Study Theology

I took a "Which Theologian are you" quiz, and the results are
interesting.

You scored as Anselm, Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man's primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read 'Cur Deus Homo?' Anselm 100% John Calvin 67% Martin Luther 67% Jonathan Edwards 67% Jürgen Moltmann 53% Augustine 47% Karl Barth 47% Paul Tillich 33% Friedrich Schleiermacher 27% Charles Finney 20% Which theologian are you? created with QuizFarm.com

The results are a little surprising. I'm only 2/3 J.C. and M.L.? I wonder if I misinterpreted some of the questions.

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Omage (Omlettes?) to Magritte

You've all seen this:



Magritte's famous painting of an egg declaring itself not to be an egg.

Observe how deeply pervasive this layering (ha!) of realities reflecting artificial realties has become in the post-post-postmodern age. I discovered this in our fridge this morning:



Admittedly, I had placed it there myself the night before . . . but all the same!

ds

Overheard

Boy One (after Boy Two had kicked him in the bum): You know, you're mean.

Boy Two: I am not mean! [Kick**Punch**Chop**Kick!]

I tried to explain that Boy Two's approach wasn't the most logical way to convince his opposition of the truth of his claim. He didn't necessarily appreciate my intervention or see my point of view, but at least he stopped trying to maul the other kid!

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Summer Reading: Mini-Review

The Last Chinese Chef by Nicole Mones.

Even though this is a pretty predictable, light read, and even though it's heavy-handed at times, it is an idea book for contemplating some of the differences between Eastern and Western approaches to food and eating.

The story is about a widow who needs to travel to China to settle an issue involving her late husband's estate--he's some sort of international lawyer who traveled to a law firm in China from time to time. She's a food writer, and she agrees to take on an assignment while she's there. Her job is to interview a young, up-and-coming Chinese-American chef who has returned to China to open a restaurant that will cook dishes in the old ways.

Along the way, the novel quotes from an imaginary books entitled The Last Chinese Chef, authored by the narrator's grandfather (or great-grandfather--I've lost track of that detail); in that work, the proper (Eastern) approach to food and cooking is articulated.


At one point, the reviewer is doubting that there's that much difference between East and West in terms of the way they eat. The chef says something like, "Are you kidding? You plate! We never plate!" In addition to this trilling use of plate as a verb, he's right. Amanda and I had a good conversation about the communal nature of eating in Eastern nations v. the private, "this is mine; that is yours" mentality of many meals in the West.

We wondered if that was entirely a cultural thing . . . what if a person has an aversion to sharing food (as many do)? Does that person just adapt? Or can he or she somehow avoid communal eating?

All in all, a fun novel. Give it a try--but don't expect too much from it.

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And . . . they're off!

After three and a half years of frustration, confusion, bureaucracy,
and technical difficulties, Rasputin and Tabitha (together with their
two children Khol and Rumaldo) are leaving to adopt the two-year-old
girl (Phoebe) God has provided them.

Wishing you all the best (while using those ridiculous pseudonyms to
maintain your privacy) on your trip to Vietnam,

ds et alia

Wait . . . What was that Operation for?

I love our boys. The other day, Van asked (while we were brushing
our teeth--a complete non sequitur), "What are our testicles for?"

Formulating an appropriate answer in my mind, I wisely and profoundly
began, "Um . . . ." Fortunately or unfortunately, Powell interrupted:

"We don't have any!" he shouted.

"What?" I asked. "Sure you do."

"No," Powell insisted. "We had them out."

[In the meantime, Van is shouting, "Yes, we do! Yes, we do!" and
attempting to demonstrate with oracular proof the veracity of his
claim.]

"No, dear. You had an operation to correct a condition called
hydroseal, but they didn't remove your testicles."

"Yes, they did! You remember! I ate a lot of ice cream and it was
incredibly hot!"

Finally, it all clicked. "Oh, honey," I said, "those were your
TONSILS. They took out your TONSILS, not your testicles."

Powell thought about this for a while (while Van was pointing and
saying, "See? See? We have them!") and finally said, "Oh. That's
right."

Then he added, a little wistfully, " I didn't have ice cream for the
other operation."

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What I Wouldn't Dare Tell Amanda

One of the wonderful restaurants that served us during our recent anniversary getaway (the first in seven (!) years) had an Italian sausage risotto on the menu. I ordered it because I wanted something relatively filing, and the artichoke salad didn't seem able to manage that.

It was good. Quite good. Amanda liked it very much.

But I don't dare tell her what it reminded me of. That sausage risotto--at a nice, not-too-expensive-but-not-cheap-either restaurant--tasted exactly like the filling for Jeno's Pizza Rolls.

I don't know if I should think less of the restaurant for this or give more credit to Jeno's for filling the pizza rolls so authentically.

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