Blogblock

I started a blog because I always have so many things to say. But for some reason, my mental list of things to blog about disappears the moment I log into my blog. Almost in the exact same way my mental list of books I want to read and Authors names vanishes the moment I step into a bookstore. (Same goes with music)

Spirit of the law? Letter of the Law?

I'm a Den leader. What that means is i've joined a top-down hierarchichal organization with my son which comes heavily loaded with religious issues.
It's Boy Scouts. They are so cute with their blue shirts and Neckerchiefs. My oldest daughter was in girl scouts starting at Daisies. Why should my sons be deprived of participation in such a noble organization simply because a few things give me the heebie jeebies?

My problem? Well, while Boy Scouts claims to be "inclusive" of people of "all faiths", they apparently are blatantly exclusive, to those of no faith. They have religious commendations from every major religion, And are in the process of developing one for Wiccans. That's right. Wiccans are welcomed into Boy Scouts with open arms. But Agnostics? Athiests? It's Don't Ask Don't Tell! I once considerd myself Wiccan. And I really have no problem explaining to my children about God, and the different beliefs in God.
I can even tolerate the usual non-denominational vague prayer. We had plenty of those in Girl Scouts (at least at campouts, never in our troop) , and at family holidays.
My problem? Letter of the law. The Boy Scouts of America states that religious belief is a "requirement" for membership. I have a tendancy to take that literally.
Thankfully I had the wisdom to marry a man who is all about the "spirit of the law". He points out to me that it is obviously the intention of Cub Scouts to be inclusive, and they likely could give a flying rats arse whether we are Athiest or Bahai for that matter.
So I guess the only question is, would it be really wrong to tell my kids that "God is what some people call "The Force"?
I guess I ought to have put our religious affiliation down on our information sheet after all. . .
Jedi.

Home Sweet Home

I always say I hate Phoenix. I can't wait till we can move. John's been awfully pessimistic lately and says we'll be stuck here till we retire. I don't buy it, if we want to live our dreams, we will. Phoenix is HOT. Phoenix doesn't have a beautiful cool, crisp colorful autumn, like the one we just experienced in our week in Barry Illinois. My house is a mess. Not the kind of mess where stuff is scattered everywhere, but the kind of mess where the bathroom counters are DIRTY and the floor just cries out in a silent voice for an interlude with a mop.
But when we landed in Phoenix, after dark, it was still over 90 degrees. And we came home to our imperfect home, with the sticky spot on the kitchen floor. Oh how glad I am to be here! I celebrated with a serious bathroom scrubbing.
As picturesque and perfect as Barry is, as white the whitewashed farmhouses, and red-gold the maple leaves, as imminently catchable the frogs at Kaiser Creek, and friendly the staff at Stroemer's grocery, (who will not only take your groceries to your car for you, they will do so while you are still paying, because, in a town of 1400, chances are , they recognize your car, and it won't be locked), as kind and welcoming our family, as exhilarating (and perhaps dangerous) the metal push merry-go-round at the park, as sprightly the squirrels, and stately the deer, home is home. And as long as Home is in Phoenix, home is where I long to come home to.

I guess it's a cliche because it's true.

It has been said, much to the chagrin of women everywhere that men age like fine wine. How else do you explain why more women are swooning over Sean Connery than ever before? Or the fact that Tom Sellek looked even better on Friends than he EVER had on Magnum PI.

Well, I keep getting frumpier as I age. Heck, even in High school I was always cast as the "middle aged woman".

My husband on the other hand keeps getting better. He's better looking at 37 than he was when I met him at 29. I guess my consolation is that no matter how good he looks. He will ALWAYS be 2 years older than me!

Everybody else but me

Well it seems i'm behind the times a bit. Even my husband has started blogging! LOL I've been saving up years of thoughts to unscramble and get down to share with the world. However, rather than begin all at once. Today I shall just begin to begin.
My name is Joline Hubbard. I'm 35 and i've got four children. And as soon as I decide between blogging about current events (Our recent trip to Disneyland for example) or the greater meanings of life, i'll post again.