Eating Healthy with Goldfish and Chicken Nuggets

I like to eat healthy–no condiments on my hamburgers or hot dogs, except lettuce and pickles. And instead of Ranch dressing for my chicken nuggets, I choose barbeque sauce, as it is tomato based. See? Healthy yums.

 

That’s kinda how I feel like when scripture is taken out of context and either posted on a meme or, more recently, quoted to me in response to my opinions. Seems like I inflamed some feelers with my nose piercing post. I knew it would polarize some, but really didn’t expect whiplash and the silent treatment that has trickled down. Who’d have thunk a tiny ol’ stud would stir the pot?

Thanks Christian Memes for the images!

 

Suffice to say, I’m not going to skip down the path of scripture quoted to me to point out my shortcomings or my assumed path to lead others astray with my nostril. It was nitpicked for the benefit of presentation of the writer. As Mike Duran points out here, it’s like people quoting Philippians 4:8 for the reason to only have “family-friendly” books, movies and television…conveniently forgetting about all of the gore, torment, sodomy, rape, incest, adultery, destruction, demons, plagues, and catastrophes in Scripture. And please skip over the Song of Solomon.

(it’s sarcasm, people…)

Come on, son! That’s like me telling Thing 2 that she’s fulfilling scripture every morning:

If you need to fling scriptures at me to change my mind about piercings and my short hair, feel free. I hope it makes you feel better. Then go ahead and read my equally out-of-context Romans 14:10 and Romans 12:14. Or don’t because you’re not used to a swinging door that smacks you in the butt. (oooh, I used a sissy-swear word there…)

 

And Goldfish crackers aren’t healthy, but they are tasty goodness with a smile.

Yes, That’s a Nose Ring.

I’ve lost count of how many people at church or parents at the spawns’ school have cocked an eyebrow or stared at the little stud in my nose. “Oh. You got your nose pierced.”

 

I promise you, I’m neither loose with my morals or soliciting my body, despite their sideways, second look at my nostril.

 

Yes, there are the exceptions of people who don’t care, who like my choice of stud or practically held my hand at the tattoo parlor when I was getting it done. *gasp* I went to a tattoo parlor?! I did…and my artist had the most amazing facial tattoos I’ve ever seen.

 

I’ll let you in on another secret…I used to never drink coffee and now it’s usually two cups a day. And I’m pretty sure that if the piercing doesn’t send me straight to hell, the caffeine addiction will, right?

I’ve written and rewritten the post about seventeen times. I’m a big ol’ personality, but have my insecurities. It trips me up about stereotypes within the Christian body. And I’ve done it myself! But this nose ring has really made it hit home. Jesus didn’t look at the Samaritan woman at the well and criticize her outward appearance–he looked at her heart. He had a habit of looking past the obvious: the adulteress in John 8 who was caught “in the act” and probably dragged naked into the temple, healing the lepers (those Google images can be disturbing), and even the guy with the shriveled hand (on the Sabbath, no less)!

 

When I argued with myself about the validity of my rant, I read the latest installment of Sacred Ground, Sticky Floors. That Jami gal makes me happy because of her honesty.

 

And you know what? I want to be honest about people who make me feel borderline Satanic because my nose is pierced. Okay, it’s not for everyone, but don’t stare at my piercing and ask me in a judgemental tone what made me decide to get it done. I know you don’t like it. You know you don’t like it. Move along. I ain’t got time for your passive-aggressive judgement. My heart belongs to Jesus. My nose belongs to me.

 

And no, I don’t regret getting my nose pierced.

Crumbs in my Keyboard

I stressed out about a blog this week. Between juggling nine million things to do, I ain’t got time for this. Well, maybe nine million is a bit of an over-estimation…it’s more than a handful and less than the amount of toys in the $.49 bin at Goodwill.

 

Seems like my Facebook page is flooded with back to school posts and pictures. Yeah, I took some quick pics of my kids. No, I did not post them…on purpose. Shocking, right? How will my children’s lives be complete without their obligatory “first-day-of-school” pictures posted? I am sure therapy will be needed, but my friends do call me a jerkface.

 

No new rejections this week, so that is a bonus. But it is still midweek, so there’s time for another to slide in. I did have time to rejoice with a friend of mine, Rosemary Johnson. She sent me a message about some great news in her little writing corner. And yesterday, she send another fantastic message, but I’m not allowed to share it. Let’s just say, woohoo!

 

I rewatched Suicide Squad over the weekend. Still like it and the Joker. Caught a bunch of nuances I missed the first time around but a second movie review would just be weird.

 

Let’s see…set some new writing goals. Worked on my fanfiction. Edited an older manuscript. Wrote a partial paragraph for my new contemporary YA book. Found a new sarcastic mom blog that makes me happy. Caught up on laundry (if clean clothes waiting to be folded counts). Planned exactly zero meals for the week.

 

My personal highlight of the week? I bought tickets to the 30th anniversary showing of The Labyrinth at our local theater next month. Going to surprise the spawn!

 

What’s the point of this post? I have none. And that is a huge no-no for someone (like me) who is trying to build an audience. I’m supposed to “have direction” and “focus” to build my blog readership. But after having some entertaining emails with someone I recently met, I thought I’d just let a little of myself bleed through today.

 

Today, this is me. I have no set course. I gave myself a pat on the back for shaking out the crumbs from my keyboard when the “K” key wasn’t working. And I’m just happy that I remembered to pack a lunch.

Sexy Olympics?

And the 2016 Summer Olympics keep calling me to watch when I should be writing. The best of the best pitted against each other for medals. Phenomenal World Records. Heart-wrenching losses. I still remember the old ABC commercials as a kid:

“The thrill of victory…and the agony of defeat.”

 

Random conversations blossom from catching highlights. The massive shoulder size of swimmers. Confusing rugby rules. Imagining road rash after a mountain bike course crash. The women gymnasts have floor routine music and the men don’t. The most recent?

 

“Mom, why do the women’s beach volleyball players wear bikinis and the guys wear normal clothes?”

And I thought to myself, “That’s a great question.” 

 

I read several articles about the matter. What it all boils down to is this: women who play beach volleyball don’t see it as a sexual matter–they view their bikinis as a uniform. And until 2012, that itty bitty bikini was an Olympic dress code requirement! Now players have the option of shorts and sleeved tops.

 

It boils down to a matter of modesty and I WON’T open that particular can o’ worms on my blog. I can flood this post with articles one way or the other, for or against bikinis, how skin shouldn’t be viewed as sexy or how it attracts a perverted mind. There are those in the camp that it objectifies a woman.

 

I err on the side of conservative by choice and belief but have Christian friends who differ with my opinion. It’s not a hair I’m willing to split a friendship over, but I’ve been known to give the stinkeye in their general direction. 😀

Suicide Squad

Saw Suicide Squad over the weekend. I’ve been looking forward to this flick since the first trailer released last year.

This flick could’ve easily fallen into an “R” rating. There were plenty of times for more explicit violence or the “F” bomb. I mean…it’s a movie about the worst of the worst. Suicide Squad reined in just enough to earn its rightful “PG-13” rating.

 

There are some fantastic songs integrated into the film that are completely opposite of Enya (and I like her, folks): Creedence Clearwater Revival, Twenty One Pilots and Eminem, just to name a few. And it works. The soundtrack split my taste halfway, even the clean version. But someone who likes rap will enjoy it more than I do.

 

It’s no secret that I love a good comic book movie. But this film surprised me! I avoided reviews before settling into the X.D. theater. I wanted to give the plot an unadulterated chance. And I don’t automatically like “the bad guys” in a movie. Growing up, I was a steadfast Marvel girl, firmly rooted in the heroics of X-Men.

 

So what surprised me?
 

My empathy for the characters. The further the film advanced, the more my heart resonated with the true desires of the members of the Suicide Squad. As their truest dreams are laid bare by the Enchantress, I was captivated by their basic desire to be…normal.

Don’t mistake my empathy for cheering for the bad guys. Deadshot’s unrepentance for being an assassin and Harley Quinn’s manic obsession to please the Joker really pushed/pulled my sense of justice and my personal wish for their redemption. But neither were satisfied.

 

There were a couple of lulls in the movie, where backstory tumbled in and clogged the plot. Overall, I was swept into the story and still can’t believe how happy I was with the ending.

 

Don’t take your kids who are sensitive. Lots of violence (guns, fatal karate chops, baseball bats, etc.) and I think the cursing was literally counted and fell right at the “one-more-and-it’s-rated-R” line. Harley’s shorts? They defy physics.

My favorite line: “You’re ruining date night!” In fact, most of my favorite moments are with Harley. Jared Leto’s Joker is both mesmerizing and terrifying—and I liked him.

There’s an obvious set-up for a sequel (DC, you credit copycat, slipping in an extra scene).

Dear future director, Batman speaking in a breathy, grumble sucks. Stop it. I don’t even know if I can bring myself to watch the Justice League, even with the promise of Aquaman.

%$&* Song Lyrics

I recently read a Facebook post by a teenage girl about the deterioration of secular song lyrics. And as a whole, I agree. I’ve jerked forward to change the station as a “special” kind of word floated out of the speakers.

Whoops. Sorry kids.

 

I’m not going to do this: “When I was a kid…I walked to school, barefoot, both ways in the snow. AND the songs I listened to didn’t have no cussing.”

When did it become normal for songs to talk about sleeping around or body parts? A long, long time ago. And guess what? It sells…a lot.

 

Have you ever watched a performance by Lady Gaga? She’s got a “schtick” – weird costumes. I won’t taint my page with her bizarre stuff. However, this rendition of the national anthem and this Sound of Music rendition changed my mind about her. But being a normal person with a beautiful voice doesn’t sell. Just ask an abundance of waiters and waitresses in Nashville and Los Angeles.

 

Thank the Lord, there are groups who come along like Twenty One Pilots, bucking the trend with clean lyrics and snappy interviews.

 

What do you think? Have lyrics been headed downhill for years? Who is your go-to for clean listening?