I am both fascinated and appalled by this mega church's soap opera. Read it for yourself:
Jacksonville.com article about a blogger/church member
The blog itself
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Can't get enough of it. In classic therapy-couch fashion, I blame my mother. This past Christmas, she gave me a little box of candied ginger in my stocking. I stashed it in my tea cabinet where it was obscured for two months by Earl Gray, Jasmine Green and other conspirators of the ginger-hating variety. When I started getting ready to move recently, I rediscovered it and took it to work where afternoon sweet teeth have been known to appear. The whole box was gone in short order and since then, I've gobbled up a bag of gingersnaps, three boxes of ginger tea, a handful of ginger candies from Native Sun Market and the obligatory ginger salad dressing when we go out for Japanese. I want to grow it - oh baby.
2. Picture is Unrelated
I'm noticing a pattern that's beginning to emerge here. Again in the afternoon, I need a break from what I do for a living, so I check out a few of my favorite funny, mindless sites. The distraction du jour is Picture is Unrelated. Don't look for logic or meaning or anything at all for that matter. Just look. And pee your pants.
3. Hot Chili Chocolate
One of the very few speedbumps on my half-assed path to being a someday vegan (vague enough for you?) is chocolate. What's even worse is that some chocolate companies are now making a dark variety with hot chili pepper in it. I've tried several varieties, but my favorite is Lindt, since it has the most spark. Personally, I would be happy if there were a more mouthy, smouldering make-it-hurt-a-little version. But for now, this wimpy tepid version will do.
Not dirt, per se. Things living in dirt. And the piece de resistance of dirt, compost. Don't even get me started about it - it's weird and I don't care. All I know is that the secret voodoo bacteria dance that turns my kitchen scraps into sweet black soil makes my heart practically vibrate with joy.
5. Bonne Bell Strawberry Lipsmackers
I have them stashed everywhere. I need them. I vaguely but happily remember eating cherry chapstick on the playground as a kid, so this fruity lip thing is nothing new for me. In retrospect, I hope it was at least mine. I remember it with the same fondness as my brown sweater with the gold loop zipper on the front that wore in 1970something. In all honesty, I have to admit that I try to be a good bee-loving conscientious user of cosmetics and use Burt's Bees lip balm and others like it, but nothing's as dewy and delicious and the old Bonne Bell. Yeah. I said it.
If anything makes me fat, this will be it. A half an avocado smashed and on hot toast in the morning is a queen's breakfast. And nothing revs up a tofurky sandwich like the creamy green oh-yes-touch-me-there morally-bankrupting deliciousity of avocado. I've learned to buy them bright and hard and leave them on the kitchen windowsill until their plump flesh begs to be divested from the shiny black outfit. I need one right now. Damn, it's hot in here.