Snacktime Theology

Today, Miles asked (while eating a delicious homemade brownie and watching the Catholic channel): "I wonder what God eats?"

I said, " I don't know... but that's a good question."

He said, "Yeah! I don't know, either, because I've never been up there yet, to check it out!"

I told Miles that, while Jesus lived on Earth, He ate the same things everybody else ate -- fish and bread and wine and fruit and cheese. Which prompted the Pint-Size Deep Thinker to say, "Oh, yeah, fish. I think bears also eat a lot of fish. Hmmm... Bears eat mostly JUST fish, I think."

So I let the conversation drop. No need to force things in a Godly direction. But a few moments later, Miles came to my office door and said, "Maybe God grows trees in Heaven and picks some things off of them, to eat them just because they taste so good."

I wanted to add (but stopped for fear of sounding sacreligious): And maybe God grows brownies on His trees. Maybe. Just because they're yummy. Thus I come to my own, small Monday musing: Chocolate in Heaven.... Can I even imagine how good that has got to be?

Brushing By for a Friday Five

OK... no real time to post, but can't resist a fun topic at my favorite web ring! Thus I give you a hasty, unedited RevGalBlogPals Friday Five, on the topic "Brushes with Greatness."

1. Tell us about a time you met someone famous.
"Met" is perhaps too specific a word :), but I did once wear the garments of a (sort-of, in some circles) celebrity. I was working in a bridal shop with in-house alterations. The alterationist was very, very good and word must have gotten around. The shop was 30 minutes from Denver, where many other bridal shops with alterationsts were available to the stray, time-pressed alt-rock musician/ performer... but those stores aren't part of my story.

A band by the name of REM came to Colorado for two nights one fall, and bassist Mike Mills ripped his bedazzled stage suit while performing in Denver on Night One. A roady or an intern or a tour employee somehow suggested they take the pantsuit to this great little place in Boulder where repairs would be swift and proficient. And that is how I happened to show up for work one day to find mild-mannered Patty Elliott, seamstress extraordinaire, sniffing what looked like a royal purple matador's jacket with heavy gold embroidery. ...It smelled like celebrity, you see. And vaguely like sweat.

The jacket was rather slim in the shoulders and, being for a man & all, it had no, um, boob room. That meant many of the girls on staff couldn't slide it on or button it. I, however, being the shape of your average 12-year-old boy at the time, had no trouble fitting into the famous musician's jacket. ...And damned if that gaudy thing didn't look GOOD.

So what were we to do but dress me up in the jacket AND pants (rip already repaired), and stage a photo session at the three-way mirrors outside the bridal dressing rooms? We got the Polaroid camera (this was the pre-digital age, and the instant shots helped girls decide which dress looked best, or gave them something to take back to their friends/ family). I got dressed. (The legs were a little long, but I like working the flare.) I struck what I hoped was an appropriate air guitar pose and felt the music... it was GREAT! I asked for one close up of the jacket lining, where "Mike Mills" was embroidered under the pocket. Brilliant! Then it was time to sneak me downstairs, Elvis-undercover style, since we had a customer. Somewhere, though, in a small and tasteful photo album much too bourgeois to hold these glimpses of my rock-star soul, the images rock on.

2. Tell us about a celebrity you'd like to meet.
Hmmm... Billy Graham was the first name that came to mind. And I've never even seen a Billy Graham crusade or read one of his books. I think it's the man's larger-than-life but still-very-authentic presence that somehow attracts me. He has the Spirit, no? Also, Sandra Bullock would make a fun lunch date in Austin.

3. Tell us about someone great who's *not* famous that you think everyone oughta have a chance to meet.
My friend Nancy Grant is uber-cool. She has this diva kind of thing going on but is also the most loving and giving and affirming person. Every young person who needs just an extra nudge to say "you're OK; you're special; you're going to be fine" should hang with Nancy.

4. Do you have any autographs of famous people?
Nope. I used to have a Tyler Wildcatters baseball signed by (pre-game enteretainer) The Dynamite Lady, but that wasn't exactly a hotly traded item. The Wildcatters were about a single-A team that didn;t last long. Ah, but it was fun while it lasted!

5. If you were to become famous, what would you want to become famous for?
Being understanding. Bringing people together. Writing nice words. Oozing faith.

Bonus: Whose 15 minutes of fame was up long, long ago?
Must we limit ourselves to 1?! Paris Hilton comes to mind. Jeffrey from Project Runway. Anne Coulter. Nancy Grace. Screechy people and vapid people and just plain nasty people are off my cool list for good, I think.

Muse, Where Art Thou?

Inspiration is wonderful when it happens, but the writer must develop an approach for the rest of the time... The wait is simply too long. -- Leonard Bernstein

I love this quote.

I'm working on a "rest-of-the-time" approach right now, actually.... It's going very, very well.

(Does sarcasm wink, flash or smell on screen?)

Anyway: I got cute stuff to say about Miles and the kitty -- who is now offically named Chester. I got stuff goin' on internally, that I should probably try to blog out, just to vent a little sadness and depression. I got church stuff going on and a small reason to feel that God did a good thing through me. Yep, I got a lot -- ALLLLLL in my head. And none of it really wants to come out and play.

Maybe later tonight I can try to coax the words into order, for at least some pressing topics of the day. I may be forced to test Jack London's approach, which is even more blunt than Lenny's. "You can't wait for inspiration," London says. "You have to go after it with a club."

Houston, we have Kitten.

Yes, it seems like a long-scrubbed mission has finally achieved liftoff as the family B has acquired a pet. (This comes after four years with no animals -- save the sub-adult homo sapien kind -- under foot.) New little kitty has been around for about 2 days and has not yet been properly named. As you can see, however, he seems to be settling in nicely. By way of introduction, I can tell you he's a boy, he's red-headed, and he's a fine napper -- which pretty much sums up our first cat plus gives him lots in common with the 2 other members of my household.

We're leaning toward calling him Chester, Jasper or Gus but are still open to inspiration. If you have a name suggestion, please leave a comment!
(Oh, and act fast because, while "Little Kitty Boy" works well enough to call the feline to a meal, it's getting old every time I need to chastise him. So far today, thanks to some cord-chewing, paper scattering and ankle climbing, I've had that need about 15 times.) Thanks! And... yeah for us!