I Like You

After spending four days in Las Vegas for the annual Society for Human Resources Management Conference, I am happy to have escaped from the triple digit temps, five dollar bottles of water and general sensory overload.

Jonathan and I had a good time, after spending the first day in a neon-induced catatonic state… The first day of the conference, I left for the convention center in the early morning while Jonathan slept. When I got back it was nearly 6 pm and he had only left the hotel room once — he rode the elevator to the lobby where there is a Starbucks, got a bagel and the aforementioned five dollar water and returned to the confines of the room for the balance of the day.

Granted, he was trying to get some work done, but I think his temporary agoraphobia was due more to an overall sense of disgust at the excess, lust, greed and materialism that is Vegas.

That evening, during a quick dip in the pool, we agreed that while Vegas will probably never make our Top Ten List of travel destinations, it does have its own brand of charm, and we might as well seize the day and soak it up!

All in all we really enjoyed ourselves. Highlights of our hijinks included:

• Screaming our way down the roller coaster at New York New York
• Losing a few bucks at the nickel slots
• Gasping in awe at countless feats of athletic prowess during a Cirque du Soleil show (Mystere)
• Splitting a piece of strawberry cheesecake at the Carnegie Deli in The Mirage while remembering our trip to the real Carnegie Deli in Manhattan with Erin almost exactly a year ago
• Enjoying some fantastic tapas and sangria one night and Pan-Asian food another night (thanks to restaurant recommendations from AJ & Maryanne!)

We flew in yesterday and I headed back to work today, with my open suitcase in the middle of the living room floor, still needing to be unpacked. It’ll keep.

Tonight I have had the good fortune of playing governess to some of my favorite munchkins, ages 2, 3 and 5. The things kids say might give you a little insight into the things their parents hold dear…and in this case, I think the following two quotes from the evening might give you an idea…

First, while eating pizza:

Dylan: We have to save some. We have to save some pizza for the poor people.

Daisy: No, I don’t think they’d like it. Because it’s Mexican food, and they’re not Mexican.

Dylan: But we need to give them some, and some applesauce. Applesauce is good for you.

And later, while playing soccer, when I mistakenly thought we were competing against each other:

Dylan: No, we’re on a team. You pass it to me. We’re the Ducks and we don’t let the Beavers get it.

The other day I watched “Jesus Camp.” I need a hug.

(“Jesus Camp” is a documentary about charismatic evangelicals who send their grade school aged children to evangelism camp to learn how to take America back for Jesus.)

There were a few times during the film that I almost moved toward the remote to turn it off — mainly because I find the story so frustrating and depressing that I almost couldn’t handle watching the whole thing.

Since I was raised in an evangelical movement, worked in a huge evangelical church for five years  and am currently serving on the elder board of our little church, one might assume that I would feel defensive of the Christian parents and clergy depicted in the film, or that I might feel angry toward the filmmakers for choosing an angle that makes these parents look ignorant or foolish. But actually, my angst while watching the film was much more directed toward the evangelical movement, or at least the fringes of it.

My main beef with the world view of these folks is the philosophy that (1) from its inception, America was always meant to be a Christian nation, (2) it has strayed from those original tenets over the years, and (3) we as believers are therefore called to take America back for Jesus.

These are the people that are still mad about prayer being taken out of schools, who think the Ten Commandments ought to remain posted in civic buildings, who think George W is God’s man for America and everything he does is guided by the hand of God, and who homeschool their children to make sure they know that global warming is just a farce perpetuated by the liberal media.

I don’t take issue with these Good Christian People’s right to believe as they do, or worship as they do.  My beliefs are similar to theirs in many ways, and I admire their commitment to doing what they believe is the right thing.

The thing that really burns my toast is that these children are being raised without the ability to use critical thinking, ask questions, and engage with others whose beliefs are different from theirs. Some of these moms are homeschooling their kids because they don’t want them to learn anything about evolution or global warming — as if by drilling creationism into their heads they will prevent their children from ever encountering another explanation for the world. Wouldn’t it be better to help your kids dialogue with culture and science and politics in age appropriate ways, and help them begin to develop a respect for conversation and for other people’s views?

I wanted to jump out of my skin when a whole evening at evangelism camp featured a speaker who came to talk about abortion. He whipped these nine years olds into a frenzy as they wept and shouted “No more!” while holding little pink plastic babies in the palms of their hands. Again, not that these kids shouldn’t be taught about abortion and other moral issues of the day, but why in the #@*! didn’t anyone teach these kids anything about the poor, the fatherless and the widow? Or better yet, include them in a hands-on project to serve those less fortunate? Jesus talked about the poor more than anything else, and exhorted us to show compassion, but somehow we are more interested in being outraged about other people’s lives and fixating on one issue instead of doing something productive to serve the poor or provide comfort to those who are suffering.

These parents are revved up to turn their children into an army of soldiers to go out and take the world by storm through the use of gospel tracts. What kind of delusional world are they living in? We are living in a post-Christian culture. It’s going to take a lot more than a stapled mini-comic book bursting with pat answers and truisms to get your average agnostic or skeptic to consider the lordship of Jesus.

Watching a sweet, wide-eyed and zealous little girl march up to a friendly but uncomfortable stranger at a bowling alley and hand her a tract, announcing that God loves her and wants to save her, triggered memories of youth retreats I attended as a middle schooler. We were lured to the event with the promise of skiing at the mountain or sunning on the beach, but once we were there we were tasked with approaching a certain number of strangers, engaging them in a brief and stilted conversation and eventually presenting them with the four spiritual laws booklet. We were supposed to report back to the group afterward about how many people we talked to and whether or not we “succeeded” by leading any of them through the Sinner’s Prayer. Ugh. Just the thought of it leaves a palpable knot in my stomach.

I hated the approach back then and I find it just as distasteful today. It’s not that this “stranger evangelism” doesn’t ever work or is evil at its core, but I find that it almost always feels awkward at best, and disrespectful at worst, to the unsuspecting stranger who is being evangelized on the ski lift. I just don’t think this is the best we have to offer the world, as followers of Jesus. We can do better.

Jonathan’s oldest brother bought us a Magic Bullet (TM) for a wedding gift, and we just received it yesterday. Immediately after getting home, Jonathan sat down on the kitchen floor and started unpacking the wunder-appliance while exclaiming with delight, “It has so many pieces!” And, “This is one of my favorite presents!”

Of course we had to try it out right away. Here’s what we whipped up in the inaugural evening:

• Strawberry banana yogurt smoothy (Yum!)
• Peanut butter, banana and protein powder smoothy (Eh…could be improved with some minor tweaking.)
• Fat free hummus (Yuck. The olive oil and tahini which were absent from the recipe were dearly missed.)
• Cilantro lime dressing (Pretty good, but still not quite as good as when my MIL makes it.)
• Strawberry lemonade slushy (Mmm! Refreshing!)

Last week, Jonathan bought me a summer home. It hangs from eye hooks that are mounted in two of our backyard trees, and it’s made of woven cord. Yes, ladies and germs, we have a hammock and we’re not afraid to use it.

Yesterday evening after an eventful day (overnight guests, strawberry picking on Sauvie’s Island, and a Father’s Day BBQ with both fams), I stretched out in the hammock with a fleece blanket and a book*, and swung gently from the trees while squirrels scaled the branches above me.

*I’m reading “Traveling Mercies” by Anne Lamott. It’s the kind of book that makes me wish I could go for a long walk with Anne Lamott and talk about life.

My grandpa was renowned for his rather aggressive pruning techniques.

When we would visit his house as kids, he would usually take us all out to the yard and say something like, “Did you see how I pruned the chestnut tree?” We would all turn obediently to look at the tree he was pointing at, and find that it looked something like a telephone pole with a couple of stubby, leafless branches sticking out.

I have a lot to learn about landscaping, but so far I think I may be inclined in an Arnold-ward direction. I pruned a small azalea bush a few weeks ago, because it was overgrown and had started protruding over the front porch. It has had a brownish, shrivelly look ever since.

We had a monstrous magenta rhododendron in the front yard that all but obscured the view of the house. It wasn’t very attractive. I mean probably, in its heyday, it was a real glamourous bush to have around…but these days it just looked too big for its britches and a bit garish. So…it’s gone. With a little help from our local landscaping experts, that baby is currently being turned into mulch at some eco-friendly yard debris dumping ground.

I know Arnold would be proud.

Benadryl makes me fall asleep at my desk. Not taking Benadryl makes me sneeze all day at my desk. I need a new allergy medicine.