I guess I should blog again

Hey, folks. GGB here. A friend of mine with a three-year-old and a newborn is showing me out by blogging almost daily, so I figured it was high time to get my hiney in gear and talk to the world.

Hi, world.

Yesterday, hubby and I passed the 200-day mark of our wedded bliss. I keep waiting for that dreaded "tough first year" to materialize, but so far it hasn't. The toughest things about 2007 have come from outside, not from within. No, if anything, 200 days have proven that I chose beautifully. "Peas and carrots" comes to mind.

Otherwise, it's been hard to know what to blog about. It's been nice not having a day job to complain about, and days at home have been mostly productive and absolutely peaceful. Coming up on an election year, you'd think I'd be back in political-junkie mode, but lately the news only gets me angry. Suffice it to say, Hillary Clinton is a Marxist and I will vote for her opponent, whoever that may be. In fact, I'm kinda tickled that Pat Robertson -- kooky as he is -- decided to endorse Giuliani, especially after James Dobson's whining that none of the front runners is Jesus-y enough.

Speaking of Jesus ...

Michael Horton is my hero. (After Jesus.) I finally got my hands on a copy of a fantastic volume he edited, titled Christ the Lord: The Reformation and Lordship Salvation. For those of you who did not grow up Southern Baptist, this will be meaningless, but this book has finally settled the anxieties of this former SBC'er who grew up constantly hearing: "Are you really, really, really, really, REALLY saved?" (For those of you who did grow up So. Baptist, I hope you are giggling now. And go buy the book.)

Okay, our older dog is giving me that look. Time to feed the mutts. Arividerci!

Alton Brown on the real reason we cook

Our Patron Saint of Perpetual Good Eats


The GGB recently gave up her 40-hour-a-week Corporate America job for a kinder gig as Household COO (and occasional dance teacher and freelancer). When my former coworkers asked me if I was looking forward to a change of pace, I often told them I was excited about cooking dinner and having it ready when my husband gets home.

A few people looked at me as if I'd said I was going to be manacled to a stove and given daily beatings for my trouble.

It is not fashionable these days to be enthusiastic about the home arts. And if you do cook, you're supposed to do it as quickly as possible a la Rachael Ray. (That's another post entirely. The woman is a blight on humanity.)

However, I picked up on a bit of cosmic brilliance by the anti-Rachael, the sensei of culinary kung fu, the high priest of all that is sacred and holy about the range top and the saute pan. I give you words of wisdom from Alton Brown:

... feeding someone is an act of caring. We will always be fed best by those that care, be it ourselves or the aforementioned friends and family.We are fat and sick and dying because we have handed a basic, fundamental and intimate function of life over to corporations. We choose to value our nourishment so little that we entrust it to strangers. We hand our lives over to big companies and then drag them to court when the deal goes bad. This is insanity.

Amen, brother.

A dispatch from the other side of the altar

@#$%^&

Dad gummit.

No, I love marriage -- seriously -- it's just the upgrade in Blogger that's locked me out of my account for months and made me a little frustrated.

Okay ... where was I? Oh, yes ... marriage!!

At this moment, hubby and I are lounging in our brand-new, king-size Tempur Pedic bed (top of the line, mind you), with blankets and a duvet made of yards of the stuff that feels like plush teddy bears. We're in our PJs, Rich is reading Harry Potter and I am, well, blogging. Obviously. He's made us both coffee, and we're enjoying a rare quiet morning, punctuated by the cats walking across our laps and the occasional goofy-eyed glance.

Wedded bliss at its finest. THIS is what I'd hoped marriage would be like.

On the other hand, if you've been reading Rich's blog, you'll know that we've had a little drama in our world. That "in sickness and in health" clause kicked in way earlier than I expected when Rich was hit nearly head-on and totaled his Altima four days after we got home from Jamaica. It wasn't his fault and he had no permanent bodily damage, but he had some of the most horrifying bruises I've ever seen on a human being.

Since then, we've had the final move of my junk to the house. (Rich says that the garage looks like the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.) One of our dogs required emergency surgery and had a return trip to the vet this past weekend. My sister got pregnant (minor miracle). Then she miscarried (major heartbreak).

And I still love married life!

Rich and I have had each other to lean on and trust in during this cluster of minor trials. After viewing the aftermath of Rich vs. Shelby County patrol car (yes -- a cop hit him), I am grateful to God to have a husband to come home to. The cats and dogs are getting along, and the house -- though disorganized and far from complete in its transition -- is looking more and more like a home rather than a bachelor pad.

And it's peaceful. Especially this morning.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone.

Wife beating and other unintended consequences of relativism

In Germany, now that everyone's belief system is equally good and equally valid, the German justice system has paved the way for at least one Muslim to preserve a time-honored tradition: wife beating.

German Judge Says Woman Can’t Get Divorce, Men Have Right To Beat Their Women

Yes, you read that correctly. (Hat tip to Say Anything via Hot Air.)

But hey, as long one religion is just as good as another, what's the big deal? You have your truth, I have my truth, right? If there are no universal moral truths, then Moroccan Muslim men should be allowed to beat their wives because that's what their religious faith requires (or so some say).

If you're like me and believe this line of thinking is garbage, you might enjoy this:

"Relativism Self Destructs" by Greg Koukl of Stand to Reason.