Monday, November 12, 2007

By Bread Alone

I was pondering one of those deep, life altering questions this morning during breakfast:

How do I eat my bread?

So I observed myself. I know that this is a very qualitative study with an n of 1, and that the data are skewed because the subject was aware she was being observed, and at the same doing the observing, but stay with me here.

When eating toast with raspberry jam, I first bite into the top crust, usually on the right-hand side of the bread (when looking at the bread in upright position, straight on) and then procede to eat around the bread in a counter-clockwise direction. I eat with a "save the best for last" philosophy. I eat around the bread, consuming crust and middle, until the last bite is some middle attached to that squishy bit right between the top and the sides of the loaf. That squishy bit is the filet, my friends. The very best part of the bread. Unless it's another kind of bread. Eating methods may need be altered depending on the type of bread. If it's banana bread, the top crust must be eaten last.

So I challenge you to self evaluate. Delve in and ask yourself the deep, life altering question: How do you eat your bread?

Monday, November 05, 2007


A conversation with my almost-5-year-old son this morning:

"Mom, I wonder how Jesus made the world."

"Me too."

"Do you know how he made the world?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, Mom. Maybe when we die we should ask him."

"Yep. I think that's a great idea. That's the first thing I want to ask when I die."

"Well, I think he used a ginormous potion."

For those of you that know me well, you will see my delight in this conversation. Just last night I had a discussion with a friend about science and evolution. You don't even want to get me started. But I really do plan on signing up for Creation 101 first thing when I hit the other side. Are there prerequisites, I wonder? Anyway, I'm thrilled that my almost-5-year-old son wonders how this world came to be. And I'm equally thrilled that his sense of fantasy and imagination makes a potion creation completely plausible.

Then a few moments later:

"Mom. Will you get me a potionmaker with a dog on the box for my birthday?"

"Why do you want a potion with a dog on it?"

"Well, Mom. Just go to a store that you can see a potion and get it for me for my birthday, okay Mom?"

Do you get the feeling he's got an ulterior motive?