Baptism by Fire

This is the baptismal font at my church.

The stained glass window doubles as a door. When it's open, you can see little steps leading from the water to a staging room that lies behind.


What you can't see is that the overhead light in that staging room is set pretty far back. Far enough, in fact, that if someone stands at the top of those stairs, that person will be backlit. So that if the window is closed, the congregation will see that person in stained glass silhouette.

And if, after dunking his sheep, that young pastor is impatient to get out of his wet clothes, that congregation will see the stained glass shadow of their spiritual leader shuck off his drawers and briskly towel off before donning a pair of dry pants.

Best baptism, ever.

Toddler Transsexualism

(Figure that title will get me a hit or two....)

Last week, my daughter-out-law was bathing her three-year-old daughter.

"When I grow up," said Harper, "I'm going to be a boy, like Phinn."

"No, you're not," said Mom. "You're a girl."

Harper considered this.

"Phinn has a penis," she announced. (According to my daughter, this is a favorite topic of conversation at their house.)

"Yes, he does," agreed Mom.

"And I have a vagina."

"True."

"But when I get big, I'm going to have a penis, like Phinn's."

(Somewhere, Sigmund Freud is rubbing his hands together in glee.)

"No," said Mom. "You're a girl. Boys have penises and girls have vaginas. You'll always have a vagina."

Harper was outraged.

"I will not! It will grow!"

You see, Harper's best friend at pre-school is a little boy named Vince. And when Vince plays with the other little boys, they have a rule: "No girls."

It kind of reminds me of that episode from the Little Rascals where the boys formed the He-Man Woman Haters' Club.

Except I don't remember Darla threatening to grow a penis....

Occupy Woodstock

I took this picture a few weeks ago, when I was in downtown Dayton at the theater. Since then, this trio has grown into a larger group that is currently battling with the city council, who wants them to leave Courthouse Square before the tree-lighting ceremony the day after Thanksgiving.

As you can tell from the title of this post, my sympathies are with the kids hanging out in various city centers around the country. They remind me a lot of my generation when we were youngsters, back when we were still had ideals and weren't forced, by our desire for a comfortable old age, to ignore inconvenient truths.

The Fox News crowd, of course, is screaming bloody murder about them. Even the people who are on their side complain about the lack of a unified message. I, on the other hand, can't help noticing that, cohesive message or no, they got the big banks to roll back a planned $5/month charge for using your debit card. (Thanks, OWS!)

I'm kind of happy that the X-ers, who were content to wait for the world to change, have been succeeded by a more activist bunch. And I'm a little worried, as I watch the clashes with the cops around the country escalate, that they will learn, as we learned, that peaceful activism is no match for an Establishment that is willing to kill to maintain the status quo.

Godspeed, Occupiers.

The Grocery Getter

Old Dog and I have a system worked out for buying groceries.

Each Saturday, I record everything we need for the week on a pre-printed form that lists, in order, the aisles at our local supermarket. I write down, very specifically, the brands, flavors, sizes, etc. Then he takes the list and, with the blood of the ancient mammoth hunters flowing through his veins, tracks down the items on that list.

We don't do this, as you might think, because I'm a control freak. We do it because Old Dog prefers it that way. (The satisfaction of my inner dominatrix is a byproduct).

And, lest you think that, at our house, it's all about me, Old Dog has the right, and the privilege, of choosing pretty much all the snack foods. I am on a mission to maintain, my weight, so I try to ignore the snack food aisles on the list.

He generally keeps us supplied with lots of things that, due to my allergies, I can't eat, so it works out pretty well.

Except at Halloween. This time of year, I'm forced to provide a little helpful input about the importance of good nutrition.