Minnesota: a haiku
Winter came today
Welcome back my snowy friend
Missed you yesterday*
—————
*not really
Minnesota: a haiku
Winter came today
Welcome back my snowy friend
Missed you yesterday*
—————
*not really
From Time magazine…this article.
My favorite part:
The late William F. Buckley wanted conservatives to stand athwart history yelling stop; Paul seems to want to slam history into reverse. The guy genuinely wants to abolish the Federal Reserve and start circulating gold again.
You gotta just love this guy. He’s the only person left still running against McCain. That’s just the kind of guy he is. He’s not about to drop out and give his support to someone who he doesn’t see as a decent option. And he still holds my vote.
Here is one of the best personality tests I’ve taken in a long time:
Why don’t you take it and let me know your personality profile and if you think it matched you? The thing I liked best about it was that all the choices were a sliding scale rather than a “yes or no” or even “choose 1 through 5.” Matched my test-takingness much better.
And my results, which I would LOVE to have analyzed by those who know me pretty well (who read my blog, that is):
While I didn’t think my overall title, “Generous Leader,” matched who I am, the rest described me pretty well.
So Flat Stanley spent a weekend with Charlie up in the great Nort’. For those of you who have never seen a frozen lake, yes, you can actually walk on it, drive on it, and fish through it! Here’s his story:
Dan U. and I took Stanley ice-fishing with us out by Union Lake for good luck. We ended up getting 15 fish. 5 apiece! He behaved once we got him to stop playing with the ice auger. All it took was a dip in the ice-hole, hehehe.
Isn’t it nice how Stanley fit into that little pocket for them? He didn’t even need a sleeping bag! Thanks for showing him a good time, Chuck!
Why is it that when you REALLY need sleep, you can’t? For me, I guess it’s that I get stressed out, but still. I can lie there praying for an hour or two, “Lord, please help me sleep…” and….nothing. It usually happens on the nights when I work the next day, which means I have to get up at 4:30. It’s not because I’m stressed about going—I like my job. But even if I’m in bed by 9, my body will rarely let me sleep before 11. I’ve been awake since 3 a.m., so I finally got out of bed to do something productive.
I do not function well with less than 7 hours of sleep. Twice a week, I get about 4 to 5. And it’s aging me. Okay, that’s the end of my complaining for the day.
Back by popular demand (does my own thrill at what people type in to find my blog count as “demand”?), answers to those of you who found my blog by searching for the following:
winter nipples
actually,I thnk you’re looking for Scarlett’s blog…
naked climbing
man, Scarlett, are you sending your folks over here?
minnesota mom blogs
You, my friend, have come to the right place.
grace bakes a cakes for his mom games
Grace is a boy? Husband likes a cakes.
flat stanley’s mom
He has a mom? Invite her over, too! She can eat cakes.
i’m beautiful
Man, I must be conceited.
values and policies of smacking
Values: a tasty lunch
Policies: only when substance is sticky
is donna fargo a tomboy or a girly girl?
That’s a toss-up. With a name like Donna, I’d guess girly, but with a last name like Fargo, I’d go for tomboy…
photos of me
Yes, there are some on my blog
sugar pink cupcakes
WANT!
things in minnesota that start with y
Yarn
Yams
Yankton Lake
what is there to do in winona Minnesota
I have only been there once that I can remember, and the three things I recollect are these:
1. We drove to the top of a tall rock that had a look-out point.
2. We ate at KFC (yuck).
3. My friend’s sister had some sort of honors orchestra thing there.
does anyone know how to gleak
Heck yes I do!
to grandmother’s house we go leisure art
Say what?
I found it. The creme de la creme of my poetry. As bad as it is, it sparks such fond memories that I can’t help but LOVE it. I will dissect it post-poem. So here it is…
Pop Tarts: The Food of the New Generation*
Pop Tarts.
They live in my tummy.
Why?
Because I ate them.
They tasted good.
Yummy, yummy, yummy.
I have Pop Tarts in my tummy.
Strawberry is the flavor.
The flavor that tops them all! Non-frosted please.
Made of cells.
Cells are good.
Yummy Pop Tart cells.
Eat them!
Love them!
Give some to me cuz…
I love them too!
———–
Tell me, where can you find better poetry than that? So honest. So raw. So cutting edge.
In high school I ran with a very…creative crowd. My friend Jana and I would spend almost every day at each other’s houses. While some of our friends held down summer jobs, we made creativity our job. We would bake cakes and color the batter four different colors, then swirl them together. We built villages out of legos. We golfed almost daily. We made many, many collages. We drew cartoons (man, if I could find those, that would be another awesome post). We made apple pies in creative forms and ate it for breakfast. We watched her sister practice riding her unicycle from our perch on the roof. We went ice-blocking. We played tennis*. And we wrote bad poetry about rubber chickens and beatniks and food we liked (case in point) and obviously, about whatever we were learning in science (hence the mention of cells). Jana probably grew up and continued being artsy and cool. Me, I’m average. But I revel in memories of when I was artsy and cool…
*While the content of this poem reflected my opinion at the time written, keep in mind that this was before I knew a single thing about nutrition. All I knew was activity burns calories. And I was active. The end.
**The fact that we played golf and tennis makes us sound like we were preppies at a country club, which is not true. We played golf for free (well, on our parents’ membership, which cost only like $250 for the whole family for the entire season), and we played tennis at the public courts near my house where you had to insert quarters to buy time on the lights at night.
p.s. I now prefer my Strawberry Pop Tarts frosted on the rare occasion that I eat them.
This morning Pastor Piper’s sermon title was “The God of Peace Brought from the Dead the Good Shepherd.” His sermons have been pretty outstanding the past few months, as he’s focused on the new birth and what it looks like. Here are some notes from today’s (text: Hebrews 13:20-21):
Humans were designed to be sheep. We are to be shepherded. Who is our shepherd? Rev. 7 says “the Lamb slain in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd.” Note that our Shepherd is also a Lamb.
Being an exegete, Pastor Piper asks questions of the texts he reads and seeks to point us back to scripture in exploring them. Today he asked four questions:
1. Who is it that is my Great Shepherd?
“Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture…I will attend to you for your evil deeds” and
“The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them. So they were scattered, because there was no shepherd, and they became food for all the wild beasts.”
2. How can it be that Christ is our Shepherd today?
3. What does it mean for me today to be shepherded by a great Shepherd?
4. Why did God set it up this way?