So we interrupt this program to bring you the special feature . . . Rome AND bust!!
We made it to Rome . . . and there were many extravagent doings along the way, all of which are radically hilarious and well worth telling. But the trouble is that I don’t have time – not even to tell you about the uncouth and unruly Germans who are in charge of Neuschwanstein Castle and wouldn’t let us in, and what’s worse, didn’t show even a pang of remorse about it – even though we were there during opening hours. We’ll have to skip that bit – and skip the rest of the throw up stories – and skip the seedy hotel in Pavia – and skip the Italians’ failure to mark their roads. We also pass over the bit about minibus maneuvers that Ben was able to perform against all odds . . . even unto the part where he turned it into a pretzel and then drove back out the wrong way on a one way street.
We pass over these things, and move on to the spicy moment when we finally crested into Rome, and within the first (literally) 4 minutes of having found our hotel, we were Continue reading ‘Rome and Bust (ed)’
Well now. This week has turned out to be rather different that I was expecting a week ago. As a matter of fact, it’s been one week to the day since we got the phone call from Nate . . . saying that he thought they might as well bring their four kids over for Spring Break. They’d been wanting to come over again this year, and it was looking all of the sudden like it was now or never. “Carpe Diem” they thought to themselves, not to mention that there was a great deal on tickets.
We, of course, were thrilled to have them come – and the cousins were all super whipped up to see each other again after a six month separation. So far so good, right? The trouble was that we started having a lot of, “Oh wouldn’t it be fun if . . . ” sorts of conversations and there weren’t any adults around to stop us. And the long and short of it was that we decided to road trip it to Rome.
Right. Rome. With nine children under the age of ten, and three and a half days to plan it. Like I said, they called last weekend . . . and I am currently sitting in a hotel in Heidelberg where we are spending our second day. Continue reading ‘Rome or Bust’
What we have here is a tea towel that you clearly need. So buzz on over to The Fortnightly Purse and find out what other loot you can win! Not to mention, you need to go over there anyway to check and find out if you’re the lucky duck who won the mezzaluna from last time. So get yourself on over there!
So here it is – Shrove Tuesday. Isn’t it called Fat Tuesday in the South? Or is that just New Orleans? Either way, today is the day before Lent, and here in England that makes it Pancake Day. No gumbo, no jambalaya, no spicy foods, no revelry, no Mardi Gras parades . . . just a nice, simple, understated, very English approach to the day before Lent – pancakes.
The tradition began apparently, because people were cleaning out their cupboards in preparation for the 40 days – and needed to use up all the eggs and flour. Thus the pancake. And an interesting observation that I read somewhere was that the Egg theme at Easter is nothing to do with pagan fertility symbols being surreptiously brought into the resurrection story . . . it’s far more likely that the hens kept right on laying all the way through Lent – and so by the time it got to be Easter everyone had a vast quantity of eggs that they needed to deal with in some way. Coloring them and making up games for children with them is a very clever use of resources I have to say!
Now, I don’t do Lent. But I can definitely get into Pancake Day. I mean, in the same way that I can appreciate Bonfire Day even though I’m not English, I can also really get into Continue reading ‘Happy Pancake Day!’
Yes, I know this is old news. But now you can’t go two steps in Oxford without being greeted by this merry little message on the side of basically every bus that zooms past – and every time I see it I just get extensively cracked up!
I mean, seriously. “There probably is no God.” What kind of gung-ho message is that?! Honestly – they’re practically begging every resident of the UK to seriously consider Pascal’s Wager . . . which you know they never would have done in a million years otherwise.
What kind of atheism is this anyways? I think they need to get out more and read a bit more Nietzsche. Nietzsche would never have settled for a peppy little message in pink that contained the word “probably”. And that little word “probably” is no doubt unsettling numerous middle aged women across the nation who had never given it a thought up until now, and are suddenly wondering every five minutes if they’re willing to bet their soul on that very uncertain message.
They’re also selling t-shirts by the way. It’s quite hilarious that now there’s a category of atheist kitsch. It must mean that all those Christian billboards and John 3:16 shirts are working far more than I suspected they were. The atheists have finally had it up to here, and are now copying the pop evangelical methods of getting the message out there! It’s kinda fun to have it go that direction for once. It used to be that across from every music store in every mall there was the Christian answer to it – full of knock-offs and almost-as-good-as paraphernalia. But it’s quite hilarious to think of the atheists then having to put up their own little kiosk with their not-quite-as-powerful answer to the evangelicals . . . tacky little key chains with humanist slogans and “I’m pretty sure there’s no Hell” bookmarks and inspirational posters that say things like, “I don’t think that Final Judgments are very nice to think about.”
It’s quite heartening, really.
When you’re down on your luck,
And you ain’t got a buck,
In London,
You’re a gonner.
Even London Bridge,
Has fallen down,
And moved to Arizona,
And I know why.
This is a little snippet from a song entitled “London Homesick Blues” which I have to admit is the twangiest of the twangy country songs that you could ever hope to hear. And yes, I have it on my ipod, and I listen to it frequently as I do the dishes. (Lest you think that I have earplugs in, I have to tell you that the ipod is plugged into the speaker.) Usually it’s a funny song. I mean, the chorus is, “I wanna go home with the armadillo.” But the little intro verse which I quoted above has suddenly taken on a newer and a deeper and a richer meaning. I am starting to feel that there are hidden depths in this song. Insights that ought to be paid attention to. These are deep and profound and perceptive remarks.
Here’s what happened. We got the flu. Also, our bank seized up inexplicably and we couldn’t draw on any of our funds. (Long, tedious story, and you really don’t want to hear about it. It’s just painful and ridiculous, and well, inexplicable. But that was the Continue reading ‘When you’re down on your luck . . .’
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