Introductions and the Pope
This blog will cover a range of topics including (sort of) personal, my dog, cooking, baking, birds, political, t.v., film, music, and popular culture.
My brother, Ed, has agreed to guest host some times and provide true sheff's specials. Ed is probably never going to write about birds or my dog.
This is Ed:
http://us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/4220a995_d9b3/bc/My+Documents/es+(2).jpg?BCZ0KICBkAkP0Y6h
(I hear this web photo thing doesn't link -- bear with me and check for developments)
About me -- I have a boyfriend, I have a dog, and I read a number of blogs, especially ones written by people with whom I attended elementary, middle and high school. As soon as I can figure out how to syndicate or keep links on my interface, I will. My friends are such amazing writers, and they make me laugh. Also, a guy I know from college and beyond has been doing some periodic web piece in which he informs people about the status of his diet of pantry food items.
This is me:
http://us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/4220a995_d9b3/bc/My+Documents/ks+(3)-2.jpg?BCZ0KICBQRrBd01v
(I hear this web photo thing doesn't link -- bear with me and check for developments)
So, what do people think is going to happen with the Pope? I remember the last time one died in my life time. Ed and I recall it as a period when our lack of understanding about death caused a lot of fear in Ed's mind.
I was in Catholic school at the time, and I believed in God, and I thought God and Jesus lived in my heart, soul, chest cavity, etc. Clearly, I didn't really understand how things worked. I seriously believed that action-sized God and Jesus lived inside of my body.
So when my little brother asked me what was going on, why all the gloom, I told him the pope had been murdered. I thought murder and death were the same thing. Being killed and dropping dead of a heart attack -- same difference. But Ed knew the difference. He was shocked that someone would kill the pope.
He asked me where it happened, and I pointed east, toward Rome. How was I to know that Ed thought I meant Cow Mountain, the mountain lying east of our town and the apparent object of my pointing finger? Who knew that Ed couldn't sleep that night for fear that the Pope's killer would come after him?
Memory is funny. The way my confusions were misunderstood is funny. (Ed thinks I totally meant to fuck with his head.)
My brother, Ed, has agreed to guest host some times and provide true sheff's specials. Ed is probably never going to write about birds or my dog.
This is Ed:
http://us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/4220a995_d9b3/bc/My+Documents/es+(2).jpg?BCZ0KICBkAkP0Y6h
(I hear this web photo thing doesn't link -- bear with me and check for developments)
About me -- I have a boyfriend, I have a dog, and I read a number of blogs, especially ones written by people with whom I attended elementary, middle and high school. As soon as I can figure out how to syndicate or keep links on my interface, I will. My friends are such amazing writers, and they make me laugh. Also, a guy I know from college and beyond has been doing some periodic web piece in which he informs people about the status of his diet of pantry food items.
This is me:
http://us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/4220a995_d9b3/bc/My+Documents/ks+(3)-2.jpg?BCZ0KICBQRrBd01v
(I hear this web photo thing doesn't link -- bear with me and check for developments)
So, what do people think is going to happen with the Pope? I remember the last time one died in my life time. Ed and I recall it as a period when our lack of understanding about death caused a lot of fear in Ed's mind.
I was in Catholic school at the time, and I believed in God, and I thought God and Jesus lived in my heart, soul, chest cavity, etc. Clearly, I didn't really understand how things worked. I seriously believed that action-sized God and Jesus lived inside of my body.
So when my little brother asked me what was going on, why all the gloom, I told him the pope had been murdered. I thought murder and death were the same thing. Being killed and dropping dead of a heart attack -- same difference. But Ed knew the difference. He was shocked that someone would kill the pope.
He asked me where it happened, and I pointed east, toward Rome. How was I to know that Ed thought I meant Cow Mountain, the mountain lying east of our town and the apparent object of my pointing finger? Who knew that Ed couldn't sleep that night for fear that the Pope's killer would come after him?
Memory is funny. The way my confusions were misunderstood is funny. (Ed thinks I totally meant to fuck with his head.)
posted by Kathy at 7:45 PM
.jpg?BCZ0KICBkAkP0Y6h){kind=link}
-2.jpg?BCZ0KICBQRrBd01v){kind=link}
2 Added Something:
Yay!
A few notes:
I picked James Brown and The Pope in a celebrity death pool years ago, who knew these guys would be such malingerers?
I too, thought that *real* god lived inside *your* actual chest...that's why I was staring all the time!
I agreee with Kathy when she says that memory is funny. I'd just like to add that it can also be other things, like slippery, mysterious and/or scary. Or more precisely, a lack of memory is scary. Or can be. In sum, memory can be a lot of things.
I wonder if the current Pope is ever going to die. Maybe PJPII is animatronic and the Vatican is trying to find an acceptable way to tell us. Or maybe PJPII is just tenacious. I worry about the his replacement being uber-conservative, which seems likely.
I never thought God lived inside me. I thought of him more as an invisible surveilance camera that followed me around everywhere I went. I still do.
Great job on the blog. The look of it is very nice, simple yet stylish. Kudos to Sheff's Special.
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