Reposted from my big girl blog.:

I'm one of those people who likes to understand things. Not just know the commonly accepted answer and be able to parrot it back--to actually get underneath the hood of a concept and become intimately familiar with how it works. (Which is, incidentally, why I struggled so much with math. I didn't get it, and I'm not big on working systems I don't understand.) The way I see it, if something is not worth understanding, it is not worth defending. Unquestioningly defending an answer someone else has come up, even if you perceive that someone else as being smarter than you, has caused a whole lot of heartache throughout the course of human history.

So, I come at my faith the same way, with a lot of questions. I know the commonly accepted "Sunday School answers," but I want to understand more, to understand deeper. If I'm wrong about something, or simply off-track, I'd rather know sooner than later. There are plenty of people who say we need to have "faith like a child," implying that we are simply supposed to simple-mindedly believe what we have been taught, but frankly, I can't believe that those people have spent a whole lot of time with children. Because healthy, secure, well-adjusted children ask a LOT of questions, questions that some would consider impertinent or improper, questions many adults are afraid to ask.

So, I'm cool with questions, and I think that examining and reexamining our beliefs is a good thing. I think many people are afraid of asking questions because they sense that their beliefs would not hold up under scrutiny, but you know what? I think that's okay. GOD is not going to crumble, even if some of our personal pet doctrinal issues do. Just because we may be wrong about something doesn't mean that God is wrong, that everything we have put our trust in is going to crumble under our feet, that we will be left in a free-fall through the cosmos with no one to catch us. If we place our trust in our own personal belief system, then yes, we are in trouble. But if we freely acknowledge our own weaknesses, foibles, and inadequacy and put our trust in God, well, then, what is there to worry about?

So, there was a long-winded introduction to the question of the day. This morning, Aaron and I were discussing the differences between Calvinism and Arminianism, and the different theories of atonement. (Theory 1 being the classical, ransom, or "Christus Victor" theory, theories 2 and 3 being the Anselmic theory of substitutionary atonement and the more specific penal substitution theory, and theory 4 being the moral influence theory.) (There-now you can look all of those up, LOL!) It all got started with a conversation about the growing popularity of Calvinism, and how neither Aaron or I can seem to get through a week without hitting our heads against something from either John Piper, Mark Driscoll, or the decidedly un-Calvinist Greg Boyd.

So here are my questions for you, fair readers. (How brave are you? ;-)) If you don't know the answers, research them and let me know your thoughts on the matter, because I am interested!

1. Why do you think Calvinism has enjoyed such a resurgence in recent years?

2. Do you personally lean more toward Calvinism, Arminianism, or something else entirely?

3. What are your thoughts on the various theories of atonement?

Personally, the more I dig, the more I find my views aligning with orthodox or Anabaptist understandings of certain issues. I find this interesting, especially since I know that my family isn't too many generations removed from Mennonite relatives. Did certain Anabaptist sensibilities seep down through generations of evangelical conservatism? Or did I just read too much C.S. Lewis as a kid? :-)

As to questions # 1 and 2, I'm a little bit confounded by the rise of Reformed theology. :-/ It seems counter-intuitive in our day and age. Calvinism and Arminianism both have good cases, and I actually see them as splitting a really thin hair, but if the hair has to be split, I'd guess I'd rather land on the Arminian side. It seems harder, but more hopeful, more in line with my perception of God's character. It's the same reason "Christus Victor" makes more sense to me, although I haven't settled my opinion on the matter of atonement yet.

Of course, I could be wrong. And that's why I keep asking questions. Seek and ye shall find, right? :-)

You had to know it was coming. I'm just shocked that anyone calling themselves Christians could be so brazen about their agenda.

The Conservative Bible Project is, evidently, the backlash against "politically correct" translations of scripture. It will, among other things, "provide a framework against liberal bias," "utilize powerful conservative terms," "express free-market parables," and, most importantly, "debunk the pervasive and hurtful myth that Jesus would be a political liberal today."

Ironic that they admit "the project can adapt quickly to future threats from liberals to biblical integrity."

Oh. My. God. (And I mean that literally.) I mean, it's not like our culture hasn't already turned Christianity into a three-ring circus, a freak-show parading political pundits from every end of the spectrum, but this is just SO over the top.

Anyone else feel the sudden urge to learn Greek and Hebrew?

I also have a little problem with their beef that "the committee in charge of updating the bestselling version, the NIV, is dominated by professors and higher-educated participants who can be expected to be liberal and feminist in outlook." I mean, they're saying it's BAD that the Bible is being translated by academics??? No, really--I'd MUCH rather have a Bible edited by a bunch of under-educated cultural crusaders who don't know the difference between a translation and a paraphrase--NOT!

Well, today is one of those days when the entire world shifts suddenly under your feet, and you're standing in an entirely different spot than you were the day before. This morning the whole family walked down the hill, and Aaron and I watched Carter, our third child, get on the schoolbus with Jamison and Clay for his first day of kindergarten.

No tears--just a lot of happy grins and kung-fu posing for the camera by an elated five-year-old.

Then, it was off to drop Grant, number four, at Barnyard Buddies for preschool and daycare. Daycare was one of those things that never made financial sense with more than one child at home, but it was clear that Grant would be bored out of his mind without something to keep him occupied while his brothers were at school. So three days a week, while his brothers are in school, Grant will be, too.

So for the first time in over a decade, I have large chunks of regularly scheduled time without my children. I don't feel bereft, and I don't feel elated. In fact, I'm not sure I feel much of anything right now--I may be in shock, LOL!

What will I do with all this new time? Well, right now I am sitting at the Red Mug (my absolute favorite coffee shop in the entire world!), sipping Ugandan coffee and nibbling on quiche. Soon, I will get to writing a series of articles examining diet pills. (Oh, the glamour!) I will organize my music for camp this weekend, and if I have time, I will start outlining an article I've been meaning to submit to one of my favorite magazines. I don't have a lot of hope of working on my novel today, but that's okay, it can wait until next week.

I'll have time.

I have a new life strategy.

I've been rather overwhelmed lately by a neverending morass of tiny things, both good and bad, that are battling for space in my life, my mind, my schedule, including (but not limited to):

My parents upcoming move. (Not tiny, but it definitely tops the list.)

School shopping.

Paid writing projects I should really be getting too.

My children's perpetually sticky faces.

Health care reform.

A car that needs a new battery.

Unpaid writing projects I should really be getting too.

The fact that I will be home maybe (maybe!) two weekends between now and the end of Spetember.

Brett Favre joining the Vikings. (Okay, so I couldn't care less about that, but it seems I'm the only one!)

Two music gigs needing to be pulled together.

Paper work.

Dental appointments.

More paperwork.

Vet appointments.

Did I mention school shopping?

And the list goes on. And on. And on.

So my new strategy? I am going to take a hint from that book I reviewed, outdo my Mennonite forebearers and become Amish. Yep, that's right. I'm chucking the computer and the cars, sending my entire wardrobe to the Salvation Army, and burning all my books except the Bible and a couple milktoast classics. I am going to wear broadcloth dresses and bake bread, get nice and plump from eating lots of meat and dairy products, and spend my leisure time making quilts and apple struedel. No more agonizing over ambiguous issues--I am going to let someone else tell me what to wear, what to do, what to think, etc. And if that someone else happens to be wrong, well, I was just being faithful, right?

No? *sigh* Well, I guess that won't work after all. And since I'm a little too Mennonite to join the military, and a little too married to join a convent, those options can be safely crossed off the list too.

I guess I'll just have to keep plugging away. But seriously, does life HAVE to be so complicated? Does EVERYONE live with this nagging sense of un-done-ness, of unrest, hanging over their heads? Or is this a function of my personality, a dissatisfaction with my own performance that keeps a fire burning under my soul until I reach some intangible bar that keeps moving farther and farther away?

Today, "peace" feels like a mirage, a cool, blue oasis hovering just out of reach above scorched sands. I walk toward it, every step burning my feet, but can never seem to get there.

Sheesh, I'm angsty lately! Sorry friends--you may have to bear with me for a little while. :-( I could just lie and be cheerful, but what's the point of that? Nope, this blog is a place for honesty. I love my life, I love my friends, I love my family, and I absolutely have faith in the love, peace, and provision and ultimate plan of God. But that "peace of Christ that transcends all understanding" hasn't quite sunk into my soul yet.

Or maybe peace just isn't what we make it out to be. Did Jesus feel peaceful in the garden, or on the cross? Doubt it. At least not the kind of peace modern Christianity, or even not-so-modern Christianity like the Anabaptists, advertises.

So, the big scuttlebutt around here is that Brett Favre signed with the Vikings. The traitor! The cheeseheads are up in arms! I hardly dare go on facebook today, for fear of getting caught in the crossfire. :-D

But one of my friends posted a rather amusing picture of the anathema donning a Vikings helmet, with this quote beneath it: "Old football players don't need to retire. They can just go somewhere where no one expects to win games anymore."

Yes. Too true.

On the other side of the bridge, one of my Minnesota friends commented "Well, there goes the neighborhood."

Poor Brett. Football players are entitled to move, and he really doesn't deserve all this grief. In fact, I'd almost feel sorry for him--if I wasn't from Wisconsin.

Every once in a while little things come along and jab you in the heart.

Like when an old friend from your mission school in Africa, who is expecting her first baby, posts on her Facebook status that she's waiting for her parents to get online in Nairobi so they can visit.

And then, a couple hours later, updates to say that she's sad that the Skype date didn't happen.

:'-(

It is a strange breed of rejection, having your parents blow you off for God.

I can't believe that God approves.

But that doesn't necessarily lessen the sting.

All these years later, the old wounds still ache. For all of us.

My editing is coming along nicely. I am halfway through chapter 13 (of the book--I posted something about chapter 11 in my Facebook status a week or so ago, and nearly gave several friends heart attacks, thinking our music business was going bankrupt!), and I think I have come up with a philosophy that will carry me through the edits. The first revision is just to clean things up, to wipe the mud off the manuscript's face so I can see what I've got to work with. The second go-round is where I put on the polish, slick on some lipstick and powder its nose. So right now I'm trying to address any glaring problems and smooth out the prose. I'll pretty it up next time through.

Speaking of non-bankrupt music businesses (thank you Jesus!), we just launched DeepWater Music's brand new blog today. There are only a couple posts up right now, but we'll be updating it several times a week with all sorts of cool, practical tips for musicians of all kinds, and worship musicians in particular. Check it out at http://www.modernworshipteam.blogspot.com.

Hmm. I'm realizing, as I repost this from Blogger, that after all these years I never really learned how to hyperlink in my LJ. Oh well. I'll have to actually read the instructions figure out how to do that one of these days, LOL!

Since I burned the midnight oil to sort my scenes into chapters last night, I decided to take a look at my restructured manuscript, viewing in a different light. The results surprised me. Here's what I found.

Chapters one needs a little trimming, but is in basically good shape. Chapter three needs work, but chapter four is ready to go as-is. From there, the manuscript zips along nicely (needs edits, but nothing major) until chapter sixteen, where it begins to sag. Chapter eighteen needs to be cut. And chapter nineteen--the ending--needs to be reimagined. It's not bad, but it depends too much on stuff that happened in the incredibly boring chapter eighteen.

It's amazing how a little restructuring can change your perspective.

Okay, I'm back. :-)

The problem with my "big-girl blog" is that while it's a perfectly good place to send friends or people who have read my stuff in magazines, online, etc. and want to keep updated on what I'm doing, there is no community of writers there to remind me of what my real writing goals are. And I need that. Badly.

I've found myself checking in here more often over the last two weeks, so I figured I'd just jump back into the LJ fray. And, I don't know why I never really considered it before, but it's not like double-posting is a big deal, if I feel so inclined. So, here are my new goals, as posted last night (well, early this morning, really), at my blogspot:

I have set a new goal for my novel. I am going to finish the second draft by the end of August, and have my manuscript polished up and ready to submit by Christmas. (Although of course I won't be actually submitting anything until January--agents need vacation, too!)

My goal is not as ambitious as it sounds. Over half of the manuscript is already in the second-draft phase, and a couple thorough read-throughs have convinced me that only a few small-ish plot tweaks are needed, a couple stray threads that need to be woven in tighter or snipped out. And I am, by nature, a fast, prolific writer. My ability to plow through the revisions is not in question--it's the accountability that's been lacking.

To make the whole process less overwhelming (overwhelm is my enemy--I'm one of those people who becomes overwhelmed very easily, then freezes up), I chunked the book down into chapters. Usually I work on a scene-by-scene basis, but the emotional fallout of opening my computer folder and seeing fifty-some messy, poorly-labeled files screaming for my attention was not pretty. Nineteen chapters seems much more manageable, and breaking it up that way gave the story a sense of rhythym and cohesion that I couldn't find before. It's easier to see what needs to be done.

So, I have seven weeks to finish the second draft. Eleven chapters already fit that description, but the eight I have left are the ones that need the most work. I am fighting the temptation to go back to the beginning and polish the first eleven chapters, especially since knowing the end from the beginning will inevitably make the third revision better. Must. Finish. Second. Draft.

So, I have to edit a little over one chapter a week, making any necessary plot tweaks as I go. Totally doable, if I'm commited. Which I am.

Can we fix it?

Yes we can!

Okay, I think it's officially time to go to bed, before my characters start singing and dancing and reciting the alphabet. Some writers quote poetry when they want to inspire themselves. I quote PBS.

Oh well. Good night!

So, I finished my musical promo packs and hit the pavement today, stopping at every funeral home in the Twin Ports. (Except one--I couldn't figure out where it was!) (You know, I may be the only person to ever visit 13 funeral homes in one day. 13! Yikes!) I decided to go with the walk-in-and-hand-them-the-packet strategy, as opposed to the call-ahead-and-mail-it strategy, and I think it was the right (although unnerving!) decision. Talking face-to-face makes a much stronger impression on people, and besides, I've been told that my telephone voice sounds like a twelve-year-old girl's. :-D

The responses ranged from a polite "Thank you, I'll make sure my boss gets this," to enthusiastic "This is wonderful! Thank you so much!" I'm going to follow up in about a week with the folks who seemed the most excited about it, and cross my fingers that calls start coming in. Also, this excercise has taught me a lot about the fine art of packaging. I am SO glad I went with my dressiest clothes, (that a girl could wear in -20 weather, anyhow!) and spent the extra money on nice folders that had specified spaces for CDs. All I had to do was hand them one nice, tidy, well-thought-out folder--no losing my business card, or misplacing my CD, or fumbling for my bio and rate sheet. It's all right there.

So, phew. The introvert survived door-to-door marketing. :-D

I am beyond befuddled, and writing this in the middle of the night doesn't help. :-) Suffice it to say that people in our current economy are not shelling out $130.00 for a piano course, even a super-good, really incredible piano course, in the numbers they used to, and our business has felt it. We cut back our advertising. We cut back our staff. We tightened our family's belt about as far as it can squeeze, and we are STILL marginally not quite making it, or barely making it, depending on the month, as long as the van doesn't give out/unexpected bills don't come up/nobody goes to the vet or dentist or whatever.

So, I think to myself, "Buck up, Jenny! Go get a job! Sure, you have two preschoolers at home, but I bet Mom and Dad would help out with childcare, right? And if not, maybe you'd qualify for childcare assistance from the state." Only my parents travel a lot, and I am pretty sure that me taking a job would bump us out of the income range where we would qualify for ANY sort of government assistance. Not good. And since I'm looking for an hourly, non-career job, the sort of job where one of my four children coming down with the flu and needing to stay home wouldn't constitute a corporate emergency, I'd be lucky to out-earn the cost of putting two kids in day care. Working in the post-school hours--forget it. I figured once that if I were paid the going rate for caring for my children, I'd make over sixty grand a year. Heck, I'd be better off doing childcare for someone else's kids, if the thought of adding one more child to my crazy mix didn't make me want to tear my hair out. :-D

All this comes, of course, on top of a bit more success in the freelance sphere. (It's like my friend Sedeara says, amazing how your chances of publication go up when you submit things!) But I'm a newbie, not sure how these things work, and making a couple hundred dollars and placing some freebie articles doesn't exactly make me confident in my ability to continue to do so. (Well, except for the free articles. Publishing credits are great, but they don't exactly improve my bottom line.) And there's always the back-burner possibility of tapping the local market for music gigs--weddings, funerals, little old lady's church brunches. That's decent money, and I'm more familiar with how such things work than the wild and wooly world of writing, but could I market myself well enough to work consistently? And I suppose there are things I could do to help our business and up our sales, but all these options seem so theoretical and intangible that the thought of a job is kind of comforting.

Until I remember that I'd be lucky to make ten dollars an hour in this town, and would have to shell out around six for childcare.

My head hurts.

What should I do??? Advise me, oh friends!

I've been neglecting LJ to do more writing in my "big girl blog", (as my husband refers to it!)but I thought I'd recycle and cut-and-paste today's entry here, too. If you want to read more of my philosophizing hop over to my blog at http://www.jennyraearmstrong.blogspot.com. LJ will remain my fun, wherever-the-wind-blows blog.:-D So, without further ado...

It's been a rough year or so in our neck of the woods. Our church lost two precious babies to SIDS and two young-ish mothers to cancer, a statistic that would be less shocking in a larger community, but slices right through the heart of a tiny town like ours. Our family lost a grandfather to kidney failure and an uncle to bladder cancer. The Wall Street debacle didn't do anything good for a local economy that's been in the toilet since the nineteen fifties, or the bank accounts and job security of those of us who stubbornly cling to the shallow, rocky soil our stoic Scandinavian ancestors set their plows to. And then there are the ongoing, everyday problems of living in a fallen world. I spent most of last night awake, listening to my autistic son cry in his sleep, cleaning up the mess created by a GI system that just can't absorb food properly. Somewhere between awake and asleep, backed by the sound of my son's distress, I remember thinking, "It's not fair, God. It's just not fair."

It's true. It's not fair. Yet it is fair. God causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on the righteous and the wicked, (and knows we're all a bit of both!) and didn't shrink back from experiencing all the joy and pain of being human when he came to earth in the person of Jesus, a baby born into poverty and oppression, into all the hopelessness of humankind.

Why does a loving God allow bad things to happen? Why do we even ask? We have bought into they myth that we are entitled to an easy life, that it's God's job to smooth our paths before us and make them straight, to protect us from the fall-out of being human. But life wasn't so great for Jesus, or his parents, or his disciples or the prophets, either. Why? Because God was mad at them? Because God didn't care? Because God blinked, and something slipped by him? No. Because in the words of the bumper sticker, shit happens, and sometimes it happens to us. No one is immune.

Americans are addicted to comfort. We cruise down the path of least resistance in our climate-controlled SUVs, but what happens when we hit a bump in the road and get a flat, when we start leaking oil and burn up our engine, when the price of gas shoots sky high and we just can't afford it? Do we set the emergency brake, lock our doors, shake our fist at the sky and wait for God to show up with a tow truck, or do we climb off our high-horse, join the ranks of suffering humanity, and start putting one foot in front of the other in the direction of home?

I babysat a lot as a teenager. When I was fifteen a family I sat for, the Muirs, decided to take in a foster baby who had been born without a brain. When Karen, the mother, told me what they were planning to do, I was angry. That baby was going to die, and everyone knew it. Why would they put themselves through the pain of becoming attached to a baby who was doomed from the get-go? Why would they put their children through that pain? "But Jenny," Karen reasoned, "Don't you think he has a right to be loved, too?" I supposed I did, but not at the expense of people I loved. Not at the expense of causing them pain.

It was not until little Emory's funeral, just over a year later, that I began to realize the impact his life had had. Not because of anything he had done-because really, there wasn't much he could do, besides breathe, suckle, and mess his pants, and even those were iffy-but because of the way he had been loved. Because of the Christ-like way the Muirs embraced the blessing and suffering of this tiny bit of beautiful, broken humanity, claiming and redeeming it for a greater purpose, and received more in return than they could ever have imagined.

What did I learn from Emory and the Muirs? That pain is not something to be avoided. That suffering and blessing more often than not come wrapped in the same package. That sometimes, it's enough to be loved by a heartbroken God who came to claim and redeem us for a greater purpose. Sometimes, it's just enough.

It's been a blessed year or so in our neck of the woods. May the love, peace, and joy of a God who knows what it is to suffer sustain us all through the next, and lead us safely home.

After much hemming and hawing, I have decided to commit to a real live grown-up blog. You can view it here:

http://jennyraearmstrong.blogspot.com/

Now, I will hem and haw some more, and decided which blog I should feed to Facebook. Hmm. Haa.

Still not sure. I'll sleep on it.

I recently ran across this article about a young woman being stoned to death. The people who did the deed say she was a 23 year old woman who had confessed to adultery. Amnesty International said she was a 13 year old girl whose big mistake was reporting that she had been raped.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7708169.stm

In America nowadays, especially among Christian circles, there is subtle pressure to keep quiet about anything having to do with women's rights. Our lives are pretty nice, right? No need to make a fuss, make things uncomfortable for anybody. No need to insist that women be placed in positions of power and authority--our male leaders will treat us justly, right? Right? Right?

I hear some of you saying that women aren't any more apt to be just than men. Perhaps. Perhaps you are right. But when was the last time you heard of fifty women gathering to stone a thirteen year old girl to death for the crime of being raped? When was the last time you didn't want to walk alone at night because you were afraid of being attacked by a college volleyball player on her way back from practice? Maybe women would become just as violent as men, if put in men's positions. But I seriously doubt it.

The world is FILLED with gender injustice, and it doesn't help when those of us who HAVE been blessed with civil rights allow ourselves to be trivialized or marginalized because of our gender. When we don't insist on being afforded the same rights, responsibilities, and respect as men. I know there are many people within the church who disagree with my egalitarian views on gender. But I am calling on you, I am IMPLORING you, to stand up for a woman's right to choose her own viewpoint, to act on her own conscience. To defend a woman's right to have rights, whether she avails herself of them or not.

I am not asking you to stand up for *yourself*. (Although that would be good, too!) I am asking you to stand up for your sisters who have no voice, and die for lack of what you take for granted. Baby girls are being abandoned in China, little girls are being sold into prostitution in India. Girls are being routinely raped in Africa, and even here in America, one out of four women will have been raped by the time they turn eighteen. THIS IS NOT OKAY. And make no mistake, this is your fight. This is, primarily, a woman's battle. This is not something our knights on white horses are going to ride in and fix for us. This is a spiritual, psychological battle having to do with the inherent worth of women, and the only way in which we gain ground is to accept our own self-worth, insist on being respected based on that inherent, God-given value, and then insist that OTHERS be treated with the same care and concern. Insist that baby girls are worth feeding. Insist that young women are worth protecting. Insist that you deserve a safe, non-abusive environment to live and work in. Insist on the right, no, the NECESSITY, to be who God created you to be.

Your own chair may feel nice and cushy, but I'm asking you to stand up anyways. Stand up for the women who are being held down, and speak out for the right of women to BE. We make up more than half of the world's population, and the fact that we allow these things to go on is an absolute disgrace. Stand up. Speak out. Our government has granted you a voice. Use it. And don't EVER forget to be thankful for it.

Puppy rants aside, there are moments that make it all worth it. Like when the kids decide to teach the dog to pull the plastic snow sled, but it's the dog who winds up getting the ride. Like when you look outside and see all four kids--plus the puppy--bouncing on the trampoline. Like when you watch your autistic son's awkward attempts at throwing frisbees,and know he is doing it out of pure, unrequited love. There are moments that make it all woth it.

That said, if anyone has some foolproof advice on how to teach dogs not to jump, I'm listening. The jumping's gotten worse, and I'm not sure what to do about it. :-/

Things that I am thankful for:

1. A wonderfully supportive husband who loves to cook. (This morning while I was writing he brought me coffee. Then he brought me pancakes. THEN he brought me fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies! Come on, could I be making this up?)

2. Five pound tubs of pre-made chocolate chip cookie dough!:-D

3. Four wonderful children who keep my life from EVER getting boring.

4. Parents who don't mind babysitting.:-)

5. Friends who drop in unannounced, and family that dosn't bother to knock.

6. iTunes.

7. A big house in the country.

8. A big house in the country that is always filled with the joyful music of people honing their God-given talents.

9. Lindsey. (Yup, you TOTALLY make the list!!!:-D)

10. A gracious, loving God that wants to have a relationship with ME!!! (It must be disclosed that this list is not necessarily written in order of importance, LOL!)

What are you grateful for?

A public service announcement:

It occured to me yesterday that for as far back as I can remember, (which isn't very long, in the grand scheme of things, but hey...) the Democratic and Republican parties have been more intent on making their rivals look bad than in making America look good. They have been more intent on making the other party fail than on making America succeed. This is, obviously, counter-productive, no matter what your political views are. So I am launching my own personal campaign against negative politics, "W.W.M.R.D.?" (What would Mr. Rogers do?)

Want to join me? The challenge is to call out mudslinging when we see it, and remind people that just because a person believes something different than we do doesn't mean they're bad people. A short sampling of the sort of talk I will be shooting down:

"Barak Obama pals around with terrorists." (Come on.)

"George W. Bush is stupid." (Really? Did YOU go to Yale?)

"Sarah Palin is against women's rights." (Um, no, she's against abortion. And you're obviously against her right to hold that opinion, and still be pro-woman.)

If you're the sort of person who promotes that sort of nonsense, consider yourself warned. Policies are fair game. People are not.

Anyhow. If enough Americans stand up and start screaming against the negative propoganda both parties try to spoon-feed us, the tone of government will go up. (Goodness knows, it can't go a whole lot lower--I hope!) We have to insist that the parties work together to make America succeed, instead of working against each other to make their rivals fail. Country first. Yes we can.

Write letters of complaint against negative andvertising. Hit "reply to all" on venomous, half-baked emails, and respond with truth. Tell your friends that you don't want to hear it. And if you can't say nuthin' nice, don't say nuthin' at all.

Mr. Rogers would be so proud!

Am I the only person who thinks it's kind of nuts that Barak Obama is getting his girls a puppy? Maybe it's because I caved this spring and got my son the Golden Retreiver puppy he's been begging for for years. Maybe it's because I was just outside attempting to untie said VERY LARGE puppy (who only needs to be tied because he destroyed a portion of the HUGE dog run we built him, and I haven't had a chance to fix it yet,)and he nearly twisted my arm off in his excitement to see me. Or maybe it's because he was so full of pent up energy from being tied up, and so lonesome for the big kids at school, that as soon as he was off the tie he was jumping all over me in what in puppy language translates to "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, let's play," but in human language translates to "I love you, let me smear mud all over you and chew on your arm."

Grr.

I'd take him for a run, but I don't want to take the little kids out in this murky weather, especially since the littlest one was sick last night. If *I* were Obama, I'd take my kiddos to an animal shelter, and let them choose their *puppy* there. That's what I should have done.

I love dogs, but puppies are a pain.

It's nearly midnight, and I am going to be exhausted tomorrow, but I just watched America vote a black man into the presidency. I just watched one million people of every age and color and culture cheering and waving the same flag near the shore of Lake Michigan, I just watched Jesse Jackson, and Oprah Winfrey, and a thousand other anonymous people, with a thousand precious stories to tell,weep to see this come to pass. I just heard Jim Lehrer tear up, for heaven's sake! You know something big has happened when Jim Lehrer loses his composure!!!

Frankly, I don't care what you think about Obama. Right now I don't care what *I* think about Obama. Right now what I care about is what I think about America. And America, I can truthfully say, to me you've never looked so beautiful.

So now,go to bed and get a good night's rest, because you have a lot of work ahead of you. Sweet dreams, America. I love you. *kiss*

Plus two--THE END.

WOOHOO!!!!!!!

Now, on to editing....