Jesus is more, not less

Remember God's goodness to us, now and in the past, and share it with others. God wants us there, and even allows us our failures in proclaiming His message. He is always with us, and God's love is always more than we expect, not less.

Products Neither Endorsed Nor Approved by the Administration

Product licensing of the image of the current popular president has become a thorny issue for the administration. How to curb abuses of the decorum of the office and the dignity of a person without diminishing public enthusiasm? In a time when people are working hard to rack their brains for ways to economize and make extra dough, punishing entrepreneurs seems counter intuitive for a bright shiny new President wanting to help get the country back on its feet.

Still, the President is the president and he has to draw the line somewhere.
The following is a list by no means comprehensive, of Obama items not approved.

5) Michelle thought the Obama Underwear was funny but thought the airbrushed sheets with his image in the Hawaiian surf were creepy. In the spirit of compromise, both were stopped.

4) There was a strong push in the spirit of bipartisanship to allow the Obama popsicles stay on the market. Those who loved Obama could shower the confection with their affection. Those who didn’t could chew the ice. However, good taste prevented the administration from going forward. The idea of an elementary school full of children eating frozen versions of the leader of the free world didn't sit well.

3) Obamuppet, the newest character on PBS, the President of Sesame Street was turned down for use in the 35 year old educational television show. Obamuppet was created with affection from beyond the grave by Frank Oz himself! This more handsome than Guy Smiley, loveable than Grover and wiser than Kermit puppet was nixed because the DNC decided that he needed a larger platform on which to work and is currently in negotiations to have the newest Frank Oz creation host his own news and commentary program to run opposite Sean Hannity.

2) Obamawine: Despite being an excellent vintage with a delicate bouquet and rich deep tannins reflecting the complex and compelling mysterious nature of the man himself, the tag line, "Drink it and what you hope, changes," made this otherwise promising product, DOA.

1) Obama Nicorrette Gum: It seemed like a natural match, and it would boost sales and thus stimulate the economy while making those who used the product healthier, thus putting less of a drain on the overtaxed health system, but the loss in tax revenue made this a non starter.

Feel free to add to the list. I just thought I'd have some fun.

Ten Percent Mental

Experts say that a woman’s brain shrinks during pregnancy by 10%. I don’t believe it. According to science theory, matter cannot be destroyed or created, only transformed…and to my way of thinking, grey matter is no different than any other matter for that matter.

But it is a convenient excuse.

So I am torn morally and mentally…I could wave off my shirking of intellectual responsibility for my own continued education based on hormones. I could rest on my dusty laurels of academic achievement by claiming to be intellectually incapable of managing. But pregnancy eventually ends. That means I’ll have to assume responsibility at some point for my own mental faculties faultiness.

The problem is, I’m a vain little thing. I dislike thinking that there is something I "can't" understand or master. I don't even like the word "Can't" in my vocabulary. And it isn't just a case of being unwilling to acknowledge the barriers of my own brain, it's with respect to the body as well. I have kick boxed at 8 months pregnant, just to show it was possible. Don’t ask me who I was showing, we all know it was me.

It’s a very simple case of pure self delusion. I dislike limitations on my intellect, talent and physical ability and seek actively to disprove them whenever they pop up. Once, I spent three days on a super hard Sudoku just because I wasn’t going to be defeated by a mental puzzle even if I had to Xerox it three times and start over to eventually get it right. I am annoyed whenever I fail to guess who done it in a mystery novel. My brain IQ may not be Mensa worthy, but my ego says it is, and that it’s just that I don’t test well.

So I don’t want to surrender even that 10% to pregnancy, no matter the facts. I have to own my sloth and slacker ways and keep trying to prove I could have been a mental contender. For example, I keep checking out Joyce’s Ulysses from the library, and trying to read it so I can then nail the book on a wall like a stuffed boar’s head trophy with the date it was successfully endured engraved on a brass plate. I never get very far before I have to return it. If I bought the damn thing, it would eliminate my exculpatory excuse for not finishing.

Every summer, I make great plans to learn Spanish and master American history the way my husband and son can recite it with love and accuracy, and settle for memorizing the list of presidents in chronological order, watching a few PBS historical documentaries and having suffered through two or three sides of a language tape, two Spanish, one French. (It’s all I could find in our collection of cassettes). Then I sniff out loud, mollifying my wounded self that is chaffing at all the work and my unwillingness to persist at the same time, “Well, I took Latin anyway, so it’s reasonable that I don’t know French or Spanish.” As if I could actually say anything in Latin.

And I eat smart food like blueberries and pomegranates and fish when it’s fresh. I read things that bore me and listen to classical music or jazz, straining in my disingenuousness to prove somehow, I’m urbane, sophisticated and elite intellectually, and not a mere suburban house mom. I want to be the kind of person who would get the jokes in the New Yorker so well, she never bothered to read them. “Too telling.” I’d sniff.

Oh. How I’d love to be able to know enough to be a snob about something; wine, politics, literature, baseball, music, art, anything at all. Someone who gets “it,” whatever “it” is.

In the meantime, I’m just assuming, whatever it is I haven’t learned or mastered, it’s because of that missing 10%.

To find the other ten percent, click on over to http://www.humor-blogs.com if you liked this post and give me a smilie...it will molify my ego which clearly is in need of some serious praise, and if not, well, humility is good for the soul.
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