November 11: Full Attention, The Hobbit, Fingerprints of God

I find it hard to see anything about a bird that it does not want seen.  It demands my full attention . . .

Dillard pays attention.  It is a constant habit.  She scrutinizes the universe and everything in it, from the showy cardinals and bluejays that insist on being noticed, to mosquitoes and larva and microbial organisms.  In all these things, Dillard is dusting for the fingerprints of God.

That means she believes that the blueprints exist on the cellular level.  The smallest of things reflect divine intelligence in some way.  I want to believe that, too, because, at the moment, I don't see a whole lot of meaning in what's going on in my country right now.  All the worst elements of American society seem to be taking over.

I have a friend who has dual citizenship.  He grew up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, just a few miles away from me.  Yet, he has spent a large portion of his adult life studying and working in New Zealand.  My eight-year-old son calls him The Hobbit.

Well, The Hobbit moved back to the United States a few years ago.  He's been teaching at a university on the West Coast.  I saw him this summer, and we got to talking about the presidential election.  He told me that he had an "out."  If the Donald won the election, The Hobbit planned to move back to New Zealand, which has, among other things, universal health care.  (On a side note, he has also volunteered to be one of the crew members for the first manned mission to Mars.)  I'm not sure if The Hobbit has booked his plane tickets back to New Zealand or Mars.  Haven't heard from him yet.

However, I'm sure that The Hobbit, like me, is at a loss for meaning at the moment.  He claims to be an atheist, which makes the seeming hopelessness even more hopeless for him.  Because I am a Christian, I have my "out," as well.  Here it is:  when humankind fucks things up royally, God rolls up Her sleeves and gets to work.  She spreads the manure around, steps back, and makes the flowers grow.

So, while The Hobbit is checking on airline prices and despairing, I am going to be on the lookout for the bluejays and daffodils.  The peacocks and bee balm.  That's what I'm thankful for tonight--a recklessly merciful and creative Almighty.

Saint Marty still believes that, in the end, good will win, even with Sauron in the Oval Office.

The President-Elect

March 14: Some Dough, Blue as Hell, Economic Ignorance

After they left, I started getting sorry that I'd only given them ten bucks for their collection.  But the thing was, I'd made that date to go to a matinee with old Sally Hayes, and I needed to keep some dough for the tickets and stuff.  I was sorry anyway, though.  Goddam money.  It always ends up making you blue as hell.

Yes, this little piece of wisdom from Holden isn't exactly warm and fuzzy.  In fact, it's the opposite of warm and fuzzy.  Cold and prickly, maybe.  Anyway, money, if you don't have enough of it, sucks.  That's what Holden is saying, and I agree with him.

The only time money doesn't make me feel "blue as hell" is when I don't think about it.  When I go on a vacation, I don't think about money.  I will actually walk into a Barnes & Noble, see a book I want, and buy it without worrying about the cost.  I will let my daughter buy hats and clothes she wants.  I eat what I want, where I want, and don't scrutinize the prices on the menus very much.  That's what a vacation is for.  Time off from my normal, day-to-day worries and frustrations.

Of course, I just had a vacation at the beginning of January.  Two full weeks of economic ignorance.  I went out to breakfast with my wife.  I saw The Hobbit at the movie theater, and bought a big buttered popcorn and candy.  I even allowed myself to sleep in until 7 a.m. one day.  It was bliss.

My next vacation is coming at the end of May, when I go downstate with my daughter to her dance competition.  We'll stay at a hotel that's next to a outlet mall.  We'll buy tons of stuff that we really don't need and eat a lot of food that we really can't afford.  It will be a welcome blessing from what I'm experiencing right now, which is economic panic.

Money can make you blue as hell if you let it, as Holden says.

Saint Marty wishes he could be on vacation every day of his life.  He would sleep a heck of a lot better until he filed for bankruptcy.

This pretty much says it all

January 6: Hobbits, Special Hot Chocolate, New Cartoon

It's Sunday, and I spent most of the afternoon in a movie theater, watching The Hobbit with my daughter.  I promised to take her to a movie while I was on vacation, and she wanted to see Peter Jackson's latest foray to Middle Earth.  Thus, it was popcorn and Bilbo Baggins.  My daughter loved it and now wants to watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.  All 500 hours of it.  Thank God winter lasts until June in the Upper Peninsula.

I'm at home now.  My son is in bed, and my daughter is practicing her flute.  After I'm done blogging, I'm going to make myself a big cup of my favorite drink in winter.  I call it special hot chocolate.  It is  hot cocoa spiked with Bailey's Irish Cream.  Let me tell you, it takes the nip out of a January night.  Heck, it takes the nip out of a July night.  If you drink enough of it, it can make you believe a January night is a July night.  For tonight, I simply want to end my day with a warm, chocolatey hug.

I've started reading Stephen King's novel 11/22/63.  It's my book club's January selection.  I've been told once I start the book, I won't be able to put it down.  My wife loved it.  My best friend Wonder Twin loved it.  Even The New York Times loved it.  Well, I'm almost a hundred pages into it, and it's getting interesting.  It still seems like it's in need of about a 500-page edit.

Maybe Saint Marty is in need of a special hot chocolate attitude adjustment.

Confessions of Saint Marty