The Wheels on the Bus go... Back and Forth

Precursor to this post: I love my car. Lucio is, literally, a dream come true- a dream born of 5+ years spent driving my parents' car, which I disaffectionately call 'The Boat' because it is *almost* (6 bregrudging inches short) as long as Tony's Roadmaster.

The backseat of the Grand Marquis was perpetually cluttered with my dad's 'emergency' items, like toilet paper, Catholic booklets (also known as 'truth tracts') and raisins (Abe one time, after eating half a jar of stale peanuts, asked me to "Tell your dad to get some better snacks". Let it be known that Lucio comes fully stocked with two different kinds of granola bars and whatever groceries get lost underneath the seats). The Boat also featured a makeshift back support on the driver's seat, crafted from a leftover cushion of unknown origin and some shoestring, and its soul-crushing beige exterior spoke of my handiwork - scratches, dents, and one long scrape along the driver's side from when I ran it alongside the fence at my high school one afternoon (my parents still don't know about that one... shh). All that being said...

Owning a car sucks. Today, Lucio and I took a field trip to the mechanic's after two unsuccessful visits to the tire shop to get my sleek new wheels checked out. For the past few weeks, I've increasingly noticed my car shaking when I drive it at high speeds. I assumed there was something wrong with my tire alignment, a problem I figured might not be unrelated to my habit of taking Lucio over speed bumps a little faster than the road commissioners probably intended. At least, I *hoped* this was the case, since Lucio's tires come with a lifetime warranty, courtesy of his former owner, Carl Polish-last-name-with-four-no-really-four-z's.

But alas, the motor gods were unhappy today. The friendly folks at Discount Tire let me know that my driver side wheel is slowly working itself loose, a fact confirmed by new mechanic, Sonny (have I mentioned I love the South?) It's never a good sign when their reactions is "wow I've never seen wheel bearings completely worn away like this!" Glad I could enlighten you, Sonny.

Unfortunately, both my budget and sanity are balanced rather precariously on the assumption that no disaster, natural or otherwise, will befall them. What's worse is that the two are rather intimately connected- major hits to the budget typically result in a nervous breakdown, usually followed by large purchases of ice cream and liquor, not accounted for in the aforementioned budget... and around and around we go.

On the bright side, I'm 6 short work hours away from a four-day weekend and a three-day wedding celebration. Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy, here I come!

The best thing about being hungry...

... is how good stuff tastes. Have you ever had a Sun Chip when on the brink of starvation? Incredible. A box of Cheeze-its after 8 hours of involuntary fast? Positively gourmet.

If you ever find yourself taking generic brand wheat thins and low-fat yogurt for granted, try eating them as the first course of your dinner- never will you be so grateful for all nine grains of goodness.

Grown-Up Snow Day

Our power at the office went off a little after lunch today, after the lawn care company accidentally chain-sawed through a power line while cutting branches (ironically, the trees were being trimmed to avoid causing power outages during ice storms). Our back-up batteries depleted quickly, and our generator slowly lost its juice until it gave up alltogether less than 2 hours after the hit. So with the AC dead and the South Carolina sun beating in through the windows, turning our building into a greenhouse, we were sent home at 2:30.

Better than a canceled class (because I have no homework to feel guilty about not catching up on!). I think I'll hit the pool.

Happy Feast of the Assumption!!

Major perk of working at a Catholic ministry: paid vacation for Holy Days of Obligation! Another thing I love about my South.

Hot-lanta, here I come.

Grow Garden Grow

There is a Presbyterian (wow it took me 3 tries to spell that) Church down the street from my parish called something like 'The Living Vine Church'. Earlier this week, I noticed a sign out front that said "Living Vine Church: Growing faithful Christians" (also of note is the fact that their advertised 'Contemporary Service' is held at 11:11 am, which should tell you something).

I instantly envisioned the inside of this Church: in the place of pews, rows of soil, with little Christians of all shapes and sizes poking their heads up. The pastor, wearing a robe and rubber gardening gloves, walking slowly among his parish. Watering their eager little heads, he gently speaks agricultural words of Scripture: "I am the Vine and you are the branches", "the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few" "The kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed..." (I could go on and on here).

I poke fun, but obviously The Living Vine is aiming for something, and they're probably hitting the mark. Most Evangelical Protestant Churches work really hard to draw in people enmeshed in modern culture by playing to their emotions, welcoming them, "loving on them" (as we say in YoungLife), and I respect them for that. The Catholic Church, in contrast, is typically viewed by non-Christians and Protestants alike, as being inhospitable, unapproachable, and self-contained. To which I say: they're right.

However, that statement must be qualified with the following points, each of which deserves (and will likely get, at a later date) its own post:

1. The Catholic Church is explicit in its mission: evangelize (ie save souls).

2. Though Catholics may "fail" in this area, it is NOT a reflection on the Church's doctrine. It is a reflection on human nature.

3. Though Catholics may not be known for their potluck Sundays and hugs after Church, exceptions exist. There are some kick-ass Catholics out there evangelizing like Baptists wouldn't believe.

To come on this: What the Bible (and Catechism) has to say about evangelizing, why Catholics suck at it, and the people trying to give them a good name (hint: there is a rapping Priest involved).

WORST Feeling in the World

...when you accidentally inhale a carrot particle into your lungs while chewing.

COUGH.

Why I Love the South: Reason #1

Smile-of-the-day moment: I saw a man wearing a T-shirt that said (and I apologize for any incorrect spellings I spell correctly here) "Yo' mama wuz pro-life, dawlin' ".

Amen, brotha.

Love, Actually

While I may not agree with or endorse his opinions, I did promise to advertise in my little corner of the world, so check it out. However, note that comparing Love Actually (one of my all-time favorite movies) to a Ballpark frank is a little harsh, in my opinion, and fails to fully account for the stellar soundtrack (including the Beach Boys' God Only Knows, and the instrumental piece Glasgow Love theme, which you should find and listen to even if you don't see the movie), even if he does make passing mention of the superior music.

The movie might not change your philosophies on life or inspire you to change the world, Freedom-Writers style, but if it's cold outside and your day has left you in a state of despair, Love Actually is a perfect compliment to decaf coffee and a tub of low-cal whipped topping (in my world, this translates to hot coccoa and cookie dough).

Somebody get me a sweater!

Last night's 7'o'clock news informed me that a cold front is expected to come in this weekend.

A cold front? I think excitedly. Ooh! Maybe that dust-collecting pile of lightweight long-sleeve tees under my bed will finally get some use.

So I check weather.com this morning- the predicted temperatures for this bone-chilling Saturday/Sunday?

88 and 92, respectively.

Welcome to the South.

Brought to you by the letter E

I’ve spent the last few days thinking about what to name this little emporium of thought here on the interweb (and doing little else). In the past, I’ve employed usernames like ‘poofoo_66' (a tribute to former N’Syncer and now-gay love-of-my-life Lance Bass) and ‘chlorineketchup’ (I think this one is obvious).

But now that I’m an adult, as my hot-off-the-laminator South Carolina Driver’s License tells me I am, it’s time to move past these childish pseudonyms and onto something smarter, catchier, or at the very least, more pretentious. As the most obvious way to lend something an air of snobbishness is to say it in another language, I pondered my limited foreign vocabulary.

This didn’t take long.

Well, said I, what else have I got? My name was an easy option, but fear that ‘karenmiller.blogspot.com’ would lead to a stalker experience landing me a story on Dateline and a lifetime of therapy kept me from going that route.

Then I had the brilliant idea of disguising my name in a foreign language, which leads us to today’s topic: Etymology.

I have never been fond of my given name, even if it was once referred to as “a linguistic powerhouse” and described further as “a beacon in a sentence that yells, ‘first off, i'm a noun’ and ‘second, there's no way you can confuse my meaning, which isn't much, except a placemarker that refers to a human being’”. I’ve always known that Karen means ‘pure’ but I began to wonder where it came from, and the same for my middle name. A few minutes on the world wide web and I had my answers:

Karen derives from Katherine. The original Greek form is Aikaterine, which evolved into Katerina. The name then became Catharina in Latin because the Latin-speaking people thought the name derived from the Greek “katharos” or ‘pure’.

Renee is the feminine form of the French Rene, which comes from the Latin ‘renatus’, literally ‘reborn’. Huh.

Anyway, for blog-naming purposes, this newfound knowledge went out the window as soon as I realized that roughly half a percent of the population (the majority of which are Hillsdale grads) can even recognize latin and even fewer Greek. So I went with something even my hillbilly southern brethren could grasp, and here we are at Mow That Dirty Lawn. Yeehaw.