A Jewel In My Crown?

I am curious about the phrase "jewels in your crown."

I have a family member who is very dear and very religious. She has a habit of saying "you've earned a jewel in your crown" whenever she approves of something you've done. From what I've observed, the blessing doesn't seem to be tied to the magnitude of the gesture. If you've fed a homeless person, you've earned a jewel in your crown. If you've passed the butter, you've earned a jewel in your crown.

And so I started Googling. I wanted to find out exactly where in the bible it talks this subject. I found a lot of vague references to good deeds earning you these jewels ... and a lot of people congratulating people for doing something that has, again, earned them these ubiquitous jewels. But no where could I find an actual bible verse that references this topic.

Not, let me assure you, I'm not a moron. I understand these are metaphorical jewels and that God is not running a Heavenly Federal Reserve. I don't think anyone is under the idea that the Archangel Michael is a winged CFO keeping track of how many jewels someone has earned and how much interest they're owed.

However, I'm curious over whether this is just a man-made phenomenon ... or if there really was a parable or scripture verse that said something along the lines of ... if you do good deeds, you will earn a jewel in your heavenly crown.

Anyone with biblical knowledge out there wanna take a shot?

I was on the inside
When they pulled the four walls down
I was looking through the window
I was lost, I am found
If you walk away, walk away
I walk away, walk away
I will follow

U2 - I Will Follow

Ruth 1:16: "But Ruth said, "Entreat me not to leave you or to return from following you; for where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God."

Just For Today, I Am a Big Baby ...

I'm not doing well today. I know I'm overreacting ... but I can't seem to help it.

It started about a year ago. I had something on my face ... a mole ... a spot ... I don't know. Honestly, it looked like a blood blister. It started off small. It grew. It would occasionally bleed and get smaller ... but then it would get larger again. Sorry ... it's gross, I know.

So today I finally went to the dermatologist and they said it needed to be removed, tested, and the spot cauterized to stop the bleeding. This is no big deal. She didn't think it was cancerous. She just said they needed to test it to be sure there wasn't anything going on with the skin cells.

Well ... between the shot in my cheek to numb the area (wowsa) ... and seeing the razor blade with which she "shaved" the skin off ... and hearing and smelling the cauterizing of the skin afterwards ... I feel absolutely sick. Mr. FortyWhat had to drive me to work ... I'm queasy, my head aches, and my cheek is sore.

I have nothing further to add ... I just wanted to whine and complain. That is all. Carry on.

I'm not afraid
Of anything in this world
There's nothing you can throw at me
That I haven't already heard

I'm just trying to find
A decent melody
A song that I can sing
In my own company

I never thought you were a fool
But darling look at you
You gotta stand up straight
Carry your own weight
These tears are going nowhere baby

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And now you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

U2 - Stuck In A Moment

It Wasn't So Bad ...

Well, the apocalypse came last Wednesday. Wait, you didn't feel it? You didn't feel the earthquakes or see the landslides? You didn't hear the trumpets sound? Yeah, that's because those things didn't happen. Oh no, you didn't miss it. The apocalypse occurred right on schedule ... only it arrived with a whimper instead of a bang.

Last Wednesday, ThirtyWhat became FortyWhat. My flaming youth packed it's bags and wished me a fond farewell as it exited the building. Oh, it was fun while it lasted. But all good things must come to an end ... and so I enter ... middle age. Which is odd, because I don't feel middle aged at all.

Or ... maybe I do.

These days, I enjoy crawling onto our enormous pillow top bed and going to sleep early ... while twenty years ago my motto was "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

These days, I enjoy spending a quiet evening at home, curled up with a good book ... while twenty years ago, an enjoyable evening would be a White Zombie concert where I would spend said evening permanently damaging my hearing.

These days, I enjoy a glass of ice tea ... while twenty years ago, I had my own fully-stocked wet bar that would make any alcoholic or professional bartender green with envy.

So yes ... I guess in a lot of ways I do act my age. But I like who I am and I like where I'm at. Mr. ThirtyWhat ... er ... Mr. FortyWhat made it a great birthday and reminded me that I am loved ... no matter what my age. And really, that's all that matters ...

Look at this face
I know the years are showing
Look at this life
I still don't know where it's going
I don't know much
But I know I love you
That may be all I need to know

Linda Ronstadt - Don't Know Much

How Long Can You Lie To Yourself?

I lost two friends this weekend. That might not be completely accurate. One wasn't really a friend at all. Just the spouse of the friend. But still ...

It's a hard situation and there aren't any easy fixes. To be honest, I don't think there are any fixes at all. There is ... or rather was ... someone I've known since high school. We were best friends. Thick as thieves. But even way back then, everyone (friends and family alike) asked me, "Why are you friends with her?" She was negative and critical, always putting me down.

But the thing was ... I never took it personally. I had a blessed life where she didn't. I had a warm, loving, sober family ... I had plenty of friends ... plenty of boyfriends. But she didn't. So I always understood that when she lashed out, it wasn't because she didn't like me.

Time went on. We ended up working together. Again, co-workers took up the cause. "Why are you friends with her?" Because I saw goodness in her. I saw that there was a hurt soul in there ... and I felt like I understood why she became who she became. People told me she was judgemental. People told me she was brash and harsh. I guess in the quiet moments ... I really saw her tender, sweet side. But that was a side that she let almost no one see. So it's no wonder that no one else believed me.

She called me a "ho." I thought she was lonely. She told people I was a liar. I thought she was insecure. She said I bought my cloths at Salvation Army. I thought she was trying to be funny. Every jab and snipe ... I took. I wasn't a ho ... I wasn't a liar ... I didn't buy my cloths at Salvation Army ... I was SECURE in WHO I WAS. And so I let it go.

We grew apart. I wasn't blameless ... far from it. I secretly went out with a guy that she was desperately crushing on ... she found out and it hurt her terribly. That's something that I'm not proud of. When I turned 21, I wanted to go out drinking with my new friends ... something that she wanted nothing to do with. And so I left her behind. Again, something I'm not proud of. I have a feeling that someday when I'm called to account for my actions, there will be more than one that involve her.

And so we grew apart. I grew tired of her negativity. I grew tired of always being told "you know my number" when I e-mailed, reaching out to her. I grew tired of people telling me what she was saying behind my back.

Fast forward ... the world changes ... and some genius invents Facebook. When her husband asked to friend me, I didn't hesitate. I missed them. I really did. I told him to set her up with account ... and a year or so later, he did.

Time had passed ... but nothing had changed. She still made snarky, hurtful comments ... but I could no longer tell myself, "She's just trying to be funny." When I changed my status to read, "... is sick with a bad sinus infection. Went to prompt care. Got medicine. Going back to bed." Did she respond, "Get well soon?" No. She wrote something along the lines of, "God, you're always sick. We need to put you in a plastic bubble or something."

I didn't tell anyone ... but that hurt. She was there when I was diagnosed with my kidney disease. She's taken me to the hospital before. When I broke a cyst and couldn't stop throwing up ... she was there. She knows why I'm sick all the time. Or she should know. If she cared.

But this weekend was the final straw. Everything blew to hell and I wasn't even home. I made a status update that jokingly teased that if Ann Coulter told you she agreed with you on an issue ... you desperately needed to re-evaluate your position.

She wrote back and said, among other things, that I was corrupted ... and said my husband had brainwashed me with his "liberal gibberish." Before I could intervene, my husband told her, among other things, that her comment was hateful. Before I could intervene, her husband said, among other things, we were "part of the loony left."

And so ... it ends. I deleted the comment thread ... and unfriended them both. In truth, I hadn't seen either one if them "in person" for probably five or six years. Maybe more. So is it much of a loss?

Kind of ... because I was holding out hope that eventually she would drop the whole mean-spirited vibe and be the person I knew she was down deep inside. But honestly I have to ask myself ... after all these years ... was she ever that person?

Treating today as though
It was the last, the final show
Get to sixty and feel no regret
It may take a little time
A lonely path, an uphill climb
Success or failure will not alter it
And do you feel scared - I do
But I won't stop and falter
And if we threw it all away
Things can only get better

Howard Jones - Things Can Only Get Better

Note: Apparently it isn't enough that I've posted a screed ... but I have to add one additional thing. This is not up for debate. This is not up for discussion. It is a statement ... a final thought.

My great-grandfather was a dyed in the wool Democrat ... as was my grandfather ... and my mother ... and me. I've looked at the issues over the years ... and I'm open minded ... but blue has always been a better fit for me than red. My husband is a Democrat. And so my marriage to him did not alter my political views and beliefs one way or the other.

My friend ... or ... the woman who was my friend ... was raised in a Democratic household. Her family voted Democrat across the board. She married and has now blossomed into a Glen-Beck-Spouting Rush-Limbaugh-Loving Republican. Good for you. But with that kind of background and history ... and knowing mine ... how much sense does it make to "joke" about my husband "brainwashing" me?

I don't care what sex you date. I don't care where you pray. I don't care if you pray. I don't care who you vote for. Declare your belief in the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster and be touched by his noodly appendage for all I care. But don't judge me, don't throw hate at me, and don't you dare question what I believe in. Calling my beliefs "liberal gibberish" is no less hateful than making fun of my religion. We can agree to disagree ... but when you start the name calling, the conversation ends. And so ... it did.

Playing For The Push ...

So, the wedding is over. A week's gone by and I still don't feel like myself. It's as though I walked through a dark, sticky cloud and, no matter how I try, I can't seem to shake it off. Oh, part of it is the terrible head cold I picked up along the way. There's no doubt about that. But part of it is the swirling, black morass of bad karma that apparently had nothing better to do that weekend than come along for the ride.

Mr. ThirtyWhat put it perfectly. In fact, he warned me. It's a train wreck that's bound to happen and the only thing you can do is make sure you're out of the way of the train. Good advice. Advice that I listened to. I must've stepped out of the way of that train at least a dozen times ... but I ended up in the wreckage anyway.

It could've been worse. Some people aren't speaking over the events of that weekend ... but it's bad enough. I'm tired and irritable ... I don't feel like myself. And worst of all, I don't know what I need to do to get me back to where I need to be. I guess the best you can play for sometimes is a push.

Lot of knots, lot of snags,
Lot of holes, lot of cracks
Lot of crags, lot of naggin' old hags
Lot of fools, lot of fool scum bags
Oh it's such a drag, what a chore
Oh your wounds are full of salt
Everything's a stress and what's more
Well it's all somebody's fault

Ok Go - Get Over It

Life Lessons From ThirtyWhat ...

I am maid of honor ... make that matron of honor ... in an upcoming wedding. Therefore, one of my duties was to throw the future bride a bachelorette party ... which happened 48 hours ago on Saturday night. This ... is what I learned from that experience:

• Clubs are fun, exciting places ... if you are drinking.
  
  
• If you are not drinking, clubs are noisy, annoying, and expensive.
  
  
• The Corner Pub and The Office give free sodas to designated drivers ...
  
  
• Donnie B's Break Time and Funny Bone do not.
  
  
• Comedians are absolutely hilarious if you're drinking.
  
  
• Comedians are amusing at best if you aren't.
  
  
• Alcohol is prohibitively expensive ...
  
  
• Therefore, bring lots of cash.
  
  
• No, more than that.
  
  
• If throwing a bachelorette party, bring along one trusted "safe" man to be a designated driver, bouncer, and bodyguard.
  
  
• Be sure to buy the man who accepts this job a drink ... because if designated drivers don't have fun in general, rest assured that this guy is having even less.
  
  
• 39 3/4 is way too old to being throwing this type of party ...
  
  
• Particularly if the 39 3/4 person has to stay sober.
  
  
• Bring a camera with a LOT of disk space.
  
  
• Photos can and, most likely will, be used as evidence against you in a court of law.
  
  
• Designated drivers are almost never in these photos.
  
  
• Trust me ... that ... is a good thing.

I'm safe
Up high
Nothing can touch me
But why do I feel this party's over?
No pain
Inside
You're like perfection
But how do I feel this good sober?

Pink - Sober

Mad Men Malaise

I've been disappointed with Mad Men these last few episodes ... only because it hasn't been furthering the story. There have been a lot of "clues" left that have gone no where. When Gene was sent in to sit alone with the children, I had a bad feeling. When Gene was having Sally sit in his room and read to him, I had a very bad feeling. When Gene was having Sally drive him and thus creating a "bond of a secret" between them, red lights and sirens were screaming. What happened? Nothing. He died.

And on THAT front ... when the police man came to the door to inform them of Gene's death, I was SURE that it was a trick ... a test to see if Betty would know what to do with that folder. She'd pitched such a fit that she refused to talk about his death wishes ... I was just SURE he was playing a cruel prank on her to show her she SHOULD'VE been listening.

But no ... clue after clue ... moment after moment. Nothing. What about Peggy's announcement to Pete last year about their child? Will we NEVER hear another word spoke between the two of them about the bonnet-wearing elephant in the room? What about Pete and Trudy's deeply flawed marriage?

I enjoyed seeing Peggy get high. I enjoyed seeing Don mortified at Roger's black face performance. But those are basically vignettes ... in a series that is supposed to be about arcs and drama. Maybe I'm just being impatient?

So it's time to stop being so impatient
It's time to stop being so impatient
Your philosophy
Is totally lost on me
With a promise I don't mean to have you waiting

We are Scientists - Impatience

The Return of ThirtyWhat?

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. - Mark Twain
Contrary to what you would assume, gravity has not ceased to exist in the two foot area around my body. I have not floated off the Earth and into the stratosphere.

I have been wracking my brain off and on in the last ten weeks trying to decide what to write here ... and I just couldn't think of a single interesting thing to post. I've got nothing but fluff and sawdust up there. Oh, don't get me wrong ... I'm not under the false assumption that anything I've ever posted was that interesting. It just felt as though I'd sailed into the doldrums ... and there wasn't a breeze in sight.

Nothing has changed ... other than a busier-than-normal social calendar. The next four weeks will be a whirlwind of activity. As soon as I've planned one appointment, another one crops up. Honestly ... if this keeps up, how do people expect me to further my lackadaisical lifestyle?

Good things to share:

In 25 days, I will be the maid of honor (matron of honor?) in a fabulous, lavish wedding. My dress will be finished this Saturday and if I can just tie up a few loose ends (such as finding the perfect pair of shoes), we can put a bow on this and call it good.

Season 3 of Mad Men has started and, as usual, I absolutely love it ... although I'm not sure where they're taking Peggy and I've got a really, really bad feeling about Betty's father, Gene. Any Mad Men fans out there with thoughts on it?

I've lost ten pounds ... and as much as I mourn the loss of my comfort food, I do not mourn those ten pounds. Now let's see if we can get some of their com padres to join 'em.

Not so good things to share:

The PKD train keeps a rollin' and, while my function is still stable at around 50%, the newest snag is that I'm terribly Vitamin D deficient and my phosphorus levels are too low. That's pretty odd ... since most PKD patients have too much phosphorus.

In any case, they've scheduled a bone density scan ... and I've been given three months to boost these numbers naturally. If I can't, the nephrologist says I'll be given high dose supplements. Unfortunately raising it "naturally" means I have to take a multivitamin each morning the size of my fist ... and I've been ordered to drink milk ... which I find repulsive.

Other than having a long, healthy life with Mr. Thirtywhat, you know what's motivating me to drink that nasty white stuff? I suspect these "high dose supplements" with which they have threatened me will be just as big, if not bigger, than the HORSE PILL of a multivitamin that I'm choking down each morning.

Sometimes you have to pick your battles ...

You take a horse to water
But you can't make him drink
You can have it all laid out in front of you
But it still don't make you think

George Harrison - Horse to Water

The Worst (and Best) Show On Television ...

I watch bad tv. It's not a secret ... I've blogged many times about my love of cheap, trashy television shows like, "Celebrity Rehab" and "Big Brother." My wonderful husband would be happy Comcast offered only three channels; PBS, The History Channel, and The Science Channel ... but not me. I like reality shows ... and I like them even more when they involve D-List celebrities. Therefore, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I've started watching, "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!"

Since I'm under the impression this show is flopping like a fish ... let me share a few tidbits with you ...

First, in the near future, books will be written about Janice Dickinson and her unspeakable shortcomings. I'm not sure if it's early onset Alzheimer's that has caused her to forget that there are cameras on her 24/7 ... but it seems like that would be an important fact to remember if you plan on stealing food and pissing on the ground next to your bed.

Next, Patti Blagojevich is a better actress than Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman and Charlize Theron combined. She has everyone in that camp fooled that she is the shy, shrinking violet and that Rod is a real-life Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. Apparently, not one of those campers has bothered to pick up a newspaper in the last 12 months. Because none of them are aware of what's been going on.

Here are the few of the gems falling from Patti's lips:

1) She announced that Pat Quinn was so mean because he cut off their security only minutes after the impeachment was finalized. (Really? Thank you for that information, Patti ... it has guaranteed that Pat Quinn will get my vote at the next election.)

2) She claims that the troopers who were in charge of their security cried when they learned that Rod had been impeached. (And lemme tell you folks, that is so believable because if Illinois State Troopers are known for one thing, it's their emotional crying jags. God, I mean ... they are so emotional it's like there's an army of LOLCats driving across the state of Illinois in squad cars. Oh wait ... no, it's not like that at all.)

3) She praised our 35-room, 50-thousand-square-foot Executive Mansion in Springfield ... only to turn around and accuse everyone in Springfield of hating her for refusing to move into it. She claims that the chef and the staff would just be too much for their children. Oh yes ... Rod and Patti wanted to give their kids a simple life and keep them in the same schools.

[Sigh] ... where to begin.

First off, Patti, we disliked you for far more reasons than just your refusal to move into the Executive Mansion. However, while we're on the subject of you and Rod's decision to have him commute everyday ...

Thank you, Patti ... for forcing us, the Illinois taxpayer, to spend almost $6,000 per day, several days per week to fly your husband, Rod Blagojevich, from your home in Chicago to his office in Springfield. The total bill in June of 2007 was $75,000. But that's okay. The State of Illinois is just rolling in money, right Patti? What's that? We have a projected $12 billion dollar deficit? Well, that's okay ... this was about your children's safety and well being, right?

Although ... now that we're on the subject ... you must think that Barack and Michelle Obama are abusing the SHIT outta their kids, right? I mean, they chose to them move from Chicago to the WHITE HOUSE. I mean, if the Illinois Governor's Mansion was too much for your kids, the White House must be the equivalent of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Thank GOD you kept your children safe from the dregs of Springfield. That must've been why you cancelled the annual Halloween Trick-or-Treating at the mansion, right? Because it would've just been "too much" for your kids? My God, Sasha and Malia must be a psychological wreck after going to the White House Easter Egg Hunt, huh?

I donno, folks ... I'm torn. Torn between praying a daily novena that Janice Dickinson is voted the hell off my tv ... and torn between praying to the cloven hoofed god that made her to please let this madness continue. I mean, at this point, what else is she going to do before her lawyers intervene and remind her that she is being taped?! Between her and Patti, this stuff is golden!

We're only liars, but we're the best
We're only good for the latest trend
We're only good cause you can have almost famous friends
Besides, we've got such good fashion sense

Fall Out Boy - Our Lawyer Made Us Change
The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued

My Secret Shame ... Twilight ...

I was never goth in high school. Oh, not that I didn't want to be. I secretly envisioned a day I could wrap myself in Stevie Nicks' wardrobe and brood over music with dark, questionable lyrics. But ... with a mother who was a faithful Roman Catholic ... the closest thing I came to goth was listening to "Just Like Heaven" and gazing wistfully at the Wet n' Wild black nail polish at Walgreens. Weak, I know.

But my point is that way back in the day ... I aspired to that lifestyle. I always fantasized that I'd be the hot, redheaded chick who always dressed in black. In reality? Yeah ... um ... no. I was the short redhead art chick whose hands were covered with India ink or charcoal some other media that invariably wouldn't wash off.

I mean, we had Interview With a Vampire. We had Lestat, for Christ's sake. We had a reason to want to be goth. We had Anne Rice living down there in New Orleans publishing stories of dangerous vampires who oozed sex out of every pore. But then Anne ... poor Anne ... she found Jesus, moved to California, and now spends her days writing about her new found faith.

So what's filled the gothic void created by Anne's rebirth as a Christian? Twilight. And ... thanks to Twilight, we have a new generation of vampire loving kids ... only these aren't your father's vampires. They sparkle. You heard me right ... they sparkle. And if that's not adorable enough for you ... they play "vampire baseball." Which is identical to human baseball except that they run really fast ... and, of course, sparkle.

Hell, vampires aren't even dangerous anymore ... they fight their baser instincts and only partake in animal blood, for the love of God. Oh, and let's not forget their long discussions over whether or not they have a soul. It's like this entire series was written by your local CYO director.

So ... in the end, what you've got here is every 13 year old's wet dream. Edward, our hero, is a hot, safe guy who wants nothing more to get to first base and share your body glitter. The only thing missing is a pet unicorn that farts rainbows. It's a complete and utter load of bullshit ...

... bullshit that is, if you've ever, at any point, had ovaries inside your body, the equivalent of printed crack.

Hello. I am ThirtyWhat.
{Hello, ThirtyWhat}
I ... am a middle-aged Twilight addict.
{Claps}
Sure, it's completely normal for a 13 year old to love this stuff ... so what's my excuse? I don't want to be one of those creepy aging women wearing a "Team Edward" shirt while slathering on my Bonne Bell lip gloss.

So ... common, Anne. Pick up that pen. If you write just one more book in the Vampire Chronicles, I might be able to regain some of my lost self esteem. Whaddaya say? I'm sure Jesus would be perfectly cool with it ...

I don't care what they may say
I don't care what they may do
I don't care what they may say
Jesus is just alright, oh yeah
Jesus is just alright

Doobie Brothers - Jesus Is Just Alright

I'm Not Angry ... I'm Amused ...

I work in the IT field. I'm no Bill Gates ... hell, I'm not even Kevin Mitnick. I'm just a drone ... but a talented drone who is more than happy to help out friends and family whenever I can.

Having said that ... I just want to give a heads up here on behalf of my geek brethren ...

When someone in the IT field offers you help ... off the clock on their own time ... please try to be gracious. Usually when I and those of my ilk are trying our best to fix whatever issues you're having, it's not in the best of circumstances.

Just like plumbers or doctors or car mechanics, we have busy, hectic lives and do our best to balance what must be done with what we want to be doing. In fact, we bought a brand new 1 Tb external drive about a month ago that we're going to use as a backup/archive on our home network ... but guess what? I don't have time to install it because I'm too busy working on other projects. I'll give you an example ...

This weekend I missed part of a movie as I walked someone through the steps of establishing their broadband connection after their (paid) installer left mid-way through the job. That problem was solved long-distance over the phone. I also restored and optimized a laptop after a family member got a virus ... most of which I did Sunday morning as I was cooking breakfast for my family.

Those two family members were more than gracious ... they were kind and enthusiastically thankful. Then again, I fixed their problems. They walked away (or hung up the phone) with the optimal desired outcome. Unfortunately, however, that isn't always the case.

Occasionally, I can't fix a problem. While I promise you, there has never been a situation where I didn't want to fix a problem ... sometimes I either don't have the hardware or don't have the software or, on a rare occasion, simply don't have the training.

Then there are those odd, uncommon moments ... when the problem is such that it can't be fixed. I find that people react worse to that particular scenario. They don't want to hear that their round peg simply will not fit in that square hole. And, while I'm talented, as Scotty would say, "I cannot change the laws of physics."

And so, if you are one of the small percentile whom I couldn't help recently ... here is my half-assed apology. Enjoy it. It's the only one you'll get ...

I'm looking through you, where did you go
I thought I knew you, what did I know
You don't look different, but you have changed
I'm looking through you, you're not the same

Beatles - I'm Looking Through You