Sour Milk

I am in a blogging frenzie. Anyway.

I was just on the phone with my aunt when I caught a whiff of something bad. I have the house to myself for the week, and though I haven't accumulated enough dishes where I have needed to wash them (I've only had breakfast at home. I've been working and sleeping for the last week), I have rinsed each off and I couldn't think what the stench was. I glanced around the area, and noticed a tea pot that was on the table from when my mom had company over... before she left. Next to it was a small milk pitcher. From before she left (four days ago). Now, I can handle baby diapers. I can deal with animal waste (I've been the family doggy doo scooper since I was 5). I have picked up roadkill from the side of the road, which is a rather long story. I can hold someone's hair back when they're sick. But I don't do spoilt milk. There's this gag reflex, and I just feel like holding my own hair back. I think it's mostly the stench, but it's also partly the visual. Milk just shouldn't look like that.

Anyway, the "milk" is down the garbarator (which ran about 2 minutes till I was sure I could smell nothing). I am now doing all dishes and clearing every surface of this kitchen, so help me. If there is anything that was not found before, it will be found now.

Compilation of Randomosity

A few thoughts:

• This isn't really a thought. It's more of a story. So my dog really has a thing for rummaging through garbages (I personally don't see the joy in it). The two are locked in the kitchen all day while I'm at work, and though I feel sorry for them, I see no other way around it. The main kitchen door is baracaded by a shock matt (which is off) and a baby gate. The other door has french-style glass doors. I came home today and Lacey was on the other side of the fence, all obstacles intact. All household garbages well explored. Thank goodness trash was collected this morning. I apparently have over estimated her jumping ability.
• I was on my way home from work today the radio was playing "Kathleen" by Josh Ritter. Upon closer examination of the lyrics, the guy is quite the womanizer, but the opening line was so romantic that I thought I'd share it: "All the other girls here are stars; You are the Northern Lights." *sigh*
• If you frequently check my "To-read List" (HA!) you'll know I'm rereading Blue Like Jazz. I'm getting quite a different perspective out of it from the last time I read it. However, it's that sort of book- very open ended and up to reflection. On Sunday, our pastor was talking about the Trinity, and off on a dogleg he was discussing the complexity of God. He used a quote from John Wesley: "Bring me a worm that can comprehend a man and then I will show you a man who can comprehend the Triune God." Since that's rather double-negative based, I prefer Donald Miller's view: "[God] will make no more sense to me that I will make sense to an ant." Why is this important to understand? My pastor said, "If He's small enough that you understand Him, He's not big enough to help you with the struggles of life." That's a rough summery of Blue Like Jazz for you. Donald Miller is trying to show that God is larger than Christianity- that Christian Spirituality is the larger box that holds Christianity, because though inspired by God, Christianity is a religion carried out by men. He says, "For much of my life I had been defending Christianity because I thought that to admit that we had done any wrong was to discredit the religious system as a whole, but it isn't a religious system, it's people following Christ; and the important thing to do, the right thing to do, was to apologize for getting in the way of Jesus." I really like this book, but you sort of have to read it to get all of what he's saying. :)

My Favorite Recent Pictures

I don't know how "recent" you'd consider these actually. They're from a two weekends ago, when I went to go visit family over east of us.

Here Be Dragons

I just finished a novel that I picked up in Westminster Abbey's gift shop. Here Be Dragons by Sharon Penman is about the Welsh Princess Joanna. She was King John's (as in Robin Hood John) illegitimate daughter that he married off to the Welsh Prince Llewelyn. The story begins with Llewelyn's youth and their marriage, leading through the reigns of King Henry II, King Richard the Lion Hearted, King John, and King Henry III (the English kings died at a faster rate than Llewelyn). For someone who doesn't revel in history, I felt the book was wonderfully written.

From what I can tell through minimal research, the historical accuracy of the novel is impeccable. In the author's note, she said, "I took but one factual liberty; Llewelyn captured Mold Castle in January of 1199, but I placed the siege in April, the better to integrate the Welsh and Norman story lines." I can hardly say four months is worth a squawk. However, the book isn't a historical chronicle. It is in every sense a novel. What Penman couldn't elaborate in plot she put in dialogue and character insight.

However, I'm sorry to say that I can't reccomend this book and keep conscience. I want to, I really do. It's probably the best historical fiction/romance I've ever read, but there is just way too much unnecessary graphic description. As I read through it, I wish so much that I owned whiteout, so that I could read it again and again without subjecting my mind to unnecessary descriptions (for a lack of a better term).

I find it so frustrating that authors (and film producers, and singers, and... etc) feel it is necessary to elaborate on private matters. One of my favorite books, Redeeming Love, is a story about a prostitute. It explores some of the same struggles that Joanna faced but did so tastefully. I think Here Be Dragons has the power to be an amazing insight into humanity, with or without the sexual descriptions, and would win a wider audience without them. Some of the main themes are guilt and forgiveness, and Penman deals with them wonderfully.

My favorite scene was near the end, when Joanna and her daughter Elen are discussing Joanna's infidelity and remorse. It's the first conversation they've had where they are truly honest with each other and Elen learns about her mother's youthful lack of confidence: "'But scrape away the surface gloss, dig through the glaze to the raw clay, and you'll find a little girl forbidden to play with the other village children, a little girl who'd lie for hours in the heather above Middleham Castle, wanting only to belong.'" (Penman, 748)

PS: When I buy whiteout and deface my copy, I welcome anyone who wants to borrow it rather than the original version.

Photo by Gabriela Camerotti. http://www.flickr.com/photos/face_it/1244278848/in/photostream/ . Creative commons licence: Attribution, Non-Commercial.

It's Been a Day

I was up this morning at 7 am, and it's now midnight. Yet I don't want to go to bed. I was just hoping, maybe... but alas. It's been such a cram packed day.

I spent the weekend out watching my cousin play baseball. They had an awesome game, won 11-4. He got two homes himself, so nicely done cuz. Then I drove back this morning so that I had time to shower and have dry hair for work at one, this afternoon. I worked four hours, and then had a delightful time chatting with my dear girl, Bee. I got some unfortunate news from Jess, and then an email from my dad. Those tend to be exhausting, though I doubt intentionally so.

Then I heard news about rain. Lots of rain. Hurricane levels. Heading for my home. [Praying for you guys]

Maybe that's what this is... homesickness? You'd think I'd have grown out of this after a year. I really ought to.

I have to work tomorrow at 11, so up at 9. I can't wait for school, because after school is home. ETA January 28th.