Don't ask me how much coffee I've had this morning and I won't ask you how much you've had.
Hint: it's at least less than Voltaire.
I'm right in the middle of GWTW. Which of course means don't talk to me or expect me to do anything other than read. Holy mackerel that book is fabulous.
I'm thinking about ordering my bookshelves by putting the books that I reread all of the time together, books that I love but don't tend to reread together, and books that I haven't read yet together. That could be interesting and save time when searching for the next book to read.
I finally got control of myself and have lost a few of the pounds I needed to shed before ww weigh in. I'm not back to goal yet but hopefully will be before the end of April. How does one get control if they are Casey you ask? I filled the fridge and fruit bowl with fruit that I really like. I wrote "not for Casey" across the top of the peanut butter jar (my weakness), and hard boiled 50,000 eggs. And filled the freezer with edamame. That's about it. Voila, lost weight. I'm eating more than fruit, edamame, and eggs, but those are just good go-to things for me when I'm feeling snacky. Oh, and greek yogurt. Now I just need to maintain this control.
Disney countdown is in full swing and I'm busy squirreling away entertainment for the two day drive. I'm really looking forward to the car trip. Our last car trip was a blast. We're not a techy family and didn't watch movies on the drive or bring ipads or whatnot. I'm stocking up on conversation ideas, books, and car friendly games. I plan on getting a good audio book or two from the library as well. I can't wait!!
Showing posts with label Prius. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prius. Show all posts
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
The Rich Woman and Lazarus
There was a rich woman who was dressed in Banana Republic and carrying a Thirty-One bag who feasted sumptuously every day.
And each day she got into her Prius and left her comfortable home in suburbia and drove past Lazarus.
She passed by Lazarus, a child in the projects receiving a crap education in a poor school district. She pitied Lazarus. But not enough to vote for education reform. Not enough to blame anyone other than the child's parents, who were also raised in the projects. Who were also given a crap education and no chance or money for college. Not enough to blame anyone other than his mother with her high school education working two jobs and statically doomed to make 64 cents to every dollar a white male makes. Yes, she pitied Lazarus. But not enough.
And she passed Lazarus in the prison cell where he, in her opinion, sat rightfully awaiting his death sentence. Without thought to the possibility of human error in the justice system, without thought of mercy, without thought of the right to life, without second guessing whether or not humanity has the God-given right to take a person's life, she had no pity for Lazarus. She didn't think of Christ's direction to visit those in prison. John the Baptist, St. Peter, and St. Paul in prison did not cross her mind. And she passed by Lazarus, thankful that he was locked away, saying, "Good. He got what he deserves."
And on her way home stood Lazarus with a cardboard sign, a cardboard sign of lies perhaps. But, nevertheless, there he was day after day. She felt a pang of guilt as she passed him by and debated whether or not to give him a hand out. But, there-in was her problem. Why should this man get a hand-out? She had to work hard to get where she was in life. No one gave her any hand outs. She saw not her white privilege or access to good education and health care. She thought not of all of the great jobs given to her because she knew someone and had connections. She thought not about the edge that money had always given her - the extra curricular activities her parents were able to put her in, the theater tickets they were able to purchase, the good health care, and the opportunities afforded her due to her relative wealth compared to that of Lazarus. She thought not of these things. In fact, none of them even occurred to her as "hand-outs" or "coddling" or even help. They didn't occur to her at all. Instead, she readjusted her air conditioner, turned up the radio, and compared herself to those with more than she. She thought only of those with more money, more expensive cars, bigger homes, and finer clothes. They were rich. She wondered how Lazarus always managed to find a Sharpie. Working to not meet his eye, she shook off her smidgen of guilt and passed him by.
Later that evening Lazarus set plates of steaming hot food before the woman's family. She never met her waiter's eyes, choosing instead to simply bark orders, never thanking him or acknowledging his existence, his humanity. No tip was left because of his "poor service" and she left the restaurant shaking her head and chatting with her husband about the fact that "no one knows how to work hard any more these days." She then went for a manicure where Lazarus carefully polished her toenails. She once again never looked into his face, choosing instead to talk on the phone, complaining to a friend about border control, "them", and finally, the sheer volume of toys she had to purchase for her children for Christmas this year.
Lazarus, covered with sores, longed to satisfy his hunger with even what fell from the rich woman’s table. At night the stray dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and after an unnoticed government cremation was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.
The rich woman also died and was buried with no expense spared. The city mourned the loss of such an advocate for the poor and neglected. The rich woman's fundraising galas would not be missed for long, a new rich woman would soon step in to take over throwing expensive parties to raise funds for the disenfranchised.
In Hades, where she was being tormented, the rich woman looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. Still seeing Lazarus as one beneath her, she called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.”
But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.”
She said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” She said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to her, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”
That's how I read this story in Luke. And I can envision endless versions of Lazarus... which is why the story of the rich man and Lazarus scares the shit out of me.
She passed by Lazarus, a child in the projects receiving a crap education in a poor school district. She pitied Lazarus. But not enough to vote for education reform. Not enough to blame anyone other than the child's parents, who were also raised in the projects. Who were also given a crap education and no chance or money for college. Not enough to blame anyone other than his mother with her high school education working two jobs and statically doomed to make 64 cents to every dollar a white male makes. Yes, she pitied Lazarus. But not enough.
And she passed Lazarus in the prison cell where he, in her opinion, sat rightfully awaiting his death sentence. Without thought to the possibility of human error in the justice system, without thought of mercy, without thought of the right to life, without second guessing whether or not humanity has the God-given right to take a person's life, she had no pity for Lazarus. She didn't think of Christ's direction to visit those in prison. John the Baptist, St. Peter, and St. Paul in prison did not cross her mind. And she passed by Lazarus, thankful that he was locked away, saying, "Good. He got what he deserves."
And on her way home stood Lazarus with a cardboard sign, a cardboard sign of lies perhaps. But, nevertheless, there he was day after day. She felt a pang of guilt as she passed him by and debated whether or not to give him a hand out. But, there-in was her problem. Why should this man get a hand-out? She had to work hard to get where she was in life. No one gave her any hand outs. She saw not her white privilege or access to good education and health care. She thought not of all of the great jobs given to her because she knew someone and had connections. She thought not about the edge that money had always given her - the extra curricular activities her parents were able to put her in, the theater tickets they were able to purchase, the good health care, and the opportunities afforded her due to her relative wealth compared to that of Lazarus. She thought not of these things. In fact, none of them even occurred to her as "hand-outs" or "coddling" or even help. They didn't occur to her at all. Instead, she readjusted her air conditioner, turned up the radio, and compared herself to those with more than she. She thought only of those with more money, more expensive cars, bigger homes, and finer clothes. They were rich. She wondered how Lazarus always managed to find a Sharpie. Working to not meet his eye, she shook off her smidgen of guilt and passed him by.
Later that evening Lazarus set plates of steaming hot food before the woman's family. She never met her waiter's eyes, choosing instead to simply bark orders, never thanking him or acknowledging his existence, his humanity. No tip was left because of his "poor service" and she left the restaurant shaking her head and chatting with her husband about the fact that "no one knows how to work hard any more these days." She then went for a manicure where Lazarus carefully polished her toenails. She once again never looked into his face, choosing instead to talk on the phone, complaining to a friend about border control, "them", and finally, the sheer volume of toys she had to purchase for her children for Christmas this year.
Lazarus, covered with sores, longed to satisfy his hunger with even what fell from the rich woman’s table. At night the stray dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and after an unnoticed government cremation was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.
The rich woman also died and was buried with no expense spared. The city mourned the loss of such an advocate for the poor and neglected. The rich woman's fundraising galas would not be missed for long, a new rich woman would soon step in to take over throwing expensive parties to raise funds for the disenfranchised.
In Hades, where she was being tormented, the rich woman looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. Still seeing Lazarus as one beneath her, she called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.”
But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.”
She said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” She said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to her, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”
That's how I read this story in Luke. And I can envision endless versions of Lazarus... which is why the story of the rich man and Lazarus scares the shit out of me.
Monday, May 11, 2015
My Open Love Letter to Beth Bojarski
One day recently (so, like, in the last year or so) Kelly asked me to name people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included). Now, if you know Kelly at all then you know that this question was not one that merited a casual response. Kelly wasn't looking for an off the top of my head reply. She wanted an in-depth analysis of the most influential people in my life. Who were these people? How did I meet them? What impact did they have upon me? Give specific examples as to how am I living out that influence today. I don't remember if I passed the oral portion of the examination, but I've decided to submit the written part here.
Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.
So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...
Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.
Getting a picture of how cool she is already?
Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.
Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:
The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.
Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.
On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.
So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh*
Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.
So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...
Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.
Getting a picture of how cool she is already?
Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.
Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:
The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.
Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.
On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.
So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh*
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Morning Has Broken
I woke up this morning with wildly unmanageable hair, a baby whose nose was completely boogered over to the point of unbreathable, and a girl too tired to do anything but lie on the living room floor snuggling with her critters and listening to Pandora's toddler station.
Pandora and I have a complicated relationship. She gives me New Orleans Jazz, Memphis Soul, 60's Rock... but then when Pandora tells me that she's having trouble "fetching" the next song I turn into Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, "Yes, fetch away. You are very fetching. So, go fetch." Ugh. The audacity of that website using the word "fetching" is irrationally infuriating.
In the carpool line this morning I noticed all of the other children were hopping out of their cars fully decked out in cowboy attire. Shit. Luckily I never clean out my car so I was able to dig Carolena's pink boots out of the mobile closet we like to call the backseat. I guess her ironed pearl snap shirt will have to wait for the rodeo. Lord knows I can't iron a shirt more than once a month. That's written into my contract, Mr. DeMille. Check it.
Surprisingly, even given those things, it's been a pretty great morning. Perhaps because I drank a cup of coffee? Yes. Certainly that is why.
Pandora and I have a complicated relationship. She gives me New Orleans Jazz, Memphis Soul, 60's Rock... but then when Pandora tells me that she's having trouble "fetching" the next song I turn into Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, "Yes, fetch away. You are very fetching. So, go fetch." Ugh. The audacity of that website using the word "fetching" is irrationally infuriating.
In the carpool line this morning I noticed all of the other children were hopping out of their cars fully decked out in cowboy attire. Shit. Luckily I never clean out my car so I was able to dig Carolena's pink boots out of the mobile closet we like to call the backseat. I guess her ironed pearl snap shirt will have to wait for the rodeo. Lord knows I can't iron a shirt more than once a month. That's written into my contract, Mr. DeMille. Check it.
Surprisingly, even given those things, it's been a pretty great morning. Perhaps because I drank a cup of coffee? Yes. Certainly that is why.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
A Word to the Wise
If you see someone wearing bell bottoms get out a Prius it is probably safe to assume that their "This Land Is Our Land National Park Foundation" tee shirt is not advocating strict border control.
It is probably safe to assume that you are a moron and have misread more than just this person's shirt.
Lady in the Home Depot parking lot, I'm looking at you.
A word to the (un)wise should be sufficient.
It is probably safe to assume that you are a moron and have misread more than just this person's shirt.
Lady in the Home Depot parking lot, I'm looking at you.
A word to the (un)wise should be sufficient.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Full
So these days the only thing empty around here is my blog... and occasionally my stomach.
Our house is full. It looks like a pack of wolves took up residence here. In fact, wolves might be living in our second bedroom and come out to ransack our house at night and we haven't even noticed.
Carolena is full. Full of energy, full of happiness, full of dances to dance, full of things to say.
My car is full. Unfortunately, the Prius is not currently full on gas or oil... but there are plenty of toddler shoes, random toys, and crumbs. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf pack occasionally hangs out in there as well.
My heart is full. Chris and I celebrate our seventh anniversary tomorrow... love for my little Carolena... and a second baby due at the end of January.
Yes, my blog is somewhat empty... but the Duncans are full.
Our house is full. It looks like a pack of wolves took up residence here. In fact, wolves might be living in our second bedroom and come out to ransack our house at night and we haven't even noticed.
Carolena is full. Full of energy, full of happiness, full of dances to dance, full of things to say.
My car is full. Unfortunately, the Prius is not currently full on gas or oil... but there are plenty of toddler shoes, random toys, and crumbs. I wouldn't be surprised if the wolf pack occasionally hangs out in there as well.
My heart is full. Chris and I celebrate our seventh anniversary tomorrow... love for my little Carolena... and a second baby due at the end of January.
Yes, my blog is somewhat empty... but the Duncans are full.
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