Angels We Have Heard
Are High

angelic kitsch...from Hell

Cavalcade of Bad Nativities
it came upon a midnight weird

The Passion of the Tchotchke
holy week kitsch-o-rama

Stations of the Kitsch


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Saturday, June 21, 2003


Helping a friend move this morning, so no garage sales today. In the afternoon, I'm going to move my fabulous bed into my room. It will be nice to be in a grown-up bed again, after a month in the twin.

I hope my niece gets her copy of the new Harry Potter today (I pre-ordered from overstock.com, after extensive searching for the best deal)...I've been tracking it and it looks like it could make it. Of course, did I order myself a copy at the same time? No I did not. But, then, I do have a lot to do this weekend and staying up all night to finish it would probably be bad for my schedule. I'll treat myself to it in a week or so, I think. I bet it's cheap at Costco.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2003


Moses Comes to Rock, from the people who brought you last week's Jesus of the Week, Jesus Comes to Play. I have to say, I don't understand the hockey stick. I didn't know Moses played hockey. But then, there are big parts of the OT I haven't read, so maybe I just missed that part.
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maybe Jesus and I could just be friends instead of getting married

My diocese has published a new handbook for ordination. It's nice to actually see The Process all laid out neatly, which is more than my old diocese ever did. I always felt like it was some sort of black box diagram, where you put in people and they came out on the other side with collars, or not. There wasn't a lot of transparency to it. This new document is really useful.

And, you know, terrifying.

I'm pleased to see that there is no swimsuit competition.

I really need to find a new spiritual director, and get my spiritual life back on track again and see if Jesus is still interested in me that way. Right now, I don't think I'm in the best position to ask that question.
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Tuesday, June 17, 2003

dressed in yellow, she says "hello, come sit next to me, you fine fellow!"

Summer Squash, the color I painted my shelves and chair, is Way More Yellow than I expected it to be. I put the painted shelves back together last night and they are, um, just very yellow. I'm going to try to live with them for a week, and if I can't handle the yellow, I'm going to put a white glaze on them or something. They're just stupid pine shelves from the garage department at Target, so there is a limit to how good they can look, but still. This is a lot of yellow.

I haven't finished painting the chair yet, and I don't think it gets to stay yellow. I have some sage paint, and I think I'll try that. It will certainly make deciding which fabric to put on the cushion easier, since not much goes with this shade of yellow, as it turns out.

My bed, however, is coming along nicely. Yay!
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Sunday, June 15, 2003

you can have my heart, if you don't mind broken things

On the surface, the beginning and end of my current story is that Dennis and I didn't work. If I sit and stew on that, though, I'm missing whole layers of what's been wrong with my life this year. I'm sure some people are thinking I should just accept that I was a crappy fiancee and deal with that. Take a Learning Annex course or something. But my theory is that as long as I'm sitting here in this much pain, with my defenses in shambles, I may as well get some solid work done. I'm going to change from all of this no matter what, so I may as well try to grow toward the light instead of away from it.

My spiritual life has sucked. I had the prayer life of a ferret for six months or so before the breakup. I had stopped looking for God, because I wasn't especially interested in the truth when I had so much invested in keeping up my own illusions. I had to turn a blind eye to the depth of Dennis' depression in my desperation to have things still be ok, and I had to avoid looking too closely at the life I was putting together for myself.

I probably would have stopped going to church except, well, I do get a paycheck there. The lousy thing about hanging around at really good churches is that the truth gets to you whether you want it to or not. So here I am. Looking at what I've done, finding a bit of grace, and seeing that I'm at the point where I get to chose transformation or sleep. Trying to make the right decision even though it's hard. It's like Jesus flung a sandal at the back of my head, just to get my attention and said, "babe*, if you're living for me, then we're going THAT WAY, not the way you're going."

* in my head, Jesus often sounds like Dennis Miller. I'm not sure what that means.

How 'bout if we all pretend I went willingly, that I hopped right up and followed? It makes for a better story. I relate more to the story of the man that Jesus had to heal twice (I'll look up the citation later, I promise) in order for him to have his sight fully restored. I feel like I'm part of the way there, but Jesus still has to give me another round of grace before I'll be healed.

The truth is, part of me would be happy to be living that nice dream life I had all planned out with Dennis, even if it meant choosing the other path. We'd be living in our little love-hovel in Oakland right now, about six weeks into our marriage, and he'd have a job and I'd be thumbing through brochures for seminaries, trying to find a party school. That life was never going to happen and there wasn't very much I could do about it, but I still cling to the idea, still feel cheated that it isn't going to be mine.

I'm grieving, and I have to remember that and be kind to myself. Tonight there was a new episode of Futurama and I had to watch it without him and I cried through most of it. Weird things happen that I want to share with him because he's the only person I know who would see why it's funny. The failure of this relationship means I'm very unlikely to ever have a child, and it turns out that I have a lot of grieving to do there, too. The grieving is separate from The Work, though, and I can't get lost in it, not for more than a little while.
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real live preacher

One of the best faith stories I've read: Real Live Preacher, and a piece about weddings I wish I had written. This guy is the real deal, folks. I am laughing my ass off reading his blog, and it's helping to fill in a few empty spots for me, too.
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it's ok to be afraid when the blue spark hits your brain

Forgot to mention, on Friday I visited a new shop in San Jose called Blue Spark, which I found out about via not martha. They sell Sublime Stitching patterns, which saved me postage since I needed a couple more designs. I spent two grand on an embroidery machine a couple of years ago, and now I'm getting into hand embroidery. Yeah, that makes sense. (I do like to poke Jenny @ SS from time to time about getting her stuff digitized so I can make many many tiki towels)

Anyway, the store is at 416 S. Bascom, near a tattoo shop. They also sell hipster clothes and Archie McPhee stuff and shoes with insanely high heels which Leigh would love and which I tend to fall off of.
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it's father's day and everybody's wounded

Of course, my dad's homemade father's day present isn't even close to being done. Fortunately, he is relaxed about these things, after knowing me for quite some time.

There's nothing like being at a red light in a small green car, singing along with I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore, and suddenly realizing that the windows are down and the people in the car next to you are smirking. Damn you, Forever 80s!!

I'm painting the bed today. So far, I just have a coat of primer and a sunburn. There's some primer on the bed, too, but mostly it seems to be on me. Maybe I should paint primer on my body in interesting patterns, so my skin will be a more festive red and white design. I had a doll in the 70s that did that. Suntan Tuesday Taylor. You put stickers on her and then put her in the sun and her skin would turn dark except where the stickers had been. This was considered fun in the 70s. I bet poor Tuesday looks like hell now, after all that sun damage. But, then, she also had a revolving skull so she could change from blonde to brunette, so maybe that's the least of her problems.

Anyway, note to self for further paint adventures: sunscreen. Ow ow ow ow. I'm going to the late service at church today, and then I am going to pop into the drugstore and get a vat of aloe to stick my torso into. (hmmm...does that mean it's Rite II followed by Rite Aid? Sorry, bad Episcopalian joke. I've been in the sun too much today.)
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