGj7a6D1lDs' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />The second song, <span style="font-style: italic;">St. Thomas</span>, he just knows in his head, and the second time through he's just improvising over the changes. I think it's great because his solo has some real musical shape. That's not something you can teach. The boy's just got it.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dynWGiLvdihNWaiCp7kZv8o-n1P1wvEC_EkxrUWFLU9eQiWkY_iz-31pkrEkNuD7xkOnoSYvr3x7g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-83316110134689518032010-07-18T19:14:00.007-04:002012-08-05T07:55:21.287-04:00Moose KitschSince we moved into the new house a few months ago, I have indulged a few lady-of-the-house impulses, such as planting window boxes, buying new dishes, and painting the four-season porch a new color. ("Terrapin green," if you must know. I had to look up what "terrapin" means. Apparently it's a type of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diamondback_terrapin">turtle</a>.)<br />
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This little nesting frenzy has taken me into some frightening thickets of unfamiliar objects and terms. For instance, I had to learn the difference between a chandelier, a pendant, and a sconce. I know how to measure seat height and overall width and depth. I've noted that, should one wish to do so, one could purchase a new kitchen faucet that looks exactly like the one in my grandmother's 1930s kitchen. I've even gotten brazen enough to enter the Pottery Barn store at the mall and to look through their catalog--just for ideas, of course. By the way, once you get past the initial lifestyle lust, home decor catalogs suggest that designers must be imagining very strange lives for the people who are supposed to inhabit their designs. Check out <a href="http://catalogliving.tumblr.com/">this site</a> if you're not sure what I mean.<br />
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Despite being entirely overwhelmed by home-improvement-and-decor world, I am beginning to develop strong opinions about what I like and don't like. I have discovered, for example, a latent tendency in myself toward--I hesitate to confess this--moose kitsch.<br />
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I noticed this emerging condition when I could not resist these placemats on mega sale.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBzG1_jGP9S14Xz7-LgnQGEtvMAINxKgVNdBrAatkVvR5f6rhtqWGs6rloAvUhyeCRSoibSNqd6pppzWfTD6rABL7J26DOl1Ndq0CKd_VW4_Z2Fd37zW3cOeOnghZSAGoMj7Xdg/s1600/DSC00293.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495423747202118066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBzG1_jGP9S14Xz7-LgnQGEtvMAINxKgVNdBrAatkVvR5f6rhtqWGs6rloAvUhyeCRSoibSNqd6pppzWfTD6rABL7J26DOl1Ndq0CKd_VW4_Z2Fd37zW3cOeOnghZSAGoMj7Xdg/s320/DSC00293.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 224px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
Aren't they cute? Come on! They have buttons! When I brought them home, the whole family made fun of me and started calling them "the Sarah Palin placemats." But they have NOTHING to do with Sarah Palin, I tell you! I refuse to be associated with Sarah Palin, and she does NOT get a copyright on everything moose-related. Or grizzly-related for that matter. These placemats commemorate the beauty of northern Michigan. And I enjoy them ironically. Yeah. Ironically.<br />
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Well, these days we're thinking about replacing the light above the dining room table, and out of revenge for the scorn I have endured over the placemats, I have threatened Ron with some intriguing possibilities from the good people at the <a href="http://vaxcelusa.com/">Vaxcel Lighting</a> company. They have a full line of fabulous, no kidding, woodsy-cabin designs.<br />
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For instance, here is the "Yellowstone" chandelier:<br />
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You've got to admit: that's cool. Not rustic enough for you? Well how about this one, the "Lodge"?<br />
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Nothing says "please enjoy the slab of venison on your plate" like a substructure of polymer deer antlers capped with 15 faux-frontier-stitched mini-shades.<br />
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For now, I have promised Ron that, in the future, I will limit my Michigan cabin kitsch weakness to small items in the little bathroom. Maybe a beaver soap dispenser or a birch-branch towel rack. Please do not refer to me as a "Mama grizzly." I just like pine trees, OK?Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-14276792745830179482010-06-24T13:05:00.011-04:002010-06-25T08:56:10.915-04:00Alexi Lalas for PresidentForgive me for another swooning post about the World Cup. No, I'm not even going to gush about the US win over Algeria yesterday. Although I could. And I'm not ruling out a little love later on.<br /><br />But meanwhile, I'm here to confess: I have a fan-crush on Alexi Lalas. This is not because he's "hott" or something juvenile like that. After all, he's five years younger than me, married, and has two kids. Not that I've been checking <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexi_Lalas">Wikipedia </a>for his personal information or anything.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cdn.majorleaguesoccertalk.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/alexi-lalas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 270px;" src="http://cdn.majorleaguesoccertalk.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/alexi-lalas.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>No, I just think he's very very good at what he does. Game after game after game--and they are adding up now, aren't they? how many games have we watched?? [rubbing bleary eyes with fists]--as I was saying, game after game, Lalas comes on camera with incisive, witty, compelling analysis.<br /><br />He's frank and funny:<br />When commenting on the horrible theatrics an Ivory Coast player pulled to get Kaka a second yellow card, Lalas remarked scornfully: "He should know that when you get elbowed in the ribs and then you put your hands to your face, everyone can see that it's a dive, and it wasn't even a good dive!"<br /><br />He's entirely fair-minded, but cheerfully biased when occasion demands:<br />When asked to "put a period" on the French after they had flushed themselves down the group-play toilet, Lalas replied: "Period?! Au revoir! Bye bye!"<br /><br />He can see several sides to an issue:<br />When South Africa failed to qualify, he mused: "As for my human side, I would have liked to see South Africa go through, but in my soccer heart, I know this is the right thing. And I can't WAIT to see Mexico play Argentina."<br /><br />[Pardon the quotes-from-memory here; perfect accuracy not guaranteed.]<br /><br />Most of all, he's always right. His comments are acute, interesting, helpful, and bold. He's an advocate for the game at its best, and he's not afraid to tell it like it is. *contented sigh*<br /><br />In fact, all of us over here chez Rienstra have been impressed with <a href="http://soccernet.espn.go.com/world-cup/?cc=5901&ver=us">ESPN</a>'s coverage of the World Cup overall. The super-fab, Africa-groovy graphics; the totally professional camera work; the refreshing lack of overwrought human-interest drama pieces (*cough cough* Olympics *cough cough*); and the excellent analysis--nicely done, people. Thanks for having the good sense to hire a couple British-accented play-by-play callers, understated and elegant. And thanks for the well chosen, rotating, international group of "studio analysts": Jurgen Klinsmann (German) serves beautifully as the wise, fatherly voice. Ruud Gullit (Dutch) called the US-England draw and gets extra credit for introducing everyone to "If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much." Roberto Martinez (Spanish) is good, Shaun Bartlett (South African) is good. Even the two regular-guy anchors, Bob Ley and Mike Tirico, do all right. They stay out of the way and get right down to the actual game. All these guys--and yes, they're all guys, but I'll fuss about that some other time--handle themselves well and deliver good content about soccer. Thank you, gentlemen, for <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>stating the obvious, blathering on self-indulgently, or acting as if every dramatic moment constitutes the apocalypse and/or the climax of human history. Most of all, thanks for not being boring.<br /><br />But back to Alexi Lalas. After that incredible win over Algeria--in which our boys nearly killed us with anxiety and tortured us with about 25 variations on <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span>, then finally put that glorious goal away in the 91st minute--after it was all over, you could hear the emotion in Lalas's voiceover as he summed up the game. He praised Altidore and DeMerit lest they become unsung heroes in the wake of Donovan's well-deserved glory train. And then, when the producers shifted camera from post-game hooplah to a shot of Lalas and what's-his-name in the press box, you could see: Lalas's gingery locks a little mussed, his eyes a little red-rimmed. Awwwww....<br /><br />Other reasons to love Lalas:<br /><ul><li>He's from Michigan! Yup, played high school soccer and hockey in Birmingham.</li><li>His mom is a writer and poet.</li><li>He went to Rutgers and played soccer and hockey there (during my own grad school years there, no less--if only I'd known!).</li><li>He was a defender, which tends to dissolve any diva tendencies a player might have, even though Lalas did score some crucial <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexi_Lalas">goals </a>in his days.</li><li>He is a pleasant-enough looking fellow, but no pretty boy. In fact, as this photo of him as an MLS player demonstrates, at one stage in his life at least, he might accurately have been described as "a total goober."</li></ul><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.interestment.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/BEARD-Alexi-Lalas-380x308.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 308px;" src="http://www.interestment.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/BEARD-Alexi-Lalas-380x308.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sorry I can't identify exactly when this photo was taken; I got it from some <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.interestment.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/BEARD-Alexi-Lalas-380x308.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.interestment.co.uk/2009/11/05/interestments-bearded-footballer-xi/&usg=__OsLfmYupxlv4xxfHJThReSwDyFM=&h=308&w=380&sz=25&hl=en&start=57&sig2=N9Bd3QWzByc9DwNZc7r7-w&itbs=1&tbnid=UTqDm0RMMNqnNM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=123&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dalexi%2Blalas%26start%3D40%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26rlz%3D1B3GGGL_enUS289US289%26ndsp%3D20%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=e8IjTLWXNYSBlAf5s6wy">blog</a>. Photos of Lalas during his wild ginger days turn up on the internet on a few "weird soccer hair" listings. Just last fall, in fact, <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00909/Alexi_Lalas_350x475_909226a.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/sport/top10s/2684645/Top-10-football-beards.html%3Foffset%3D10&usg=__anIMcOlwa4xoREfrvAKjDiJmlgk=&h=475&w=350&sz=25&hl=en&start=39&sig2=wPesnbIKQG6iMA0qmrphHw&itbs=1&tbnid=OYp0lrDcMC3M7M:&tbnh=129&tbnw=95&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dalexi%2Blalas%26start%3D20%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26rlz%3D1B3GGGL_enUS289US289%26ndsp%3D20%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=QcIjTNqaAoWClAf8gr01"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Sun</span></a> ran a photo of Lalas from who-knows-when as no. 1 in their "Top Ten Football Beards" feature.<br /><br />But having survived a goober period is all in his favor, in my view.<br /><br />So, Alexi, here's to the beautiful linguistic art of sports commentary, done very well. And never mind the part about running for President. True, I'd love to hear you lay into Congress. But no. Please stay right where you are.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-70909699106154390212010-06-15T08:29:00.002-04:002010-06-15T09:23:00.549-04:00HD: An Appreciation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a.espncdn.com/photo/2010/0612/soc_a_thoward_sy_576.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 576px; height: 324px;" src="http://a.espncdn.com/photo/2010/0612/soc_a_thoward_sy_576.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />More than once in the past few days, Ron and I have turned to each other and swooned: "I <span style="font-style: italic;">love </span>HD!" This is the first World Cup we have watched in high def, and I have to admit, soccer is even better when you can see every blade of grass and every thread in the net.<br /><br />ESPN's camera people seem to be reveling in the possibilities of HD, too. I mean, the headers and tackles and goals are wonderful in the moment, but then, but THEN: the replays! Oh, here they come! First, a couple slo-mo replays from different angles: left, right, low angle, maybe even overhead. Then, we find the camera that caught extreme impact. Remember when England striker Emile Heskey plowed into Tim Howard? Yeah, well, thanks to HD and slo-mo replay, we witnessed every delicious bit: blades of grass and clumps of dirt scattering as Heskey's cleats tore through the sod, Howard's right arm, then his shoulder whumping against the ground, his left arm buckling against his body, the light glinting off studs as Heskey's boot crunched into Howard's hand and then his--oh ouch!--we could see the flesh on Howard's chest reverberate with the impact. I swear I could hear ribs cracking. Oops, I mean bruising. Yeah, bruising! He's fine! Really! He's fine to play on Friday! We don't need X-rays! We can just have the U.S. team doctor poke gingerly at his chest! There, see? He's totally fit!<br /><br />And then there was that tragedy-in-the-box in the Netherlands-Denmark game, when poor Simon Poulsen tried to clear a cross from Netherlands' van Persie and the ball rolled off his head onto Agger's back and--oh man! Own goal! It was so awful, Poulsen just laughed. I mean, talk about the fates against you. But THEN, we got to see the replays. There was one camera shot--it took the producers a couple minutes to find it--in which we watched the ball move into the frame, then boing dramatically onto Poulsen's skull, releasing this explosion of sweat in every direction. Trace the trajectory of each sweat bead outward... outward... there--see each one evaporate? I forgot all about the goal and started thinking about the miracle of the water cycle.<br /><br />So thanks to the ESPN camera people and producers for capturing the facial grimaces, the crunched ankles, the ball squashing on impact and re-expanding, every glorious visual detail, and broadcasting it right into my living room so that I can lie here on my couch and marvel.<br /><br />And I hope they realize that if Howard tries to wear a steel chest plate on Friday, we are definitely going to catch the telltale outline under his shirt.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-31317511986447984022010-06-02T08:43:00.007-04:002010-06-02T09:33:54.548-04:00Jane Eyre: Check!Moby Dick: twice.<br />Ulysses: twice, sort of.<br />Vanity Fair: twice, though I don't remember any of it.<br />Brothers Karamazov: of course.<br />Madame Bovary: yup.<br />Anna Karenina: check.<br />Middlemarch: I'm afraid so.<br />David Copperfield: why, indeed.<br /><br />One would expect--wouldn't one?--that a person with an English degree would be quite accomplished in the gigantic classic novel department. And I suppose I can consider myself somewhat well read, although at this point a note of ritual modesty is in order. A lady of accomplishment always demurs when her interlocutors attempt to flatter.<br /><br />Nevertheless, until this past week I had never read Charlotte Bronte's famous novel <span style="font-style: italic;">Jane Eyre</span>. I was compelled on two unfortunate occasions in high school and college to read Emily Bronte's horrible <span style="font-style: italic;">Wuthering Heights</span>, and perhaps that put me off. I did not wish to subject myself further to characters running about on stormy heaths and moors, suffering from inexplicable romantic entanglements.<br /><br />I'm happy to report that <span style="font-style: italic;">Jane Eyre</span> is an entirely different work, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. The many loyal Jane Eyre fans out there now have my permission to pronounce a smug "I told you so." Be my guest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPj5ja00SOrCEgM3jFkiDIXcMJjqiFSpk4s2ULk2YEDyKRGDqykhlDzEhQUudaaJDY3ZdzIp7DTXUmVx8PHzyEPtY7er0vlj4cqcA4_TSIaY5cWGT1nr28Ee9vmYBeLTdT593p/s400/94317705_jane-eyre.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPj5ja00SOrCEgM3jFkiDIXcMJjqiFSpk4s2ULk2YEDyKRGDqykhlDzEhQUudaaJDY3ZdzIp7DTXUmVx8PHzyEPtY7er0vlj4cqcA4_TSIaY5cWGT1nr28Ee9vmYBeLTdT593p/s400/94317705_jane-eyre.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A good 450-page Victorian novel is a nice way to start the summer. I had my nose in the book most of the past weekend, and Ron kept requesting periodic updates: "How's Jane doing?" he would ask. "Well!" I would reply...<br /><br />She's languishing at a terrible boarding school!<br />She's working as a governess!<br />Oh! It looks like she could possibly marry above her station!<br />But wait! The gentleman has a terrible secret!<br />She must preserve her honor!<br />Ah! She has long-lost relatives!<br />With money!<br />And someone died! And left her a bunch!<br />She must endure a grueling carriage ride in order to seek her kindred spirit!<br />Now she's running out of exclamation points!<br /><br />I don't want to give away the ending, just in case I was not, in fact, the last English-speaking person on earth to read the book. Suffice to say, Bronte hit all the Victorian novel cliches. But never mind: I loved every minute of it. Jane is a cool chick who came up with an impassioned speech as a kid about character over class, then recycled the same speech later when occasion demanded. She also kept her head when some idiot tried to talk her into marrying him by claiming it was the will of God and hinting darkly that she might go to hell if she didn't. And she can speak French and draw. All in all, not bad.<br /><br />I would like to claim that I am now off to study German or put on my bonnet and take a walk about the estate grounds. But in fact, I should probably do e-mail. And I think I'll add a movie version of <span style="font-style: italic;">Jane Eyre</span> to my Netflix queue.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-20482929907321835762010-05-23T21:49:00.002-04:002012-08-05T08:04:37.761-04:00Miracles and the Heavenly Org Chart<a href="http://annieinfinite.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/then-a-miracle-occurs-cartoon.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a><br />
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And now, time for some lousy theology.<br />
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On Pentecost, of all things.<br />
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I've been noticing tiny miracles lately, things like finding a parking space when you really need one, or coming across just the quotation you were looking for, or hearing a kind word from someone who doesn't know that you're feeling bummed and discouraged.<br />
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How does this work? I mean, I believe in Providence with a capital P, and I'm happy to put some things down to random coincidence. But what about that broad expanse between Grand Divine Plan and all the insignificant whatevers? Jesus remarked that the hairs on our heads are numbered, but who exactly is doing the accounting?<br />
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My answer: angels. Staff. Underlings. Minions.<br />
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Who knows? Really, I have no idea. But it amuses me to imagine that God's intimate knowledge and care, as attested in biblical passages such as Psalm 139, are duly supported with several layers of errand-running staffers. We used to love the fabulous children's book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Truly-World-Julius-Lester/dp/0590864688/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1274801523&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">What a Truly Cool World</span></a>, which features a character called "Shaniqua, the Angel in Charge of Everybody's Business." That's what I'm talking about. Shaniqua surely must have a staff.<br />
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So based on some events of the last few weeks, I herein make some guesses about what sorts of job categories branch out under Shaniqua in the heavenly org chart:<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Kindred Spirit Encounters</span><br />
It's been a month now since the <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/">Festival of Faith and Writing</a>, and I might still have a bit of a hangover from the high. This was my first time at the Festival as a member of the organizing committee, and I felt like someone giving a fabulously successful party. You invite the guests, you set out the platters and cups, and then... you cannot be sure what will happen.<br />
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I suppose when you get 2000 book-loving<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzd6RTGOzMhSbGnTdj0ERfWHBX0Eh6MJV_zNVHm-JzB3QsG4ssZvANfq2Zp_uoi_gerxwNUAjtgbfl_8pBovUCUrlvNhrPcYBzoDcHLeV7IbBJK-hEjoGEPUpVCLTMPMhGgXT0GA/s1600/1+%28160%29.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475208017246170146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzd6RTGOzMhSbGnTdj0ERfWHBX0Eh6MJV_zNVHm-JzB3QsG4ssZvANfq2Zp_uoi_gerxwNUAjtgbfl_8pBovUCUrlvNhrPcYBzoDcHLeV7IbBJK-hEjoGEPUpVCLTMPMhGgXT0GA/s320/1+%28160%29.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 213px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a> people in the same place for a few days, the laws of probability suggest that amiable connections will occur. Even so, it all felt vaguely miraculous. Student volunteers, assigned to shepherd around authors they previously knew nothing about, developed "author crushes" on people like <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/speakers/dicamillo.php">Kate di Camillo</a> or <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/speakers/freitas.php">Donna Freitas</a>. People who had never read <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/speakers/rodriguez.php">Richard Rodriguez</a> swooned over his plenary lecture and rushed to buy his books. One of my favorite moments was after Rodriguez's interview, when he was greeting people in the chapel. Here comes <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/speakers/lynch.php">Thomas Lynch</a> for his interview in the next session. The two recognized each other, though they had never met before, and rushed to shake hands. "Oh I'm so glad to meet you! I love your work!" they both declared. I got to meet numerous authors whom we had invited on the strength of their work only to discover that they are lovely people, too.<br />
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As miracles go, the Festival is carefully engineered--it requires two years of planning and a savvy and hard-working <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/academic/engl/festival/about/whoweare.php">staff</a>. But now that I've seen behind the scenes, as it were, I know that our engineering does not fully explain the wonders that transpire.<br />
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(Photo credit: <a href="http://www.cebulskiphotography.com/">Laura Cebulski</a>)<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Last-Second Baskets, Hail-Mary Passes, and other Sports Miracles</span><br />
Angels in the outfield, yes, yes, I'm sure there are. I'm more interested in the soccer pitch, where I have witnessed barely perceptible but effective forcefields around the goal box, strangely curving corner kicks, and mysterious bursts of footskills at crucial moments. Just a couple weeks ago, after Mia had endured a deeply discouraging week, she scored a winning goal in sudden-death overtime. Stuff like that is not random.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Pleasant Holiday Celebrations</span><br />
I believe this is one of the less efficient and reliable departments--poor history of customer satisfaction, intermittent colossal breakdowns, etc. However, once in a while, you get, say, an Easter weekend with Edenic weather, good church, decent food, and nicely behaved relatives.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Children in Cheery Moods</span><br />
This department is evidently sorely understaffed. No doubt my children would say the same for Parents in Cheery Moods. It's a busy and stressful time of year; Shaniqua could look into some seasonal hiring.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Terrific Shopping Finds</span><br />
The other day I was planning to go to Costco to buy supplies for a little get-together, and instead, at the last second, I turned into Meijer. I happened to wander through the patio furniture department and--hey! I found the perfect little chair-and-table set for my new deck, all at a bargain price. Thanks, shopping angels!<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Aha Moments</span><br />
Yesterday, Calvin graduated another 950 young people into the world. I realized, watching quite a bevy of English majors stride down that aisle, mortarboards bobbing and robes swirling, that we are losing a very strong class this year. And I marveled again at the thousands of fruitful conversations, in person and in writing, that I get to have with lively young people every semester. Several of these good folks were in three of my classes over their four years, which means they probably know more of my quirks than I wish. Then again, I know theirs, too. I hope it makes us all fond of each other and grateful for the intensity of college life. We all need a rest from that intensity now, but at its best, college is a wonderful place where "aha moments" <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlgFaLmrdL5cjs6H90RjU4jtp8jbtFZXjFbvRaxd1kuGy0IPHGGUklJ2hgLRPC4BiX3e-cJ_5_39HeGrpDUW3hBXnMhyoFXRU_f3Y-8TiQl-hAOWWfajOX8S7UZLdSjT5m4dVuA/s1600/sneller-biking.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475210595886808418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlgFaLmrdL5cjs6H90RjU4jtp8jbtFZXjFbvRaxd1kuGy0IPHGGUklJ2hgLRPC4BiX3e-cJ_5_39HeGrpDUW3hBXnMhyoFXRU_f3Y-8TiQl-hAOWWfajOX8S7UZLdSjT5m4dVuA/s320/sneller-biking.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 198px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 298px;" /></a>pop up like tulips in April. Now let's hope that the angels of resumes, interviews, and job placement will swoop into position and take over.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Traffic Safety</span><br />
How would parents sleep at all without this department? With my second teenager about to start driver's training in a few weeks, not to mention my aging parents still tooling around town, I maintain a state of intimate conversation with the traffic safety staffers. Every safe trip to a soccer game or back from a friend's house late at night feels like a minor triumph to me.<br />
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I know I have had a tendency in the past few years to see failure and focus on disappointment. These days I'm trying to recognize abundance in the everyday miracles.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-79411077315986717562010-04-20T14:34:00.010-04:002010-04-20T14:49:02.101-04:00Awesome Week<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpNRE_MUHLLfrvGX0z5mM2WsjwXVXWQQoOtrebWqdGkPhiS_O_VMJdAD91yhIMS5KTNHuqk6e4cdIkOFCVMd8NjFjOo22E2gqlYJJjeDnmATlk1Mk7BuBYrDPPCtQNR8OaBnrUA/s1600/Awesome+Week+003.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpNRE_MUHLLfrvGX0z5mM2WsjwXVXWQQoOtrebWqdGkPhiS_O_VMJdAD91yhIMS5KTNHuqk6e4cdIkOFCVMd8NjFjOo22E2gqlYJJjeDnmATlk1Mk7BuBYrDPPCtQNR8OaBnrUA/s200/Awesome+Week+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462291445149504530" border="0" /></a>This past week was AWESOME! Well, for Pip at least it was. At Evergreen, a 'balanced calendar' school, Pip had spring break for two weeks in April. But since the parental units had only <i>one</i> week of break, Philip and four of his friends cooked up an awesome idea: all the boys would spend one day a week at each others' homes. Each family unit would then have responsibility for one days' worth of activities. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYE9cuu3snc57DRtzyQcSJSF1Me6wDic9Fq6lx9rXPTCphrC-scoMb4ZZ3igbtYol7h8H0bB8otYHcGO-CjySYQfqAz8heXoYOVDV6RIFsMHQtpIfliO0OFebVeewCiqhd4Nyng/s1600/DSC04797.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYE9cuu3snc57DRtzyQcSJSF1Me6wDic9Fq6lx9rXPTCphrC-scoMb4ZZ3igbtYol7h8H0bB8otYHcGO-CjySYQfqAz8heXoYOVDV6RIFsMHQtpIfliO0OFebVeewCiqhd4Nyng/s200/DSC04797.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462292808659103762" border="0" /></a>The boys came up with the moniker for this vacation-substitute: awesome week. The already sky-high awesomeness got ramped up, though, when the parents began to compete to see who would offer the <i>most</i> awesome activities for the boys. No one was declared winner of that competition, but the boys all agreed it ended up being the best spring break week EVAR.Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-5931418780117283602010-04-03T16:44:00.012-04:002010-04-07T08:00:50.289-04:00And You Thought The Earth's Tilt Caused SpringThe ancient world had its explanatory myths for the seasons, but in our house, it's all down to facial hair. Yep, Ron's facial hair. Facial hair and liturgical seasons.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhlrtuiiTIEWdnVhiOAQ0wAXjlFT8Jai6tf-yGVswH_WxH7ZNZzWAkgRXpABQxMkvNkgMdixGg5_obMYBelZjGDUFd2lrhw9kBLxneBbs9MtiXU6Gbf3Kao8C6y4KjdyVjTUTzQ/s1600/DSC04767.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDhlrtuiiTIEWdnVhiOAQ0wAXjlFT8Jai6tf-yGVswH_WxH7ZNZzWAkgRXpABQxMkvNkgMdixGg5_obMYBelZjGDUFd2lrhw9kBLxneBbs9MtiXU6Gbf3Kao8C6y4KjdyVjTUTzQ/s200/DSC04767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456681895462815634" border="0" /></a>All right, that requires some explanation. Here's what I mean. At the beginning of Advent, Ron lets his beard grow. All through Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, and Lent, I'm married to a hirsute husband.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiyurPx6Zr2h_pKcWSPvKEvYoCXp70VaIcv3WOaFkPRiT2VLyIBzB15BgnQa03u34OeiwWIPqSAaKAlsxx8TAsMO-oMHzNUPsawf_I9o3n40Sgp6z06Dd_PWCNCoORCuYD1I_Mw/s1600/DSC04769.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiyurPx6Zr2h_pKcWSPvKEvYoCXp70VaIcv3WOaFkPRiT2VLyIBzB15BgnQa03u34OeiwWIPqSAaKAlsxx8TAsMO-oMHzNUPsawf_I9o3n40Sgp6z06Dd_PWCNCoORCuYD1I_Mw/s200/DSC04769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456681812093734178" border="0" /></a>Then, on Easter Eve, he gets a haircut and shaves his beard. Next thing you know, I have a brand new husband... and spring arrives!<br /><br />I realize this fuzzy-liturgical mythology can only fully be appreciated by worship wonks, particularly those who are not sensitive about male-pattern balding.<br /><br />(For the brave, <a href="http://gickr.com/results4/anim_fe8177d3-4043-9d34-254b-e7d51ea2668d.gif">here</a> is an animated gif, going back-and-forth between these two pictures. Ron wanted to put it in the post itself; I overruled that impulse. You can thank me later.)<br />*****<br /><br />In more important news, we would like to announce something wonderful: the faculty at Western Seminary voted last week to recommend to the Board that Ron be given a regular faculty appointment as Assistant Professor of Preaching and Worship Arts.<br /><br />We have hoped and waited for this since, well, since before we went to California, not even knowing exactly what we were hoping and waiting for.<br /><br />This Easter, we are celebrating new beginnings, and new possibilities.Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-33601339859535617292010-03-24T19:25:00.014-04:002012-08-05T08:12:10.269-04:00How Old Are You on the Inside?Lately I suspect I'm annoying people with my increasingly frequent references to feeling old. People older than me naturally scoff at such remarks, and younger people cringe--they do not care to be reminded of mortality. So after this post, I will attempt to curtail futher references to aging until I turn the corner on some significant birthday. Not sure which one yet. Oh, but I do reserve the right to observe our annual "ailment night" this summer with my fellow Theologigglers. You know who you are.<br />
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The truth is, I don't always feel old. Most of the time, I still imagine that I'm 27. This makes having teenage children hard to explain, but there ya go. Ron and I occasionally ask friends how old they are "on the inside." I always say 27, Ron always says 24. Friends say all kinds of interesting things. One woman, freshly turned 30, told me she felt 45. I put that down to reading too much theology and not watching enough trashy television.<br />
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This past week, we've had occasions to feel more than normally confused about how far along we have traveled on life's path. So now, a list of Things That Made Me Feel Old accompanied by a list of Things That Made Me Feel Young.<br />
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Old:<a href="http://www.oldenglishcrackers.com/wedding/images/wedding31.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.oldenglishcrackers.com/wedding/images/wedding31.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 191px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 250px;" /></a><br />
Attending, for the first time, a wedding in which our connection to the bridal couple was as friends of the bride's parents.<br />
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Young:<br />
At the rehearsal dinner, sitting with the bride's sister and brother and sister's fiance at the "fun table."<br />
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Old:<br />
Visiting Pella, Iowa, where we lived from 1992 to 1996, and counting up the years (that wasn't that long ago, right?) only to realize that we first moved there 18 years ago.<br />
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Young:<br />
Seeing people we knew during those years who still look exactly the same. (However, it is entirely possible that time passes more slowly in Pella.) And check out this <a href="http://www.pellatuliptime.com/tulip-time/75th-tulip-time/index.shtml">exciting event</a> soon to take place during Tulip Time.<br />
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Old:<br />
Realizing, as I explain to people how to find our new house, that the most effective method is to have them turn south at <a href="http://www.zaagman.com/">Zaagman</a>'s--thus making a funeral home the primary landmark of my life.<a href="http://z.about.com/d/budgetdecorating/1/0/3/2/-/-/SNada.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://z.about.com/d/budgetdecorating/1/0/3/2/-/-/SNada.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 166px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 251px;" /></a><br />
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Young:<br />
Scheming and plotting all the little decorating changes we'd like to make to our new house, assuming that we have decades to complete them.<br />
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Old:<br />
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Hearing my students explain that they had a hard time following a chapter about Richard Nixon in a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Brown-Discovery-America-Richard-Rodriguez/dp/0670030430">book</a> we read for class, while I remember Watergate rather vividly.</div>
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Young:<br />
At least I can still remember things vividly.<a href="http://www-personal.arts.usyd.edu.au/sterobrt/hsty3080/StudentWebSites/Nixon%20Obits/nixon5" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br />
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Old:</div>
Spending the bulk of my spring break grading, which at least affords me "life of grinding responsibility" points.<br />
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Young:<br />
Feeling slightly envious of students who are spending their spring break on a road trip to the sunny South. I don't fancy the all-night car rides anymore (I've always been a complete wussy wimp about losing sleep, actually), but a little bikini-clad ray-soaking still sounds pretty sweet. I'm not ready for bus tours or early bird dinner specials yet.<br />
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<a href="http://oullibrary.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/spring-break.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://oullibrary.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/spring-break.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 298px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 448px;" /></a>Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-14746305088939390122010-03-13T09:00:00.015-05:002010-03-14T19:22:26.512-04:00Where Have You Been All My Life?Yes, I know. Six months' hiatus. Very bad. Long enough for a well-justified "delete" from the RSS feeds of family members, not to mention the three friends who occasionally tolerated our blog.<br /><br />But...we're back.<br /><br />No need to write a long catch-up post. Here's the summary: Finally sold old house. Bought new house. Moved during the one time of year that we swore was the only time we truly could not manage a move--end of January. But we did it. Love the new house. Everyone fine.<br /><br />OK, and now back to random topics. Today: products to change your life. Or at least my life.<br /><br />Moving into a new house means, among other things, installing a large spigot on one's bank account and cranking the thing all the way to "full bore." Hear that sound? Yeah, that's the sound of money gushing out like water over the Hoover Dam.<br /><br />But at least for us, some of that money has gone toward the purchase of some pretty nifty achievements of a consumer-driven economy. These are the sorts of products that, after you buy one, you smack your forehead and say: "Why did I not have one of these years ago?!"<br />For instance...<br /><br /><br />The plastic cereal storage container--with easy-open spout.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://media.kohls.com.edgesuite.net/is/image/kohls/491587?wid=180&hei=180&op_sharpen=1"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 180px;" src="http://media.kohls.com.edgesuite.net/is/image/kohls/491587?wid=180&hei=180&op_sharpen=1" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />For years we've been coping with those intractable wax-paper bags that cereal comes in. You tear the thing open, carefully so as to avoid an oatmeal-square explosion, and then you try to pour cereal into the bowl over that stupid ragged-edged opening. Well, no more. A moment of bold risk-taking in the food storage aisle at Kohl's, and now we have fresh cereal gracefully cascading out of this little beauty. The non-spouty versions work very well for flour, sugar, and other baking staples, too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Certain Dri anti-perspirant.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.certaindri.com/Pages/images/cd/new-certain-dri_and_am.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 141px;" src="http://www.certaindri.com/Pages/images/cd/new-certain-dri_and_am.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />When I teach, I sweat. This is not the wholesome, all-over-body, honest-day's-work sweat of an active athlete. This is the wienie, underarm-only, nervous sweat of the basically introverted public speaker. Over the years, I have ruined many garments this way. In fact, there are certain lovely fabrics I have refused to buy because I know I will corrode the armpits in three-and-a-half class periods. However, at last, I have discovered an unglamorous but effective anti-perspirant. It's cheap, you only use it three times a week at night, and by golly if it doesn't shut down those sweat glands. Maybe eventually I'll turn green from chemical poisoning (doubtful, since the active ingredient is similar to regular anti-perspirant), but at least meanwhile I'll be armpit-circle free.<br /><br /><br />The Toastmaster electric mug warmer.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/11QBrgXMhXL._SL500_AA200_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/11QBrgXMhXL._SL500_AA200_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Prayer and Scripture reading is a sanity-stabilizing morning ritual, but tea drinking is almost as necessary. The trouble is, if you drink a cup of tea over the course of about twenty minutes (the only proper way), by the time you're halfway into the cup, you are drinking cold tea, which is almost as icky as dirty dishwater. And you can't keep jumping up and zapping your cup in the microwave. Not classy. Well, Ron got me an electric mug-warmer for Christmas, and I must say, I'm impressed. In fact, I'm so impressed, I ordered a second one, so I can have one at home and one at the office. Every time I lift the cup and take that last swig, discovering to my surprise yet again that it's still nice and hot, I feel a little moment of triumph over the sinister forces of thermodynamics.<br /><br /><br />The Hoover Platinum Series vacuum.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/21MqWZgXVTL._SL500_AA250_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 208px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/21MqWZgXVTL._SL500_AA250_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Red-blooded American men love their chain saws and power washers, but ladies, I'm telling you, it's possible to perform a useful, non-destructive task and still wield some serious power. With its understated silver design and its sci-fi-blue headlight, this vacuum makes cleaning feel like conquest. The motor takes a moment to rev up--subtle suggestion of jet engine, there--and then it creates a deeply satisfying pull on that carpet. Best of al<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/414Mar%2BbcoL._AA250_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/414Mar%2BbcoL._AA250_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>l--and I'm quivering with the thrill here--the vacuum comes with a separate, portable attachment vac for dry floors, upholstery, and dusting. You sling the thing over your shoulder like a carry-on bag and start poking the telescoping (telescoping!) pole, with your choice of end-cap, into every dust-crusted corner of your house. I haven't tried it on the dog yet, but I'm tempted.<br /><br />So three cheers for product-development people who get a smart idea and follow it through. I salute you.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-27220997430630102542009-09-20T18:57:00.006-04:002009-09-20T19:17:07.133-04:00Instead of cookies at the open house...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PLA2METv5D9i4XnILp67MhzlwrgO24F8fkQd9n5Jp6sAH3kM94VGZSfBk0vdamEFlbFBFm2oGPMGuhx84hzNKf6W3LXC3k5e-DKYhl0iYAPqDQhu4nsbLoFFnRe-xms6KC36fQ/s1600-h/kanye+apples.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PLA2METv5D9i4XnILp67MhzlwrgO24F8fkQd9n5Jp6sAH3kM94VGZSfBk0vdamEFlbFBFm2oGPMGuhx84hzNKf6W3LXC3k5e-DKYhl0iYAPqDQhu4nsbLoFFnRe-xms6KC36fQ/s400/kanye+apples.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383692477432747218" border="0" /></a>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-71633094507933212022009-09-11T20:29:00.013-04:002012-08-05T08:19:09.459-04:00What I Did This SummerNot much.<br />
<br />
I moved into my new office at work and puttered around happily in there, working on this or that project. And we spent a beautiful week with our dear Theologiggle friends at Lake Michigan. And we drove the children around. And around and around.<br />
<br />
We did do a lot of cleaning. We cleaned the house over and over for the various anonymous people who came through to look at it. Alas, still no buyer, though we’ve come close a couple times. And that’s about it. No elaborate vacations, no trips across the country (thank goodness), no major family events. This all seemed restful at the time, but now I look back and wonder what on earth I accomplished, besides a very clean kitchen sink.<br />
<br />
Therefore, in an attempt to feel as if three months of my life has not floated by uselessly, I present:<br />
<br />
Bite-Size Reviews. <br />
<br />
It turns out that between car trips and scrubbing, I did wind up reading quite a bit and watching a few movies.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.hhh.umn.edu/centers/stpp/images/Brain_000.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.hhh.umn.edu/centers/stpp/images/Brain_000.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 133px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">My Stroke of Insight: A Brain Scientist’s Personal Journey</span><br />
Jill Bolte Taylor<br />
<br />
A brain scientist has a stroke at age 37 (caused by a blood clot) and records the whole experience in scientific detail. Her left brain seriously damaged, she entered a kind of pure right-brain experience, which resembles nirvana or similar religious ecstasies. Six years later, she had at last regained full function, but also become a more peaceful person by learning to “turn off” her left-brain at will (sort of). Her story is fascinating in its portrayal of brain function, but annoying in its exhortations to the reader. Her bottom line: you can enter bliss whenever you wish by training your brain.<br />
<br />
On the other hand…<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Female Brain</span><a href="http://brainsciencpodcast.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/female-brain-web.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://brainsciencpodcast.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/female-brain-web.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 131px;" /></a><br />
Louann Brizendine<br />
<br />
This book uses neuroscience and hormone research to explain hormonal influence on various stages of female experience. Very intriguing, but depressing. Her bottom line: Sure, you have free will and all, but frankly your female hormones powerfully influence everything you think and do, and they are pretty likely to drive you to madness at various semi-predictable intervals.<br />
<br />
After reading both these books, I can’t decide whether I am helpless against my hormonal surges or hopeless in my inability to enter bliss by sheer will.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.vanyaya.bc.ca/images/stories/books/sabbath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.vanyaya.bc.ca/images/stories/books/sabbath.jpg" width="114" /></a></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives</span><br />
Wayne Muller<br />
<br />
My pastor friend Dawn was right when she recommended this as a wise, balanced treatment of Sabbath. I found it inspiring. The one problem with Sabbath-keeping that Muller does not much address, though, is dealing with the other people in your household. One cannot rest very well unilaterally. And persuading the others in your household to alter their Sabbath practices—just the thought of it exhausts me. Yes, Rienstras, I’m talking about you.<br />
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/1/1f/The_Secret_Life_of_Bees.jpg/200px-The_Secret_Life_of_Bees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/1/1f/The_Secret_Life_of_Bees.jpg/200px-The_Secret_Life_of_Bees.jpg" width="149" /></a><br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Secret Life of Bees</span><br />
Sue Monk Kidd<br />
<br />
I read this because we wanted to invite the author to Festival. Turns out she can’t make it, but I don’t regret reading the novel—a page-turner and an understandable bestseller. The portrayal of a nurturing, feminine community could have been an eye-roller, but the bee-keeping motif saves it. I’m not a big expert on Southern writers, but what is up with all these adolescent female protagonists with a tragic mother and a mean daddy? Is that some sort of genre convention or something?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1172853585l/223462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1172853585l/223462.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Gods in Alabama</span><br />
Joshilyn Jackson<br />
<br />
Wooooo-doggie, is this a tale! I flew through this book, which is part murder mystery, part romance novel, part comedy of manners. Jackson is a Southern writer with a cracklin sense of humor. The novel is wonderfully constructed to reveal outrageous past events piece by piece, throwing repeated surprises that will cause the reader to emit audible gasps (at least this reader). Lots of frank sexual content here, so not recommended for young, innocent readers. Jackson will be coming to the Festival next spring.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://milkweed.org/media/items/266/milkweed-book-covers-148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://milkweed.org/media/items/266/milkweed-book-covers-148.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Pine Island Paradox</span><br />
Kathleen Dean Moore<br />
<br />
A philosopher with hiking boots and a backpack. Moore is a philosophy professor at Oregon State, as well as a nature writer. She was recommended to me by some nature-writer friends, and it looks like she’ll be at Festival, too. I appreciate her clear, elegant writing and her interesting digressions into philosophical musings. Nature writing traditionally involves a kind of lonely, rugged, individual human voice, but Moore self-consciously connects her love for the wild with her love for family. Her concern for humans in community with each other and the natural world makes her work fresh and relevant.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://store.calvin.edu/outerweb/product_images/9781558496972l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://store.calvin.edu/outerweb/product_images/9781558496972l.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Interloper</span><br />
L. S. Klatt<br />
<br />
A volume of poems by my colleague at Calvin, whom we know as Lew. I loved reading this because it felt to me that I was exercising different parts of my brain. I’m used to reading poetry that requires a lot of intellectual puzzle-solving, but Lew’s poems make sense through sound and image-play. I found this, as well as the overarching metaphor of poet as interloper, quite delightful.<br />
<br />
And now, some movies…<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Star Trek</span> (the new movie)<a href="http://www.impawards.com/2009/posters/star_trek_xi_ver18_xlg.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.impawards.com/2009/posters/star_trek_xi_ver18_xlg.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 136px;" /></a><br />
Loved it. Love the young Kirk and Spock, in fact I like them far better than the originals. Great character work from all the actors, reflecting careful research into canonical ST. Not impressed with the villain, though. So you turned to evil in response to the murder of your young wife and baby, and now your plan is revenge. That old routine? Really? And I was thoroughly disappointed by the ridiculous reliance on “red matter” to propel the plot. Visually striking, but it reminded me of those huge red balls outside Target, and I kept expecting to see product placement. Also, am I getting old, or were some of those frames so full of exploding debris as to be indecipherable by the human brain? Good thing I didn’t see it in IMAX. Despite my complaints, a fun movie ride.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://z.about.com/d/movies/1/0/w/r/S/upposter.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://z.about.com/d/movies/1/0/w/r/S/upposter.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 136px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Up</span><br />
I came out of the theater with this thought: that was the most unpredictable story I have ever seen on screen. I found the first thirty minutes poignant and moving, of course, but felt less and less emotionally connected as the story rumbled along. Still, “Let go of that old dream, for heaven’s sake, and move on to something new and real” is hardly a stock message these days. So points for that.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Curious Case of Benjamin Button</span><a href="http://www.girl.com.au/img/benbutton.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.girl.com.au/img/benbutton.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 140px;" /></a><br />
Yeah, I can see what all the fuss was about. The whole ships-passing-in-the-time-space-continuum premise pleased my sci-fi-loving side, but I mostly enjoyed the historical backdrops and even the sets. That New Orleans old folks home itself may have been my favorite character. And yes, the acting was wonderful yada yada yada.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://caffeine-headache.net/blog3/charliebartlett_l200707121625.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://caffeine-headache.net/blog3/charliebartlett_l200707121625.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 201px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 136px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Charlie Bartlett</span><br />
One of those artsy films, but don’t let that put you off. The premise is that a high school kid, stuck in yet another new school, tries to gain popularity by blackmarketing psychopharmaceuticals out of the boys’ bathroom, and ends up serving as the unofficial psychologist for a lot of messed up teens. The story could have taken a lurid dive, but it focuses on character and stays sweet and quirky and very witty. The kid’s mother all by herself is worth a spot in the Netflix queue.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/8a/Into-the-wild.jpg/220px-Into-the-wild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/8a/Into-the-wild.jpg/220px-Into-the-wild.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Into the Wild</span><br />
This one was recommended to me by many male students after discussing literary tragedy a few semesters ago. I’m not sure it connects to classical tragedy, but I can see why my students love the film: it is saturated with young adult male restlessness. A bright, sensitive fellow runs away after college, determined to live deliberately a la Thoreau. He travels the country meeting other free spirits until he achieves the solitude he craves in the Alaskan wild. And then… well, I won’t give away the ending. This beautiful film was directed by—what??!—Sean Penn, and I thought it was well put together with subtle character work and gorgeous cinematography. I wished I were watching it on a big screen instead of my little pre-HD, pre-flat-screen contraption.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/wit.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/wit.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 201px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 140px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Wit</span><br />
Emma Thompson is a goddess. Every project she takes on, from Beatrice (<span style="font-style: italic;">Much Ado about Nothing</span>) to Margaret Wilcox (<span style="font-style: italic;">Howard’s End</span>) to Professor Trelawney (various Harry Potter movies) to Vivian Bearing (<span style="font-style: italic;">Wit</span>), she accomplishes with breathtaking excellence. For this beautiful film version of the off-Broadway play about an English professor dying of cancer, Thompson helped write the screenplay and played the starring role—to perfection. She is my paradigm for the woman with the most admirably flawless career record (closely followed by Cokie Roberts).<br />
<br />
<br />
So now the summer’s over, and it’s back to <span style="font-style: italic;">Beowulf </span>and sonnets. At least I have the new season of <span style="font-style: italic;">Lost </span>and some more <span style="font-style: italic;">Merlin </span>to look forward to when I've had enough of the heavy-duty stuff.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-64277837317892155322009-07-04T10:24:00.019-04:002012-08-05T08:25:56.292-04:00But Mom, It's Educational!We’re four weeks into summer now, and the kids have been sleeping in, lounging, loafing, and otherwise gleefully wasting time. Well, that’s not entirely true. Mia and Jacob have been running with the cross country team most mornings. Mia has a part-time nannying job. Jacob and Philip have been practicing their instruments. And they’ve all been helping to walk the dog and clean up around the house. Of course, since they’re around the house more, there’s a lot more to clean up.<br />
<br />
But when they’re not doing their duties with admirably moderate resistance, they are practicing the fine art of goofing off. As intermittently conscientious parents, we have initiated earnest conversations with the kids about using their time well because these are formative years and their minds are full of potential etc., etc., blah blah blah. As a result, the children have taken to figuring out how to justify as wholesome and edifying whatever amusement they currently favor.<br />
<br />
Such as watching a cheesy, Arthurian soap opera.<br />
<br />
You’ve never heard of cheesy, Arthurian soap operas? Well, obviously you are a cretin American . The Brits, always on the vanguard, have enjoyed the television show <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin">Merlin</a> for an entire season already, whereas the show only began airing in the U.S. about two weeks ago.<br />
<br />
Not to worry. It is possible (if you know how to navigate the deep web) to obtain the 13 episodes that have aired in Britain. For educational purposes. Of course. Because anything about King Arthur involving actors with British accents must be educational.<br />
<br />
The premise of the show is that Merlin, the great wizard of Arthurian lore, was not always a great wizard. No, at one time, he was a nerdy but handsome teenager who worked as a servant for the young Prince Arthur all the while keeping his magical powers poignantly secret. Curiously enough, the main female players in Arthurian legend, Guinevere and Morgana, were also teenagers at the very same time in the very same castle. At least according to the show.<br />
<br />
I can tell you as a professor of British literature with some actual knowledge of Arthurian legends: this is all very silly. The show has barely anything to do with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annales_Cambriae">real</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Historia_Brittonum">source</a> <a href="http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/malory.htm">texts</a> for Arthurian legend. I mean, the producers of the new Star Trek movie are fastidious scholars by comparison, having based their “reboot” of the ST “legend” on painstaking research into their canonical sources. The Merlin folks, on the other hand, use phrases like “loosely based” and “reimagining.”<br />
<br />
But who cares? Four remarkably attractive young people in period costumes getting into all kinds of perilous mischief right under the nose of grumpy old King Uther, who is only trying to run a decent, magic-free kingdom—this is a formula for some deliciously decadent, strangely addictive entertainment.<br />
<br />
Speaking of formulas, we've seen all the episodes now, and let's just say one can recognize some well-established... patterns. It is entirely possible to sum up the whole season with one composite episode. So here it is, our loving tribute to our new TV crush. Consider this your free sample.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Merlin: An All-Purpose Episode</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i730.photobucket.com/albums/ww302/JAnNa025/Merlintitlesequence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://i730.photobucket.com/albums/ww302/JAnNa025/Merlintitlesequence.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
EXTERIOR. CAMELOT. DAY.<br />
Establishing shot of Camelot castle in Wales, which the French have thoughtfully preserved for the show somewhere in their country.<br />
<br />
Cut to Medium shot of evil sorcerer-type person engaged in evil sorceror-type scheme—poisoning the water supply, kidnapping innocent townspeople, sending zombie undead knights into Camelot, etc. Dramatic music. Perhaps some cackly laughter.<br />
<br />
INTERIOR CASTLE. DAY.<br />
Merlin is doing little servant chores about the castle. Gwen bursts onto the scene with furrowed brow and a water jug on her hip.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
GWEN<br />
Oh dear oh dear! Something has gone terribly wrong!<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
What is it?<br />
<br />
GWEN<br />
Camelot is under threat! We are out of water/missing townspeople/experiencing a creepy disease/helpless against zombies and/or griffins! Also, I have a secret crush on you and we never get to have a decent conversation, what with all the evil villains around here!<br />
<br /></blockquote>
They run off.<br />
<br />
INT. TOTALLY PREDICTABLE, MEDIEVAL-TYPE THRONE ROOM. DAY.<br />
<a href="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3055/NUP_132937_3314.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3055/NUP_132937_3314.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 250px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 167px;" /></a>(Uther’s throne, by the way, suspiciously resembles the coronation chair on display at Westminster Abbey. Wait. Has anyone checked lately to see that it’s still there?)<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
NAMELESS EXTRA<br />
A terrible problem is threatening the kingdom!<br />
<br />
UTHER<br />
Gaius, you’re the stock wizened, bookish character: what do you make of it?<br />
<br />
GAIUS<br />
I’m afraid, sir, that this surely involves sorcery.<br />
<br />
UTHER<br />
Aha! Well! Never mind asking further questions to ascertain the scope or nature of the problem. I shall have to take immediate draconian measures. Because I hate magic. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I shall execute someone! By morning!</blockquote>
<br />
Morgana floats <a href="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3055/NUP_132937_3310.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3055/NUP_132937_3310.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 250px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 167px;" /></a>into the throne room in a gauzy, flowing, jewel-toned gown. Close up shot of Morgana’s furrowed brow, panning to her fetching bosom.<br />
<blockquote>
<br />
MORGANA<br />
Oh king, you must approach this problem with wisdom, caution, and noble judgement!<br />
<br />
UTHER<br />
And ruin the episode? Certainly not! I have a responsibility to protect this kingdom and to maintain dramatic tension. You are my ward and the obvious hottie of the show, therefore I expect you to obey me reluctantly and go flouncing out of the room.<br />
<br /></blockquote>
Morgana throws a glance at the hunky, chain-mail-clad Prince Arthur, who is brooding and pacing about, chin on fist, in the corner. She flounces out, reluctantly obedient.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
UTHER<br />
Arthur, you must solve this problem for me so that I can stand around in leather gloves, appearing stern and kingly. Go out there and prove how princely you are by doing something dangerous and useless!<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
Fine!</blockquote>
<br />
INT. ROOMS OF GAIUS, THE COURT PHYSICIAN. DAY.<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e00_02_gaius_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e00_02_gaius_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 187px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 250px;" /></a>Gaius is twiddling randomly with sciency-looking gadgets, usually involving candles, beakers, and string. Maybe beetles.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
MERLIN<br />
What shall we do about the terrible problem besetting Camelot this week?<br />
<br />
GAIUS<br />
We must solve the problem with science. Or perhaps by whacking it with sticks. Sometimes that works in the middle ages. Whatever we do, you musn’t reveal that you have magical powers. The king hates magic. Hates it, hates it, hates—<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Yes, but Arthur is now about to do something pointless and very dangerous.<br />
<br />
GAIUS<br />
Oh yes. Right. Merlin, your destiny is linked with Arthur’s. You have no choice. If you do not use magic, then Arthur will surely perish! And probably everyone else, too!<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
But you just said…<br />
<br />
GAIUS<br />
Just promise me you’ll be careful.<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Um. OK.<br />
<br /></blockquote>
Merlin, having puzzled for a while over this problem, decides to use his lifeline.<br />
<br />
INTERIOR. DUNGEONY PASSAGEWAY.<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e09/s01e09_04_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e09/s01e09_04_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 187px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 250px;" /></a>Merlin strides along passageway, which opens out into a large, CGI cavern. A large, CGI dragon flaps into view.<br />
<blockquote>
MERLIN<br />
I need your advice. What shall I do?<br />
<br />
DRAGON<br />
Every time I give you a straight answer, you ignore my advice. Therefore, I will say something mystical in my Shakespearean-actor voice. Here goes. The answer lies in the golden woods. Only the sword of emeralds dipped in unicorn poo can save you now. Make haste, or Arthur will die and you will not fulfill your destiny!<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Always with the destiny. But where am I going to get… oh never mind.</blockquote>
<br />
INTERIOR, PRINCE ARTHUR'S SUPER-COOL, FUR-TRIMMED TEENAGER BEDROOM. DAY.<br />
Merlin is doing something slavish such as polishing Arthur's boots.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
ARTHUR<br />
You know, Merlin, I’m feeling a little angsty about this dangerous and pointless task my father has given me. Too bad you’re too witless and clumsy to help me. Ha ha. [He claps Merlin on the back.] Still, I guess I appreciate our moments of awkwardly expressed brotherly affection. It takes my mind off Morgana’s cleavage.<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Uh. Yeah. Ha ha.</blockquote>
<br />
INT. GAIUS' ROOMS. EVENING.<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e00_02_gwen_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e00_02_gwen_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 188px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 250px;" /></a>Merlin is practicing magic words, but nothing is happening. Gwen bursts in.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
GWEN<br />
Merlin, what are we going to do?<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Do you mean about the fact that you are the only non-white regular cast member in the show, and therefore must appear undefinably multiracial in order to cover all the bases?<br />
<br />
GWEN<br />
No, I mean about the problem besetting Camelot this week.<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Oh. That. Well…</blockquote>
<br />
Morgana bursts in (different gauzy gown this time).<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
MORGANA<br />
Yes, what are we going to do?<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Let’s make a plan that involves breaking all the castle rules, since we are naughty teenagers. But don’t tell Arthur. He’s the prince and has to appear responsible.</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Arthur bursts in.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
ARTHUR<br />
What are you doing? Is it something against the rules? Because if so, I want in.<br />
<br />
OTHERS<br />
But… your father!<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
Haven’t you people ever heard of Freud?<br />
<br />
OTHERS<br />
Hunh?<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
Never mind.<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
Well, I’m going to go break some rules.<br />
<br />
OTHERS<br />
Well, we’re coming with you.<br />
<br />
MERLIN<br />
No you’re not! It’s too dangerous!</blockquote>
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">The four naughty teenagers then argue about who’s coming with whom to do what, whether or not Arthur should actually do the useless and dangerous task, who should fool the adults with a haplessly planned distraction, who gets to be the noble sacrifical hero taking the heat for the others, etc. Arthur and Morgana alternate between sniping at each other and flirting.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">In the next few scenes, Merlin sneaks about the castle. Or perhaps all four teenagers sneak about the castle, the girls inexplicably wearing flowing, hooded capes that create large shadows and trail behind them around every corner.</span><br />
<br />
EXTERIOR. THE CASTLE YARD. DAY.<br />
Arthur is busy hacking away with a broadsword at the weekly guest actor dressed up as an evil minion/creepy druid/rotten brigand/zombie knight.<br />
<a href="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3130/NUP_132937_0718.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.nbc.com/app2/img/500x495xS/scet/photos/294/3130/NUP_132937_0718.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 166px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 249px;" /></a><br />
<blockquote>
ARTHUR<br />
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!<br />
<br />
MINION/DRUID/ BRIGAND/ZOMBIE<br />
Why are we having this sword fight? CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
Because every episode has a sword fight! CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! It’s an Arthurian convention! CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!<br />
<br />
MINION/DRUID/ BRIGAND/ZOMBIE<br />
I don’t suppose I get to win, do I? CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
Nope. I’m the one in the opening credits. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!<br />
<br /></blockquote>
<span style="font-style: italic;">At this point, it’s time for the show’s climax. This might involve the teenagers getting caught sneaking about the castle, OR the sword fight saving the day. Alternatively, we might need Merlin to go tramping about a woodsy soundstage in his rustic leather jacket, conversing with low-budget special effects. Whatever it is, at some point, Merlin will whisper magical words.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e13/s01e13_06_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e13/s01e13_06_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 187px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 250px;" /></a>Close up of Merlin, hiding behind a tree or farm cart, his hand outstretched over or toward some object.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
MERLIN<br />
(in a vaguely Welsh accent): whusha whusha whusha whusha whusha whusha</blockquote>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***Something dramatic happens.<br />
Music swells appropriately, beginning with throaty, lush lower strings and concluding with cymbal clashes and french horn blasts. ***</div>
<br />
<blockquote>
MINION/DRUID/ BRIGAND/ZOMBIE<br />
Urghhh!</blockquote>
<br />
Druid/zombie keels over. Arthur flips off the bucket he is wearing as a helmet. He sweats handsomely into the camera.<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e13/s01e13_13_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e13/s01e13_13_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 187px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 250px;" /></a><br />
EXTERIOR. TOWN SQUARE. DAY.<br />
Lots of straw and animals and burlap-clad people strewn about.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
TOWNSPEOPLE<br />
Hooray! We have no idea that Merlin just used magic to save the day! We’ll give the credit to Prince Arthur instead! We are happy random townspeople again!<br />
<br />
ARTHUR<br />
[Sweating] There, Daddy. You see I’ve saved the day. Again.<br />
<br />
UTHER<br />
Yes, son. Yes, I suppose you have. And it’s a good thing you’ve rid the kingdom of magic once again. Because I hate magic. Hate it, hate it, hate it.</blockquote>
<br />
Witty banter between Arthur and Merlin. In the background, Morgana looks lovely in yet another gauzy gown while Gwen appears puzzled, but happy.<br />
<br />
<br />
END.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e03_14_800x600.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/merlin/images/s01e00/s01e03_14_800x600.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 313px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 420px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
So. You can see how we could become enamored of such a show. I’m a little worried that my students will start watching it, because if they do, they will like it much much better than the real stuff I teach in my courses. And we will be forced to lament once again the sad deprivations suffered by people in the medieval period, when they had only rhyme and meter to entertain them rather than BBC television.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-14821571847045137082009-06-10T18:34:00.016-04:002009-06-16T10:01:03.689-04:00The Pitter Patter of... Oh, That's Just Disgusting<span style="font-style: italic;">A little postcard from the vacation Ron and I recently took in Boyne City, Michigan</span><br /><br />We've hiked in the Rocky Mountains, we've hiked in the Yorkshire Moors, we've hiked in Zion Canyon. So you would think that hiking in the northern Michigan woods might seem dull and unremarkable by comparison. But if you think that, as we foolishly did, you would not have counted on...<br /><br />Night of the Living Caterpillars... mwah ha ha ha ha!<br /><br />Actually, it was the afternoon. We hopped out of the car at the trailhead to hike the <a href="http://www.michigandnr.com/publications/pdfs/wildlife/viewingguide/nlp/49Jordan/index.htm">Jordan River Pathway</a>, a pleasant little wind through the East Jordan River watershed that was recommended to us by the nice lady behind the desk at the lodge. As we started down the trail, we heard an odd popping noise. "I wonder what that is?" I remarked cheerfully to Ron, our junior naturalist curiosity fully engaged. Then, we saw a charming little caterpillar on the trail. Awwww... isn't that cute?<br /><br />Then we saw more, hanging out on some low-growing leaves. Well, there sure are some caterpillars around! And look at all those caterpillar tents in the trees! Golly!<br /><br />We hiked on.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO1RwT87N_REcm-LDya7qibxOCvLjgn85cPk2YhpWJoz_H0ZegEZexteoYUWsYlSpfuEi6VWvu9Ti8anC5YkhhBSHNNfM90xYCyd5Yz__Q2TaDBBfnsC2MLoGFNQYPB-WpNPx-Q/s1600-h/DSC03855.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO1RwT87N_REcm-LDya7qibxOCvLjgn85cPk2YhpWJoz_H0ZegEZexteoYUWsYlSpfuEi6VWvu9Ti8anC5YkhhBSHNNfM90xYCyd5Yz__Q2TaDBBfnsC2MLoGFNQYPB-WpNPx-Q/s400/DSC03855.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345841153382062050" border="0" /></a>Then we realized, as we hiked deeper in, that caterpillars were everywhere. On the leaves, on the trail, even hanging over the trail from little silken threads. They were writhing in large moving groups on branches crossing the trail. They were congregating slimily on certain trees, heading from one place to another on a caterpillar parkway. And from up above they were... they were dropping on us! Gross! Could that be what that plopping noise is?! Caterpillars falling onto the forest floor? Eeeuuuw!<br /><br />We hiked faster. We hiked very <span style="font-style: italic;">very </span>fast. I kept my hooded sweatshirt over my head in order to prevent ploppage in my hair. When we stopped for lunch, I did not sit down. I would have sat on caterpillars. I would have had them in my shorts.<br /><br />We managed to survive about a seven-mile, extremely brisk hike. Before we got into the car, we performed one last inspection for unwelcome stowaways.<br /><br />When we got back to the condo, we showered thoroughly (eesh!) and then, in true junior naturalist style, we googled "tent caterpillars" on the web.<br /><br />Guess what. Yeah, apparently northern Michigan <a href="http://www.mlive.com/environment/index.ssf/2009/06/northern_lower_michigan_hit_wi.html">is in the midst of a huge forest tent caterpillar infestation</a>. These outbreaks occur every 10-15 years and last 2-5 seasons. Not only that, but we hit the woods (of course) just as the little buggers were finishing their eating cycle, just as they were about as big and busy and numerous as they could possibly be. Next week will be better as all 3.5 trillion caterpillars--that's my personal estimate on the population--will be turning into moths. (Note to self: no hiking at night with flashlights until the first frost.)<br /><br />There's more. According to the <a href="http://www.dnr.state.mn.us/treecare/forest_health/ftc/impacts.html">Minnesota Department of Natural Resources</a>, that plopping sound we heard was not what we thought it was...<br /><br />"Anyone who has been in the woods during a FTC [forest tent caterpillar] outbreak knows not to eat an open faced peanut butter sandwich there. It might sound like rain but it's really insect frass."<br /><br />You don't know what the word "frass" means? Neither did we. You know, English is an amazing language. We have a special word for caterpillar <span style="font-style: italic;">excrement</span>!<br /><br />That's right. We spent our afternoon hiking through the woods during a once-in-a-decade caterpillar poop storm.<br /><br />The good news: "This frass serves as fertilizer just like any other manure." Oh yay. Caterpillar poop helps the ecosystem. It's the circle of life. That totally makes up for the nightmares I'm going to have this week.<br /><br />We spent the rest of our vacation lounging by the condo pool. We decided we like our nature better on TV.<br /><br />UPDATE: A little <a href="http://www.entsoc.org/pubs/periodicals/ae/AE-2003/fall/Buzzwords.pdf">entymological etymology</a> on the word "frass."Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-1578532814916960572009-06-08T19:34:00.010-04:002009-06-12T14:20:36.266-04:00TransitionsAh, the month of June. When the raging rapids of the school year's end give way to calm pools of summer serenity ... or something like that. We did manage to make it, as a family, through exams and final grading and all those end-of-year extra things like trips to Cedar Point (Jacob) and soccer team parties (Mia) and exasperated math teachers who want that homework NOW (Philip).<br /><br />But this year we've also been coping with some bigger-than-normal transitions. Jacob has successively graduated from middle school and seems poised gracefully for the start of high school in the fall.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhGFRl9bP7coisQuQk8CaJ5qNfisj85KGd2ikWC7v3XJYy4ra0NdUAAUyEiPctsKg97kAIk67ZDr1MrLPZNUqFiqB3o56vbDMPAA8bUk5Cckvfb2Fb6A03EbEu7d4qLcc7tK_Sw/s1600-h/Jake+%26+g%27rents.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhGFRl9bP7coisQuQk8CaJ5qNfisj85KGd2ikWC7v3XJYy4ra0NdUAAUyEiPctsKg97kAIk67ZDr1MrLPZNUqFiqB3o56vbDMPAA8bUk5Cckvfb2Fb6A03EbEu7d4qLcc7tK_Sw/s320/Jake+%26+g%27rents.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345716436306503858" border="0" /></a><br />As parents, we've learned that this transition is easier on the parents the second time around. We don't feel quite so instantly aged this time. (But no, that's not us - that's Ron's parents and Jacob, looking sharp in a colorful tie)<br /><br />Mia has been transitioning into a girl with a driver's license. This transition, we've discovered, is scarier and more awkward than we imagined.<br /><br />So we'll move on to another transition: moving to a different house. When we moved into our house in 1996, we were a couple with a three-year-old and a baby. Now that we are a family of larger people with more stuff, we all dream of a little more space. So we spent the winter working hard to make our house market-ready--so hard, in fact, that I now have a chronic case of tennis elbow from scrubbing and painting. Our charming, sparkling Alger Heights home <a href="http://search.grar.com/%28rc2s3lzi4savmn55tlwlvt45%29/propertyDetails.aspx?mls=751135&category=1">officially went on the market in April</a>. And now, we wait, and hope, and more than anything else: clean. Over and over.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStaBh2KvM5RV3vfvhLgGp1itj9sZJPzzHpTre9yZcZF00jQU0qaDZl4Kbedj0fHAaMwCmNMEYDKEVvXgn22ylYZnLTxPbSLf0oS4pj9UHa9dYNzf8EFVfO0is-pjt-KcjbuIYGg/s1600-h/house.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStaBh2KvM5RV3vfvhLgGp1itj9sZJPzzHpTre9yZcZF00jQU0qaDZl4Kbedj0fHAaMwCmNMEYDKEVvXgn22ylYZnLTxPbSLf0oS4pj9UHa9dYNzf8EFVfO0is-pjt-KcjbuIYGg/s320/house.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346506469653805186" border="0" /></a><br />Meanwhile, my department is moving this week out of the Fine Arts Center at Calvin, which will be undergoing major reconstruction over the next 16 months. So last week I packed my books into boxes and said goodbye to the little office where I have labored for 12 years. This was a happy moment, I must say, because even in our temporary digs I will have a much nicer space: much more room and a window (finally!). We will be waaaaaay across the Beltline from campus, though. Theme for the year: hiking.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDfw1JiXQYke_DCYl-1PJW8Nzg3HcsfKLLfMBeHOis6h7WA8anNpK8bFJY7l6zaUui9nikCcdsyV4pNP6mvmg-IXlyRYIy_p79iknCeldTyuZwmBsSxiyBVPwYRd0VKeR7BsmbA/s1600-h/boxes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGDfw1JiXQYke_DCYl-1PJW8Nzg3HcsfKLLfMBeHOis6h7WA8anNpK8bFJY7l6zaUui9nikCcdsyV4pNP6mvmg-IXlyRYIy_p79iknCeldTyuZwmBsSxiyBVPwYRd0VKeR7BsmbA/s320/boxes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345721702626134290" border="0" /></a><br />So it feels as if we are living out of boxes for the moment, camping out right in the midst of our regular lives. I struggle to be comfortable with transitions, but I'm trying to think of a time in my life that wasn't full of them. Well, it's been a long time, let's just say that. These are all transitions full of hopeful possibility, though, and for that we are grateful.Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-87668898764999296902009-04-15T22:42:00.006-04:002009-04-15T22:50:15.169-04:00The next wave in music-makingThis is seriously one of the coolest things ever. Well, computer-wise, anyway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lab.andre-michelle.com/swf/fl10/ToneMatrix.swf"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuzqpT-Yytt6aeU-61kY20B11NsvY6mvEJ8vO1qoASsPapBn-XH_97jKtCwX66W7NY8rjRcmoyduAlLO9_XbmEUymhiRPx9lCXJj67kqlIAtYeXXs8NUjBd0wEQK9fJw5nSZ0Pg/s400/ScreenHunter_01+Apr.+15+22.47.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325115526986623650" border="0" /></a>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-40809179252432036222009-03-14T17:03:00.009-04:002009-03-15T21:16:33.189-04:00The Orb of HappinessToday was a beautiful, sunny, proto-spring day. It took us a while, though, to recall the name of that bright yellow thing in the sky. Here in Michigan, we haven't seen much of it in the last five months. The sun! Oh yeah, that's what it's called.<br /><br />Lack of sunlight tends to depress one's spirits, a fact we Michiganders deal with as best we can through indoor sports, or quiet wintry hobbies like knitting, or burying ourselves in our work, or perhaps less healthy strategies such as retail therapy, yelling at the children, or self-medicating with chocolate.<br /><br />At our house, Jacob and I have been indulging in old episodes of <span style="font-style: italic;">Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</span>. Sometimes the episodes are full of the best in good old-fashioned sci-fi: cool gadgety pseudo-science, explosions, Klingon battles, and regular characters amusingly possessed by aliens. Those episodes are silly. Well, silli<span style="font-style: italic;">er</span>. Other times we're reduced to groaning at Ferengi love triangles. Ugh.<br /><br />But perhaps DS9 has inspired my latest coping strategy for the late winter blahs: light therapy. One of the DS9 ethnic groups - <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p0rtjGHMQjNyVeMVl_-hzjQsZZTxYktgdyAZmh6yU1z87C_EyO8bpkt_U_6obXHuH2ioWgmEZVbpOoK1xJZFv0al8d8_zilti43fLkw3F7v0ZIPW_sRW5lAxhAnExqBvqHxbBw/s1600-h/orb+prophecy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p0rtjGHMQjNyVeMVl_-hzjQsZZTxYktgdyAZmh6yU1z87C_EyO8bpkt_U_6obXHuH2ioWgmEZVbpOoK1xJZFv0al8d8_zilti43fLkw3F7v0ZIPW_sRW5lAxhAnExqBvqHxbBw/s200/orb+prophecy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313587752738191810" border="0" /></a>the Bajorans - have these orb thingies that are supposed to create divinely-inspired, dreamy experiences when you open their little casings and look at them. They've got the orb of wisdom, the orb of prophecy and change, the orb of time, and so on. (The curious or similarly geeky can learn all about it <a href="http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Orb">here</a>).<br /><br />So when, at a friend's recommendation, Ron bought me light therapy lamps for Valentine's Day, I decided we should call them the "Orbs of Happiness."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6W7kLWzEuyKA0mpf1GZmSzR0Lw-AEV69lST1s-eUwLTAbdNS-7_WConFDikmHozNKhzR1bxaioSgKH3kdYjfSbAqfZjRMRDfsBHnSE4US6iVsTU-dVsKiB9mzTaWe0EjHoRhdg/s1600-h/Orb+of+happiness.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6W7kLWzEuyKA0mpf1GZmSzR0Lw-AEV69lST1s-eUwLTAbdNS-7_WConFDikmHozNKhzR1bxaioSgKH3kdYjfSbAqfZjRMRDfsBHnSE4US6iVsTU-dVsKiB9mzTaWe0EjHoRhdg/s320/Orb+of+happiness.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313154025049347378" border="0" /></a>See how happy I look? These little boxes blast you with full-spectrum light and are supposed to put your skewed body clock and your sunlight deprived, mood-controlling body chemicals back in balance. The brand name is actually "HappyLite." And I think they might really work. We'll give it a few more months and see if the intially promising effects continue.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfq667cuvJ2xgARkdPJDUSJrEoYWN9IJ41Bhp9aASTk0qGMLBF8AEshlgOmY18PE3t1ltcDibQxWqbvYsEAz1CJ1pNQ6g4Qx4Jc4_2Yj3s0bbi7bNTFoGnLVH6YOhclgrLQu0aQ/s1600-h/orb+casing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 92px; height: 80px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfq667cuvJ2xgARkdPJDUSJrEoYWN9IJ41Bhp9aASTk0qGMLBF8AEshlgOmY18PE3t1ltcDibQxWqbvYsEAz1CJ1pNQ6g4Qx4Jc4_2Yj3s0bbi7bNTFoGnLVH6YOhclgrLQu0aQ/s200/orb+casing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313587941443064370" border="0" /></a>Meanwhile, may I suggest to the manufacturers that they offer the Deluxe DS9 version, complete with nifty Bajoran casing? I would buy one in a minute, and I bet I'm not the only hopeless geek who would....Debra Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15386286773496684109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-84761452594304356252009-02-05T22:04:00.006-05:002009-02-06T18:16:18.385-05:00Papa always told me..."... If you marry that good-for-nothing bum, you won't have a pot to pee in."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXudVdcYp-wY-ik8JmK4Cu5BqvuKIy6aF0je1Ih92JllKa0K3eecuIrV4VPNUnUPsk5BiUcmF7Fiy4q-nNMsUe_4YctI3T4iClZF33ozUp_zmARCmkSsx2I-WdvqP5OUwdJq7C2A/s1600-h/DSC03392.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXudVdcYp-wY-ik8JmK4Cu5BqvuKIy6aF0je1Ih92JllKa0K3eecuIrV4VPNUnUPsk5BiUcmF7Fiy4q-nNMsUe_4YctI3T4iClZF33ozUp_zmARCmkSsx2I-WdvqP5OUwdJq7C2A/s400/DSC03392.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299515319235185490" border="0" /></a><br />Papa wasn't thinking of home improvement projects, but there it is.Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-77199245536336311132009-01-12T06:16:00.004-05:002009-01-12T06:22:29.669-05:00The Promise of Spring, sort ofIn early December we got a bit of a snowstorm, that came somewhat unexpectedly, and buried Mia's car, parked in front of the house:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E_H1aG-k1qkriXQk5sSRKWI4CRv-glTi4Z9F3EsdwNk_2UXjSjH0zxvfbDAjNyqwpShXS5-jDAzWdAW61LEgdhet4bBoI8AtGq2hOO77TLpj9oZ7Lp53HCo_fYfq_Vwsg1k3uA/s1600-h/cabrio.snow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4E_H1aG-k1qkriXQk5sSRKWI4CRv-glTi4Z9F3EsdwNk_2UXjSjH0zxvfbDAjNyqwpShXS5-jDAzWdAW61LEgdhet4bBoI8AtGq2hOO77TLpj9oZ7Lp53HCo_fYfq_Vwsg1k3uA/s320/cabrio.snow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290365253430355154" border="0" /></a><br />Yesterday, after a month of typically Michiganian grey skies and persistent snowfall, we dug that Hawaiian-blue Cabriolet convertible out of the snow as a form of both protest and plea:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJnKSfWFYBbLSLnhQ3pnoinS4Y80EQ3HSmPHByOLkOjDc2vec9PV5jV7zXIxcrz74mJ-MqqpFg9AsraqjCoJU1194jwBDY8M1vrs4Drc-q2a96sk8qeeZ0F31hhVuE_ytTGQ5GpA/s1600-h/cabrio.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJnKSfWFYBbLSLnhQ3pnoinS4Y80EQ3HSmPHByOLkOjDc2vec9PV5jV7zXIxcrz74mJ-MqqpFg9AsraqjCoJU1194jwBDY8M1vrs4Drc-q2a96sk8qeeZ0F31hhVuE_ytTGQ5GpA/s320/cabrio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290365829327099138" border="0" /></a><br />Spring IS coming, isn't it? Eventually?Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-3295166069064846912009-01-02T11:26:00.001-05:002009-01-02T12:19:29.414-05:00Tracks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kuvaton.com/kuvei/bunny_didnt_make_it.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 546px; height: 410px;" src="http://kuvaton.com/kuvei/bunny_didnt_make_it.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">In the black-shadowed pines<br />on the shore<br />beyond the pond<br />owl was sitting.<br />When he saw me<br />his eyes flared like matches<br />and he did his big loose hunch,<br />stirring up the bronze of his shoulders,<br /><br />and hissed,<br />and seemed about to fly away.<br />Who knows why he didn't but instead<br />clamped his orange feet down<br />on the black limb<br />and stared into my face, though not my eyes--<br />had I been mouse or squirrel<br />I would have cried<br /><br />for my life. And thus we stayed<br />for a long time. I would have given<br />a great deal<br />to have invoked some connection<br />eye to eye<br />to know what he thought of me<br /><br />here in the world -- <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> world --<br />his gauzy and furzy acres,<br />sour, weedy, lush,<br />mortal.<br />But except for the hiss, he did not make<br />the least sound, simply stared<br /><br />as though if he wanted to he could lift me<br />and carry me away --<br />one orange knife for each shoulder, and I,<br />aloft in the air, under his great wings, shouting<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">praise, praise, praise</span> as I cried<br />for my life.<br /><br />-- Mary Oliver, from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-I-Wake-Early-Poems/dp/0807068799/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1229803854&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Why I Wake Early: New Poems</span></a><br /></div>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-55290692028305331122008-12-10T17:24:00.035-05:002008-12-11T18:38:33.138-05:00Advent Stuff<div>December is a difficult month for those of us who have an uneasy relationship with <em>stuff</em>.<br /><br />Family and friends ask, “What do you want for Christmas?” and we’re supposed to have to hand a list of things we’d like to own, but don’t really need. A <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/uglysweaterproject/pool/page3/">sweater</a>, or <a href="http://www.woot.com/">electronic gew-gaws</a>, or maybe a <a href="http://www.kaboodle.com/democratusgirl/kitchen-widgets-and-nom-noms.html">kitchen widget</a>. The things on the list can’t be too expensive, or too luxurious, lest one appear greedy and craven. Nor can they be too common, lest one appear needy (or, in an insult to the <a href="http://rienstra.blogspot.com/2006/05/consumer-culture-catechumenate.html">consumer gods</a>, indifferent). And of course, the gift ideas have to be <i>real</i> – you can’t tell your sister who drew your name out of the hat at Thanksgiving that what you really want is <a href="http://www.yikers.com/video_steve_martins_christmas_wishes.html">for all the children of the world to join hands and sing together in a spirit of harmony and peace</a>. For some reason, family members tend to scoff at holier-than-thou gift requests.</div><br /><div> </div>Meanwhile we struggle: Should I want anything? Aren't I <a href="http://www.globalrichlist.com/index.php">filthy rich already by world standards</a>? Does giving away end-of-the-year donations balance out the stuff under the tree? Aren't we supposed to be using this time of year to not to get-get-get, but to get <span style="font-style: italic;">rid</span> of stuff, to empty our homes and hearts to make room for Christ's coming?<br /><div><br />So it has been good during this season to think a bit more deeply about <span style="font-style: italic;">stuff.</span> We had opportunity to do so <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj00mw6iNBpiDqwLFnoDT63gKdcBELRk3KxJhtBZvufrRAl44fDErEmIrFDrqBQAVOSfVHuO_JkGGZgY4dHVlQ8Vk25dlFdB2o74vrJf5CeAHsTizDMf89XYDVHQFQ84mOmc-qVHw/s1600-h/Westmont+fire.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278331817898384882" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 133px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj00mw6iNBpiDqwLFnoDT63gKdcBELRk3KxJhtBZvufrRAl44fDErEmIrFDrqBQAVOSfVHuO_JkGGZgY4dHVlQ8Vk25dlFdB2o74vrJf5CeAHsTizDMf89XYDVHQFQ84mOmc-qVHw/s200/Westmont+fire.jpg" border="0" /></a>this past week through some correspondence with <a href="http://www.ksby.com/Global/story.asp?S=9440523">good</a> <a href="http://www.westmont.edu/_academics/departments/art/lisa-deboer.html">friends</a> of ours, faculty at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, who lost their homes and (nearly) all their worldly possessions in the California <a href="http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_10986207">Tea Fire</a>.<br /><br />Academic goobers that we are, we grieve with them especially for the loss of their <span style="font-style: italic;">books</span>. We know that books are like good friends who shape your soul, whose company you enjoy repeatedly and whom you long to introduce to others. Losing them is a big deal.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgj8W0_gJ1t6qt2P8TdTi1i2CIV07-xPnsit28N2FHpuNTqLnPWgOquqrouMOHtnsgbImToRtgYXMs9UFFc6ls4UM4OdeJEcEFNZ2Yi45R9TXjxUKbpWL-om9eb8esKsU4cJ0hmQ/s1600-h/ScreenHunter_01+Dec.+10+19.29.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278323247963916482" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 124px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgj8W0_gJ1t6qt2P8TdTi1i2CIV07-xPnsit28N2FHpuNTqLnPWgOquqrouMOHtnsgbImToRtgYXMs9UFFc6ls4UM4OdeJEcEFNZ2Yi45R9TXjxUKbpWL-om9eb8esKsU4cJ0hmQ/s200/ScreenHunter_01+Dec.+10+19.29.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We all have our stuff-fetishes, the physical objects that we cling to most tightly. Perhaps one of the hardest spiritual tasks for this season is to remember that no <em>thing</em> is permanent, nothing is ultimately ours. We can hold our stuff with gratitude and appreciation, but we have to hold it lightly. Our friend Lisa De Boer--one of those Westmont faculty who lost her home in the fire--wrote this to us about a discussion she had with her students once classes resumed after the fire:<br /></div><br /><blockquote><p>I was teaching about Gothic cathedrals this morning, and a student asked if workers ever died, falling off the scaffolding of a cathedral. Well, the short answer is “yes, of course they did.” The longer answer involved taking a poll of students who had ever had a serious infection, or an appendectomy, or any other illness that could easily have led to death…naming the number of medieval occupations that involve regular hazards to health, life and limb…and talking about general life expectancies.<br /><br />Our assumption that we will have a long and healthy life is so strange and modern. So is our assumption that our homes are durable and our possessions really ours. How many people in earlier ages and even today, haven’t been burned out of their homes in war or disaster and have had to pick up again, often in a different city or country, with no insurance and very few supports?<br /></p><p>While I do feel and grieve my loss, there is also a strange “lightness of being” that I experience at times, of being just a bit more aware of my basic humanity—minus the trappings—than I was before.</p><p><br /></p></blockquote><p></p><p>"Lightness of being." Our friends, though their trauma, offer us this wisdom and this reminder. May we all find that lightness of being as we await the coming of the light.<br /></p>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-29356214332754719642008-11-30T18:31:00.006-05:002008-11-30T20:01:52.907-05:00Another Casting AnnouncementEarlier we announced that someone, perhaps connected with the Kohls corporation, is evidently planning a made-for-TV movie about our lives. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHqjcpgSbkIubR0EcC12Q3rbVsdGJp_KMA93yrBKiflK6O19pLDOamx6mvO_gWJBVU1vpDb3rW_g3r4PhTbKck5Gy_ulw5YAa-p9-ZP_1q-YpH9GlgpWS9gHm6QRr-1IpzU_N0g/s1600-h/Pip+%26tc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHqjcpgSbkIubR0EcC12Q3rbVsdGJp_KMA93yrBKiflK6O19pLDOamx6mvO_gWJBVU1vpDb3rW_g3r4PhTbKck5Gy_ulw5YAa-p9-ZP_1q-YpH9GlgpWS9gHm6QRr-1IpzU_N0g/s200/Pip+%26tc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274598086438742434" border="0" /></a>The two starring roles <a href="http://rienstra.blogspot.com/2008/09/when-made-for-tv-movie-of-our-lives-is.html">have already been cast</a>, and now the producers are cleverly leaking photos of some of the other casting choices.<br /><br />Here, for example, we see a young fellow who is apparently going to be playing the role of Philip. Quite the impish little moppet--and well dressed, too!<br /><br />We're also cluing in to the idea that the daily dullness of our actual lives will have to be jazzed up to make this sucker sell on the Hallmark channel. So our real-life, mostly-mutt Maizey will become not one but two radiant purebred yellow labs. Meanwhile, apparently Ron will be commuting to work not in a 1998 Geo Prizm with 100,000 miles on it, but instead will be roaring along astride this painfully hip vintage road machine. I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GQpQ8T3yj8WT3HWHmFHp9e92peUmKbi2EPCLxQCBwWkaReyCNwJrUHwpevFjuK7n4-35WDdFfxUl2pXnJPgcea8GE_QJNxRkPUKl3_J7quG-MgCTc3Hvu5RgjZ78XWq1B1KYmQ/s1600-h/Maizy,+Motorcycle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GQpQ8T3yj8WT3HWHmFHp9e92peUmKbi2EPCLxQCBwWkaReyCNwJrUHwpevFjuK7n4-35WDdFfxUl2pXnJPgcea8GE_QJNxRkPUKl3_J7quG-MgCTc3Hvu5RgjZ78XWq1B1KYmQ/s200/Maizy,+Motorcycle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274598188079522994" border="0" /></a>n fact, maybe he doesn't work at all, since we appear to live now somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. <br /><br />Tune in next week for previews of "our" smiling family handing one another food processors and cozy socks under a 10-foot Douglas fir laden with hand-crafted ornaments--all on sale!Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-68371339610701731622008-10-30T08:52:00.007-04:002008-10-30T11:05:24.513-04:00Hermeneutical SophisticationA few weeks ago Debra and I - along with the estimable <a href="http://nbierma.blogspot.com/">Nathan Bierma</a> and his wife, Andrea -- visited our friend Nick Overduin and the wonderful people at <a href="http://www.firsttorontocrc.org/">1st CRC in Toronto</a>. They've made use of <a href="http://somuchmorethebook.com/">Deb's books</a> and <a href="http://www.nbierma.com/heaven/">Nathan's</a> in their small groups, and so wanted to meet and chat with them. Meanwhile, I came along to give Nick a week off from his pulpit duties. We had an enjoyable ride up on Saturday, and a lovely evening eating some fabulous Ethiopian food (our fave).<br /><br />The worship service and other events on Sunday were very satisfying, but I was entranced by a display in the church's narthex.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkttMJZCszI1zV1Z_QUfreQfyFSFyF-Lqogf_Ov1GiJcXBGHdGa7rGt9IOIZ9m6rMGv0HEQl9CZvmkQc_FqA912BGqws360nmlk7i-mjXJ-Z_qnBdf5BPd22j0bxgqp8rkFtyUg/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262937244359311362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 314px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkttMJZCszI1zV1Z_QUfreQfyFSFyF-Lqogf_Ov1GiJcXBGHdGa7rGt9IOIZ9m6rMGv0HEQl9CZvmkQc_FqA912BGqws360nmlk7i-mjXJ-Z_qnBdf5BPd22j0bxgqp8rkFtyUg/s320/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" /></a>It is the product of a children's Bible study of the story of Noah. Next to idealized Bible school pictures of an ark full of elephants and giraffes and so forth are comments the students made, like these: <ul><li>"The water could not have been this calm." </li><li>"The animals could not have been this familiar to us." </li><li>"They must have taken animals on the ark to be eaten, not saved,"</li></ul>and my favorite:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQnWoCKhB9dByYk_z4ynHjBylKbcSiamMMWRjgTVFcKXoUe_DovcJYeL2N-YrFEo0gvCKw1Vo1tfj6gUqoa1c7zXI5xefM2nk65XrngjPy9lwcfST0QkCFMogPgyUs10GwQPQFA/s1600-h/cutesy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262935597994521762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQnWoCKhB9dByYk_z4ynHjBylKbcSiamMMWRjgTVFcKXoUe_DovcJYeL2N-YrFEo0gvCKw1Vo1tfj6gUqoa1c7zXI5xefM2nk65XrngjPy9lwcfST0QkCFMogPgyUs10GwQPQFA/s320/cutesy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Instead of fostering a child<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">ish</span> view of scripture (not childlike), whoever was in charge of this study encouraged the children to read their Bibles with their brains turned on, working alongside their faithful trust in Scripture's trustworthiness.<br /><br />To paraphrase someone I admire a great deal, I've not seen such hermeneutical sophistication in all of... well, in a lot of places I would expect to find it. Children taught this way are much less likely to fall into biblicist patterns of thinking about inspiration, or have their faith shaken to the core when they learn, for example, in their Religion 101 classes, of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Documentary_hypothesis">documentary hypothesis</a>.<br /><br />Mark it up as one more thing 1st CRC in Toronto is doing well.Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-62839792663922880882008-10-01T22:05:00.005-04:002012-08-04T23:25:48.440-04:00My Grandpa Always Told Me......that you've got to toot your own horn, 'cause no one else is going to toot it for you.<br />
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Guess Grandpa wasn't right about everything.<br />
<br />
Or he didn't know anything about the <a href="http://www.calvin.edu/worship/stories/worship_words.php">CICW</a>.Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397975.post-70447064500032052532008-09-15T08:34:00.005-04:002008-09-15T08:38:17.848-04:00Puddle-ballNot to compare ourselves to the poor folks on the Gulf coast, but we've had a <a href="http://www.wzzm13.com/news/news_story.aspx?storyid=98526&catid=14">bit of rain</a> here the past few days. Not enough, however, to stop die-hard sports fans...<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxicDPfdn8SRkIrDwxjzofJpNKaoAUxCAvPjkqn7eIPJZX47MS2IDQfGeBZZiUhlVy1oU1eci7CGlE' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Ron Rienstrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13542594735170237672noreply@blogger.com0