Monday Whatevers

I wrote a post last night that was supposed to go up this morning, but I woke up with a start and realized that it might be a teensy-tinesy bit offensive, so in a sleepy daze I opened my computer and cancelled it. Here's an excerpt of an article titled Why Evangelicals Hate Jesus by Phil Zuckerman, a professor of sociology at Pitzer College in Claremont, California.


The results from a recent poll published by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life (http://www.pewforum.org/Politics-and-Elections/Tea-Party-and-Religion.aspx) reveal what social scientists have known for a long time: White Evangelical Christians are the group least likely to support politicians or policies that reflect the actual teachings of Jesus. It is perhaps one of the strangest, most dumb-founding ironies in contemporary American culture. Evangelical Christians, who most fiercely proclaim to have a personal relationship with Christ, who most confidently declare their belief that the Bible is the inerrant word of God, who go to church on a regular basis, pray daily, listen to Christian music, and place God and His Only Begotten Son at the center of their lives, are simultaneously the very people most likely to reject his teachings and despise his radical message.

You can read this article and get an idea on what my post might have been about. Think family and differences in opinion. Think about discussing religion and politics to someone on the opposite side of the spectrum who is also your relative.

Ouch.


I did find this beautiful painting that I posted at the top, because Jacob wrestling with the angel is one of my favorite stories in the Bible. I've written about it here.

Vision After the Sermon: Jakob Wrestling with the Angel
Paul Gauguin 1888

In other news, I'm still collecting comments for a chance to win a $100 gift card to Dick's Sporting Goods. Don't you want to read or re-read about my efforts to be a good sports mom to my boys? Go HERE.

In yet more news, I have not ONE but TWO IEPs this week. My youngest son has some reading difficulties, and his IEP is actually a piece of cake, but I anticipate some fireworks at Sophie's. Not to mention the yearly bout of butterflies, depression and despair that the IEP generally brings, no matter how many times one has done it.

La Nausee. (that's French for nausea with an accent aigu). I read Sartre's book of the same title while studying French in college. I lay in a tire swing on the front porch of the house I lived in which we had christened The Shanty and parsed out the novel's spare French angst. Here's a picture of my copy which I still have:

Creepy, right? There appear to be dead trees and plants still growing out of the guy's head. I think that's symbolic, and perhaps I had a presentiment twenty-five years ago of my future with the Los Angeles Unified School District. I hated Sartre just about as much as I hate IEPs, even though I did love lying on that paint chippee porch with my best girl friends.

On the plus side, I'm grateful that the Individualized Education Plan actually exists and that my children's needs are accommodated, however haphazardly. When I dropped Sophie off at school this morning, I realized that I actually love her aide. I realized that I needed to write an entire post about Renita. I'm going to do that one of these days.