John & Kate + 8 and Iran's Fate

Today I am trying to join bloggers all over to promote the cause of Iran. However, I am pretty sure most American’s know more about the state of John and Kate and their failing marriage than the real life events unfolding in Iran. Moreover, those who might have been lining up to protest at the Federal Building in Westwood are, I fear, being overshadowed by the mourners in Encino at the Jackson compound.

Is this a reflection of our bubble gum culture’s demise or our just general apathy about the global cause? Aren’t we the country’s whose roots and heritage come from revolution, overthrowing tyranny and establishing democracy? How did we get to the place where we care more about the stars of a reality show than democracy being thwarted by a tyrannical dictator who may or may not have nuclear weapons pointed at us?

Give me liberty or give me more reality TV shows?

lucky's IPA festival

I love Sierra Madre. This is no secret, despite the birds that frequent TOPT, despite the unruly kids who often over run Bean Town, despite the lack of affordable housing – Sierra Madre is an absolute treat. High on my list of attractions is Lucky Baldwin’s – much better than the Old Town location, no weird smell, no difficulty finding parking, no wobbly stairs, no terrible bathroom and quirky bartenders who remember you – it is the quintessential neighborhood bar perhaps the San Gabriel Valley’s own version of Cheers.

Over extending its’ schedule through the 27^th is Lucky’s IPA festival where if you buy a glass you can get refills for as low as $3 a glass throughout the duration of the festival. Their 60+ tap list features some true faves – Pliny the Elder, Ruination, Firestone’s Union Jack, Lagunitas, Hop Ottin’ and of course a Craftsman IPA. A non-IPA notable, Firestone’s Honey Blonde sold at the festival rate.

What is an IPA you ask?

An IPA, Indian Pale Ale (not to be confused with the International Phonetic Alphabet), is according to beertown.org is “the prototypical hoppy ale,” “deceptive pale, golden ale” and “most tip the scales at 6% alcohol b volume.” What is not to like – right? Take a break from the non-stop coverage of MJ mourning and join the celebration before it ends Sunday. This is truly as the LA Times describes it IPA mania. Enjoy dear friends, enjoy often. Paired with a French Dip, the IPA list is not to be missed.

Note: another piece of evidence typing the scales in favor of the Sierra Madre location’s supremacy to the Old Town location – if you forget your glass, in Sierra Madre they will more than likely give you the benefit of the doubt. This is not the case in Old Town, where a bartender who I have never seen before shamed me and charged me the higher rate. Blast.

Cats and Fish

I have heard an awful lot about the untimely death of Michael Jackson -- may I offer a lighter note?

I am sure somewhere in the annals of the internet there must be posts and/or musings about this deep philosophical question I’d like to revisit. I know I am not the first person to have wondered about it and Lord knows my friends are sick and tired of me asking it – but here goes.

We all know how cats love fish, right? A stroll down the cat food aisle will affirm this as I imagine it will very likely be stocked with many cans of fish flavored kitty food. But we all also know how cats hate water, right? Picture yourself at one of your cat loving friends homes – what do they do to “punish” kitty? Use a spray bottle filled with water to squirt kitty into line. Or in my case, my brothers threw my poor cat into the pool.

My question, one that haunts me in the middle of the night, is how can this be? Why do cats hate water but love fish? Cats are undoubtedly predators, but I’ve never seen one hunt a fish. Bears yes, dogs yes, ducks, yes, pelicans, yes –but cats don’t even go near the water. Why do they like fish? Is it that they, like so many of us, want what they can’t have?

I know some have offered theories that not all cats hate water, but I for one have never, ever seen a cat that doesn’t. Doesn’t it seem reasonable from a sort of biological standpoint that with this seemingly universal built in aversion to water – they wouldn’t have a pallet for fish? Is this some weird quirk of domesticating cats? Maybe wild cats either also hate water but don’t like fish or like water and hence have a taste for fish.

I don’t get it.

Update on Clown School

Last week I wrote about “clown school” – a quick update:

Something very remarkable happened at our last installment of clown school. We brought pizza and sodas for the boys but right before we were to eat our slices, the boy who is the most devious of the bunch asked if he could say grace for the meal. In the whole of our time with these boys we have talked very little if at all about our faith though our understanding of who Christ is, be it often unrefined and at times misguided, is and has been our whole motivation to volunteer at an under-resourced school. We were happy for the boy to say grace and the other boys also somewhat excitedly consented to it.

If ever there was a time in my life I wish I had a voice recorder, I wished I had one that day to record his prayer. He rattled off a brief list of very standard pre-meal prayer material but ended by thanking God for me and the other woman who has faithfully co-lead clown school for the last few months calling us his most favorite staff. Maybe we didn’t turn this clown into a saint or do much measurable “good” at the school as a whole, but even for the briefest of windows, I am proud to have mattered to this young child.

The next time I am plagued by self-doubt or find myself in the midst of yet another quarter-life crisis, I’d play his prayer to remind me of something I can be proud of. And I believe it is very likely, I will not ever be applauded for my role in creating a school-based ministry churches all of the country learn from, but I can take pride in the theology lesson I learned in clown-school.

Coming soon – Lucky’s IPA festival, cats and fish and superman.

cyber-church

The other day I was sick and stayed home from church. I stumbled onto the crazy Christian network and after watching a bit of the crackpot preacher’s latest dose of crazy, I thought I ought to stream live the morning service of my own church – after all it is 2009, right? Sure enough, I caught most of the service including a baptism, the offering mediation and of course the sermon. Did I mention the Doobie Brothers song?

I can’t decide, though if this phenomenon – streaming of church services – is a good or bad thing? Not meaning to bite the hand that feeds me, I hope a healthy dialogue on 21^st century church/spirituality might ensue. Certainly, for those out there unable to make it to church – because of injury or distance or what have you, there is a benefit for cyber-church, right? But I can’t help but wonder what difference it makes if one ever shows up to the actual building or not if I can “be” there in my PJs lounging on the couch? Or, in the fashion of a consumer, why wouldn’t I opt to stream the most popular sermon/church out there even if the physical church is a world away? Could I actually be a cyber member of a congregation a world away in effect?

On an unrelated note, why would I subscribe to my own church’s sermon podcast through iTunes when I could hear the sermon from the horse’s mouth every Sunday (so-to-speak)?

Earlier in the week, I hung out with a friend who’s church couldn’t be more different than mine. Every time we hang out, we manage to delve into a friendly banter on our own understanding of ecclesiology. We both affirmed church ought to be more like singing karaoke than attending a rock concert. (Neither one of us came up with this but we couldn’t remember where we had heard the metaphor) But to elaborate, church ought to be a setting where, like singing karaoke, everyone there is expected to participate and very little prep is needed. In fact the most meaningful material often comes from those who have absolutely no formal voice training but because of their sheer vulnerability inspire. On the other hand, a rock concert, save for the benefit of my ticket revenue, the show is not really at all affected by me in the audience. Sure I might sing along, cheer or even goes as far as holding up a lighter; but I’m never really a part of the show in the same way as the performer is a part of the show.

Be honest, would you rather go to karaoke church or rock concert church?

Jacaranda trees…

In an effort to get on board with the Pasadena blogging community, I decided to post about jacaranda trees.

For most of my life, I wrote off the jacaranda trees because of their mess. Our neighbor’s tree spilled over into our pool area leaving those charming little lavender flowers all over everything. If any of you have romanticized ideals about these trees, talk to someone who has one in their front yard. However, maybe it is time I reconsidered these bizarre and wonderful little pieces of natural quirk.

Driving around town today, the curious beauty of these crazy pastel purple trees was unavoidable. Are they straight out of Thomas Kincaid painting or more apt to be part of an acclaimed landscape artist’s work fit to be hung in a museum?

Laker hater?

I don’t like the LA Lakers.  I know for my fellow Angelinos out there, this will be ire invoking.  For my family, simply hasn’t come to terms with it – the elephant in the room.  I wonder if this is what gay people who “come out” only to have their loved one still set them up with members of the opposite sex. 

My dad in particular will often ask me if I watched the game even despite us having the talk about my Laker preference.  My oldest brother gave me a Laker tee-shirt to commemorate their 2001 championship in what I think was his attempt to change my mind about the Lakers.  It didn’t. 

I grew up in a sports family.  Our family’s routine often revolved around sports.  Monday night football meant dinner during half-time.  Of course, the NFL was just as much of Thanksgiving fixture at our house as turkey and stuffing.  I swam with Vin Scully and Orel Hershiser in the summers.  Well it felt like that because my dad was always listening to the Dodger game on his cordless AM radio poolside. You get the point. 

For the most part, I have followed suit in my devotion to sports – I love the Dodgers, the USC Trojans and March Madness.  I deviated a bit by becoming a fan of the Green Bay Packers but at least I know they will never move to another city.  However, I never really got on board when it came to becoming a fan of the Lakers. 

And so tonight as the Lakers clinched the championship, I am glad the NBA season is over.  I am glad the finals have not stretched any longer than the eight months it already is.  I am glad the sports pages will no longer be plastered with pictures of Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant. And most of all I am glad the Laker flags will go back into the closets of Laker fans hopeful to soon be replaced by either USC flags or Dodger flags.