Jealousy

I had an interesting thought today while checking blogs. I know that God's love is called a jealous love. I was extremely jealous today, but didn't feel it was entirely sinful. Perhaps I could explain.

I read Eric's blog today and was jealous of his friends. It's weird, but they all seem so trendy and hip and cool. They live a free-flowing, urban, bilingual lifestyle. There's a photographer, who must have some influence on Eric's growing photographic ability. Typically, we say jealousy is bad--that we shouldn't want what other people want. But I had this sense that I wasn't really envious of what he has, but that I have deep longings--longings for community, and creativity, and fellowship, and beauty. When I checked the photographer's blog, I saw Ireland, Italy, France, Switzerland, and I was jealous of his travels to such beautiful, far-away (though not for him) places. But I didn't really want what he has, or want to be him; I just wanted to be a part of it all, to have the same experiences.

Maybe I'm romanticizing my own sinfulness. I don't feel discontent with what I have, who I am, who I know, where I am, etc. But there are times when I want to be a part of other things...of everything.

In Case You Care

I read Eric's blog, and loved to hear what he's reading. So I thought I'd share what I've been reading lately, just in case you are interested.

Alfonse Mucha, "Materworks"--a design master
John Singer Sargent, "The Early Years"--amazing painter
"PostSecret"--Funny, heartrending, thought-provoking. Find out more at www.postsecret.com (**VIEW WITH CAUTION! just checked the hyperlink and the first one is, of course, inappropriate. They're not all great, but all together they're interesting).
"1001 Paintings You Must See Before You Die"

And as I wrote in my journal several nights ago, this post confirms that even though I am nearly 30 years old, all my favorite books are picture books.

Decapitation Looks Easier in the Movies

I need to preface all the following content with the Dave-Berry-esque, "I swear I am not making this up." That being said...

We went to the movies today. Driving in we noticed a carcass on the side of the road, but this one was unusual, as it was a dead beaver. Aydan and I were quite excited to look at the beaver (I told him they had huge, orange teeth), but we contained ourselves until after the film. As we left the theater, the sun was getting low in the sky, and the boys and I raced across the road to view this fairly rare sight. Oh...and did I mention we convinced my wife that we should take the skull?

Now, skull extraction/preservation is not new to us. We thought a beaver skull would look great alongside our raccoon. So we raced home, grabbed a shovel, plastic bags, a utility knife, an ax, a flashlight, donned some ski-masks, dark clothes and disguises, and we set off on our covert operation. Imagine our surprise...our horror, even...when we arrived to find no beaver awaiting us.

I will take a brief digression here to tell a story about Halloween. We were on our way to meet friends to trick-or-treat, but before we left the neighborhood, we noticed 2 nice-looking bookshelves sitting by the roadside (and yes, you do see a pattern forming; I'm quite prone to taking interesting/useful things off the side of the road). I told HM that we should get them, but we both decided to just pick them up when we came back because we were running late (I like to tease that she didn't let me go back, get the truck, and then meet her after picking them up, but that's not entirely true). In my heart, I knew they would be gone later, because they were nice bookshelves. Heather has still not lived down the fact that my premonition came true, and as a result of her cruelty, my studio still has books lying on the floor, waiting for a shelf to call home.

Upon reaching the spot where the beaver should have been, I became furious. "If only she'd let me put the entire beaver in the back of the Trailblazer, this wouldn't have happened!!" I thought (which is a ludicrous notion, I know). Even more ridiculous was my paranoia that made me fume at myself for drawing attention when we first inspected the beaver which must have, logically, inspired someone else to carry off the dead beast before we could. But then I came to my senses. Having been dark for only 30 minutes or so, it dawned on me that not someONE but someTHING may have dragged the beaver into the adjoining field/woods. So we walked into the field, "just to see" I told the boys. As we did, I noticed a shadowy form retreat and stand at the edge of a line of trees. I was able to make out the form of a coyote fleeing the field. In front of us, where the coyote had just been, was the body of the beaver, which was previously intact but was now more...how to put it?....disemboweled.

After chasing off the coyote to claim our prize, it came time to separate the beaver's head from it's body. Because, come on: it's crazy to carry off a dead beaver, right? I mean, that thing was 3 or 4 feet long, probably weighing 75 pounds. Plus, only a crazy person picks up roadkill (and yes, for those of you who know V.H. and see some similarity in my actions and hers, which I had previously mocked, the irony was not lost on me). So being the sane person that I am, I had to cut off the deceased's head. After 2 or 3 whacks with my ax, which turned out to be fairly dull and fell with muffled, heavy thuds, I was forced to cut through fur, skin, fat, muscle and connective tissue with a utility knife. Fun. The coup de gras was the ax smashing through the bone of the spinal column with a moist crack. Surprisingly, I was not all that grossed out by the proceedings. It was a bit unsettling to see the beaver's slightly opened eyes staring at me while I worked, and slightly unnerving to finally see the head wobble loose and roll onto the turf, but I managed okay.

In the end, the boys and I returned home with a plastic Walmart bag full of enormous rodent cranium. Which, by the way, is currently rotting in the back of my pickup. Um, yeah...better go take care of that.