why?

Why do people have dedication stickers to dearly departed loved ones on their crappy cars and trucks?

Why, pippa?

Why?

You’ve all seen this, right?

You pull up at a stoplight behind some dilapidated truck and sprawled across the back window is a giant memorial decal that says something like:

In Loving Memory Of

MUFFINS O’GRADY

1948 — 2006

Uhm, yeah. I don’t get it. I really don’t.

Is it the measly sticker that’s “in loving memory of Muffins O’Grady” or is your entire truck now a rattling, smoke-smelling, oil-leaking — but loving, don’t forget loving — memorial to good and dead ol’ Muffins?

Which is it?

“I dedicate this measly sticker to you, dead person”?

Or

“I dedicate this crummy car to you, dead person”?

And do you, the dead person, looking down from heaven — one hopes — feel grateful for said memorial of a measly sticker or a crappy car?

Or would you rather have flowers? Or rather they live a loving life in your memory?

Or do you kind of wish you could come back to life for five seconds to kick your loved one in their stupid ass keister?

That’s ass keister. You heard me.

I’ve told MB that’s he’s not allowed to do this if I crump it first. It is absolutely forbidden. But then I’ve also told him if he crumps it first, I will pull his pants down in protest and THEN call 911.

“come thou fount of every blessing”

My other favorite traditional hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” This is a really cool version by Sufjan Stevens. I love it. Quirky and open and vulnerable.

I even like the video here. Although the images have nothing to do with the song, they’re gorgeous.

The lyrics below are the more modernized version. I prefer the original lyrics.

Come Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of God’s unchanging love.

Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Hither by Thy help I’m come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let that grace now like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

(An Ebenezer or Eben-Ezer, found in 1 Samuel 7:12, which says: Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah, and named it Ebenezer; for he said, “Thus far the LORD has helped us.” It’s a stone of remembrance and fresh beginnings, acknowledging God’s help. Pretty cool, huh?)

“the hopeless incognito of antoine”

Okay. Another Hopeless Incognito girl based on Marie Antoinette. Uhm, obviously, I hope.

Actually, I’m showing you what I consider a screw-up. This is old, from several months ago. The blue background didn’t scan so well, which is probably just as well, because the blue paint didn’t take — I must have spilled some glaze or something next to the right arm there, so it’s just white. Uhm, I’m also not pleased with her dress — it’s collaged with papers and tissue and, eh, didn’t turn out the way I wanted. But, I have to say the whole tied-on fake mole thing pleases me because I find it so ridiculous. And I’m happy with her hair. I’ll think I’ll do more of these little “Antoines.” (Her nickname.) I think I can do better.

Still, here she is. Even though, shhhh, can’t see her, especially with that mole:

sc0128bd53.jpg

is it too early?

Uhm, is it too early in the season to utterly renounce the Chargers?

I mean, I usually renounce them at least once per season, but we’re only four weeks in.

Maybe it’s premature. Still. I’m sorely tempted.

Also, I know this is a sacrilege to say, but I’m getting mighty tired of that LaDainian Tomlinson. He is constantly injured, a delicate diamond-studded flower. Groin pull. Twisted ankle. Hang nail. Runny nose. Ear hair.

Yup. There’s LT, standing on the sidelines, limping in pain from ear hair. Wait. A trainer’s on hand to rub the ear hair, keep it loose, etc. Phhhew. Thank God.

Come ON, precious.

Get up, take those diamond stud earrings out and win us some games!!!

heard on “the nfl on fox”

Troy Aikman: Well, he should have saw that.

You know, at first, I didn’t agree, Troy. I mean, I watched the play and did not see how he could have saw that. But on replay, yeah, duh, he totally should have sawn that.

Those kinds of stupid mistakes are SO embarrassing, aren’t they, Troy Aikman?

no, church is really weird

“Weird” is too mild a word. Honestly, you have no idea. But I have slipped into a gray aphasia on the whole thing.

I want to write about it. I cannot find the words.

I am numb today.

Let’s just talk about the coccyx some more.

more chattin’ with trace and sarahk

Sunday night. Be prepared for TMI. I would blame myself, but I blame sarahk instead. Before this part of the discussion, we were discussing whether it was “terd” or turd.”

“Deep” and “hard-hitting” is how I would describe our chats. Yup. Also: I punctuate badly or not at all during our chats because sarahk is always all, “HURRY UP! TYPE FASTER! I’M A DESPOT!” and I get performance anxiety and my fingers shrivel. It’s bad.

And where’s Bob Dole for THAT problem, I would like to know??

me: what are you doing now?
pretend this is twitter
sarahk: hahaha.
we’re watching dollhouse.
and i’m researching refrigerators so i can go ahead and order one already
but i wouldn’t tweet that!
me: is that not tweetable?
sarahk: but BSU’s football team is now #5 in all the polls, and I did tweet that.
me: i don’t understand anything anymore
sarahk: Nah, it’s too much like, “I got up this morning, ate eggs, took a nap, put on my shoes.”
people will unfollow you for turds like that.
me: oh, so there’s a standard for twitter information? it needs to be pithy?
hahahahaha, no turds.
this is why i couldn’t twitter. it’s all turds
sarahk: yes, pithy or informational.
me: but that IS informational — you’re getting a fridge
sarahk: because, i mean, Andy Levy follows me. And I don’t want him to go, “She’s so boring. I’ll unfollow her and get back thirty seconds every day.”
me: like if i were to twitter right now, i’d say my coccyx hurts.
okay — who is andy levy?? I am amish
sarahk: once the fridge is ordered and/or delivered, I will tweet that. but the research, no.
But see, a hurting coccyx is funny just because hello, random. and also, funny word.
me: well i could just say ass.
but it’s my ass crack. i’m having an ass crack problem and i’m concerned.
sarahk: Andy Levy is on Fox News on the show that comes on at 2 a.m. (midnight here, so you probably get it at 11). he does the halftime report and makes fun of the other guys on the show and corrects their mistakes. he’s funny.
ow, what is wrong with your crack?
me: oh, okay. i don’t have cable. hello. amish.
i don’t know. i hurt my ass crack. working out or something. i don’t know — it feels bruised.
sarahk: I would just like to repaste our last 2 lines:
“ow, what is wrong with your crack?
tracey: oh, okay. i don’t have cable. hello. amish.”
me: not that i’m sitting around rubbing my ass crack.
hahahahahaha, we’re still doing it. we don’t wait for the other person to finish. it’s funnier that way.
sarahk: Ow, I hate when that happens. I get that from working out sometimes too. What a pain in the… well, ass.
me: how do i fix my asscrack, sarahk??
sarahk: It IS funnier. I just love the juxtaposition. “What’s wrong with your crack?” “I don’t have cable. Amish.”
Basically, you have to rest it for a while.
don’t put pressure on it.
me: i can’t — i have to work out. i’m now obsessed. i’m down a whole size at least
and that’s really hard for me because my basal body temp is like 96. I don’t burn anything.
i was happy a couple of years ago when i almost died from a 104 fever and pneumonia because I lost ten pounds. hahahaha
sarahk: oh, good job!
Hahahahaha.
me: another juxtaposition — hahahaha
sarahk: hahaha
me: wer’e lame — i love us
sarahk: i love us too.

call me, starbucks

(Disclaimer: Forgive me, Katie, dear Starbucks employee. This is not directed at you, of COURSE. I’m just opinionated about coffee issues. Uhm, as we all know.)

We’re at a Starbucks this morning. It’s a little crowded. The barista on bar steps in to help with the overflow and asks MB, “Can I start something for you?”

Good. Fine. This is standard coffeehouse practice when things are busy. At least give the appearance that we’re here for you, working for you, blahdie blahblah.

MB orders our two small coffees. He actually orders them as smalls because he refuses — REFUSES — to say “tall.” The barista corrects him, which is, uhm, annoying, kind of makes me want to smack him, but not part of this story.

MB pays and we stand there. We don’t have our coffees and we don’t have our money anymore, either. I’ve already discussed this backwards practice here.

Clearly, the barista who asked what he could start for us has started nothing for us. We wait several moments. One of us waits patiently; one of us does not. I leave you to decipher which is which.

Then MB says, “Oh, they’re doing a traveler for someone and they’ve run out of coffee.” So that’s the reason for the wait.

A “traveler” is basically a huge to-go container of coffee. (I don’t know what Starbucks calls them.) Offices order them for meetings, conferences, etc. They’re a pain in the bottom, I ain’t gonna lie, because of how much coffee they take to fill them. Still, there’s a way to manage the situation and not run out of coffee for the rest of your customers. Whenever we filled them at The Beanhouse or at my own coffeehouse, as we were decanting coffee into the traveler, we instantly started brewing on top of that. Pour and brew, pour and brew, or, yeah, you will be out of coffee for several minutes. Which is what happened today. It’s not the end of the world, obviously, but as a former coffeehouse mistress, I notice these little details. I can’t not notice them. And since Starbucks is this huge corporate entity, I guess I have higher expectations of their customer service or their ability to finesse a tricky situation.

Another problem: None of the baristas told us what was happening. We figured it out because we’ve been in that situation, but other customers were standing around not knowing what was happening.

To me, this is a no-no. My employees were taught to communicate if something had gone unexpectedly awry AND to offer another option. Not to communicate shows contempt for the customer. One may very well have contempt for the customer, but one must try to smile and hide it.

For instance, here’s a possible happier ending for our scenario today:

A barista steps in and speaks.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve run out of coffee for the moment and need to brew. Can I offer you an Americano instead, no extra charge?”

“What’s an Americano?” the customer might ask.

“Well, it’s espresso and hot water. So basically, you’re getting a really strong cup of coffee. I could add more water or leave more room for cream if you like.”

Ta-da. Options. Choices. People hate waiting because, well, we’re all big impatient babies. I am. But doing that soothes customer irritation, makes them feel cared for, and gives them a sense of control over the situation.

I mean, sure, we eventually got our coffee, but NOBODY soothed us. And we NEED us some soothing. Who will soothe us?? I WANT TO BE SOOTHED!!

Uhm.

Yeah.

So call me, Starbucks.

I’m just here to help, mmkay?

church is getting weird

Stay tuned. I’m writing a post about this. Or trying to. There are reasons why I haven’t talked more about this lately. And if I have talked, to be honest, I’ve talked around many things. But now that some time has gone by, I feel that I can share more freely. It’s complicated and I really have to figure out a way to de-complicate the story in order to tell it. I have to pare it down to its essentials.

Which is kind of a laughable notion, but nonetheless, I will try.