Your Love is Better than Wine

As someone who loves, loves, loves music, it's taken me quite a while to get into Christian music. Since I recognize that what I fill my mind with is critical, over a year ago I started to listen to positive, encouraging K-LOVE. (Yes, they preface their call sign with their tag line. I think all two of my readers know how I feel about that. Hi mom!)

I now love worshiping in my car and even know many of the songs/artists at this point which makes singing along that much easier. But . . .

Whenever I hear a song that I dislike and change the station, I am immediately reminded by non-Christian radio stations how much better mainstream music is. While I really like the Revelation Song, Phillips Craig & Dean simply can't hold a candle to Radiohead. As such, I'm thinking they, and other Christian bands, hold limited appeal to a larger audience.

So here's what I propose: Give select portions of the Bible to well known and/or infinitely cooler bands who have a talent for soulful pop tunes and ask them to write and perform their own songs based on the lyrics. They don't have to be believers; they simply have to enjoy a good challenge. My recommended bands would include, but not be limited to, the following -- not because they're my favorites (not all of them, at least) but because I think they could do a bang-up job.

• Sonic Youth
• Liz Phair
  
• Matthew Sweet
• Beck
  
• Counting Crows
• Jakob Dylan/The Wallflowers
• Sheryl Crow
• Radiohead
• Cracker
  
• Wilco
  
• David Bowie (of course)
  

Based on their rendition of The Carpenters' Superstar, I honestly think Sonic Youth could do an amazing, languish-filled lamentation taken directly from the Psalms and generate a big hit.



While not even a remotely Christian song, I wonder if Stephen "Tin Tin" Duffy was quoting the Song of Solomon 1:2 when he rose to fame with Kiss Me back in the day?



See, it could happen.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Son #2 is rapidly gaining his father's sense of humor and, along with that, his inherent disrespect. Thankfully, I think it's funny (for now).

Case #1: As I was learning to skateboard over the weekend, and unsuccessfully attempting to guide the skateboard toward one of the ramps in the driveway, Son #2 shouted, "head to the left." When my poorly directed skateboard continued veering slightly right, he then deadpanned under his breath, "your other left." Tough crowd.

Case #2: This morning, I bumped my head on the kids' wooden coat hook when I was bending over to pick up my laptop bag. As I laughed aloud, I could hear a little voice from the couch asking, "Uh, first time with the backpack, mom?" Sheesh. No margin of error allowed.

All I'm askin' is for a little respect (just a little bit).

My Day of Atonement

Years ago, after the hubby had his wisdom teeth out, I rented Beaches and some other horrible chick flick like Fried Green Tomatoes. Kick 'em when he's down, I say. He's never quite forgiven me.

I finally atoned for that sin during Yom Kippur by getting sick, staying home for two days, reading a boring book and watching three films -- all of which left more to be desired. The worst of the lot was Adrift in Manhattan starring Heather Graham. The only thing that could have saved me from interminable boredom during this "drama" was if I were adrift in Manhattans but alas I'm deep in the heart of my pseudo-Lenten, non-drinking period. Next up was Grace is Gone with my main man John Cusack. Not bad; not great. Touchingly so so.

Hands down, the best movie of the three was Burn After Reading which was disappointingly not up to par with other Coen Brothers films. But here's what I really want to know: how did they get John Malkovich to play the part of the jilted agent/husband? Did he read the script before signing on? He, of course, was fantastic (as he typically is) but his character spent the entire film saying and/or asking "What the f*&^?" in a million different, highly expressive ways. I'm not sure he had many (if any) other lines but he delivered each WTF with a new, fresh intonation while stressing different words. Impressive. I guess that's acting. The hubby's guess is that he needed a cash infusion to renovate his kitchen.

Oh well. I think it's high time to put my movie picking to rest and let others select films for me from now on. It's no wonder I'm not allowed to touch the remote.

Whole Lotta Love

Last night, as I was tucking Son #1 into bed, he said to me, "Every day during school, I dream about playing hooky. There's even a big, red sign over the door leading to the playground that says, 'exit' and I'm like 'come on!' -- it's actually encouraging me to want to run out the door. Why would they do that?"

I told him that he and I could play hooky together some day. He would, after all, need someone to write his excuse the next day. He countered by telling me that he was thinking of creating a cyborg that could mimic daddy's handwriting . . . just like Santa does.

"Dad's probably gonna come clean with us about the Santa thing in about 30 years when he feels it won't be so disappointing. I know he doesn't want to let us down yet."

It breaks my heart that the Santa days are coming to a close. (Not to mention that it ticks me off that the hubby gets all the credit for everything!)

As I kissed Son #1 goodnight, I said, "I love you from the depths of my soul and the bottom of my heart." He responded, "I love you from the top and bottom of my heart and the right and left sides. And the bottom right, top left, top right and bottom left. I love you from all the cardinal directions of my heart."

That's a lot of love.

Chase What Matters

For the past two years (or somewhere in that neighborhood), Chase has employed the tag line "Chase What Matters" which always reminded me a little of the old American Express "Do More" campaign in that it felt aspirational. While it's a clever use of Chase as a verb, it's otherwise not quite as compelling to me. (Mind you, as an ex-Amex girl, I may be biased.) If I understand correctly, if I bank with Chase, I will have the right resources behind me to follow my dreams. Sounds good, right?

With that said, there is a Chase commercial on the air lately that drives me absolutely batty. I want to smack the smug ass ad agency executive who developed it. It features a guy who is trying to talk his wife/girlfriend into using their Chase points for a vacation for two. He's dreaming of walking along the French Quarter while a jazz band serenades them in the background, boating along a palm tree-laden coastline and dining in an elegant restaurant overlooking a panoramic cityscape. But nope: he cannot chase his dreams because his wife already blew through all the points on one, I repeat, one dress. (And I wonder: where the heck is she planning to wear that thing? Not to the Cub Scout camp out . . . )



In this case, the husband should chase what matters: divorce. Imagine the points he can accrue by charging all his attorney's fees to his Sapphire card. Imagine the trips he could take then!

I think Budweiser should follow up with this same man and film the empty 12 packs that begin littering his coffee table when he finally allows himself to get that stupid, I've-been-duped grin off his face and actually digest the fact that his wife would make such a selfish purchase without consulting him.

Enjoy the in-house "staycation" with your beautifully dressed wife, sir. And don't forget to thank Chase!

Fly the Kid Friendly Skies

When we went to Aruba last month, we booked our tix at the last minute. As such, we couldn't select our seats. At every gate, we (along with countless other families) had to beg the airport personnel to be seated with our respective kids. With our family, we didn't all have to be together, but we felt that each kid should preferably have one adult next to him -- especially Son #2 who puked upon landing in FL last February. Not exactly fair game for a random stranger to have to deal with that mess; as his mother, it even grossed me out.

My mom and I were musing that, instead of having passengers pre-select their seats and forcing others to angle for better positioning, airlines could reduce the stress for both passengers and personnel alike by simply applying a seating algorithm based on a) individual preferences coupled with b) companion requirements (e.g., passengers that require assistance and/or parental oversight). By optimizing the variables that are fed into the computer, favorable seating can be assigned at the gate with negligable distress. Isn't that the benefit of simple technology? So why not employ it?

Instead, as my girlfriend Left Coast Mom shared on her Facebook page, British Airways has just instituted a "fly next to your children" fee. I love the opening line here:

"British Airways has broken new exciting new ground in the race to make flying as awful as possible: they have announced a fee (ranging from £10-60 per passenger) for advance seat selection, explaining that this will be the only way that families and other groups travelling together can be assured that they'll be sitting next to each other. I wonder what happens if you don't pay it while flying with a two-year-old in her own seat; do they seat her at the other end of the plane from you and explain to the strangers on either side of her that they're responsible for her well-being for the duration?" (Source: Cory Doctorow for BoingBoing.net)

Our sentiments exactly. Except that it's BA who I was otherwise fond of.

Why, when airlines continue to post losses, are they determined to make flying more difficult for passengers? Blockbuster learned the hard way that imposing fee after fee after fee doesn't increase customer satisfaction -- it just erodes the base of loyal customers so that better products and services, when introduced, face little resistance when attempting to lure customers to switch. Duh.

More on this less-than-favorable change here. There's gotta be a better way.

Every Precious Dream and Vision Underneath the Stars

After posting yesterday about reaching for the stars, I was singing The Whole of the Moon all day.

You stretched for the stars and you know how it feels
To get too high, too far, too soon . . .

When I got in my car to go home, it was on the radio. What a great, great, great song.