whereisjodi.

I walked by myself to the office today. Is that sentence backwards? I told you my English is getting worse, and for the life of me I can't figure out if it should be 'I walked to the office today by myself' or something else entirely.

Anyway! I think going on an errand by yourself is the moment of freedom in any foreign travel -- when you feel confident enough to take off on your own. I remember being downright giddy one time when I was living in S. Korea. I met a friend at the movies and then told her I could find my own way home <through three subways and a short hike>. I couldn't speak more than a few words in Korean and couldn't read the signs, but if I remember correctly I think I only took the subway one stop in the wrong direction before correcting course. ;)

My friend's 14-year-old nephew was a little nervous for me this morning so he carefully copied down a few cell phone numbers on a scrap of paper. I, of course, didn't have a phone, but it was a nice gesture and I could have found one if necessary. But really, what's the worst that could happen...a random chinese chef pulling up to ask me what kind of sauce I wanted?

I had a wonderful stroll and only got off course by a street or two before rolling up to the office. Then it struck me that my usual obliviousness was still intact as I didn't know which apartment number to ring. :p I knew the right floor, but there were four possibilities to buzz. I sat outside on the stoop for a couple minutes, then decided I might as well try out my Spanish. Esta es la oficina de <snip>? Thank heavens it was the right one on the first go.

Of course while I was sitting on the step I realized I didn't know how to get home -- there are several streets of very similar looking townhouses. I've been trying to memorize the house number for a week and have only managed to remember there's a blue flower of some kind and maybe a four in the number. Lucky for me I was able to catch a ride home before I had to buzz at random gates.

Posted by authorjodi at 04:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today I had the option of a Spainish buffet or a Chinese buffet for lunch. I asked my host to choose and ended up at The Wok, a very busy and fabulous chinese buffet -- I think maybe the best chinese buffet I have ever been to. :)

There was one moment of terrible concern when I was at the grill and passed over my plate of raw shrimp and veggies to be flambayed...and the Chinese chef asked me something...and my host was nowhere to be found! Do I panic over being lost in the desert of Senegal at midnight? No. Do I panic over being locked out of my train car in my pajamas on an all-night train in the Ukraine? No. Do I panic over what the chinese chef could possibly be saying about my veggies? You betcha. ;)

Thankfully the woman next to me in line took pity and said something about sauce. Another moment of panic because not only did I not know what my choices were, I wouldn't know how to name them if I did. Another thankful moment when the nice lady pointed at the ceiling and I saw a sign with six options -- I chose the Wok because it was the only one I could pronounce. Well no, I guess that's not true. I recognized one other, but I don't like curry.

Afterward we had a very Spainish cup of coffee. I was offered the local version which I think they called cordoba but I'm not certain, or an American version. I said, what the heck, I'll try it once. It was rather humorous to me because you bellied up to the bar to order in the midst of smokers and drinkers of more than coffee and they slapped down something barely bigger than shot glass. I watched a guy a few spaces down get his coffee with a bonus of some sort of hard liquor added in, but mine came with only milk. It was pretty good actually -- they told me it was very strong so I was expecting something like Turkish coffee. If you can manage to choke down one sip of that you're up all night. Of course I'm still up, so who knows.

Posted by authorjodi at 03:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday I blamed the ninos for making us miss the bus, so it's only fair that I confess I was the one who was late this morning. I've been wearing earplugs because the neighbors in the other half of the townhouse insist on moving furniture <or something like that> until the wee hours. Usually they fall out sometime during the night, but unfortunately last night the plugs stayed snug. I missed both my alarm clock and the noises in the house that usually wake me, and awoke only when my pequeno roommate tucked her day bed in under mine.

So...another nice half hour walk to the office this morning and several repititions of one of my most commonly used phrases lo siento: I'm sorry. Actually, I don't mind the walk at all because we're not usually moving too rapidito and the weather has been beautiful. It's a nice way to feel the rhythm of a city -- the buses chugging along, the cars honking, the people walking by and glaring. ;) My friend tells me this is just the way the Spainish are -- they glare until they get to know you, then they are very friendly.

I've got a new-to-me recommendation this morning. A Brazilian couple made my coffee during the break and, instead of heating water to add the instant coffee to, they used a cupful of milk. Wow. Maybe I've just been missing out all my life and this is not new to you, but if I'm ever drinking instant at home I'm going to try it this way. Makes instant quite tolerable. ;)

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One thing that always surprises me when traveling overseas is how many American influences I see. I went to the supermercado today and watched in shock as my friend whipped out her "El Club" card for preferential treatment. Those tick me off in America -- I can't believe they've made it all the way over here! :p

Since we needed so many items <including a no-joke 10 pound box of milk> she ended up calling her colleague to drive us home. The car is still broken and looks like it will be going to the coche graveyard, so we've been walking almost everywhere. This morning the ninos were running late so we missed our bus by about five minutes after dropping them at school. Since the bus only comes by once an hour we had a nice half hour stroll into the office.

Another thing I'm loving about Espana is the laid-back pace. Kids don't have to be at school til 9 and you pick them up at 2 before going home for lunch and the siesta. Of course my friends are from Costa Rica, so they don't observe the siesta...but the pace still seems slower.

I learned a new important phrase today...but for the life of me I can't remember it now, so I guess learned is not the most appropriate term. ;) I asked how to say I am boring because my friend's son is just mystified that I'm not ticklish anywhere. I feel quite free to regularly tickle him, but tonight he was ringing his hands and talking to himself about where oh where could I be ticklish. I could be wrong, but I think children might be quite similar all over the world. :) 

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Some of you long-time readers may remember I stalked Joel Rosenberg at the International Christian Retail Show in Atlanta last summer. One of the questions I asked him was if he had any suggestions for how to get Christian fiction a broader voice in the marketplace <he had said on his website he was disappointed to find only non-fiction got much play in Christian circles>. He basically said he had no idea; that he was given a voice and wild popularity because he’d written a novel that had basically come true.

I read a lot of news and consider myself fairly well informed, and yes, I’ve seen echoes of my novel in recent anti-Christian legal actions around our country -- the most eerily similar a Utah homeschooler who fled her home after being ordered to enroll her children in public school -- but I have to say I did a double-take when I saw this headline:

2nd petition opposes homeschooling ban
Legal team warns of possible fines, parenting classes, loss of custody

The story relates to the recent anti-homeschooling ruling in California where the court required a couple to enroll their children in public school or a different private school than they were currently associated with <sort of an independent association of homeschoolers>.

The blogosphere is up in arms, homeschooling families are freaked and online petitions abound. I’m fairly certain the California Supreme Court will overrule such a ludicrous ruling, but what troubles me is that -- if the ruling stands -- the alarmist rhetoric illustrated by the above headline...is neither alarmist, nor rhetoric.

Say this couple <or other homeschooling families hit with the precedent> decides to defy the court? The court would have no choice but to impose punishment. Fines, parenting classes and loss of custody are not out of the realm of possibility in such a scenario.

Parents having to decide whether to give up their beliefs or risk losing custody of their children sounds an awful lot like my novel coming true.

Posted by authorjodi at 06:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Have you ever noticed that, while trying to communicate in a foreign language, your English takes a nosedive? I noticed it quite a bit while I was in Senegal -- one of the first days after we’d returned to Boise I was talking to my parents and said a sentence that was so fractured we just busted into laughter. It would have made perfect sense a few days before with sand swirling around us, but in their basement, surrounded by the trappings of America, it sounded terrible!

I realized it had happened again last night while conversing with someone who spoke English well. My sentences were fractured and my phrases were out of order and I found myself getting flustered. I don’t know how bi- or tri-lingual folks switch back and forth with such regularity without their heads exploding!

After my Bad English experience, I went to sleep and was having a rather normal dream -- something about driving and the mall and my family -- when I felt like I was sucked into another dream. I was in Senegal, but there was an ocean and I was a small boy <you know how dreams are!>. Anyway, something bad happened, I can’t remember exactly what, but I almost got caught by a huge wave and drowned.

Then the dream rewound and replayed in slow motion and I was seeing all the events that had taken place to arrange it. Toward the end I saw myself <again, as the small boy> standing near the water. One of the Senegal missionaries was floating behind me, causing all these complex series of events to happen. I saw him whipping up the storm and then arranging the distraction so that I turned my back on the water, then he floated up behind me on a big wave and had his arms outstretched, getting ready to drown me.

At the last second I turned and was saved somehow, but I saw the look on the face of the missionary -- and all of a sudden it was like things clicked into place and I knew it wasn’t really the missionary. We locked eyes and he had an expression of such anger and downright evil that I was immediately terrified. I shouted out Jesus and woke myself up shouting it a second time. It felt like my entire body came unclenched all of a sudden, but for a couple minutes every time I closed my eyes I could see that face.

You know, we talk about the enemy being a crouching lion, intent on devouring us. But I have to admit I don’t often think of him as he really is -- pure evil, trying every which way to harm us. Arranging events to bring about our destruction. What I love is that, in terms of that dream, it didn’t matter all the work he’d put in to arrange things to kill me, God was sovereign and at the last second popped in just the right event to turn me around and save me.

Isn’t it just like that in real life?

Posted by authorjodi at 02:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I figure I'm remembering about three new Spanish words a day -- at this rate it should only take me about ten years to become fluent. On the bright side, the words I'm learning are all of utmost importance, so my conversational skills improve every day. Por exemplo, I think I've just about got memorized I need to tickle you: necesito cosquillas tu, which is a very important phrase when staying with children. I wanted to say I must tickle you, but I already knew the verb to need so I went with that out of laziness.

Also important, in that I never realized I used them so much -- I think: pienso, maybe: quevas and ok: balley. I think those words need to be added to donde esta el bano as critical to tourists. Finally, the most important word in this household -- entiendes: understand? :p

Posted by authorjodi at 07:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This is not so much a report about Spain, but the topic was inspired by my visit here. My friend has been telling me a little bit each day about some difficulties she’s had with their mission organization. Not complaining, by any stretch of the imagination, but just talking a little bit about the challenges.

I have to admit, I’ve been disappointed <although not with her, to be clear!>. It’s the same feeling I had last year when I was visiting another dear friend who’s a missionary in a closed country -- although I was so happy and felt honored that she would trust me enough to share the difficulties she’d been having with her mission and team members, I listened with a heavy heart. Come to think of it, I experienced similar disappointment while attending <snip> Bible College years ago and realizing <rather quickly> that the professors and others in leadership could be quite wrong at times, and belligerently so, wielding their Biblical authority like a club.

You might know what I’m talking about. That sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach every time you read the gleefully reported fall of an influential evangelical minister, or the stab to the heart when it’s a minister or leader you’ve known and loved for years.

A very wise friend of mine never seems to be disappointed, nor surprised, by these occurrences. She likes to say we humans are scum apart from Christ, so why should I expect anything different than scum-like behavior?

Somehow I’m unable to adopt that viewpoint, but other than the word “scum,” isn’t that pretty much what Romans has to say?

“There is no one righteous, not even one...for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:10, 23

Perhaps the root of my problem is the humanism that so infects our society it’s rarely questioned -- the idea that man is naturally good. I can’t even count how many verses refute that supposition, so why am I always so surprised when men don’t act good?

Perhaps it’s as simple as my sin nature, yelling in protest every time someone else illustrates, in painful full-color clarity, that I’m never going to achieve perfection. If they can’t do it, gosh, what chance do I have? It reminds me of the last couple weeks of sermons at our church, discussing the book of Romans. I think maybe I’m a little like an Israelite, trying to be justified by the law and highly ticked whenever I’m forcibly reminded of the utter impossibility of working my way to salvation.

Thank You Lord, for the seven zillionth time, for Your grace that covers all my sin.

 

Posted by authorjodi at 05:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Tonight I watched a few minutes of CNN-I with my friend, who said she watches it about three times a year for English practice. It didn’t take long for me to get mad -- a reporter made a per usual snide remark after a story fairly early on. Of course I got madder when my friend said on this side of the pond they take everything CNN says as gospel....but I’ll stop there.

Anyway, she flipped through the channels during an hour or so break <which was the first I’ve seen her take>, and came upon an old episode of Mad About You. We sat and watched it for awhile -- sadly I was unable to follow the rapidito espanol and I hadn’t seen the episode when it aired <which could have been ten years ago for all I know>, so I wasn’t too sure what was going on. After flipping through a few game shows and the news from Spain <which is all tragedia all the time she said>, we were done.

In the midst of all that I made a faux pas when one of the kids came in with their English homework. It was a “have got” lesson and you were supposed to conjugate the verb appropriately. My mistake came on the first question:

My best friend _____ a CD player.

Would you say, my best friend has a CD player, or would you say my best friend has got a CD player? The book said has got and without thinking I said, well that’s not right, then immediately realized:

1. I probably didn’t know what I was talking about anyway since I never took grammar and, when trying to get my book into shape, my editor gave me quite a lot of crepe over who and whom <I said sometimes whom just sounds stupid and I don't care if it's technically accurate>, and
2. even if I was correct, it probably wasn’t wise to question a textbook in a foreign country. I could just envision class tomorrow -- I’m sorry, but my American friend says your book is wrong.

Posted by authorjodi at 01:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I’m sitting across from my friend, our computers back to back as we work and chat, chat and work, while waiting for her kids to get out of tennis practice. We went to the office this morning after walking the kids to school -- which I loved by the way, all the moms walking their kids along at a fast clip, converging from at least eight streets I could see onto the school just in time.

It’s amazing how quickly you can fall back into your own cultural patterns. I spent six months preparing for my mission project in Senegal working with Latin Americans. Six months of pounding into my head that relationships mean more than work, that efficiency is not the highest goal, etc., etc. The whole warm climate/cold climate dilemma.

It took an e-mail received today to remind me that I was falling into that old trap. This morning I thought, well, at least I scheduled two weeks since things aren’t going as...erm...quickly as I’d planned.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m having a ball and the relationship aspect has been really marvelous. I think that, once again, the Lord had different plans than I thought I was coming to fulfill, and that’s just fine with me. Yet bouncing around in the back of my mind every once in awhile is the thought: ack! the days are slipping by and I haven’t even done any filming yet!

So many aspects of the Latin culture I love and wish I could relax enough to emulate -- yet in my heart I’m a cold climate American. It’s a hard habit to break. :)

Speaking of cold culture efficiency, I was told that the Spainish <which is how I identify the occupants of Spain, versus the Spanish folk I know, all of whom are not from Spain> couldn’t give a flying fig about customer service. If you happen to be standing in line at the bank around 10 or 10:30 in the morning, your clerk might just turn to you and say you’ll have to wait, I’m going to breakfast. Doesn’t matter if there’s a huge line...it’s time for breakfast! And the most shocking part, the Spainish standing in line understand, because that’s just the way it is.

The American in me shivers at such shockingly bad customer service. I can just imagine the hate mail and irate phone calls flooding into the call center. :p

On the non-comparitive-culture-side, from what I’ve seen so far this is a beautiful country. The Sierra Nevadas tower above the city with snow-capped splendor. There are trees and flowers and lovely skinny roads with cobble-stoned sidewalks. The aforementioned fountains, which I always love, pop up all over. I can’t wait to see more of it.

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Yesterday I went to the adult Sunday school at my friend's church while she taught a children's class. Once someone tipped me off that we were studying Job <yobe>, I was able to follow along pretty well. It was sort of a verse by verse discussion, so I could pretty well tell the topic and generally what people were saying. However, when church started, other than understanding we were in Hebrews talking about Jesus, the perfect man....yeah, I didn't catch much else. :p

It was wonderful, though, to fellowship amongst my Spanish brothers and sisters. Actually, my friend told me they have a very international church with members from many Latin countries. The singing was quite rousing with at least 10 people in front playing various instruments. I'm terrible with numbers, but I think there were maybe 80-100 folks jammed into pews as tight as possible. It was just marvelous with everyone standing and singing their hearts out. I was able to sing along with most of the songs because of the overhead, but I can't say I knew what I was singing most of the time --- other than a great song with something like Celebrate the Victory in Jesus as the chorus.

After church we walked to one of Granada's two malls. Nothing is open on Sundays except food shops, but the Burger King was open and we enjoyed a whopper con queso, papas fritas y Coke. It was quite a popular location -- we were there about an hour because the kids were having fun in the play area, and the whole time the line to order was out the door.

When we left BK we headed toward the City Center and strolled for several hours. My friend pointed out numerous fountains celebrating various accomplishments. Some were Spanish by origin, most musulman. She said water is very important to Islam, so they plopped fountains everywhere. There were also quite a few old, beautiful buildings with interesting architecture. We saw the Alhambra from a distance -- as I understand we'll go back later so I can check that out more closely. We also saw the famous statue, The Thinker, from a distance because it's here for a one month exhibition.

It was interesting to see how many Spaniards were out and about, as well as many ... err ... interesting looking Europeans. More dreadlocks than I've ever seen in a single day, and I had occasion to ask my friend if marijuana was legal as I watched some dude rolling a joint in one of the plazas. :x

Posted by authorjodi at 03:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

One of my family's favorite games when I was growing up was Dutch Blitz. We picked it up on a trip to Pennsylvania Dutch country if I remember correctly and could never find anyone else to play with us. Imagine my surprise when my friend's daughter whipped it out for game night. We also played Uno, Pass the Pig, and ended with a few rousing rounds of Twister.

It's amazing how many things you can accomplish when you don't have a working language between people. I found myself thinking of the Tower of Babel several times throughout the night. Me and the kids have a much harder time communicating anything but the simplest items, but we had a ball playing games. I win, accompanied by pumping your arms seems to be universal to every language. ;) 

Posted by authorjodi at 02:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My friend's son is quite the dancer <and yes, the title is phonetic, not accurate>. Last night after we returned from our Coke and tapas walk, he moved the living room table and had me sit on the couch so he could dance for me. I looked up charm in the dictionary to show his mother -- he's got an excess of it. ;)

This morning he also danced, joined by his sister who has been taking Flamenco dancing lessons. She showed me a number she's working on for father's day at the church. Her mom made sure to point out which parts were Flamenco and which were NOT.

The dance fever party was after our leisurely breakfast of tostaditos <I may be remembering that wrong> which were sort of pancakes. Quite good. And pan with chorizo y queso. The chorizo, I'm told, is very Spanish and tasted sort of like a strong pepperoni. And coffee of course, which went a long way toward waking me from my 10+ hour's sleep of jet lag grogginess.

After breakfast, pre-dance party, we had devotions on Proverbs 8. One of the kids would read 7 or 8 verses, then they'd discuss it. I was able to follow along fairly well -- reading along in my Bible helped me at least know the topic of discussion. Actually, though I fully accept I could be delusional, I felt like I followed the discussion pretty well. However, I realized I've been debating the money long enough -- when I get home I'm purchasing a Spanish Rosetta Stone and getting to work!

Posted by authorjodi at 04:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

We just returned from walking about 15 minutes through some narrow streets to have dinner at a bar. Think English pub more than meat-market American bars. ;) This was one of my friend's favorite places because you order a drink and they serve wonderful tapas. I took that to mean appetizers, probably not unlike happy hour.

We had three kids along with us and it didn't seem to cause a stir. Cokes all around and then they brought out several plates full of pan y carneceria y...well...I don't know the spanish word for olives. Anyway, it was quite tasty and I enjoyed both the light meal and the walk to get there.

Actually, I'm a big fan in general of the latin approach to food. The biggest meal at lunch, then something like a light snack for dinner. When I was in Senegal I often had bread and cheese or some sort of fruit variety. Just perfect for collapsing into bed. :p

Contrary to my request and thus my normal pattern, mom gave me more than the standard two sleeping pills for the long flights. I've just downed one of the extras to combat the afternoon coffee and the 9p coke. I'm not sure it's strictly necessary, but I'm not taking any chances with this first night. In my mind, surviving the first day without even hinting at a snore, then deeply engaging in the first night are your best defense against jetleg.

One time I remember sitting in the living room of a hostel in London with my grandma the first morning we'd arrived after flying all day and all night. We were desperate for sleep, but knew that if we clambered up our three flights of stairs we'd be in bed for the night at 2p. I believe I was trying to read a very engaging book...1776 if memory serves...and had to reread each page a couple times when not zoning out on the mtv-ish programming spilling from the telly.

The two smokin youngsters -- and I don't mean smokin like boy howdy are they hot, I mean truly smoking and playing a game about who could poof their puff farther across the room, meanwhile inconceivably trying to pick up on us. Grandma and I looked bleery eyed at one another and decided that was the last straw. We hauled ourselves up and crashed into our quite serviceable bunkbeds. I thought I did fairly well, waking somewhere south of 10 hours later. Grandma had me beat -- she finally rolled out at 16.

Well it looks like the stroll down memory lane will have to come screeching to a halt. I do believe Mr. Ambien is making his presence known amongst the crowd and my typing skills are fading by the minute. I just took a look and had to correct six misspellings and typos in this short missive. I'd say that it's bueno tiempo for me to say ciao ciao. :)

Posted by authorjodi at 02:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My first taste of Spain <outside the airport> is an interesting one. Turns out all the rumors are true -- Spaniards do go home at 2 for lunch and a siesta, then come back around 5 to work til 8 or so. Yes, that means they endure double the traffic.

How came I to be acquainted with this? Well, my friend’s car died on the freeway onramp <for lack of a better description>. I’m guessing it’s something to do with the transmission, but we waited on the side of the road for nearly an hour for the tow truck to show. I realized I’ve travelled quite a bit more in the third world than the first, because I was tickled pink that there was a motor club to call, let alone that they’d show up within six hours. :p

The interesting thing to me was how rudely we got glared at as cars went roaring by. Two women with hazards blinking...and all we got was mean stares and honks, and I even saw the bird once. One man went tooling by on a motorcycle and yelled at us that we should have our jackets on -- my friend yelled right back. Apparently you must have two of those triangle hazard things that I’ve seen eighteen-wheelers put out sometimes, as well as a reflective hazard jacket. In fact, when we started down the road following the tow truck my friend pointed out a gal wearing her hazard jacket off to the side of the road.

I laughed out loud. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a fabulous idea and I’m sure greatly contributes to safety, but I could just imagine trying to talk an American high school kid into wearing one of those. I bet they’d rather have their parents keep driving them around...

Posted by authorjodi at 10:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, the pill was successful. I dozed on and off throughout the 7ish hour flight. No one was sitting next to me so I had a little more room for the per usual never-ending exercise in contortions.

The Madrid airport is quite nice. Quite big too. I walked for about 30 minutes from my arrival gate, through a cursory customs check, and toward my new gate...whereupon I will layover for another three hours. ;)

Already I’m experiencing the difficulty of traveling alone in a land where the lingua franca is not compatible to my own. Thankfully, the Madrid airport staffs numerous helpful folk in lime green jackets who seem to speak several languages. I’m not actually at my gate, as I’m so early one has yet to be assigned, but there’s a lot of room to sit and people watch. I plopped myself right in front of another airport wi-fi sign and discovered, if my cobbled together espanol is correct, that you have to pay for it as well. Sigh.

On the plus side, there’s a bonified lemon tree potted about 10 feet from me. Not sure the reasoning, but it’s nice to look at while I debate the merits of spending $3 <if my internal Euro converter is functioning> on a small bottle of water. Another plus -- unlike another international airport I’ve spent way too much time in -- the majority of the public space is no fumar. I’ve many memories of walking through clouds of smoke in the Frankfurt airport, desperately trying to find my gate through the haze.

Posted by authorjodi at 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I don’t know why, but I find it exceedingly chincy when airports advertise with huge banners every ten feet in their terminals that they offer wi-fi, only to sign on and find you have to pay something like $9.95 to use it. I’ve been composing a post in my head for a couple hours now, only to find myself stymied because I’m unwilling to be a party to that brand of rip-off. So, I’ll write now and <hopefully> post later.

What to do with a five-hour layover? Sometimes I wish I’d kept track of all the hours I’ve spent laying over -- kind of like I wish I’d gotten around to keeping a list of all the books I’ve read. But then again, maybe I don’t want to know how many hours I’ve spent wandering terminals, people watching, debating the merits of a $3 bottle of water, or pretending not to eavesdrop on people’s personal and/or work related phone calls.

One thing I did to pass the time was fairly predictable. I called dad to say “wish you were here” and he knew exactly where “here” was -- the Chili’s Too, which he described to a T as he’s spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time in the Chicago airport himself. I realized today that I quite recognize this airport, but I’ve never set foot outside of it in all the times I’ve come through.

Another wonderful layover activity is to stop by the Brookstone store which seems to inhabit every major airport in America. And the ubiquitous massage chair. Today’s chair featured the leg squeezer I’ve grown accustomed to, but also two pads strapped along the back that did quite a nice job on their own. :p

I’ve whittled the layover down to a mere 30 or so minutes before boarding, whereupon I’ll pop my trusty sleeping pill and hope to wake up on the descent into Madrid. Yes, that’s sort of a pipe dream, but it can’t be as bad as the last time I flew to England. I popped my pill as I was boarding, fell asleep before we took off, and slept soundly...for 30 minutes. Since that flight, I consider anything more than 30 minutes a successful sleeping pill. ;)

Posted by authorjodi at 09:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My brother forwarded me a link that had me snickering this morning. Apparently an Israeli researcher has determined the children of Israel were baked/high/stoned/etc. when they thought they were having a religious experience at the base of Mt. Sinai. Hot dog, I guess that means I can throw out those pesky commandments.

Meanwhile, I'm just about finished packing for my two-week sojourn in Espana. A friend reminded me the rain in Spain falls gently on the plain, so I have dutifully packed a waterproof jacket. ;)

Posted by authorjodi at 07:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A friend of mine has been reading and commenting on Oprah's newest book club selection, Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth. I have to admit, other than reading her thoughts I haven't been paying a lot of attention. Frankly, I haven't ever seen in Oprah what so many millions do -- the only time I watched her show with any regularity was when I was living in Scotland and it was the only thing on when my teaching partner and I got home exhausted and needed to chill for a little while. ;)

Anyway, it seems this book has garnered even more attention than the faux-memoir she chose awhile back. Apparently she's about to begin running webinars with the author, and over 500,000 folks have signed up. From the, admittedly, small amount of information I've read about this book <see this column>, it seems the book is preaching yet another New Age answer to the who am I question.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The enemy knows we have a deep desire for truth and he specializes in deceit. Unfortunately he's doing a bang-up job these days. Our culture has maneuvered us into feeling guilty if we hold a belief too strongly -- people don't want to be seen as narrow-minded and bigoted.

The column I linked to above quoted one of my favorite lines from C.S. Lewis in response to the whole idea of tolerance:

A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a good moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great moral teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

Tolerance says that Christ was a great teacher like many others throughout history and lets all hold hands and sing kumbaya. Truth is a different matter. Truth demands that you choose a side.

Posted by authorjodi at 11:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Once again is this America? runs through my head. A judge in California has ruled that a homeschooling family must enroll their kids in public school or a qualified private school. The Long family has homeschooled all of their eight children, but the court decided the youngest two are not getting enough "social interaction" in the "cloistered setting" of their parents' home.

I imagine this could have serious implications for all those parents considering alternatives to public school in the wake of last year's SB 777.

Posted by authorjodi at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)