Yankees don't think I'm funny...

It's true.  I have tried and tried to put my finger on why Yankees do not seem to understand me. 

Example:
The other day, I was working at the office and a Prof I had never met walked in.

Dr. Such and such: "Hello.  I don't think I've met you before.  I'm Dr. Such and such.  And you are..."
Me: "Oh, my name is Ruth.  It's nice to meet you."
Dr. Such and such: "And, Ruth, what do you do?"

*Aside: Recently, I have been really working on not seeking my identity in what I do or what title I have.  So, when I was asked this question, I was trying hard not to define myself by cultural standards of what makes somebody somebody.  So, this is the background story going on in my head.  Plus, I was feeling punchy.

Me: "Well, let's see... I know how to brush my teeth!"
Dr. Such and such:..............long awkward pause..............

*Aside: At this point, Dr. Such and such is looking at me with that all too familiar "look."  Have you seen it before on people's faces?  It's the look of "is she mentally or socially challenged?" 

Sara (in the office with me): "Ruth is a Master of Theology student working in the Doctor of Ministry office this year.  She is studying Neo-Paganism."
Dr. Such and such: "Oh, that's great.  Well, I'll see you around." *Still not getting it.
Me: "Yes.  Certainly."

And that was that.  I cannot tell you how frequently I walk away from a situation and feel completely misunderstood.  A few possibilities for what is going on here...

1.  Yankees don't understand humor that makes fun of oneself.  They prefer humor that makes fun of others.  This isn't always a bad thing, sometimes their joking is a way of saying, "Hey, you are one of us!"  It's just different.
2.  Yankees have a greater tendency to take themselves pretty seriously.  It's because it's so darn cold.  Trust me, there's a connection.
3.  I'm an Ashevillian.  And, well, we seem weird no matter where we go. 

: )

Christmas Card Photos...

I can't afford Christmas cards this year so these are the pictures I was planning on sending of me and Skip.  Merry Christmas!

What I'm doing...

This is a giant marshmallow.  My prof likened my research project this year to an effort to wrestle and pin down a giant marshmallow.

It's really difficult.  

Vermont Wonderland.

When my host family* invited me to join them in Stowe this weekend, I said "yes."

First time in Vermont.  The signs on the interstate said things like "Moose Crossing" and "Bear Crossing."  I was on alert.  Then I started wondering... how do the moose and bears know to cross at this particular part of the highway?  Do they have signs in the woods somewhere saying, "Cross stupid human interstate here."

Anyway, my first stop was in Burlington where I took my first gasp at the beauty of Lake Champlain.  Wow.  Wicked awesome.  Then, I met with a pastor in the area to chat about ministry stuff.  I felt like I was at home.  There was even a random impromptu parade outside... except it was a holiday character parade and not a zombie parade.

Next, I met up with my host family in Stowe.

Next, IT SNOWED! ... Just like I hoped for... (Kevin promptly reminded me that I will not be happy about snow for very much longer.)

I also toured the Ben and Jerry's factory.  Got some free samples of newly invented ice cream flavors.

*The best way I can explain my living situation is to say that I am a foreign exchange student from the South living in a Yankee home... except they didn't send anyone to Asheville.  They call me "the confederate."  ... we're still working on breaking down regional stereotypes...

Guess What?

I'm going to Vermont this week!

Today.

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to the worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.  But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.

I Corinthians 1:26-29.

Boo on the Enlightenment.

If I could travel to an epoch for a few days, I'd sneak around the Medieval period for a bit. *

What kinds of great folks write beautiful things and don't bother with this whole nonsense of putting their name on it?  It just contrasts so greatly with the whole Enlightenment, "Man is the subject!"  Gag.  Man stops being interesting when we look at ourselves all the time.

*I'd only travel to the Middle Ages if I could get a Black Death vaccine.

Time.

At 5pm today, it felt like 9pm.  But, it wasn't because "somebody" changed the time.

I want to know... who is in charge of time?  I mean who are these people who make decisions about what time it should be?  What kind of power is that?  It just doesn't make sense to me.

Back in 2006, when April and Emily and I traveled out west, we missed some sort of reservation appointment at the Grand Canyon all because Arizona had decided not to participate in Daylight Savings Time.  Why?  And, who said they could go against the whole federal government?  Why should Arizona get to have their own time?  What's the deal?

* There was no message by the "Welcome to Arizona" sign indicating that the time had actually changed in the millisecond I drove past the state line.  What a poor welcome... tricking people into being late for things... or is it early?

One day, I'm gonna wake up and decide for myself what time it is.  And, no one is going to stop me!  This is America!  We don't let the man tell us what time it is!

I encourage everyone to vote this week.  I also encourage folks to really think about each candidate's time policy... that's where the real power lies.

Frank and Mike.

Frank and Mike are my late night History Channel friends.

If you haven't seen an episode, may I heartily suggest some sweet time with American Pickers.

In the midst of a week steeped in not understanding Hegel's epistemology, the history of the elves, Karl Barth's Christology, and Confucianism's view of human nature, there's nothing like an episode of American Pickers to make me extremely happy.

Frank and Mike are SO enthusiastic about picking.  The humor of the ridiculous... my favorite... gets me every time...

Snipets:
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"Hobo Jack is like a circus weasel, man.  He just scampered right up next to me." - Mike

 "Me and Hobo Jack were made to be pickers, man.  We love this stuff and we never want to let it go." - Mike

Perfect. Seriously.