it's a beautiful day

1) Randy Sanders will resign as the Offensive Coordinator for the University of Tennessee Volunteers. Yep, you read that right…he is quitting. It is about time, too. You do not win football games when you play it safe. In football, as in life, you have to take risks to win. I honestly hope that Sanders’ personal life is not the risk-less debacle that his football career has been up to this point.

There seems to be this contingency of fans who, in an effort to ease their pain caused by an allegiance to a sporting team who, by definition sucks, blames all losses and on field errors on a particular coach, coaching decision, or just the entire coaching staff. Personally, I am above this childish and petty blame game that occurs in the sporting world, but must concede that sometimes a coaching change is the proper medicinal solution to on-field problems. For example, Hubie Brown was a miracle worker for the Memphis Grizzlies. They were a team who had the talent, but due to poor coaching and managing decisions were in a state of…how can I say this nicely…perpetual sucking. Hubie Brown was the spoonful of sugar and the medicine. Here was a man who through sheer talent in the coaching realm was able to boost team performance and with a very (un)fortunate turn of events had a name that boosted team and fan morale. For anyone who is a skeptic, say the name Hubie aloud. Need I say more?

2) I have found the holy grail of Northern Virginia.

I’m sure that there are more than a few of you out there who know that this sentence is about you are secretly applauding yourselves for getting an anonymous shout-out on my blog. It is true that I love you every one of you, and that is why I want you to take some time right now to think about how awesome you are. Make a mental list of all the things that make you fabulous and would make you the subject of this post. Then, I want you to slap yourself. You guys are great, but do you seriously think that any of you are holy grail material? There might be one or two who have on occasion provided excellent fodder for mocking. (i.e. “I’m not gay, but I would sleep with Brad Pitt.”) However, you can rest assured that such fodder does not give you such status as to be called the “holy grail”.

In all actuality, the holy grail of NoVa is a record store. I know it is probably pathetic, but I have been looking for a good record store since I moved here. Even though the verdict is still out on the quality of said record store, it as a record store none-the-less. I officially have my first item on my post-PowerHouse to-do list: Go to record store and look for Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Cal Tjader.


On that note, I am off to “spread the Jesus love”.

cheeseburger in paradise

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…at least it is at Bath & Body Works. There are Christmas trees in the windows, fake snow is stuck to anything that might warrant a little bit of holiday spirit, and Carol of the Bells wafts through the air in an attempt to augment the already overdone and way too early sentiment of Christmas.

I am of the opinion that the Christmas season doesn’t start until Santa comes in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Then, and only then, are you allowed to put up the tree and lights. Only after the fat-man in the red suit graces the streets of New York is it appropriate to blast Christmas music without ceasing. However, this freakishly early start to the holiday season does have its benefits.

One of which is the release of the Holiday scents. These scents don’t really vary from year to year. They always have the Cranberry scent, the apple scent, and the infamous Vanilla Bean Noel. The last of the three is the one that intrigues me the most. It doesn’t really smell like Vanilla Beans, as much as it smells like cake icing. Now don’t get me wrong, I like the smell of cake icing – in fact, I like the taste of cake icing. The problem for me is smelling like a processed food. Previously, I would have said that I just didn’t like smelling like food, but it has been pointed out to me that most girls’ scents smell of fruits, which, contrary to popular belief, are indeed foods. But smelling of cake icing is like smelling like apple pie or peanut butter or something. It may be sweet and you may like the smell, but does that really make it okay to smell like your daily moisturizing routine consists of smearing a Betty Crocker concoction on your skin.

Another problem I have with this whole smell like food thing is the cravings that are induced by the scents. For instance, you light a candle that smells like food – and you will, at some point, crave said food. Now imagine smelling like cake icing all day. That can’t be good for your diet, your insulin levels, or your arteries, because you will eventually give into the temptation to eat cake icing.

I know I’m not the only one who thinks that smelling like cake icing is a bit weird. However, I am very aware of a differing opinion held by some. So my question to you is this: Is it okay/normal/appealing to smell like a processed food like cake icing? If you are female, would you wear such a scent? If you are male, would you be attracted to such a scent?

everybody get your roll on

I am sitting in Starbucks in Abilene right now, and I just got done talking on the phone to one of my very good friends from high school. She called to tell me that she went to the outlet malls where she lives now and it made her think of me.

You see, we had this tradition that we would to the outlet malls in Sikeston, MO and shop all day before gorging ourselves on hot rolls at Lambert’s Café. Lambert’s is one of those places that everybody who is anybody knows about when you are growing up. It is the home of the “thrown roll”. They walk around distributing sides and rolls while you wait for your food, and apparently, somebody back in the day was too hungry to wait for the guy with the rolls to get to him, so he made the waiter throw the roll. A tradition was born. Now the will launch hot rolls at you from across the restaurant, so you better be paying attention. The food is good, but you go for the experience of having a hot, buttery object launched with force toward your head.

I think memories like that are what make friendship so special. There is something special about being reminded of someone when you are walking down the street or sitting in Starbucks.

I am very blessed to have wonderful friends throughout the many stages of my life. I did not think that I could find friends like the ones I had in high school. Then I got to Harding and met wonderful people like Adam, Renee, and Audrey. Abilene introduced me to some more wonderful people, one of whom I am sitting at Starbucks with. God has not disappointed with the plethora of wonderful people that have been brought into my life in Fairfax.

The next time you are reminded of an old friend (or new friend for that matter), I encourage you to call them or send them a note. Let them know that they are in your thoughts and that they are special to you.

oh-oh, here she comes

Tomorrow morning I board a plane and head the vast expanse of treeless habitat known as West Texas for part two of my youth ministry class. I am very excited about heated discussions about the theological roots of youth ministry, and a time of fellowship with some fellow women in ministry.

On Saturday, I will cruise on down to A-town to see the likes of Graham (and my many other wonderful grad-school friends).

As many of you know, I am what some might call slightly nerdy. Proving this point is the fact that I am very excited about sitting in on a three-hour Systematic Theology class taught by Fred Aquino. Sadly, this will quite possibly be the highlight of my trip to Texas. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the headaches that always follow a Fred class, the intelligent discussion, the glazed over looks of confusion (mostly on my face), and the desperate need for a very large cup of coffee (or Christmas-in-a-cup) about half-way through.

I love my job and I would not trade it for the world. However, I really miss the time for reading and the afternoons spent at Starbucks writing papers or translating Greek. I hope that I am always a life-long learner, and that I always enjoy the prospect of challenge both educationally and theologically as much as I do right now.

The wonderful thing about Fred classes (and most grad classes, really) is that he never lets you live in a state of complacency. He makes you ask the hard questions, and he demands answers. He forces interaction with the topics that Christians find unnerving and want to avoid. Theodicy is scary, but we have to talk about it. Pluralism is what we live in and we cannot always hide behind John 14:6.

There is something about a class with Fred that encourages boldness, and I hope that the boldness he fosters in me is something that I can pass on to my peers and to the teens. I pray that I will always have this thirst for knowledge and this passion for truth (or at least epistemic virtue). We should not go quietly into the night; instead, we should be passionate about faith. That passionate faith will provide joy in the darkest situations, even when we cannot answer the hard questions like theodicy. The thing that will squelch both passion and joy is an unwillingness to ask the questions at all.

(Special shout out to Leann, whose post on theme song inpired this blog title. In a perfect world, Maneater by Hall & Oates would be my theme song, but in reality Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar is probably my theme song.)

green acres is the place to be

Green Acres
Originally uploaded by j.mo.

Corn Maze = Good Ole Fashion Fun. There were cows, chickens, baby goats, hayrides, and pumpkins. My trip to the “punkin patch” was very successful. I, with the help of Christie Ritchie, located the Jennifer Aniston of pumpkins. It has a very nice, light complexion and is very smooth. I also located the Brad Pitt of pumpkin - nice shape, and a little rough around the edges. As long as there is no Angelina Jolie of the pumpkin patch, I should be just fine.

My trip to the Corn Maze yielded much more than just some very pretty pumpkins and a lot of fun. It revealed that I have MPD. (Multiple Personality Disorder for those of you who are a little slow on the uptake.) I have decided that I am the Jekyll & Hyde of living locale.

It is no secret that I have a freakish obsession with city life. I have pictures of New York City on my wall in my office. I love the idea of an urban environment where I don’t need my car and I can live in a very small, expensive apartment. I love the city.

However, I love the country too. I love hunting, fishing, and camping. I love taking walks on fall evenings when it’s cold enough to not worry about snakes, yet warm enough to appreciate the leaves and the rest of nature. I love farm animals and I think cows are cute. (I know it’s weird, so just remember my previous post about normalcy.) There is something magical about eating chili outside on Friday night, when you are getting ready to go hunting on Saturday morning. Some of my best memories of my childhood come from growing up on a farm.

Somehow, I seem to be able to sing the entire Green Acres theme song, and only be in opposition to myself. Fresh Air…Times Square…I want them both. For now, I will relish my pseudo-city life while trying to find time to carve my Brad Pitt pumpkin.

trouble acting normal

While I was home last week, I watched House of D with Robin Williams. I don't know exactly how I feel about this movie, except that Robin Williams character used one of my new favorite lines.

Pappass, played by Robin Williams, is about 30 years old and mentally challenged. At one point in the movie he declares that he is no longer retarded, that he became mentally handicapped and then eventually progressed to being mentally challenged - in fact, there is probably more transition going on while he is speaking and he just doesn't know it.

The best quote from the movie comes in a scene where Pappass has just done something totally off the wall and slightly unnerving - he looks this guy in the eyes and says, "I was supposed to be normal, but I didn't get enough oxygen when I was born”.

Oh, how I wish that were an acceptable excuse for me. Every time I stuck my foot in my mouth (or showed by stunning knack for gracefulness) - I could just blame it on the lack of oxygen at birth.

So next time I can't spell school, just smile and nod while thinking to yourself, "she was supposed to be normal..."

Grace is gone

All distinguished ladies posses an element of grace. Jackie-O...graceful; Princess Di...graceful; Catherine the Great...graceful; J.Mo...not graceful. I’m Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality– I have not a drop of gracefulness about me. Some would say I’m uncoordinated and others would say I can’t multi-task (like chew gum and walk at the same time). Bottom line: If I were easily embarrassed, I would be embarrassed most of the time.

Something is wrong when your nickname is “Grace” because you have none. When you are described something as positive as grace out of irony – you need help.

Harding used to have chains that ran along the edge of the front lawn. When you were late for chapel, which for me was almost every day, you would cut across the grass, which meant stepping over the chain. I cannot tell you how many times I would step over and then catch my back foot on the chain, causing me to come crashing down in all my glory. I never wore a skirt to chapel because of that stupid chain.

The chain was not the only dreaded part of the chapel experience. There was a veritable obstacle course of disasters-in-waiting between my dorm room and my chapel seat. Freshmen have to sit in the balcony at Harding, and the three huge flights of stairs up to the balcony were an accident waiting to happen. I only tripped on them once or twice. The most harrowing part of the chapel experience was the steps to my seat. I had to walk across the very front of the balcony, and then about halfway up the front section to get to my seat. For those of you who have never been to the Benson at Harding, the steps in the balcony alternate between wide and skinny. Whoever thought that was a good idea needs to be shot. The same scenario played out about once a week – Someone would say hi, I would turn around for a quick hello and then turn around to head to my seat. I would always think I was on a wide-step but really be on a skinny one and catch my toe on the next step – tripping in front of about 1000 freshman. The first couple of times people were scared to laugh (feeling sorry for me I guess), but once they figured out this was a regular feature in the chapel line up that all changed.

I thought I had outgrown my clumsiness, or gained some grace in the past couple of years. I went almost a whole semester at ACU without tripping on any stairs or when walking or anything…then I moved up here. There is something about the front steps of my house that bring out the worst in my walking abilities. I tripped on my front steps twice yesterday. Yeah, I fell up the same set of stairs twice in one 24-hour period. The first time I was coming home from Target, and the second time I had just got home from a Foo Fighters/Weezer concert that rocked my face off.

While I’m not easily embarrassed, it’s nice to know that other people suffer the same disability that I do. Please tell me that I am not alone, and that you do completely stupid and sometimes humiliating stuff like this.