Interesting Interpretations

On a packet of Crystal Dates... brand was: Green Ecology Limitless Magnificence.

Preserved Lotus... brand was: "Aftertaste without end" and the Usage Direction: Directly Edible.

On a packet of Indonesian Ginger Tea... “Feel the Different!”

But I think this one takes the cake... Seen on a packet of pistachio nuts: "The taste fashion interest Pistachio: Cool fashion needs cool enjoying for you are the newest man"

Yum Yum

Bugs snack on wood chips and excrete crude oil.

Amazing Love

Do you ever wonder if God loves you too much? It never occured like this to me until just recently. To be honest, I had been feeling prickly and unloveable. Like nothing I did or didn't do ever mattered. God didn't really care. (LIES!!! all lies I tell ya). So, I did what I do when I'm at my wits end (why do I wait that long?) and there is no one to turn to. I simply asked God to show me how much He loved me. It wasn't that big a deal, and I kinda forgot about it. I wasn't sure I would know if I'd even got an answer.

But, yet, despite my intrinsic unloveliness and unfaithfulness, He IS faithful. The overwhelming theme of His revelation to me since then has been love: pure love, steadfast love, secure love, undeserved love, unconditional love (the list goes on).

And thus, it started with a song: Amazing love, how can it be, that You my king would die for me? This, I realise now, is just the modern version of my lifesong ("And can it be" by Charles Wesley written in 1728, which, for some reason, I adopted as my own when I was 13) which has the line "Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?"

Another song and then a poem, a verse, a picture of promise, even a birthday present from my dear wee brother, and yet more verses, all within the last two weeks.

And even tonight, I just so happened to be listening to some guy reading from 1 John 4:7-12 "...love one another for love is of God... this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice... His love is made complete in us" while simultaneously reading on another website: "Today's Topic: The Love of God -God did not spare His own Son". Mere coincidence? I think not.

And later on this evening in reading, this jumped off the page: 1 John 4:10 -wait a minute, that was one of the same verses that guy was reading (ooo woo woo). You'd think Someone was trying to tell me something!

I asked, and it seems, I surely received.
It's staggering, quite overwhelming really. Now how am I to respond?

Curtain Coincidence

When I was in Auckland recently I happened to find myself in Auckland's favourite fabric store (Harveys) and after looking at all the blue fabric (for no other reason except it was blue) busied myself in the bargin bin (for no other reason except it was on sale and one just never knows what one might find).

About this time I remembered the lack of privacy in the place where I live due to the fact I don't have net curtains on two of the windows so I can't open the curtains and it's all dark and gloomy. Thus I began my search in earnest. Not just for two matching nets, but good priced and not hideously outdated ones.

Well, I found them (otherwise I wouldn't be writing this blog). The only matching nets were simple, elegant and in the correct size. I took them. Worked out to be 80% off.

What's more, when I got home I found to my surprise that they matched the only other net curtain already in my room. Now how bout that?

Authentic Phony

"...Occasionally, a genuine human encounter takes place, and we are taken aback by the solid feel of the conversation, by the contrast with our more typical clichéd, shiny niceness. We long for the real, the really real, anything that will make us think meaningfully or act creatively or laugh sincerely..."

Read the rest of this article by Gregory Spencer on boundless.org (click the title)

The Southern Cross

(Click title to see photo)

The Southern Cross God made to shine,
And light the Southern skies,
That people everywhere may know,
How Jesus His son died.

The crowd, they mocked and made their jest,
They spat in loving eyes.
“Oh, Son of God, now do your best,”
Cried pharisees and scribes.

A robe of purple for His back.
A nail in each hand.
Some things just aren't meant to be
But, redemption had been planned.

A single nail through His feet,
And for His head some thorns.
For us this punishment was meet,
So we could be reborn.

Not a bone of His was broken,
Just as they foretold.
His resurrection too, was spoken
Of by prophets of old.

So no one is without excuse,
It's written in the sky.
He gave His only Son for us,
And for our sakes He died.

So next time you're outside and see,
God's cross up in the sky.
Remember what He sacrificed,
And go tell others why.

The choice is yours, the choice is mine,
His victory to proclaim.
When God reveals then you will find,
There's power in His name.

-SMA

Salt

Now, here's something good I read in the newpaper. It was to do with "christian" political parties. The guy writing on the opinions page said something like (and I paraphrase) "when the salt is in the salt cellar we know exactly where it is but in order for us to taste it's effects we must put it on our food".

Reminds me of Matt. 5.13 We are called to be salt.

Not to all sit together in our nice little salt cellar but to be sprinkled out over the food where we are needed.

China Well-Known Trademark ISO9001 CERTIFIED

The ChaCheer(TM) Snacks, Delightful Taste !

The ChaCheer(TM) sunflower seeds,
picking the selected large and plump full sunflower seeds from the natural Inner Mongolian environmental-friendly farm, stuffed with traditional herbal flavor,
after steaming and roasting,
the crispy tasty seeds for sure
bring you the happiness of delicious feeling.

Well, after this quaint little intro I just had to try them and yes, they brought me the happiness of delicious feeling -for sure!

Click on title to see product (It may be well known to you)

Pig Intestine

I just ate pig intestine. It was ok... it tasted like pork alright but the texture was the weird thing -more like squid legs. But who would notice when it's smothered in a delicious spicy sauce?

You Can File Me Under Miscellaneous

Miscellaneous:

2. Having a variety of characteristics, abilities, or appearances.
3. Concerned with diverse subjects or aspects.

My Mum used this word (and the phrase "mixed bag") to describe me (in a nice way) today, when I once again regaled her with my struggle to be myself. When I try to be who people expect me to be I only end up feeling frustrated and unfulfilled, like I've cheated myself.

It's like looking at a cube and only seeing a square. Presenting the same side every time only reinforces the idea that that is who I am. I am a certain way. Inextricably stuffed into my allotted box.

She gave the pertinent example of the time in form one when I declined the option of even signing up for "Force 5" (an outdoor adventure elective). Force 5 would've been good for me: camping, kayaking, orienteering, rock climbing, abseiling, going bush etc. All things I was interested in and came to enjoy when I finally experienced them years later.

Instead I chose horticulture (because that sounded good too) only to find that no one wanted to be in that class as it was their last choice. After all this was what was expected of me. No one expected me to exult in the thrill of the great outdoors, to heed he call of the wild, but to paint rubbish bins and tend my dowdy tomato vine. They only saw me as a mouse to torment, who would rather read, knit, dance under the trees by myself or hide in the toilets. Surely, such a person is incapable of being adventurous.

To be fair, with a maximum of only two from each class, the odds were not in my favour, but the point is: I didn't even try because I was worried about what people might think.

And the truth? I thrive on the outdoors. I'd take trails and mountains and beaches and rivers and bush and campfires over screen-sucking and paper shuffling any day.

I have a mind for science but art is in my fingers. Sometimes I carefully place each stroke of paint, others I squelch my hands into the clay. I admire the gentle breeze for presenting my nostrils with a subtle fragrance and relish the wild winds of a perfect roller coaster. I like to shoot the breeze but only in a small group. I bake dainty cakes and cook a mean curry (seriously, it takes no prisoners, slaughtering all but the hardiest of stomachs). I've dabbled in ventriloquism, memorised books, played the tambourine. I dress up and put on silly voices. I take long walks as far as my legs will carry me and sometimes I just lie on the grass and watch the clouds or name the stars.

But usually you do not ask so usually I do not tell.

Smiling Tree

I smiled at a tree and the tree smiled back at me. Which is kinda strange cos trees don't usually smile at me. Then I noticed the accompanying body slouched against the trunk, his crumpled suit resembling bark in the twilight. (hmm, didn't acually realise before this that I make a habit of smiling at trees)

Mountains Moved

Mountains of concrete that is.

When I left for work this morning there were two hefty lumps of waste concrete sitting out on the front, er... lawn? Providing a little scenic undulation to the otherwise topographically challenged wasteland of a yard.

But when I got home I had a sense of something being not quite right and when I actually looked out the window, I saw that the great industrial scabs had been wrenched from their resting places and come to land upside down like giant spinning tops (except they weren't spinning, and didn't have that little stick bit poking out the top wherewith to spin them by).

So, it looks like I may be getting a proper garden soon.

Oh, I do hope so!

Quiz: How Comfortable Are You Being Single?

I took a quiz on Beliefnet.com

I scored 57, on a scale of 0 to 80.

0 - 35
Your search for a soulmate has reached fever pitch. You might want to think about taking time off from the dating scene and getting to know yourself. Who knows, you might just fall in love all over again.

36 - 65
You are fairly ensconced in a comfortable single life, although you have your moments when you pine for that special someone. Take heart--your ability to go with the flow only makes you more attractive.

66 - 80
You love being single, and it bothers you that anyone would ever want to be any different. Letting someone into your life, though, might just make you happier than you thought.


Nice to know that I'm still balanced.

Fantastic Figs

Ah, 'tis fig season as evidenced by my quite literaly stumbling across their flesh strewing the footpath. I happened to be playing that game where you sense your surroundings using only four of the five senses. On this occasion it was minus sight and the first indication that anything was out of the ordinary was the overwhelmingly sweet figgyish odor wafting directly up my nostrils. (Then came the inevitable smushing of said figs into the unyielding macadam). What a pity they lie wasted; rotting where they fall.

Figs make me think of 3 things: Astronauts, strangling and paradise. Let me explain.

1.A few years ago I was walking from Henderson out to Piha on the west coast via West Coast rd which wound up through the Waitakare Ranges. On my way I got chatting to an old lady and her two little yappy dogs about her laden fig tree. But whilst I was angling for a delicious morsel she was more intent on regaling me with adventures of her space travels. It was quite weird.

2. Next, they remind me of the massive 500 odd year-old strangler figs lurking deep in some tropical rain forest and my desire to climb one. The young figlet starts life nestled safely in the branches of some unsuspecting host tree. As it grows it sends down roots that fuse and wind their way down the host binding it into a living chamber and causing it's eventual death. Now, that's pretty impressive in my books.

3.And finally, yes, back to the garden where it all began. Human's vain attempt to cover their nakedness. The fig leaf was probably a good choice as it is rather large on the scale of fruit tree leaves but also inadequate as it rips and tears far too easily to be of any material use (believe me, I have tried).

Weevil Killing Spiders

I happened to be in a big city with lots of skyscrapers reclining on the hotel bed gazing out at the sunset (as I always do) when I noticed a thrush was hopping round on the railings above. I motioned for it to come in through the open window and held my finger up for it to perch on hardly daring to imagine that it would do so. After cautiously negotiating the flapping curtains it swooped in, but I never did see where it went.

I must have drifted off to sleep, for when I woke I peered through the moonlight to see drowsy wasps scattered on the carpet and spiders preying upon them. They were putting up a good fight though and I managed to dodge the writhing clusters on my way to the kitchen to get a drink of water, for I was parched. I squeezed a lemon into the glass then filled it with water and took one sip before resting it on the bench. I went to take another sip and there was none left so I repeated the process but try as I might my thirst could not be quenched.

Feeling quite defeated, I suddenly awoke (in real life -I'm pretty sure) with a dry as mouf, sore froat and stuffed up dose, crying out for a mucolytic agent. Seriously contemplated tottering through to the kitchen to slake my thirst but looked at the time (6:28) and decided it would be better spent catching some more zzzz's before the alarm went off.

Then I was in a boat discussing a parasailing trip we had planned for next weekend and searching for the best launching spot. I was at the bow nonchalantly tossing ping pong balls onto a square plate on top of a pedestal whist someone else was steering (or so they seemed to be). Then someone from the boat in front threw a ping pong at me and it landed on my right eye -I was not impressed. Normally I wouldn't mind as it's only a ping pong ball, after all, but it actually hurt.

Before I knew what was happening the guy who was supposed to be steering this thing has jumped ship and is on the shore directing me to steer it in between a couple other boats ready for mooring. I was yelling back that I had no idea HOW! But it didn't seem to matter as I eventually managed to overmanning it by leaning on the appropriate side.

There hadn't been enough wetsuits for to go round so I donned full body armor instead and jumped into the water when a huge wave came out of nowhere and propelled me into the shallows right next to another boat. Someone else called out that I was a Torren but I said I wasn't (as I didn't even know what one was -and I still don't) but perhaps I was when I learnt of the real reason I was there. I had to go help diffuse a bomb that was planted under this other boat.

I took a deep breath and dived down. And as soon as I had, I found I needed to take another breath so I did (in the water, cool huh?). When I got down I saw there was no one else so I had to dismantle the bomb by myself, which I did just in time.

Then I was on top of the hill overlooking the bay with the skipper, staring not at the view but at some memorial mound. Mostly, it was just and old rotting tree stump but I could see it held special memories. I asked if the mistakes of our ancestors were any cause for regret. I leaned in to touch my forehead to a piece of branch that was sticking out, to feel the damp wood against my skin and inhale the mustiness. It was only then I noticed a sprig of fresh growth with small waxy white fragrant flowers (the closest thing I can think of is mandarin flowers).

And then I woke up.

I rolled over and saw the spiders struggling not with wasps now but with giant weevils. They were starting to prevail and I knew I had to be quick with the camera if I wanted to capture the action before the imminent annihilation. I turn it onto maro-shot and pressed the (what is that button called? The one that takes the photos, anyway), but nothing happened. In the dim morning light I expected a flash to go off, but no. My camera would not take a single photo.

And with that frustration it was almost a relief to hear the familiar ring of my alarm (in real life).

Prof. Dr. Ir. W.J. van Blommesteinmeer

Is one of the largest reservoirs in the world located in the South American country of Suriname. It is named after the hydrological engineer Willem Johan van Blommestein. The locals call it Brokopondo.

I came across this in my internetual travels today and thought "Is this surely not the strangest or longest name for a reservoir?"

How old is Grandpa?? Put your guess in now, then follow the rest of the story.



Stay with this -- the answer is at the end. It will blow you away.

One evening a grandson was talking to his grandfather about current events.
The grandson asked his grandfather what he thought about the shootings at schools, the computer age, and just things in general.

The Grandfather replied, 'Well, let me think a minute, I was born before:

' television

' penicillin

' polio shots

' frozen foods

' Xerox

' contact lenses

' Frisbees and

' the pill

There were no:
' credit cards

' laser beams or

' ball-point pens

Man had not invented:
' pantyhose

' air conditioners

' dishwashers

' clothes dryers

' and the clothes were hung out to dry in the fresh air and

' man hadn't yet walked on the moon


Your Grandmother and I got married first, . . And then lived together.

Every family had a father and a mother.

Until I was 25, I called every man older than me, 'Sir'.
And after I turned 25, I still called policemen and every man with a title, 'Sir.'

We were before gay-rights, computer- dating, dual careers, daycare centers, and group therapy.

Our lives were governed by the Ten Commandments, good judgment, and common sense.

We were taught to know the difference between right and wrong and to stand up and take responsibility for our actions.

Serving your country was a privilege; living in this country was a bigger privilege.

We thought fast food was what people ate during Lent.

Having a meaningful relationship meant getting along with your cousins.

Draft dodgers were people who closed their front doors when the evening breeze started.

Time-sharing meant time the family spent together in the evenings and weekends-not purchasing condominiums.

We never heard of FM radios, tape decks, CDs, electric typewriters, yogurt, or guys wearing earrings.

We listened to the Big Bands, Jack Benny, and the President's speeches on our radios.

And I don't ever remember any kid blowing his brains out listening to Tommy Dorsey.

If you saw anything with 'Made in Japan ' on it, it was junk

The term 'making out' referred to how you did on your school exam.

Pizza Hut, McDonald's, and instant coffee were unheard of.

We had 5 &10-cent stores where you could actually buy things for 5 and 10 cents.

Ice-cream cones, phone calls, rides on a streetcar, and a Pepsi were all a nickel.

And if you didn't want to splurge, you could spend your nickel on enough stamps to mail 1 letter and 2 postcards.

You could buy a new Chevy Coupe for $600, . . . But who could afford one?
Too bad, because gas was 11 cents a gallon.

In my day:

' 'grass' was mowed,

' 'coke' was a cold drink,

' 'pot' was something your mother cooked in and

' 'rock music' was your grandmother's lullaby.

' 'Aids' were helpers in the Principal's office,

' ' chip' meant a piece of wood,
' 'hardware' was found in a hardware store and

' 'software' wasn't even a word.

And we were the last generation to actually believe that a lady needed a husband to have a baby. No wonder people call us 'old and confused' and say there is a generation gap... And how old do you think I am?

I bet you have this old man in mind...you are in for a shock!

Read on to see -- pretty scary if you think about it and pretty sad at the same time.









Are you ready ?????




This man would be only 59 years old!

My Dad sent me this and he is only 2 years younger.

Yestermorrow

I have some queries regarding a few chronological grammaticisms.

Firstly, Years and days...

Yesteryear refers to a bygone era not specifically to the year that came directly before this one. Wheras yesterday refers to the day immediately prior to the current day. We say last year as the annual counterpart to yesterday. But last day implies the end and sometime yet to come and scarce can we mention it lest we go all escatological on someone.

Secondly, This morning...

We say yesterday, today and tomorrow so why don't we say yesterday morning, today morning and tomorrow morning. No, it's always "this" morning (as opposed to "that" morning?).

I'm sure there's a reason for these. At least I sure hope so. Got any ideas? or come across any other anomalies like this?

Can not Compute

The format of file .sxw is not supported. The supported file formats are: htm, html, doc, pdf, rtf, txt, wpd. (and what exactly are these anyway? Dialects of a lanuage I do not understand! Translation anyone?)

I guess I should be thankful it tells me the correctly supportable file formats. I guess I have to change it somehow.

Um, so, I never learned all this computery type stuff at school. I just picked it up as I went along, which is why I have huge gaping abysses full of non-connections.

My primary school had one computer (it was in our classroom, but even though I had some coolness by association {we were in the same class together} I was in no way cool enough to touch it). At intermediate the second form classes each had a computer but it was only used as a reward (on the condition that we only used it to play "Wheel of Fortune").

When I was 15ish our family got a pc and I remember encarta'95 quite well. Memorised the encyclopaedia (the interesting bits anyway) maybe that's why I know odd bits and pieces about random things?

Got a hotmail account in my first year at uni. but I hardly ever used it -people just didn't comunicate by email much back then (if we wanted to be sure of getting someone we had to pick up the phone and ring them or leave an answerphone message). I only really got into the internet in my last year at uni doing a research project. And I bought my very own laptop with one of my first pays.

Just on a side note, I remember when I was about ten, thinking what the future would be like and imagining that everyone would have a little pager-like device to write little notes in and be able to communicate with other people and then there would be no more arguments or fights cos people wouldn't get lost and last minute changes of plans could be told to other family members and everyone would understand and not get crossed by accident. And it went without saying that in the future every car would have it's own phone in case you broke down and needed to ring for help..

So everything I know about computers I found out by myself. If I can't figure out how to do something, I just wait til the technology becomes easier to use. And if I can do it, anyone can.

Although I'm always paranoid that one day I'll just delete everything by accident or get a virus or somehow or other damage my computer beyond repair.

Castaway on th Sea of Uncertainty

So, there I am at the end of the jetty, figuratively sitting in my little dinghy. I've untied the rope and pushed off. My oars are the Spirit and the Word; I know they will bring me safe to my desired haven (which, at the present time, remains a mystery).

My fragile craft is pointed in the direction of Auckland, so, either I will get there eventually or the tide will turn and draw me back in to Christchurch or the the winds of change may yet dump me on some uncharted isle.

Yes, that's right, I have applied for a job in Auckland. An actual real live job this time. We'll see what happens. I feel nothing about it. It could be quite scary, but it just feels normal. Maybe what I've done just hasn't sunk in.

But I need not fear...

"He strengthens the hurricane to keep silent, so that the billows hold their peace" -Psalm 107:28 SPV (Sarah's Paraphrased Version)

Last chance to see Nicolas Dillon's birds

Do you know where Two Fat Indians is on Manchester st? Well, right nearby is the Brooke Gifford art gallery. Go up the stairs for a peek of New Zealand outdoors, indoors. Stunning birds. Absolutely fabulous. Well, well, worth a look. Especially if you like simplicity, impressionism, and native NZ birds.

I was fishing through the recycle bin at work for something to read when I came across a 2 week old bit of newspaper with a couple of bird paintings and a brief description. As a fellow bird painter, I knew then and there that I just had to check it out.

There are only 13 pieces on display (I curiously noted that all but one of them were painted this year -that's some serious effort in oils) each with a price tag of 2-4K which I consider a bit steep when you can still see the whiteness of the canvas showing through in places. I guess that's where impressionism comes in. From a distance they are flawless masterpieces (even with the somewhat novel subject placement), but close up each one bears witness to a flying brush.

My detail-oriented mind has trouble reconciling such apparent hastiness with an accurate depiction of these beautiful creatures. Yet there it was before me plain as day, I know what I saw -the individual character of each bird captured on canvas. I will just add that the birds, as the stars of the show, ARE brilliant, it's the backgrounds that are a bit wishy-washy.

They are delightful and enthralling works and I highly recommend a viewing if you're in town on Saturday. Open from 11-1:30 What are you waiting for?