Deepak Chopra vs. Mark Driscoll... and... go.

A few weeks ago, Nightline aired a debate on the existence of Satan. The panel consisted of Annie Lobert, Mark Driscoll, Deepak Chopra, and "Bishop" Carlton Pearson. Lobert and Pearson both advocate a feelings-oriented view on God and Satan, which produces little more than some unusual one-liners, but Driscoll and Chopra, who both concentrate on a more logical, facts-based argument, make for some interesting television. Watch these two short clips in which they really go at it. Some juicy quotes:

Driscoll: "Do you really think that people got together and said, 'Let's create a religion in which there's only one way to Heaven, we're all sinners, and hell's hot and forever's a long time,' and actually voted on that and that's what we ended up with. Were it invented, I think we would end up with something totally different, like salvation by eating chicken wings and napping. That's what I would've voted for."

Chopra: "I don't need the devil because I don't have the guilt and shame that you people have."
Driscoll: "I don't have guilt and shame; I used to, and then being forgiven lifts it. And then I don't need to rejoice in myself. I get the joy of thanking Someone rather than being proud.

Driscoll: "But you talk about love and compassion and unity and demean people by saying they're primitive."
Chopra: "You are putting all your faith in that book which was written 5,000 years ago.
Driscoll: "I put my faith in the man that this book tells the story of.

It's very easy for a Christian to lose a debate not through his words but through his attitudes. If a Christian succumbs to pride or sinful judging, he has lost the debate, even if he presents the most closely reasoned, logical argument, because he's shown us that Christianity doesn't work. It doesn't do what it claims to do. Usually, that's what happens. Debates tend to squeeze the heart and drain out all of the nasty stuff until it drips all over the other side.

In this case, it's Chopra who's dripping sin and Driscoll who's dripping love and humility. He admits that, given the choice, he'd create a religion of laziness and indulgence. He affirms that he loves and wants good for Chopra, Pearson, and the woman in the audience who disagrees with him (see part 8). THIS, truly, is a victory for Christianity. Not only is it true, it WORKS! (And not just to make us feel good, but to make us holy.) God be praised!

I highly recommend watching the whole video (all 10 parts!-- start at the beginning). It gets better once the audience starts asking questions.

Domestic Endeavors

First of all, please pray for this family. They've been through a lot in the last 24 hours, and their sweet little son has been through a lot in his very short life. Pray that it isn't cut shorter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, "tomorrow" didn't come as soon as I had planned . . . but I finally have a few moments to take some pictures and update you all on my work-less week. First, in my feeble attempt to live as the farmgirl I really am (even in suburbia), I planted a whole re-purposed egg carton's worth of seeds.

There's tomatoes, chives, basil, sage, and parsley-- everything that's cheaper to grow than buy, that I can use in bulk, and that I can put in a reasonable-sized container, as our neighborhood doesn't allow actual gardens. :-( The tomatoes are clearly coming up; they're about 2 1/2 inches tall right now!

This one gives a better view of the emerging sprouts. Along with the tomatoes, I've also got a bit of basil that you can just see poking out of the soil and a tiny little parsley sprout that you'll just have to take my word for, as my camera wouldn't focus on something that close-up. Also, I planted an old packet of wildflower seeds, just for fun, as I didn't really think they would sprout. They now look like this:

I'm not sure what I'll do with them, as I know I'm allowed to plant them straight into the ground, as they're not edible, but I don't know if I should, as I don't know which flowers they are. Maybe I'll decide once they show me their identities.

I think that's enough domestic-ness for today. More house projects later!

Way Better than Canned

This week has been the week of domesticity. My nannying family is on vacation, so I have had absolutely nothing I have to do and nowhere I have to be. That is entirely too much freedom for me, so I've made myself an impossible to-do list, with the understanding that I didn't have to get it all done, but I did have to try. This has kept me fairly busy and made me feel like Suzy Homemaker. I've organized whole rooms, cleaned out closets, bought paint (on clearance! Thanks InDeeds!), shopped the clearance racks, and . . . drumroll please . . . made this:

. . . which doesn't look nearly as delicious in this picture as it was in real life. Homemade chicken soup. Is there anything more comforting? Or labor-intensive? :-P

Actually, my mom's chicken soup recipe is pretty easy (step 1: put chicken in large pot of water. Cook for 3 hours.). It does take all day, though, and a good bit of vegetable chopping and chicken-pulling-apart. But it's so worth it . . . on so many levels, as not only is soup comforting, it's also cheap. I crunched the numbers for you:

1 "bowling ball" chicken @ $.99/pound = approx. $5.50
1 bag celery = $2
1 bag carrots = $2
1 box noodles (leftover lasagna noodles from the progressive dinner) = $1.50 (a serious splurge)
2 onions = $.98
TOTAL Cost = approx. $12 . . . for 3 dinners and 5 lunches.

AND I know exactly what's in this soup . . . no hydrolyzed soy or MSG here.

More on my domestic endeavors tomorrow. :-)

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Catnip!

We decided a long time ago that we were not going to subject our kittens to the feline equivalent of a controlled substance (i.e. catnip). We just didn't want to go down that road, getting them addicted to something that altered their personalities.

But the kittens, it seems, had other ideas. In the last few days, we have had all the windows open to take advantage of the beautiful, spring-like weather. To our kittens, the fresh air wafting in has had all the appeal and effects of catnip.

Lemme make this point another way . . .

With the windows closed:






With the windows open:





They stand by the door like this for hours, inhaling deeply and sniffing in every direction, their ears and tails twitching as if they could pounce at any moment.


Ahhhh, fresh air. The catnip of the catnip-deprived.

mall shopping

Lessons learned on a solo trip to Christiana Mall today:

1. If at all possible, go to the mall in the middle of the morning on a weekday. The staff is way more attentive and cheerful. The stores are also not staffed by angsty teenagers. Speaking of angsty teenagers, there are very few of those roaming the mall at this time slot as well, which is always a plus.

2. If you wander into a store in which you are genuinely interested but can't afford anything at the moment, don't reject the overtures of the staff, especially if said store franchised within the last 5 years and moved to the mall in the last 2 months. They will give you FREE stuff. I now have an entire tub of natural, handmade facewash just because I let the lady talk. Retail value: $12.95.

3. Mall drivers are THE WORST. Enough said.

4. Upon entering a store, if you are not looking for an extremely specific season-sensitive item, proceed directly to the back. Having worked in a mall store, I can tell you that the merchandise on the sale racks at the back of the store is usually only a few weeks old but carries way more than a few weeks' worth of discount. $10 Ann Taylor sweater, anyone?

5. Ducking into Teavana for the sole purpose of picking up a free sip or two of tea is really awkward when you're the only customer in the store, making the staff to customer ratio 2 to 1. Pretend to browse really expensive teapots to diffuse the awkwardness, although, if you do this, you run the risk of being tempted by the seriously discounted gorgeous teacups in the back. Remind yourself that you DO NOT need another teacup, and deal with the awkward glances from the staff as you exit.

6. If an attractive-in-a-euro-metrosexual-kind-of-way man at a hand cream kiosk approaches you and says, "Ma'am, can I ask you a question?", say no. Smile while you do it, but say no. Firmly. Then duck into the store you were heading for, which happens to be right across from the kiosk, and listen as his kiosk partner berates him in Italian for getting rejected. Stride quickly and purposefully towards the back of the store. (See lesson number 4.)

It was a productive, rather educational morning.

Aidan's Cold

You're all going to have to use your imagination to fill in the cracks in this post. Some experiences just don't translate well into print, but I'll do my best.

Aidan has been feeling a bit under the weather lately. Adrian and I are convinced that we gave him our colds, which were miserable enough for us, let alone for a 3 year-old. As with any small child (or any of us, truth be told), Aidan's health dictates his emotions, which consisted yesterday of fear, sadness, and dissatisfaction.

Zach, Aidan, and I were sitting at the dinner table last night. Sitting upright by himself on a chair and trying to eat was a bit much for Aidan, so, after 5 or 10 minutes, he started complaining that he was cold and wanted to go lie down. But the fun conversation that Zach and I were having was too much for him to abandon completely, so he took his blankie and lay down on the living room floor near the dining room, in a spot where he could still hear us. At a pause in the conversation, he started whining for his mommy, so I let him come sit on my lap. Once he was settled, Zach said, "My friend from school knows one of our church songs." I asked him which one, and he began singing exuberantly, pumping his little fist in the air: "Oh no, you never let go, through the calm and through the storm...". Rather than correct him for this breach of manners, I decided to join in, and together we sang the rest of the song. Then Aidan joined in. He didn't know any of the words, so his singing sounded something like, "Oh no, da da da da da...", but he definitely caught the song's meaning, smiling broadly when I changed the last phrase to "Lord, you never let go of Aidan".

We could debate the validity of that last statement for the rest of our lives, or we could have faith that God holds Aidan and Zach in the very palms of His hands and will save them one day. I'll choose the latter. All I know is that there was something lovely about watching a sick little boy, who had spent the better part of the last 3 days whining, begin to grasp the fact that God is taking care of him. He sang and listened to that song as if it had to be true, as if it was the most logical thing in the world, with no feasible alternative. Oh, that we could all grasp this lesson with such childlike faith. Oh, that I could.

Baby Kitten, Meet Baby Emma

Sometimes, we treat our kittens like babies. We know they're not, but they're just so darn cute, sometimes we can't resist.

Well, our babies got quite a shock on Sunday when a real baby invaded their house.

Mustang, meet Emma.

They were very curious about her, to the point of trying to jump in the car seat with her, which we of course had to nip in the bud. Then, she started crying, and both kittens mysteriously disappeared upstairs, only returning once she was asleep. We laid her on the couch for a minute or two, and they examined her with the most puzzled looks on their faces.

Get used to it, boys. In a couple of years, one of those is going to live here.

Not Me! Monday

For a few weeks now, I have been following this blog, which has a segment every week entitled "'Not Me!' Mondays". For the same few weeks, I have been wanting to replicate this segment in my own corner of the blogging world. Alas, I have always forgotten about it until Tuesday or Wednesday, and by then, it would just be lame. BUT, today the stars have aligned. So, I bring you . . .

This week, I so did not take the car to the repair shop, forgetting on the way that the 896 bridge is closed and so making the trip 20 minutes longer than it should have been. While at said repair shop, I definitely didn't find out that our car needed much more maintenance than we thought and would need to stay the night. After I wasn't told this, I certainly didn't tell them to just keep the car tonight, only thinking about how I could probably find a ride home, and not how I would get back to the shop tomorrow. I definitely did not continue to forget about this unsolved problem until I was halfway home. And all this did not happen because the dealership screwed us over and charged us waaaay too much for waaay too little service. Nope. We would never let that happen. We are informed consumers who always know what's going on and shop around so that we don't get taken.

And that is how "'Not Me!' Monday" works. Join in for a dose of humility. :-)

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

The Danger of Complimenting Someone's Writing

alternately titled: poetry from 4 years ago

That's right. The few compliments on my writing that I've received have made me bold (or crazy) enough to regale you with poetry from freshman year. Here we go! (Feel free to laugh.)

Fall

Crunch.
Shuffling along, I glance down
To see the leaf I squashed.
Poor dead leaf,
Skin brittle and brown,
Spirit already broken.

Laying on the hard brick,
Exposed to the world,
To the elements,
To people like me
Who stomp on it willingly.

A girl slowly plods by,
Head lowered, shoulders bent
As if carrying something
Much heavier than herself.

She’s the one
Who brushes her teeth too violently,
Who jumps into conversations
Not her own.

Her clothes a little too out of place,
Hair tangled and dry,
But carefully tied with a ribbon.
Trying too hard.

“She’s the weird one,” whispers my friend.
“Oh yeah?,” I reply. “She looks like it.”
The girl cringes, turns to me
With suffering red eyes.

Crunch.

Love at First Sight

Two awkward strangers shyly raise their eyes
And gaze into a world not yet their own.
Their pulses quicken, hearts jump with surprise
To find their bodies, face, and eyes at home.

He knows that small, coy smile from his dreams.
She recognizes kindness in his gaze.
Both see the other’s thoughts and fears and schemes
As if their souls met in another age.

At last he speaks with halting, unsure words
Designed to demonstrate his wit and skill.
She listens well, but how much has she heard?
Or is her judgement tainted by this thrill?

When feelings new and strange invade our sight,
They block out judgement calls and keep us blind.

Cafeteria Haiku

Why do you insist
On naming it from high school...
“Cafeteria.”

Much more dignity
For those who go every day
To say “Dining Hall.”

Cafeterias
Are marked by milk cartons and
Standardized lunches,

Hyperactive kids,
Screaming, spreading chicken pox,
Flailing limbs and lungs.

“Dining Hall” implies
A sense of culture and taste,
Adult preferences.

“Please say ‘Dining Hall’,”
I tell my new acquaintance,
Who gladly complies.

Armed with my new name,
I read the daily menu........

Cafeteria food.

Lancaster, PA

The sun slips behind the horizon,
Pulling the daylight with it,
It’s the time of day

When electricity takes over,
People flipping switches,
Creating light.

I wait in silence for this moment,
And I keep waiting.
But nothing happens.

Humble little farms stay dark.
People inside content
To let Someone else do the creating.

The only noise is the rumble of our truck
And the distant rhythm of hooves,
Soon not so distant.

We pass the proud horse, the little buggy.
I strain to see faces
But they are hidden from me.
They are hidden from the world.

Content in their simplicity,
Not wanting anything more
Than to be left alone,

To blend in,
To wear simple black,
To till the earth.

Instead, they have become
Tourist attractions
For a flashy world
Who wants to believe
That simplicity still exists.

Son of Man

A tiny baby, in a stable born.
To save mankind from sin is why He came.
The Heavens open up to praise His name,
His purpose known before the earth was formed.
This child soon grows up to be a man
Like other men, but perfect, right, and good.
He heals the sick and gives the hungry food,
And dies and rises to fulfill God’s plan.

How do you tell the story of this life?
How can you tell someone his sins are gone?
God penned the letters of His son through men;
We added them to ancient texts of scribes.
The prophesies all pointed toward the One.
A Book was made, unlike the world had seen.

The Process

The old carpenter picks up a log,
Brushes it off, examines it.
He feels the rough bark,
Notices the knots, the imperfections,
Turns it over in his hands
And gingerly sets it down on his workbench.

He pulls out a saw,
A great, shining, terrifying thing,
Designed to cut through hearts,
To remove any trace of rot.
And he joins the two,
And the wood groans as he slices it away
Bit by agonizing bit.
It cries sawdust where he breaks it.
The remnants of its other life.

Once he has broken it,
The master begins putting pieces together,
Driving tiny nails through resistant wood.
Reshaping, correcting, measuring, lining up.
Something begins to take shape.

The carpenter grips his creation,
And it splinters him.
So he selects the right paper,
And begins to sand,
Slowly wearing off the roughness,
Scraping, rasping, hours of work around the edges.
More sawdust falls.

One thing more it needs, the master knows
To protect it, preserve it,
Allow it to be useful.
He coats it with layers of paintbrushed liquid,
His own special mix,
Ages old. He saturates the wood until
It can hold no more.
Until it will soak up none of the world around it.

The master carpenter lifts this creation,
This plain wooden cup.
He examines once more, then pours.
The liquid holds.
His own wine
Held in this simple cup.

Chocolate, Midnight, and Amish Ice Hockey

Well, I'm finally posting about the Marriage Conference . . . and now some of the details are a little foggy, so bear with me as I reminisce . . .

We got lost on our way up, to the tune of about an hour's extra travel time. Part of it was Google's fault, and part of it was human error. Adrian felt terrible about it . . . but we still arrived 1 1/2 hours before the first session started, with enough time to check in (free chocolate bars!) , get our stuff together, and grab dinner. ($9.00 panini sandwiches in the hotel's coffee shop; I wish I could say that that was the last time we ate there.)

The next day should have started with breakfast at Skyline Diner (20 minutes away), but we had a bit of an early-morning problem . . . so the next day started with breakfast at Friendly's (20 seconds away).

It was a great time, so I really couldn't have asked for more, and Adrian handled the last-minute change of his best-laid plans like a pro.

As a matter of fact, meals like this were probably my favorite part of the conference. Yes, the messages were amazing, and getting away for a weekend was great, but it was so wonderful to be able to hang out with all these couples without the constant interruption of children. After the last session on Saturday night, a bunch of us went to the hotel's sports bar and talked until midnight. I feel as if Adrian and I benefited as much from our interaction with all the wise, godly couples around us as we did from the messages.

On the way home, as we were remarking about how great it would be to live on a farm in the Pennsylvania countryside, we saw this:

Can you tell what's going on here? Let me give you another view:

Yes, this is a crowd of Amish boys skating on a frozen pond, a homey and quaint little scene. But look closer . . . these Amish people are playing hockey. They've set up goals, and they have pucks and sticks. It just made us want to live in the country more. *sigh*

Varied Responses to a Historic Day

Yesterday, America's first African-American president was sworn into office. This represented an historic moment for people of all races, creeds, and nationalities, especially those who have been oppressed.

But you knew that already.

What you might not know is how those here in town reacted to this historic day. I spent a good portion of my day interacting with various people of all different *ahem* shall we say, opinions?

The day began at a local Episcopal school. I volunteered in the library, assisting the librarian with a special "Inauguration Day" schedule of activities. In between classes, she and another volunteer (a mother) began discussing the presidential election. Their conversation went something like this:

"I didn't think we could do it, but we really did!"
"I know; that moment when almost all the polls were in, and he was leading, didn't you just feel this great satisfaction. I mean, we did it! I just turned the tv off and went to bed, satisfied and happy."
"Oh yeah, when the last of the California polls reported and they announced the winner, I was like, 'Yes!'"

These two women seem to feel a kind of kinship with President Obama. They kept saying "we", as if they personally were responsible for the outcome of the election, as if they themselves had campaigned for him. And maybe they did; I don't know. I do know they were ecstatic. Slightly less ecstatic was a little girl who came in moments later, from a kindergarten class. She and her classmates were coloring pictures of Obama, and she began jamming her crayon down on his face as hard as she could, while muttering, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" The librarian, who had not heard her diatribe, told her to "be careful with that crayon," so the girl put the crayon down and began using her fist, pounding our President's face as hard as she could, her little face contorted with rage.

Now, I don't know about you, but I didn't know what hate was when I was in kindergarten. I certainly didn't know this kind of hate, this blinding anger at someone I had never met. Dare I say that this kind of hate has to be "carefully taught" in order to exist in someone this young?

Then I went across town to a daycare that I used to work for and ran into the owner. When asked if his establishment was going to watch the inauguration, he said, "How?" (He had a good point; they don't get tv reception there.) He then said, "And why?" My jaw dropped as a thousand reasons why jostled in my head. "Because it's historic, because it's patriotic, because he's our President, for crying out loud . . ." Sadly, I was brave enough to say none of these. I merely smiled weakly as he continued, "I mean, I don't hate him; I just don't think he's our savior either." Well, neither do I. I have a Savior, and it's not President Obama. But I still found reasons to watch the inauguration of our first African-American President.

Whatever you think about our 44th President, his views, his skin color, his speeches, he is our President. God tells us to respect our leaders and our governments as long as they don't make us abandon our faith, and even then, He never tells us to hate them. I will be praying for you, little kindergarten girl, and for myself, that I would forgive and love my enemies the way Christ taught us to.

Happy Inauguration Day.

Lots of Links

Congratulations to this wonderful family on the birth of their lovely baby girl! Emma is so beautiful!

--------------------------------------------------------------

We're leaving for the Sovereign Grace Marriage Conference this afternoon. Hopefully, it'll be a restful, productive, learning experience as we take this "Sabbath" together.

A Dangerous Admission

*The proceeding post is designed to be tongue-in-cheek. Please don't take any of it too seriously. I love my friends who love football, and I'm not in therapy for my childhood experiences of it.*

In the past weekend, my husband and our friends have watched 4 football games together. . . and I was there, my nose buried firmly in a book. Now, I will be the first to acknowledge that football parties are a great chance to build friendships and maybe even fellowship a little, but the whole actually watching the game part kind of bums me out. I always knew that I didn't like football; what I've realized recently is that I actively dislike it. I actually find it difficult to watch.

Now, I know that this is a dangerous admission in the Delmarva area. This is a region where half of our church's leadership team shows up on Sunday morning wearing Eagles' paraphernalia, where our pastor's benediction once was, "Go Eagles!", where high school football games take precedence over anything else on a Friday night, and where the advertisement for the local news station declares that "we" in Delmarva "have a passion for sports". More than once at the daycare, I've heard children (and adults) say incredulously, "You don't own a jersey?!?" "You don't know who won last night?!" "You don't even like football?!?". Hello, my name is Meredith, and I dislike football.

Of course, I have a perfectly legitimate excuse for being this way. I was raised in the DC Metro area as a Redskins fan. The Redskins were a decent team for the first 7 or 8 years of my life. Then they went downhill . . . fast. My dad still held to the old alliance, but I grew tired of hearing, "You like the Redskins? Don't you know they're terrible?!" Some of my friends have held fast to their allegiances under pressure like this (Go Orioles!), and I admire them for that, but I just couldn't do it. I just backed out of the whole football scene, resentfully, my true allegiance still lying with the Redskins and my heart slowly growing bitter at having to watch them lose again . . . and again . . . and again. By the time they made their comeback, (can we call it a comeback?), I was too far gone even to appreciate that.

Let it be known: I will watch other sports with the best of 'em. I love going to baseball games, I adore televised soccer, and I am enamored with the Olympics. But I can't watch football. Sorry, Delmarva.

words of peace and comfort

When one takes a leap of faith in a certain direction and doesn't see the bridge, or even a parachute yet, it's easy to regret every leap one has ever taken, especially if one finds oneself with a large amount of free time in which to think and worry.

So here I am, being haunted by the ghosts of jobs past: jobs that I was offered but turned down for one reason or another, jobs that could have led me where I want to be, jobs that I was so perfect for but didn't get.

And as I'm fighting the self-pity and regret that comes with these thoughts, a song starts playing. It goes something like this:

"King of glory, I know you love me
So I will trust you
Yes I will trust you
God almighty, you have saved me
So I will trust you
Yes I will trust in you."

But the bridge was the kicker:

"How can I not trust my King?
The one who has formed me and shaped me
I will rejoice and will sing
For the one who has made me has saved me."

God has a plan for my life, and it's GOOD! He formed me and shaped me; He gave me these talents and abilities, and He has a plan to use them for HIS glory, but it's for MY good too! How can I not trust someone who holds the universe in the palm of His hand, yet chose to suffer and die to save a wretch like me? My God is infinitely powerful, all-knowing and wise, yet infinitely good, kind and merciful. Praise be to God!

*Song quotes are taken from "So I Will Trust You", from the album "Come Weary Saints" by Sovereign Grace Ministries

our New Year's in numbers...

In the past 4 days...

I have spent 2 3/4 days in bed.
Adrian has acquired 2,343 points in Wii Boxing.
I sustained a 102 degree fever for 2 days.
Adrian bowled a 258 on the Wii.
Shrek the Third has been watched 6 times.
We have gone through 2 thermometers
. . . 1/2 bottle of Advil
. . . and 1 whole bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Four different movies have been watched, 2 of them at least twice.
I have showered once.

BUT, I'm finally on the mend (thank you God for modern medicine!), and our life is getting back to normal. My New Year's Resolution? To stop being sick. Seriously. That's enough, germs.

In all seriousness, though, every time I get knock-you-off-your-feet sick, it seems I learn something. . . or, often, a few somethings. So, here are this week's strep lessons:

1) Taking care of sick people does not come naturally to everyone. And that's OKAY.

Some of you may not be as surprised at this revelation as I was. But taking care of the helpless, be they sick, young, or old, comes so naturally to me that I can't keep myself from doing it, even when I try (which is probably what landed me in this sickbed in the first place). So it was quite a shock to discover that my husband HATES this job. I thought his complaining at having to go buy me Gatorade meant that he didn't care for me; what I should have realized was that the fact that he went at all means that he loves me more than anyone else. Now if I can just remember that the next time I'm sick. . .

2) It's easy to find your identity (joy, peace, whatever you want to call it) in getting everything done, no matter how long (or short) your to-do list and how much (or little) time you have.

Being sick forces you to slow down, or, in my case these past few days, to stop. And, when I got up on Saturday, the house was a wreck, we didn't have any food, all our clothes and dishes were dirty, phone calls un-returned, and bills unpaid. And . . . life went on. We were happy. We found something to eat. The sky didn't fall. Adrian didn't hate me. God didn't hate me. For 3 days, I wasn't trying to be perfect, and it took those 3 days for me to realize that I had been trying all along. Can somebody say legalisim?

3) Beware the gas company! They will take all your money if you let them.

So, this has nothing to do with me being sick or Adrian playing the Wii until his arms fall off. This has everything to do with the fact that there's only 1 gas company here in town, which lets them do ridiculous things like charge us a fee for the pleasure of being their customer AND a delivery fee for the pleasure of receiving their gas. . . which is part of being their customer? They also charge different rates for the first 20 units, the next 30 units, and all the units after that, with the first 2 categories being 3 to 5 times higher than the last one, of course. . . because it cost them more money to deliver the first 20 units, right?

Anyway, suffice it to say that there has been a lot of lying in bed, movie watching, Wii playing, and lesson learning in our household lately. Happy New Year everyone!