PeaceBang

A Day in the Life

Just another day on the emotional roller coaster.

First, my old Minnesota Flame called to say, “hey, surprise! I’m down the road from you a piece earning buckets of money teaching insurance guys how to ‘communicate better’ [tr: act] Howzabout we get together?”

(He also gets paid piles of cash to be the “Can You Hear Me Now” guy for Midwest Wireless. Too bad we didn’t have all that dough when we were together: we could have pitched that hideous naugehyde couch his parents gave us out the window and gone out for a nice Thai dinner. But I digress…)



I had a meeting last night so we couldn’t do that. So he showed up this a.m. and I brought him to my ladies church group to be my Show and Tell Presentation.

He talked about the process of writing a one-man show and generally enthralled and regaled everyone, performing two scenes from one of his shows (that features moi as a character, since it’s based on true life events and all) right there in the living room. PROPS for spontaneity, old pal.

Then I went to the hospital and beheld those things to which elders refer when they say knowingly to one another, “Aging is not for sissies.” Which made me cry in the car on the way to the Stop & Shop.

At which time I saw four church dears at the store, and then…

rushed home to put out some little snack items for my illustrious house guest who was being chauffered up in the evening …

and then went to church for some quiet time before teaching my class and found a lovely and thoughtful gift on my desk…
which got me all teary again…

and then came home at 9:30 p.m. to find my illustrious elder colleague house guest lying on the parlor love seat wearing Christmas-themed jammies …

at which time we repaired to the ANT-INFESTED kitchen (!!!) for snickerdoodles and a beverage and to chat.

If you want theological reflections or substantive discussions on UUism, or current events this week, try http://www.paulwilczynski.com/ . He’s doing great stuff lately. And I’m just trying to keep up with the ants.

I have no comment about the new pope, except that he looks much better in papal regalia than I imagine he did in his little brown shirt. *cough*

Bummer Earth

It finally happened:

I had to print out my homily in 14 point font this morning. These preaching eyes is getting old.

Anyway, it’s a little Earth Day tribute I call “Bummer Earth.” Mother Earth has retired and moved to Boca. She hired Bummer Earth to replace her.

“Bummer Earth isn’t content with bumper stickers that say things like, ‘God is Coming And Boy Is She Mad’ or even (and I actually saw this the other day on a Ford Explorer), ‘No Blood For Oil.’ Bummer Earth doesn’t care about our bumper stickers - -Bummer Earth wants to slash our tires and make us walk and bike everywhere. Bummer Earth has had it.”

This is artist T-Man Sam’s beautiful crazy vision for Bummer Earth, which he created just to inspire my homily. Because he is that awesome. I just ordered an 8×10 of it from Snapfish, and it’s coming to church with me this morning:

Fluffy! Oh No!

I was more than a little bit disgusted when friends from all over the country started alerting me via e-mail that the very fine state of Wisconsin (state motto: “Drive Through Us On The Way to Minnesota!”) was going to legalize cat-hunting.

Since I intend to drive through Wisconsin this summer on my way from Chicago to Winona to see the Minnesota Flash (D.M.) in a Shakespeare festival,


(”Alas Poor Catrick! I knew him, Horatio…”)

I wanted to get the straight dope.

It turns out that they’re talking about shooting feral cats.

Oh, like that makes it okay.

This just in:

ADISON, Wis., April 13 (AP) - Wisconsin outdoorsmen have approved a proposal to legalize the killing of feral cats, but Gov. James E. Doyle said on Wednesday that the plan would fail.
“I don’t think Wisconsin should become known as a state where we shoot cats,” said Mr. Doyle, a Democrat who neither hunts nor owns a cat. “What it does is sort of hold us up as a state that everybody is kind of laughing at right now.”

Mr. Doyle, we give you the Paw Salute from the Cat Loving Land of Massachusetts. And yes, everybody is kind of laughing at you right now. Stick to cheese and leave the pussies alone.

Mean Girls!!

A very mean and very funny girlfriend of mine did an image google of me and alerted me tonight to the fact that there are several profoundly heinous photos of me out in cyber-land!! THANKS, M!!!

Most of these shots feature what we call in our family Phatfacia Stupenda (the origins of that expression are from a salad plate which I don’t have time to describe to you). My friend’s comment: “Baby, I know you don’t have but two chins — how come you got four in all those pictchas?”

Our favoritest one shows me preaching at a conference. It’s a series of photos to which my reaction was, “Oh, those people are so inclusive. Look, they let Jo Jo The Dog-Faced Boy address their convocation!!”

ohmigod. With friends like that…

Note to self: Create a virus that eradicates all images of Peacebang from the public domain. Replace with images of, um, Kathy Najimy or Meghan Mullaly (BITB, you’re not the only one who’s made that latter comparison of late).

P.S. I did see “Mean Girls” recently and thought it was funny and charming. Great writing by Tina Faye, who still wears glasses better than any other smart girl out there.

Queens Salutes JP

Queens Salutes JP
Originally uploaded by Peacebang.

My friend Li’l Flava sent this up from NYC. She says it was seen on the 7 train from Queens.

Love it.

The Guest Room

sock monkey’s uncle
Originally uploaded by Peacebang.

I just couldn’t leave that leering, arrogant white boy as the first image Peacebangers see when they come to this page (Chris Shelton, below: not actor D.M. above! HIS leer and his “Lear” we love!”) It offended my heart. Maybe Whatshisname will find his way to a good Universalist church somewhere and learn about his responsibility to humanity and the everlasting love of God even for worms like him. We can only hope.

Meanwhile, I went into my main guest room yesterday to start to gussy it up for the arrival of an esteemed colleague, ABW, next weekend. The guest room is way more whimsical than elegant: cherry print on the bedding, children’s art everywhere (courtesy of Sister of PeaceBang, the art teacher), and a pretty big collection of sock monkeys.

I laughed and laughed when I saw the monkey someone made for me in 2000– a sock monkey dressed in a white preaching robe, with a little stole and a mop of red hair like mine. Big eyelashes. I actually don’t remember the name of the woman who made it for me but I do remember the circumstance: she had been raised in a brutally fundamentalist faith tradition and had been attending our UU congregation for just a short while. As New Year’s Eve of 1999 rolled around, she found herself filled with a totally irrational and unaccountable terror that this was indeed The End Times and that as we rolled into 2000, God would come on his fiery horses or some such thing (I never was a big fan of Revelation) and destroy the world.

I met with her several times as the date approached, finally moving from an intellectual approach (”You don’t have to carry this fear, and here’s why”) to the prayer that she obviously craved far more but was to embarrassed to request from me.

So we prayed together that God would fill her heart with peace, that she would be relieved of the terrible burden of believing that God exists to judge and condemn the living, and to be honest with ya, it freaked me out plenty. I don’t think I had ever been in such intimate ministry with someone who was still so drastically in the grips of “that” God.

Damn sobering. I would drive home trying to imagine what it was like to have that kind of personal wrathful Deity haunting your every thought. And yes, even though I told her I felt very uncomfortable doing it (because there was no such need), I did give her and her children a New Year’s Eve blessing of protection. I gave it in the name of my Baba, Anne Lesko, who was also deeply superstitious. I told the family that as much as I felt awkward conferring this blessing, the spirit of my Baba wacked me on the head and said, “No one here cares what *you* think. Go and bless.”

Standing in a little circle holding hands with the family I remember saying something like this:

“May the God beyond understanding and beyond naming release us all from fear and banish the man-made God of vengeance and destruction from our hearts, and may we hold each other in love and care at this anxious time. May we welcome in this new year with hope and wonder, and optimism and joy.”

When New Year’s Day came, crisp and new, I drove by their house and knocked on the door and said, “So, what do you think!!? — did my blessing avert the Apocalypse!?” We all cracked up and had hot cocoa.

She was so appreciative that she made me a sock monkey of myself. She said that she *meant* it to be a silly gift, as she was beginning to realize the profound silliness of the God she was trying to expunge from her consciousness.

My most ardent blessings go with her today, wherever she may be, that she has succeeded in that most difficult of spiritual work.

Nancy. Her name was Nancy. Love and sock monkeys to you, Nancy.

Another Jerk

Another Jerk
Originally uploaded by Peacebang.

This is millionaire real estate mogul Chris Shelton, a contestant on “The Apprentice,” which I confess I watched twice a year or so ago.

Shelton was arrested for disorderly conduct in Tampa, FL, apparently behaving like a ranting psycho in a hotel lobby where he was partying with his friends.

I am so sick of these Captains of Industry making the world into a cesspool of testosterone poisoning, spraying their egos and their despicable attitudes all over the land like those green slime monsters in “Ghostbusters.” A girl can’t even go out in a pair of cute sandals without stepping in that vile gunk.

I’m not making any brilliant social analysis here — it’s a Monday and I’m still bleary from yesterday — but dagblammit, the incivility, the rampant “cell yell,” the hateful, macho belligerence, the pathological entitlement, the treacherous NASCAR-inspired driving on the local roads, the peacock strutting on every street, in every gym, in every store, at every restaurant, the thumping into an Amtrak car or the cafe at Barnes & Noble to make it into their private, second office and subjecting everyone around them to their ostentatious wheeling and dealing by cell phone…

Alan Alda, take me away!

Am I right?

Is this not a particularly heinous side-effect of Bush’s Toxic America???

And don’t get me started on the FEMALE versions of this guy.

The Feeding Tube Speaks

Once again, ladies and gentlemen, the genius of “Get Your War On.”

Don’t miss the latest at:

http://www.mnftiu.cc/mnftiu.cc/war45.html

The Queen is Not Amused

She either just had some yummy taffies and is licking her lips, or Her Royal Highness is hissing at Camilla.

Did you know they got married without a pre-nup? Aw come on! Tha’s so roMANTICAL!

Today was like summer and I’m positively giddy. But it’s more than the weather. I shot my Inner Critic dead a few days ago in preparation for my 40th birthday in nine months, and it’s really quite the little key to happiness.

For example:

Previous inner thoughts: “I really want to go to S’s poetry reading this afternoon but I’m really tired after church and teaching a session on UU theological foundations, and I really should get some work done and make that hospital visit — but if I DO go all the way to Concord I should take a long, brisk walk around Walden Pond, because if I don’t I’m obviously a worthless, fat, undisciplined cow.”

Typical Result: Go home, take overly-long nap, maybe make hospital visit with raccoon eyes from nap, flop around listlessly with Sunday paper, fail to achieve work or study goals, suffer extreme guilt.

New inner thought process:
“Gee, I sure am tired after church but I’d love to see S do her reading, so I’ll run home and change and get to Concord. [after…] That was a great reading. I am so proud and happy for my friend. I have no desire to take a healthy walk around Walden Pond so I think I’ll buy a mango smoothie and stop by the hospital on the way home. I might read the paper, might not. But I’ve surely worked hard enough today.”

Result: Sanity, lovely poetry reading, good smoothie, pleasant hospital visit, and a nice dinner. Probably a good night’s sleep, too.

As part of this program, you may not catch sight of your own reflection in store windows and think unkind thoughts about any part of your anatomy. The proper response upon seeing your reflection is, “Well, there I am. Yes, that sure is me.” And if that recognition doesn’t come with a sense of fond intimacy and acceptance, walk up to the window and find something you like in the reflection stat. Nostrils will do. Anything.

If I keep this up I’ll have a best-selling self-help book idea in no time. Except that part of my new program is to decide that I DON’T CARE if I don’t write a book any time soon. I figure I’ve written about 300 pages in sermons over the past nine months, not to mention articles and essays. Repeat after me, ’cause you know you need to hear it, too:

“GEE, I WORK REALLY HARD AND I ACTUALLY GET A LOT OF THRILLS FROM WORKING HARD. SO, YOU KNOW, I REALLY DON’T NEED TO WORK HARDER.”

Good girl/boy.
Welcome to the revolution.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

peacefingers
Originally uploaded by Peacebang.

Hola, Peacebangers,

Blogspot is not letting me in to fix posts or anything, so I imagine it might also be blocking comments as well.

Well, it’s free and it’s not perfect. I’ll wait to see if things clear up in a day or two. Other bloggers inform me that it’s a waste of time trying to contact their Tech Support.

I am posting this new entry courtesy of the fantabulous photo uploading and blogging service, Flickr.
http://www.flickr.com/

Peace Out.