Sahara, et al

23 April 2005

If you haven’t seen Sahara, you should go out and do that. Now. Before you finish reading this post.

Since you’re clearly not listening to me, I’ll tell you a little bit about why I like it. First of all, it’s a Dirk Pitt novel made into a movie. ‘Nuff said right there, actually. Clive Cussler’s books, especially the ones about Dirk Pitt, are one of my guilty pleasures in reading. I discovered them as a kid, when I saw that one of them was about raising the Titanic, dug in, and never really dug out. Except for the ones with human sacrifices. But they’re few and far between and, if you can get past the sacrifice, the rest of the book is still good. Really.

But back to the movie. It was like a combination between watching James Bond and watching Pirates of the Carribbean. Fun and kind-of silly with some fabulous one-liners and all sorts of impossible stuff happening left and right, and the guy gets the girl at the end. It’s great for developing a high, kick-ass attitude towards life. It would also, by the way, make a great drinking game–one shot every time something happens that should not have worked, and two when that happens, and then the characters acknowledge it.

Now, some quotes for those in the know. They won’t be funny if you haven’t seen the movie.

“I think we need to re-evaluate our decision-making paradigm.”

“Al, I need a door…NOW.”

“No, no, I’ll find the bomb, you go get the woman.” “Ok.”

“The Admiral is going to flip when he finds out what happened to his Sat phone…And he’ll be even worse when he finds out it was attached to his yacht.”

“They pulled a Panama.”

“What’s a Panama? Have you been to Panama?” “No, we were (somewhere else, I don’t remember).” “Then why do you call it a Panama.” “Because we THOUGHT we were in Panama.”

Advertisements

Well, well, well…

11 April 2005

Apparently, I CAN run more than 3 miles at once. I was running down Valley View, didn’t want to turn in on Foster (Australian for beer), went looking for the street that I like to Rollerblade down, didn’t find it, and ended up at Rosecrans. So I ran the big block instead of one of the smaller blocks, which, I think, is about 4 miles, maybe a little more (Ingrid agrees with me, and she would know better than I).

Other news…Isaac’s car is coming in June!!! For me!!! I will be the proud caretaker of a 1995 Honda Civic that gets great gas mileage, even though Isaac’s driven it for several years. Yay for cute little silver cars that run well. Sorry Ivan!

I think I like exclamation points today.

Cummings might get a friend, if we get the house. Oh my goodness!! The house!! We found a great house–three bedrooms, a living room, a family room, a dining room, AND a kitchen. So we applied. And then I found out that my credit/personal information had been stolen from a computer in Berkeley, where I applied a zillion years ago for school. So hopefully something will work out, as in, hopefully I can still pass my credit check. As in, hopefully I’ll be able to pull some piece of identifying information out of my hat that will convince them that I am, in fact, me and I do, in fact, really want them to let me rent a house. So pray. Pray. Please? Because we really want this house.

Anyway, Cums will maybe acquire a friend’s turtle as HIS friend if we move. When (?) we move. Positive thinking and all of that.

Please pray.

Well, well, well…

11 April 2005

Apparently, I CAN run more than 3 miles at once. I was running down Valley View, didn’t want to turn in on Foster (Australian for beer), went looking for the street that I like to Rollerblade down, didn’t find it, and ended up at Rosecrans. So I ran the big block instead of one of the smaller blocks, which, I think, is about 4 miles, maybe a little more (Ingrid agrees with me, and she would know better than I).

Other news…Isaac’s car is coming in June!!! For me!!! I will be the proud caretaker of a 1995 Honda Civic that gets great gas mileage, even though Isaac’s driven it for several years. Yay for cute little silver cars that run well. Sorry Ivan!

I think I like exclamation points today.

Cummings might get a friend, if we get the house. Oh my goodness!! The house!! We found a great house–three bedrooms, a living room, a family room, a dining room, AND a kitchen. So we applied. And then I found out that my credit/personal information had been stolen from a computer in Berkeley, where I applied a zillion years ago for school. So hopefully something will work out, as in, hopefully I can still pass my credit check. As in, hopefully I’ll be able to pull some piece of identifying information out of my hat that will convince them that I am, in fact, me and I do, in fact, really want them to let me rent a house. So pray. Pray. Please? Because we really want this house.

Anyway, Cums will maybe acquire a friend’s turtle as HIS friend if we move. When (?) we move. Positive thinking and all of that.

Please pray.

Goodbye…

2 April 2005

…to Pope John Paul II…though I am glad that he is now at home with Jesus. The world loved him and, quite frankly, the world needed him.

There’s not much more to say that hasn’t been said.

Oh, except for the best birthday card ever. This was sent to my Roman Catholic friend Orysia when we were in Oxford, from her (also Roman Catholic) father. The outside of the card said:

“Happy Birthday from the Beatles!”

The inside said:

“You know, John Paul, George, and Ringo!”

It had a picture of the Pope, George, and Ringo Starr.

Somehow, I think the Pope would have appreciated it.

Goodbye…

2 April 2005

…to Pope John Paul II…though I am glad that he is now at home with Jesus. The world loved him and, quite frankly, the world needed him.

There’s not much more to say that hasn’t been said.

Oh, except for the best birthday card ever. This was sent to my Roman Catholic friend Orysia when we were in Oxford, from her (also Roman Catholic) father. The outside of the card said:

“Happy Birthday from the Beatles!”

The inside said:

“You know, John Paul, George, and Ringo!”

It had a picture of the Pope, George, and Ringo Starr.

Somehow, I think the Pope would have appreciated it.

Since I but other people about not blogging, I feel like I need to keep it movin’ myself, or risk putting foot in mouth. Not that I don’t do that enough anyway…

This has been a big year, and it’s only April. And barely that. Thus far this year I’ve 1)Started doing spiritual direction, 2)Started looking for a house (not to buy, but to live in with my roommates, but this means that the idea, once so scary, of Moving Off Gagely, may actually become a reality), and 3)Become way more open to myself and God and others and all of that than I ever thought possible. And I still have so very far to go. 3, above, is what makes all the rest of this feel so big. I feel like, if you had met me in December and someone else met me now, they would be meeting different people. Not entirely, though sometimes it feels that way from the inside.

I actually bought shoes with cute flowers on them today. Wow…me…and flowers.

And now some funny quotes from Frederica Mathewes-Green that made me laugh in the Poustinia this weekend (from Facing East: A Pilgrim’s Journey into the Mysteries of Orthodoxy):

(On Orthodox Lent) “My Byzantine Catholic friend, Connie, cooks (a phrast that rings to me like “…navigates warships”) and early in Lend came over with a twenty-five pound bag of navy beans. All she wanted to do was share them. I welcomed her at the back door but inwardly began to fret. What do you do with raw beans? How do you store them? Should I get a plastic bucket, or do they need to breathe? A big paper bag? But would bugs get in and eat them? Should I put them in the refrigerator? Shoud they be kept moist or dry?
I realized that Gary was urgently needed in this situation. I hollered up the stairs to him, trying to conceal my panic. What I wanted to say was, “Help! Help! Someone is trying to bring beans into the house!” Sure enough he appeared, brave and competent as ever, and pured half the bag of beans inot a plastic bucket. Everybody needs a hero, and mine is the guy who knows beans.”

(On Avoiding Hypothermia) “If I button the collar of my blue winter jacket, the opening fits just right around my glasses, and I can peer out through the circle meant for my neck. I’m waling around this way in the dark, and I”m glad that it’s dark because I’d rather not have anyone see me.
When I finished at the gym, I had an hour to pass before Vespers–not enough time to fight the holiday traffic home. I drove, instead, to the Episcopal convent a few blocks from Basil’s house, thinking I’d walk around the grounds here for a while. But my har was still wet from swimming laps, and I had no hat, which in this twenty-degree chill amounts to a perscription for hypothermia. It seemed like a stroke of genius when I figured that I could slip my arms out of the sleeves and wear my jacket as a sort of misshapen tent. Still, it wasn’t the kind of genius you necessarily want people to observe.”

She sad some rather fascinating serious stuff, too, but I’ll save that for another time.

Since I but other people about not blogging, I feel like I need to keep it movin’ myself, or risk putting foot in mouth. Not that I don’t do that enough anyway…

This has been a big year, and it’s only April. And barely that. Thus far this year I’ve 1)Started doing spiritual direction, 2)Started looking for a house (not to buy, but to live in with my roommates, but this means that the idea, once so scary, of Moving Off Gagely, may actually become a reality), and 3)Become way more open to myself and God and others and all of that than I ever thought possible. And I still have so very far to go. 3, above, is what makes all the rest of this feel so big. I feel like, if you had met me in December and someone else met me now, they would be meeting different people. Not entirely, though sometimes it feels that way from the inside.

I actually bought shoes with cute flowers on them today. Wow…me…and flowers.

And now some funny quotes from Frederica Mathewes-Green that made me laugh in the Poustinia this weekend (from Facing East: A Pilgrim’s Journey into the Mysteries of Orthodoxy):

(On Orthodox Lent) “My Byzantine Catholic friend, Connie, cooks (a phrast that rings to me like “…navigates warships”) and early in Lend came over with a twenty-five pound bag of navy beans. All she wanted to do was share them. I welcomed her at the back door but inwardly began to fret. What do you do with raw beans? How do you store them? Should I get a plastic bucket, or do they need to breathe? A big paper bag? But would bugs get in and eat them? Should I put them in the refrigerator? Shoud they be kept moist or dry?
I realized that Gary was urgently needed in this situation. I hollered up the stairs to him, trying to conceal my panic. What I wanted to say was, “Help! Help! Someone is trying to bring beans into the house!” Sure enough he appeared, brave and competent as ever, and pured half the bag of beans inot a plastic bucket. Everybody needs a hero, and mine is the guy who knows beans.”

(On Avoiding Hypothermia) “If I button the collar of my blue winter jacket, the opening fits just right around my glasses, and I can peer out through the circle meant for my neck. I’m waling around this way in the dark, and I”m glad that it’s dark because I’d rather not have anyone see me.
When I finished at the gym, I had an hour to pass before Vespers–not enough time to fight the holiday traffic home. I drove, instead, to the Episcopal convent a few blocks from Basil’s house, thinking I’d walk around the grounds here for a while. But my har was still wet from swimming laps, and I had no hat, which in this twenty-degree chill amounts to a perscription for hypothermia. It seemed like a stroke of genius when I figured that I could slip my arms out of the sleeves and wear my jacket as a sort of misshapen tent. Still, it wasn’t the kind of genius you necessarily want people to observe.”

She sad some rather fascinating serious stuff, too, but I’ll save that for another time.