1. Theology…is a fortress. No crack in a fortress may be accounted small.

2. Seeing is not believing–it is only seeing.

3. Athletes, who don’t go to church on Sunday, have their last special meal before the big game. This is not satanic in and of itself. But it merely points to the fact that man has to find a substitute communion. If the last meal with the athletes is a substitute for Christ’s table, it is demonic.

4. The human mind is generally far more eager to praise and dispraise than to describe and define.

5. Me, poor man, my library/ Was dukedom large enough.

6. I have only words to play with!

7. Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.

Seasonless

Human bodies really work well with seasons. I don’t feel like our season has changed since October. How long is this going to last? I want spring. No, I want summer.

Blessed

Rick is always patient and compassionate towards me when I’m being moody and emotional. Most guys aren’t like this. How is it that I’m so greatly blessed? He’s the best of the best.

I about died when I read Jenn Nalley’s comment on Tim’s April Fools Day blogpost. I also really enjoyed Tim’s post, but I won’t say which blog it was on. Poor Berek, I forgot to read his blogpost last night. I read it today, and again, Jenn Nalley left a great comment. *sigh* If only Berek was that poetical…I’d probably slap him.

Normally, when I am riding around in Tim’s car, I don’t care for his music. But I’ve taken a liking to Jason Mraz. He’s really cool. Now, I don’t listen to the radio. He could be some guy really popular on the radio, or he could be some unheard of guy. Anyway, I like him. He has a sort of reader-response (okay, listener-response) theory of music.

So I lied

I haven’t had time to blog since I got home until now. It’s been crazy, and I’m still catching up on sleep. The weather is ridiculous and my fingers are too cold to type very well. I’ll give y’all the summary of my trip:
Thursday Night: I make it to Portland at around 9:25 at night. My friend Evie and I drive around trying to find a friend’s house at 3am. We couldn’t. We went back home at about 4, and went to sleep somehwere around 5.
Friday Morning: We get up at 6:30 and start packing to go to Vancouver, B.C. We don’t leave town until around 9. After successfully crossing the U.S. border into anti-war socialist Canada without getting caught for smuggling a pansy plant in, Evie’s 5-year-old sister exclaims, “That was close!”
Friday Evening: I have my first drink in a restaurant. How sweet it is that the legal drinking age in B.C. is 19. But not once was I asked to show my ID. I was a little disappointed about that. I had a few drinks; the peach daiquiri was the best.
Later Friday Evening: We spend time in downtown Vancouver. I thought every town in Canada was little, but Vancouver was impressive. Downtown was filled with Asians and sprinkled with homeless people. Culture shock really hit me hard.
Saturday: We go shopping at some dollar stores (which translate to $.62 stores with American money..or something close to that). North Vancouver is filled with Indians. I have no idea how many turbans I saw, but it was more than I’d seen in my life. For the first time, I felt like the minority. It was more like, “Hey look! A white person!” Than, “Oh, a black family. How cool.” The latter comment would likely be made in Spokane.
Sunday: We go to “Maranatha” Canadian Reformed Church. I’ve never seen such a huge pulpit in my life. Everyone craned their necks to see the pastor. The people were really friendly and hospitable. But the worship was centered in on the sermon, and the pastor conducted the entire service. All the songs were slow. Too slow. But the singers were enthusiastic. The elders sat in a side row of pews. It made them look like the jury. With that pulpit, the pastor already looked like a judge. I think I even remember “All rise” at the beginning of the service.
Sunday Night: We head back to Portland at about 9. We don’t get in until 3:15 in the morning. I slept most of the way. The rest of the time, I talked to Rick on the phone (I’m thankful for cell phones) and sang Disney/Christmas songs.
Monday: I got fitted for my bridesmaid dress. The Asian lady who measured me kept saying “Very nice!” after taking each measurement. It had me laughing.
Monday Evening: Probably the quickest and best part of the trip, I head back home to see my Rick again. He greets me in the airport with irises, a purple butterfly balloon and a soft purple bear. LOL. He’s so cute.
The End. For now.

What’s the deal with everyone in favor of school uniforms? I’ve taught at schools that have uniforms and ones without them. The result is the same. There are still groups. There are still the popular kids.

Okay, so let’s say you want them to wear nicer clothes instead of rags. And let’s say you want to help parents avoid spending more money…okay, give them a catalog…with different styles…different types, and give them many choices…make everything cost the same you communists…Anything else is just oppression. Oppression, I say. If I had to wear sweatervests or polo shirts, I would go insane. Put me in a suit or button-up with a tie, and I feel great.

Today I helped Rachel’s Aunt Marilyn unpack. She just moved up from Texas (I believe she’s a native Northwestern though). Anyway, she gave me a hug. Later, she picked up her friend, who is from Texas. This 77 year old lady (she doesn’t look over 55), who I had never met, just came up to me and gave me the biggest hug. It was great.
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