Saturday Speaks: Time Travel

It's a tie for best thing I've heard this week...

Firstly, Happy Birthday to David (it was pretty entertaining to see Ms. Dengs convince a restaurant of people to sing Happy Birthday to YOU)... born on my grandmother's birthday. It's a blessing to have someone in my life who, in a few ways, brings her back to me...

Secondly, to one of the festivities for today... during The Star Trek movie (which, really, was pretty silly) my favorite line was delivered by the freshly beamed Kirk after his jaunt in the snow covered hills with the Spock of the future. An alien enemy holds Kirk by the throat... over a height, of course... threatening to loosen his grip and send Kirk plummeting to his death. Kirk tries to speak and has trouble, naturally, since he's choking. His captor laughs and scoffs that this historical figure of Star Fleet can't even speak... Kirk screws up his strength and manages to choke out this phrase:

"I've got your gun."

Kaboom!

Good fun. Yes. I think so.

(from www.wetasschronicles.com)

Friday Sabbath: The Word has been spread already!

Maybe it's just the unpleasant week I've had... or maybe it's just because it's today... but I'm thinking about my pet peeve... my arch nemesis... in my paradigm of spiritual worlds.

The Christian Evangelical Know-It-Alls (The Jews for Jesus are in there, too).

So, I doubt there's anyone who does/can read this blog that has not heard "The Good News" that Jesus asked his disciples to spread (Mark 16:15). Most of me believes that if Jesus existed that there's a chance he was a reasonable person... he asked this shortly after the resurrection, so, chances are that, yeah, a healthy handful of people hadn't heard.

It's been a while since then though, don't you think?

I actually believe you would be hard pressed to find a person in a civilized society who has NOT heard the story of Jesus. These mission groups that I tend to hear about are mostly off to places that, again, have HEARD it. Sometimes I think it's an excuse to go to Europe rather than passing out The New Testament. The people I hear about going to less civilized parts of, say, Africa are not evangelists.

And, besides, Jesus doesn't seem to be asking that you badger people. He simply asks us to tell the news of what has occurred. He said nothing about putting religious tracts in Jewish books in public bookstores (this actually happened... I was in B&N a year or two ago and found a religious tract about The Truth in Christ in a Torah handbook) or repeatedly sending messages about how He died for you to people who are merely of a quieter denomination of Christians. The way I read that simple verse is that he asked that the disciples tell the story... it's up to the person listening as to what he or she wishes to do with the tale.

Sometimes I feel people just need an excuse to behave badly, or to have a righteous cause, or to feel like they know something that you don't. Now, I'm not trying to say that I'm against people sharing their opinions... I genuinely enjoy discussions of religious differences. I appreciate new perspectives or old convictions. Still, I'd rather people engage into this sort of discussion due to mutual interests in sharing and understanding one another rather than viewing the goal to be changing the other person's mind.

We hear incredible stories about the lengths these radical evangelicals go to all the time... that little squabble we refer to as The Crusades to con artists making use of Gd and the general kindness of people to get what they want to the Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses knocking on your door. I, however, heard for the first time toady of Christian Magicians that magic their way into converting you.

The article was published late last year about The Fellowship of Christian Magicians. After reading the article, it seems to me that the writer is more upset about the gimic, the method that is needed to get people to see The Truth. I think it's a little worse than that. I'll illustrate:

Apparently, one of these magicians performs this quarter trick to make his point...

He calls some kid on stage and asks that kid to mark a quarter. That quarter is meant to symbolize the kid's life. He mixes some mumbo jumbo on how precious that life is, the quarter represents a treasure, blah blah... Then the magician brings out a silver cube. The cube represents Gd's will for that specific child's life. He then asks the naturally curious child if he/she wishes to see what's inside the cube. Of course, the kid says that yes, that would be nice, thank you. Only, there's a catch! The magician explains that if the kid wants to know what's in the box, he must give up his "life" to Gd. He then asks the poor kid again what his choice is now.

My fantasy is that, once in a while, a kid takes his quarter back and walks off the stage. But, no, like most innocents, he knew that the magician wanted The Right Answer not a Reasonable Answer for a kid who is just getting used to the idea of how great life can be. The kid says he'll give it up, and then he is permitted to open the box. In a small series of little boxes packed in like Matryoshka dolls, the child finds his/her marked quarter and another unmarked quarter. The kid gazes in open-mouthed amazement while the magician explains that when you give your life to Gd, Gd returns it to you to use for Him.

How convenient. Show them how to give it up and get it back. Aside from failing to make your point, you might as well be the Easter bunny. All we do is go to church and then the basket of chocolate eggs will be waiting back home.

I chuckle at the quote in the article to follow this charming little story:

Pulling biblical lessons out of a hat may seem forced, but as the website of the ministry Seeing Is Not Believing puts it, "Many people will come to see a woman get cut in half that would never set foot in a church building otherwise."

-Catherine Price

I don't know why it doesn't occur to people that maybe church isn't for everyone. Especially after going for years and years, I think most of us need a spiritual break. We've heard it all over and over and OVER again. Repetition, from my own humble experience, only goes so far. We're not reinterpreting the message to the times, to who we become as we age, or even really just thinking about what has been written, when, and why. I'm not bugged by the magicians because of the gimic and the new level to which evangelism has descended... it was only a matter of time before drawing out news everyone has heard resorts to a Dancing Bear act to keep your interest. I'm bothered that they think they can prove to unsuspecting children that Gd exists or has a plan for their lives at all. Faith, like love, arrives when it does and not a moment or a hat trick sooner. Isn't there a verse about that? (Well, Solomon 8:4 discusses that love cannot be awakened until it is... I feel the same way about faith... even from the faith verses once peruses, The Bible gives the benefits of faith rather than a prescription for getting it).

Here is the link to the article: Christian Magicians: Do you believe in magic?
(I got a little cranky after the first page of this four page article...)

There are just so many of us and time changes everything... do we really possess the audacity to believe that a single one of us has it all figured out?

All our "magic tricks" are just that. Who's going to be there for that kid when he or she finds out how the magician did it? Where's the little box representing and proving that Gd is not responsible for our stupid ideas? For our deceptions? For how we manipulate the innocent or harass the VERY well-informed?

Thursday Kitchen: Bizarre Genius

I'm not one of those brilliant people that can conjure amazing new food combinations that turn out fantastically tasty. Anya is. Now, she always was, now that I think about it, so, it's not just the pregnancy talking. But, even if it were, I think pregnant women deserve that gift... to be able to imagine new twists to food and still enjoy them.

Today, Anya came up with this: She put out some Ritz crackers, a small bowl of peanut butter, and a bowl of melted chocolate. We took two cracker rounds, put peanut butter on one side, smushed the two crackers together, and then dipped them into the melted chocolate.

SO good! It's a gradual mixture of salty and sweet. Salty cracker, salty and sweet peanut butter, topped with just sweet chocolate. Even Lilia couldn't resist dipping into the fun.

With that in mind, I'm thinking of the other yummy food combos that I've picked up from other people...

I remember one of my middle school boyfriends turned me on to something that sounded pretty gross at first. His green hair glowed as he ordered at the Wendy's counter. I don't remember what I ordered anymore, but he just asked for a medium order of French fries and a Frosty. He took out a fry, dipped it into the Frosty, and ate it. "What are you doing?" I asked him as he laughed at me. "Try it before you knock it," he took a crunchy fry out of his box (my favorites are the crunchy ones), dipped it in the chocolate milkshake goo, and held it to my face. Knowing me, I either obeyed and opened my mouth or I scowled at him, took the stupid thing out of his hands, and placed the frosted fry in my mouth myself thank-you-very-much.

To this day, it's just not right to have a Frosty with some dipping fries.

Speaking of fries, I didn't use to put anything on them at all. My brothers are ketchup fiends and I've seen other people dump cheese on them or chili (ugh) or, at least, load them up with salt. When not having a Frosty, I do what my Daddy does. I can see him now holding the box of pepper... thumb and ring finger keep it in place while he taps the box with the pointer and middle fingers as though tinkering some tune out on a piano. I finally tried it in my teens and now that's all I ever put on my fries.

I followed a recipe once that called for a blueberry sauce for pork. Pork is one of those meats that goes well with fruit sauces of one kind or another... but I had never thought to use a berry with pig meat. It actually turned out pretty well and we were a little hesitant to throw out the leftover sauce. I think we kept it for a couple weeks wishing we had some idea of what to pour it over... chicken didn't seem right and steak didn't either... All those "special sauce recipes" make more sauce than there will be meat on which to pour it. Note to self: Cut these sauces in half.

I followed another recipe that comes from someone else's brilliant idea... Chex Mix. The mixes range from salty to salty and sweet. I've had the kind with chocolate, dried fruit, and pretzels as well as the other kind (my favorite) with the dark bagel chips, pretzels, nuts, chex cereal, etc. My all-time new homemade favorite calls for chow mein noodles (cooked in soy sauce, brown sugar, and covered in seasame seeds as it hardens), peanuts, wasabi peas, and red pepper flakes. If you're into the Asian flare on normal snacks, this one is fabulous!

My French friend made this... I guess a meatloaf... but inside the meat part, when you sliced through it, you'd find hard boiled eggs. I had never seen such a thing... and this is the dish that broke my 13 year streak of not eating red meat. Just amazing.

This sounds simple and silly, but my mother freezes grapes. Go do that. NOW. Take seedless grapes and stick them in the freezer. By the end of today or tomorrow, you'll have a chewy, cold, candy-like treat that's nice and cold to beat the uncomfortable warmth and humidity of summer.

Anya's mom makes this great summer salad. She buys prepared beets from Trader Joe's and cuts them into small chunks. Then she dices some oinion (I think spring oinion or red) very thin and mixes it. Next she adds chunks of feta cheese and then seasons with salt and peper. And that's really all you need. My mouth is watering just thinking of it... the mixing makes it funny looking, maybe even unappealing to the eye as the feta turns pink, but the taste make up for it.

For Rosh Hashanah, we've learned to make more interesting honey sauces. Traditionally, for this holiday, one dips apples into honey to symbolize the sweetness of the new year. We have made honey sauces infused with citrus (so orange, lemon, and lime rind) or mint. What is really special though, and our current favorite, is infusing the honey with rosemary. I would never have thought of that on my own, but it's really a beautiful combination of flavors and smells. Something about the earth honey taste and smell brings up the feeling of autumn and the harvest time while the piney rosemary reminds us that the winter holidays are just around the corner...

And speaking of holidays, I'll be sitting on Anya's couch this year looking forward to another one of her specialties... Crunchy gingerbread cookies dipped in a mug a hot, mulled wine cider... Oh, I suddenly miss winter...

I'm sure I've left something out... feel free to remind me or tell me of your own bizarre and ingenius mixture!

Wednesday Valuables: Object Buddies

Okay, at the risk of sounding whiny, I'm still not 100%... So, I thought I would write about the inanimate objects without whom my life would be incomplete. Some of these things link back to real people. so. fear not. Once this weather clears I'll get sentimental again...

Yeah.

1. Grandmama's chair

Aside from one book case and my hope chest, this chair is the only thing that has moved with me out of my parents' house and every move after that. It actually does not really remind me of my grandmother save only for the fact that it was hers. I don't even remember where it was in her house. I'm not sure why I'm so attached to it. It's not comfortable. It's not pretty. It's not the perfect fit for a lonely corner. There's no convenient way to put a decent reading lamp above it, around it, near it. Maybe it's for the simple fact that it has accompanied me from place to place... this chair has followed me to Richmond, back to my parents', and to three apartments in Williamsburg. Despite its complete lack of usefulness, it's a necessary part of any room that I dare to call my own.

2. My favorite tea cup

I'm pretty sure my mother bought me my favorite tea cup. It's just so simple and beautiful to me... a dark blue, thin, bone china mug with a white handle. All over the body, one sees the solar system. It's elegant and serene... perfect for a proper cup of tea and a good book on a chilly, dark day. I can hear the soundtracks of Carl Sagan's The Cosmos series or Contact when I look at it. On the flip side, there's another truly ugly cup that I adore... it's a Happy Holidays cup, green, with an absurd black and pink poinsettia patterned dress with no body inside it on the round surface of the mug. Yes, it's hideous... but I quite like it. Perfect for PJs and cocoa.

3. My book collection

I'm one of those people... for some it's teddy bears, others it's vintage Barbie dolls, and others still it's action figures or DVDs. My stupid, exponentially growing hoard of things would be my book collection. I have trouble checking things out at the library... not for research, but for books in which I have an interest in spending time with it, reading it, thinking on it, etc, I prefer my own copy. I tend to underline things I wish to remember in my paperbacks, so, I obviously can't do this with a book belonging to someone else. It's an impulse... if I'm in a bookstore, I really have to talk myself through leaving books behind if I'm either already reading too many books at once or have to admit that if I buy that book on the display shelf I will never actually read it. Still, I wouldn't feel like myself without a large number of books surrounding me. I have this fantasy of living in a cozy house somewhere in which I have a room devoted to my books... shelves lining the walls top to bottom...

4. My tins

I have a tin for each of my friends who writes me or leaves me notes. The heaviest two are Jo's (we didn't really pay attention in French class) and my pen pal's. I used to just have this stupid tin collection in middle school because I thought they were "old-looking" and different. I have a few for some ex-boyfriends, too, to which I decided to hold on to help in aiding the lovesick generation to come. I can't part with most of my cards and letters from people. Sometimes they wander out to become bookmarks or to cheer me up when I'm questioning my relationships for whatever ridiculous reason. Obviously, one can say that, "With one hand the past ushers us forward and with the other it holds us back," but I have my head on about how people change, how feelings change... I just like to remember a sincere moment here and there.

5. The many, many journals

Since I was at least 10, I've kept a journal of some kind. For a while, it was pretty intense... I had a journal for every interest (similar to how I keep this blog, rather than a day for each topic, I had a separate journal) ranging from religion, life drama/lessons, concepts for novels/short stories, poetry, science/astronomy, etc. Nowadays, outside of this blog, I have three journals with which I desperately try to keep up... my concept journal (named Sabrina... it's a long, sweet story), my spirituality journal that follows me to church, temple, and the Buddhist temple, and my poetry journal. I also have this great ugly one in which I sketch out my ideas for gatherings such as tea parties, birthdays, Mom's renewal, etc. I keep them all the way I keep my letter collections as I fill each journal like a tin of thoughts, letters, and memories.

Some other time I'll consider my other precious object friends (starting with my absurd Alice collection...)...

Tuesday Hobbies: Blobbing

Well, I've had a headache all day. Not sure if it's the rain that is coming, has come, refuses to appear... my head hates low pressure movement, though, once the rain actually falls, I tend to feel some relief. Today, there has been no such letup.

So, naturally, I've laid here in between the pangs wondering what I would write about that didn't require too much brain power but that I wouldn't want to shoot myself for publishing on this blog.

I'm thinking of the people close to me taking the bar exam. One day of testing is complete with another day to go. These poor souls sit there, two sessions, three hours to a session, and their lives are in these plastic bags... I had to chuckle when David told me that if you want to bring snacks, you can do that, but for something like a Nutri-grain bar or a protein bar, one has to unwrap it first and then put it in a see-through baggie. You can get into trouble for package crinkling... I just think it's funny.

I can't really remember big tests anymore (though the bar is totally in a league of its own)... I think I blocked it out of my mind. The only example from a standardized, long test that I can recall is a writing sample from the AP English test. Since my brain is broken tonight, I'm going to re-write what the makers of the exam wrote. I remember it because I was a little surprised to find it on this exam. All I read was a narrated time table from a person's day... and since my old hobby, as a kid, was to write plays or stream of consciousness monologues (very mini-Samuel Beckett), here goes:

7:05 am - Alarm went off. I hit the snooze button.
7:15 am - Alarm went off. I considered getting up and going to Pilates/Yoga class. Hit snooze.
7:25 am - Alarm went off. I decided not to go. Changed the times on the alarm and fell into a surface dream about people I never get to see anymore.
9:05 am - Alarm went off. I hit the snooze button.
9:25 am - Alarm went off. I hit the snooze button.
9:28 am - Phone rang. Checked to see it wasn't Anya. It was my aunt. Went back to sleep.
9:45 am - Alarm went off. Cat jumped on the bed and nuzzled her way under the blankets with me. I hit the snooze button again.
10:05 am - Alarm went off. Cat left. I hit thought I hit the snooze button.
11:15 am - Realized I hadn't hit the snooze button. Head spun. Got out of bed.
11:25 am - Made pomegranate oolong tea and one freezer waffle from the absurd batch I had made the day before. Sat with the cat as I drank, ate, watched some Frasier.
12:25 pm - Called my aunt back. She just wanted my teaching schedule for the studio near her place.
12:35 pm - David called. Felt good about the first half of the exam. Off to get lunch. I got off the phone and started on an email to a W&M professor about her class this semester.
2:00 pm - Played Spider Solitaire. Watched more Frasier. Made lunch from left over veggies and semolina pasta.
2:25 pm - Worked out scheduling issue with boss. Mom called in on call waiting.
3:00 pm - Considered being more productive... at least tomorrow.
3:30 pm - Re-wrote some writing samples not saved on this computer for the professor.
3: 45 pm - Decided to take a nap.
4:30 pm - David woke me up. First half of the exam was over. Off he went to play basketball. Off I went to wash up the kitchen.
5:30 pm - Changed around my order for the dairy. Had some water.
6:00 pm - Head pangs got a little worse. Closed my eyes.
6:30 pm - More Solitaire. More computer stuff. Decided to go about dinner.
7:30 pm - Ate, considered taking a yoga class tomorrow, tried to read some of my Parabola.
8:00 pm - Made Turkish coffee in hopes that would help dull the headache.
8:45 pm - Called my aunt again after realizing I forgot to tell her my schedule.
8:52 pm - Asked Anya the sort of question I can only ask her.
9:00 pm - Sent Jo a message... my headache distracted me from talking to her earlier. Considered what I ought to do to make the pain go away before tomorrow.
9:31 pm - Started this entry after searching the net for other information about my hobbies.
9:48 pm - David called ready to turn in.
9:57 pm - Didn't cry after the final episode of Frasier... I always cry when I watch the very last episode (that's why I don't often watch it). Decided I officially needed to take some drugs.
10:10 pm - After preparing for bed, taking Excedrin, putting dishes away, I started a conversation with Tristan to see how he felt about taking the bar today.
10:24 pm - Put the dairy cooler outside to prepare for tomorrow's delivery.
10:41 pm - Back started to spasm.
10:44 pm - Decided to put this entry out of its misery.

Time for bed. Now. Head, please, cut this out...

Monday Review: Me and my sad girls

One of the first pieces of artwork that I ever purchased was a pencil drawing that the artist had titled "Sad Jenny". I couldn't put my finger on what drew me to this sad face... it was just a slight frown with slightly unturned eyebrows. Sort of pitiful, I guess. Maybe she reflected how I was feeling at the time. I'm not sure, because I want to smile thinking of her even now.

With this thought in my tired, rain-addled mind (it's going to be a long, stormy week apparently), I thought I'd review my current favorite work of art:

Girl at the Mirror by Norman Rockwell

(from http://arteyartistas.files.wordpress.com)

I find her sadness so stunning...

So, obviously, we're looking at a young lady looking at herself in the mirror with a maudlin kind of longing. The scene plays out a little like this to me:

Young girl was flipping through Mom's magazine in frustration. Once the parents went out on the porch after supper, she tip toed upstairs, moved the tall mirror out of the bathroom and into her room, propped it on her desk chair, and then the fantasy begins... She pulls out her comb and a lipstick she found weeks ago in her mother's purse. She pulls up the ends of her hair that her mother had left dangling down around her shoulders after braiding up her hair that morning. She opens the magazine to that perfect face... Jane Russell smiles up from the page to no one. The girl starts to compare herself to the vixen(a classic feminine pastime), shrinks down onto her little bench, and sighs.

It's so heartbreaking... in the bottom left-hand corner, one sees a worn doll crumpled at the edge of the mirror. Seems to me this represents the pushing aside of childhood, looking towards adolescence and adulthood. The girl has abandoned the carefree charms of youth to contemplate a time in life far ahead of her and beyond her current understanding. At this age, what girl could put together all the aspects that make Jane Russel the kind of woman upon which people want to gaze...

What I really love is the reflection. The light coming into the room shines on her skin and white slip. The luster in the glow Rockwell has painted makes it seem as though she had been spun from gold (in spit of the disappointment on her face). I'd like to think that this shimmer insinuates that this girl is lovelier than she wants to see. She's in a beautiful time in life at which we all look back with some regret. This idea one can see in the painting seems to say, "If knew then what I know now..." I know I certainly wanted to grow up too fast. I don't regret being serious, but I do regret not taking a few chances due to the fear that I'd never do better...

This moment reaches across the board to so many women. Most ladies admit to having spent some portion of their time comparing themselves to the better looking women. I think I talked with one of my roommates from VCU about that topic. We actually laid on our bellies on a sheet in the Engineering courtyard and watched the people walking into building through the glass. We took turns at complaining about what those girls had that we didn't... We all ridiculously disregard what we do have going for us to idolize the fleeting gift of beauty. We all have to get old. Even Jane Russell aged...

Here she is when she played "Dorothy" opposite Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes:

(from http://upload.wikimedia.org)

And here she is towards the end of her life:

(from www.contactmusic.com)

You can say what you want, but despite the gray hair, wrinkles, and change in attire, I don't see any less spunk in this older woman than the young woman... and I feel that's half of what determines a beautiful person. There has to be something behind it (just LOOK at those eyes).

It's a simple work that conjures all these thoughts about youth, beauty, womanhood... and I guess that's what I like most in a work of art. I like wanting desperately to fill in the story that the artist depicts... and I think great art provokes conversation, wonderment, and some image or feeling that sticks inside your own heart as if you were there or the actual subject of the painting.

Here's a link to a Googlebook that goes into more depth on this painting and the times of the great Norma Rockwell: The Underside of Innocence by Richard Halpern

Sunday Reflections: For the rain, it raineth everyday...

(from http://israelity.com)

I've been waiting for this rain for some time now... perhaps with the death of Mister John, it's odd to watch the happy, clear elements... How could it be sunny and pleasant when my friend is gone?

It's quite a rain though... it's the kind of lightning that looks like daylight and the thunder is so hard that a car alarm in the neighborhood went off (twice). I love the sound of rain hitting the pavement. Though rain tends to aggravate my fibromyalgia symptoms, I find the sound relaxing...

So, as I reflect today, I'm thinking about other great rainy days...

I remember one beautiful fall season... I came down with a cold and confined myself to my room. Since I clearly had time to kill, I played all three Lord of the Rings movies back to back to the natural soundtrack of rain tapping on the dried, fallen leaves. The leaves were brightly colored that year, so even as the sun set, the light hitting the leaves glowed like a forest of fairies creating the perfect atmosphere on a day when I wanted to escape myself (and that runny nose).

I also remember walking through the streets of New York last summer. Without thinking to check the weather, we had stupidly walked out into the city without an umbrella. We weren't walking in Times Square... instead we took these quiet back roads on which the options of ducking under the shelter of a shop were few and FAR away. We finally found a bookstore... we were drenched head to soggy jeans... which are sticky and heavy against the skin when wet. Our feet squished in our shoes as we tried not to drip on the papers. The shop smelled of radiator heat which was welcome even in the intense warmth of summer. I came across some fun books I had never seen before... which always counts for a good afternoon, rain or shine!

My piano/voice teacher from grade school had a daughter a few years older than me named Ginger. I thought she was the coolest person on the planet and was stunned when she asked me to go out roller skating with her (Shut up! This was in the 80s!). I was at their house getting ready... Ginger was acting like the big sister I never had! She teased my hair, crimped it, and tied it up on top of my head like Madonna's hair in Holiday from the Like a Virgin tour. She picked out some of her own clothes to accessorize what I had brought. Did my make-up... turned me into an 80s, pop star princess. On our way out, I had to feel my way around the furniture. All the lights were out. When the lightning flashed, I saw the back of my teacher's head back-lit from scene out the window. She was taking the time to just sit there and watch the storm... and I was half-tempted to cancel my tour of coolness with Ginger and just sit with my teacher listening to the rain and blinking against the lightning.

One of maybe two of my favorite works by Shakespeare is Twelfth Night. My favorite character is the smart-mouthed Feste who both confounds and illuminates the facts to the other people in the play. In a decent film version, Feste is portrayed by the brilliant Ben Kingsley. They wrote him a little song derived from Shakespeare's words in the text called "For the rain, it raineth everyday..." (When that I was and a little tiny boy/ With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,/ A foolish thing was but a toy,/ For the rain it raineth every day...) The lyrics, as they go on, suggest that there's a bit of misery discending upon us everyday... but when you listen to the words, it makes it sound like that's not such a big deal... reminiscent of Elizabeth Bishop's The Art of Losing (The art of losin isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.)

Those are my rain thoughts for tonight... care to share yours?