I have learned a couple of interesting tidbits that caught my attention. If you are a natural born worrier you'll love this. If you are not the worrying kind you may find this just interesting, or not.
I learned our sun is dying. It's been around for some four billion years and has a life span of somewhere around ten billion years. That means the sun only has about six billion years of life left. When it starts to run out of fuel, it will expand into a giant red star. It will grow to 250 times the size it is now. Yep, you guessed it. We are in for real heat wave. If you think global warming is bad now, just wait until our precious earth is engulfed by our expanding, dying, sun.
If that isn't bad enough, there's another doozie of a calamity headed our way. The Milky Way Galaxy and the Andromeda Galaxy are right on target to collide in about five billion years. Talk about fireworks. However, space is so massive it is possible that our Earth might not get hit. But there will be enough chaos amongst the planets and suns of both galaxies, nothing will be the same ever again.
To the worriers I say, don't worry about it. We will have blown ourselves up with atomic weapons long before either of the above calamities happen.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Could I have a little help here please!
We went to Hastings, Nebraska, to shop. That was always one of our favorite things to do. When we got to 2nd Street, which is their main street, the street was closed and some kind of expo was going on. The police were there with some of their equipment on display. The fire department had personnel and equipment on display. There were booths of all kinds of exhibits. Parking was only available on the side streets. We had to park quite a ways from downtown.
I had recently gotten lineless trifocal glasses and was still having a little problem mastering steps. I was told to watch my step so I would not fall down. So there I was, strolling across the street just a few feet from the police display. I miscalculated the curbing, tripped and fell to the ground, giving my ankle a nasty turn. I sat there groaning in pain, nearly in tears, rubbing my ankle and muttering naughty words. People strolled by and just looked at me and went on. And the police didn't come over to help me up, or ask if I was okay. Nobody did anything. I got up and started hobbling the long trip back to the car. I couldn't put weight on the injured ankle, so I hopped the whole way.
My ankle soon swelled and had turned all different colors. There was purple, red, yellow, and as time went on, there was some green mixed in. I didn't have it x-rayed or anything. I was pretty sure nothing was broken. But I did feel badly that not one person gave a hoot about me. I'll say one thing, I'm glad I was not having a heart attack. I'll carry this grudge to my grave. But it least I will stop and offer help to someone if it looks like they need it.
I had recently gotten lineless trifocal glasses and was still having a little problem mastering steps. I was told to watch my step so I would not fall down. So there I was, strolling across the street just a few feet from the police display. I miscalculated the curbing, tripped and fell to the ground, giving my ankle a nasty turn. I sat there groaning in pain, nearly in tears, rubbing my ankle and muttering naughty words. People strolled by and just looked at me and went on. And the police didn't come over to help me up, or ask if I was okay. Nobody did anything. I got up and started hobbling the long trip back to the car. I couldn't put weight on the injured ankle, so I hopped the whole way.
My ankle soon swelled and had turned all different colors. There was purple, red, yellow, and as time went on, there was some green mixed in. I didn't have it x-rayed or anything. I was pretty sure nothing was broken. But I did feel badly that not one person gave a hoot about me. I'll say one thing, I'm glad I was not having a heart attack. I'll carry this grudge to my grave. But it least I will stop and offer help to someone if it looks like they need it.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
I Love Animals
Since in my profile I indicated I was a rabid animal lover, I thought I would write about some of my animal friends. Never did I have a pet that let me down, or lied to me, or betrayed me. Always, it was unconditional love.
I'll start back as far as I can remember. The first dog I remember being fond of was Grandma Maud's old unkempt, shepherd dog, named Gooch. He was old, but we were great friends. I didn't get to know him long. I don't know if he died of old age, or if they just put him "to sleep". Snookie was the best dog. If I could pick a pet to take to heaven with me, it would be Snookie. She was an adult dog when she was given to us. We had her nearly twenty years, so I literally grew up with her. She was a rat terrier. She loved it when she and I would go check out wood piles and holes in the ground looking for something to catch. She'd dig with her front feet with all her might and stick her head in the hole and sneeze and snort. She was a good dog for kids. She spent time in the house on the couch. She loved to be loved. Though you didn't want to mess with her when she was eating. She didn't exactly say anything, but she'd curl her upper lip. I knew this meant, "leave me alone". She grew old and arthritis kept her from getting up on the couch (Grandma called them divans). Then she became incontinent. This was her checkered flag. She had reached the end of the rat race. One day I went to school and when I came home, Snookie was gone. One of the folks shot her and took her body out in one of the fields, and hopefully buried her. I had lost my best friend and the tears just kept coming. We had other dogs, and I loved them all, except one. His name was Shep, and he was kind of a reddish mixed breed dog that had a mental problem. He like to skin cats alive. We got rid of him in the normal way, lead poisoning.
Grandma and Grandpa Burton had a green parakeet named Chris. When the grandparents were no longer able to care for their pets, they gave them away. We got Chris. Birds are so smart. I had no idea they had personality and were very observant. We let Chris out of her cage and she had run of the house. She preferred my mom to the rest of us. That's probably because Mama was home all day, in the kitchen where Chris's cage was. Chris spent a lot of her time with Mama. Chris's favorite thing was to get inside my mom's dress at the front and get down and roost on Mama's bra. Mama had to be careful so as not to squash her, or do something Chris didn't like, because Chris could and did bite hard. Every once in a while my mom would screech "OW". I knew Chris had sunk her sharp beak into something. I laugh when I think back of watching my mother iron, and there would always be this moving bump in her dress. Chris layed at least one egg that I remember. She died of old age.
Then there was Chester, the house chicken. I forget who found the egg and how we knew there was a chick inside it. But we incubated the egg and one day something inside started pecking away the shell to get out. What emerged was Chester. I don't know when we figured out Chester was a rooster. I think we just took a chance on the gender of the chick. You've heard of imprinting no doubt. We were the first things Chester saw and from that day forward he thought either we were chickens, or else he was human. He never had much to do with the barnyard chickens. He used tin cans to satisfy his natural urges. I put him on an old table we had on the front porch. He HATED that. Heights scared him to death. We tried to teach him to crow. He finally did crow some, but not much. What he did like was to sit on my lap and have his back massaged. He'd sit there with one eye open and one closed and would stay there as long as I kept massaging his back. Chester eventually acquired a small harem of hens. He didn't know what to do with them, but that didn't seem to bother the hens. One day I came home from school to the horrible news that Chester and his hens were out in the road and Chester got hit and was killed. My heart was broken. And no. We did not eat him.
We always had a few head of cattle and occasionally we had pigs. In every herd, I had at least one or two pets. I don't know why some of the farm animals enjoyed interaction with me and others wanted nothing to do with me. My all time favorite cows were Little Britches, a small guernsey cow, and Queen Mary, a large holstein cow. They relished any attention they could get. They loved to have their backs and behind the ears scratched, as well as down by their tail. I was never kicked by either of these two cows. I probably could have ridden them, but I didn't want to stretch my luck. One day my dad was out in the corral with the cows. Queen Mary came over to him as if seeking help. Something was terribly terribly wrong. Daddy said he could see fear in her eyes. Before a vet could be called, Queen Mary keeled over dead. There was nothing to do but call the "dead wagon". It was determined that she had hard ware in her digestive system. When you raise animals to make a little money, the day comes when you have to sell them. Little Britches must have been sold, as she was getting some age on her. I know she probably went to the rendering plant. I hated sale day.
I only remember raising pigs once after we moved to Grandma's house. I had the privilege of feeding them a few times. Believe me, my life was in God's hands. These were not baby piggies, they were huge and a person, especially someone much smaller than them, could easily get trampled. But in spite of their bad manners, there were two pigs that decided they liked me. They were very jealous of each other. I sat down on the ground and one of the pigs came over and sat beside me and leaned on me. So I scratched it's back, and played with it and tickled it's ears and rubbed it's face. This did not play well with pig number 2. I didn't have names for these guys. Usually every pet gets a name, but these guys didn't get names. Number 2 came over and sat by me on my other side and leaned on me and grunted. The two pigs exchanged insults, and I was getting squeezed between them. Surely they weighed a couple hundred pounds, or more, and I probably weighed 90 pounds. So I scratched both pigs' back and sweet talked them until they were satisfied that each was the number 1 pig.
We didn't have a lot of horses after the folks quit farming with horses. My dad even disliked horses. Sometimes they'd spend half the day just trying to catch them so they could hitch them up and get to work. I'm positive Daddy got us a black horse when I was quite young. But I can't remember much of anything about him other than he was a very nice horse most of the time. Aunt Mildred Cummings, who lived a few miles away from the farm in Otego, had "Red". She kept him at our farm. He was not a nice horse. He would try to sneak up and bite me and he would kick at me if I got too close. I was glad when he was gone. When I was a little older, Daddy bought a beautiful bay horse for us kids to ride. He was huge. Horses are the sneakiest animal I've ever been around. They can learn to open barn doors and get out for one thing. But Tony was a wonderful horse. However, when I rode him, he was in control. I often rode bareback since I couldn't saddle a horse. Evidently I could bridle one. One day I was riding Tony and we went over to our place one quarter of a mile east of Grandma Maud's place. Everything went just fine until Tony decided to take off for home. He turned around to the west at what seemed like a dead run to me. My legs gripped his fat tummy and I hung on to his mane for dear life. I didn't fall off amazingly. Tony went straight to the barn and stopped. I think he was telling me I could get off now. Then one of the horses, and it seems like it was that mysterious black horse would scrape my off by walking under a low branch every chance he got. Then I would be riding in the pasture and the horse would stop all of a sudden, dip his head, and over the top of him I'd go. I love horses, and I think they are among God's most beautiful creatures, but they are ornery.
We had all kinds of wild animals in our ICU (cardboard box- like that little lady from Arkansas had) at one time or another. My mom even had a big old bull snake that inhabited her garden. She knew he was there, and he knew she was there, but they left each other alone and got along fine.
One of the little animals that amazed me the most was avian. One day when we lived in Smith Center, KS, the doorbell rang. It was Scotty Clark from across the street. He was carefully holding in his cupped hands a little fuzz ball that had a few pin feathers too. "Would you take care of this bird for me? My mom said I couldn't keep it, and wondered if you would take it." Thinking the little piece of flesh stretched over fragile little bones and a few pin feathers sticking out around it, I though there was no way this little bird was going to live very long. So I said "Sure Scotty, I'll take care of it for you". And to the ICU we went. I vigilantly watched over the baby bird and fed it the best I knew how. But instead of dying, it thrived. It turned out to be a sparrow. My spouse named her (we just guessed her gender) Birdice (pronouned like Berniece). However I just called her Birdie for short. How original. Birdie had quite the personality and many personal preferences. At meal time we could expect Birdie to come sit on the edge of our plate and look over the food to see what we were eating. If she saw something that appealed to her, she helped herself. She loved peas and desserts, especially cake. If we were drinking a soda pop in a glass, she loved to sit on the edge of the glass and let the fizz touch her face. She loved to drink out of the faucet. She would sit on the faucet and wait for someone to turn the cold water on and she would dip her head down and drink the running water. She absolutely loved pancakes. She could be in another room and hear me get out my pancake and waffle grill and she knew exactly what I was doing. Her she'd come. She'd land on my shoulder and run up and down my arm while I whipped up the pancakes. Bath time was interesting. She wouldn't bathe with me, but she always bathed with Bill. She'd land on his chest or tummy and edge into the water and water would fly everywhere as she flapped her wings. She'd be so wet she nearly could not fly out of the tub. She would wait for Bill to put on his white tee shirt and she would dry herself on his shirt just by rubbing herself on it. She had these natural instincts to nest. So, anytime we tried to read a paper she would be right there and start ripping strips of paper and she'd take them and deposit them in our living room ceiling light fixture. She was making a nest. I hated to destroy her efforts, but I also hated to see my house burn down. She would sit up on the edge of the light fixture. When people came she would look them over. Some people she did not like. Other people she liked and would pester them. One day I came out of my bedroom wearing a horizontally striped dress. Birdy was horrified and scared to death of me. So maybe she judged people by their clothes. Birdie died at 18 months of age. I don't know what caused her death. But we both mourned her passing.
Then there was Spidey and Charlotte, two rather large spiders that built the most beautiful webs in the corner of our front porch. They weren't there the same year. Neither one was allowed in the house. The morning dew and the shining sun outlined the delicately designed webs. I would stand and admire the web's beauty and the ingenuity it took for the spiders to build such magnificent structures. No one was allowed to tear down the webs. The webs didn't last that long anyway.
I can barely watch those ads on TV that feature abused animals. The saddness in their eyes bring big old tears to my eyes. How people can be so cruel and merciless, I will never understand. I am grateful to those animals who sacrifice their lives so we can have food to eat. I shall never get any enjoyment from hunting down and killing animals just for the pleasure of it.
In November 2006, we adopted from the Hastings animal shelter a beautiful white, neutered and declawed cat named Jasper. He's our fourth cat, and each one of our cats has been so different. The shelter people thought Jasper was of the Ragdoll breed. They guessed him to be 5 or 6 when we got him, so he is going on 9 or 10 years old.
I'll never change. Someday I'll be the old lady that lives with a house full of animals.
I'll start back as far as I can remember. The first dog I remember being fond of was Grandma Maud's old unkempt, shepherd dog, named Gooch. He was old, but we were great friends. I didn't get to know him long. I don't know if he died of old age, or if they just put him "to sleep". Snookie was the best dog. If I could pick a pet to take to heaven with me, it would be Snookie. She was an adult dog when she was given to us. We had her nearly twenty years, so I literally grew up with her. She was a rat terrier. She loved it when she and I would go check out wood piles and holes in the ground looking for something to catch. She'd dig with her front feet with all her might and stick her head in the hole and sneeze and snort. She was a good dog for kids. She spent time in the house on the couch. She loved to be loved. Though you didn't want to mess with her when she was eating. She didn't exactly say anything, but she'd curl her upper lip. I knew this meant, "leave me alone". She grew old and arthritis kept her from getting up on the couch (Grandma called them divans). Then she became incontinent. This was her checkered flag. She had reached the end of the rat race. One day I went to school and when I came home, Snookie was gone. One of the folks shot her and took her body out in one of the fields, and hopefully buried her. I had lost my best friend and the tears just kept coming. We had other dogs, and I loved them all, except one. His name was Shep, and he was kind of a reddish mixed breed dog that had a mental problem. He like to skin cats alive. We got rid of him in the normal way, lead poisoning.
Grandma and Grandpa Burton had a green parakeet named Chris. When the grandparents were no longer able to care for their pets, they gave them away. We got Chris. Birds are so smart. I had no idea they had personality and were very observant. We let Chris out of her cage and she had run of the house. She preferred my mom to the rest of us. That's probably because Mama was home all day, in the kitchen where Chris's cage was. Chris spent a lot of her time with Mama. Chris's favorite thing was to get inside my mom's dress at the front and get down and roost on Mama's bra. Mama had to be careful so as not to squash her, or do something Chris didn't like, because Chris could and did bite hard. Every once in a while my mom would screech "OW". I knew Chris had sunk her sharp beak into something. I laugh when I think back of watching my mother iron, and there would always be this moving bump in her dress. Chris layed at least one egg that I remember. She died of old age.
Then there was Chester, the house chicken. I forget who found the egg and how we knew there was a chick inside it. But we incubated the egg and one day something inside started pecking away the shell to get out. What emerged was Chester. I don't know when we figured out Chester was a rooster. I think we just took a chance on the gender of the chick. You've heard of imprinting no doubt. We were the first things Chester saw and from that day forward he thought either we were chickens, or else he was human. He never had much to do with the barnyard chickens. He used tin cans to satisfy his natural urges. I put him on an old table we had on the front porch. He HATED that. Heights scared him to death. We tried to teach him to crow. He finally did crow some, but not much. What he did like was to sit on my lap and have his back massaged. He'd sit there with one eye open and one closed and would stay there as long as I kept massaging his back. Chester eventually acquired a small harem of hens. He didn't know what to do with them, but that didn't seem to bother the hens. One day I came home from school to the horrible news that Chester and his hens were out in the road and Chester got hit and was killed. My heart was broken. And no. We did not eat him.
We always had a few head of cattle and occasionally we had pigs. In every herd, I had at least one or two pets. I don't know why some of the farm animals enjoyed interaction with me and others wanted nothing to do with me. My all time favorite cows were Little Britches, a small guernsey cow, and Queen Mary, a large holstein cow. They relished any attention they could get. They loved to have their backs and behind the ears scratched, as well as down by their tail. I was never kicked by either of these two cows. I probably could have ridden them, but I didn't want to stretch my luck. One day my dad was out in the corral with the cows. Queen Mary came over to him as if seeking help. Something was terribly terribly wrong. Daddy said he could see fear in her eyes. Before a vet could be called, Queen Mary keeled over dead. There was nothing to do but call the "dead wagon". It was determined that she had hard ware in her digestive system. When you raise animals to make a little money, the day comes when you have to sell them. Little Britches must have been sold, as she was getting some age on her. I know she probably went to the rendering plant. I hated sale day.
I only remember raising pigs once after we moved to Grandma's house. I had the privilege of feeding them a few times. Believe me, my life was in God's hands. These were not baby piggies, they were huge and a person, especially someone much smaller than them, could easily get trampled. But in spite of their bad manners, there were two pigs that decided they liked me. They were very jealous of each other. I sat down on the ground and one of the pigs came over and sat beside me and leaned on me. So I scratched it's back, and played with it and tickled it's ears and rubbed it's face. This did not play well with pig number 2. I didn't have names for these guys. Usually every pet gets a name, but these guys didn't get names. Number 2 came over and sat by me on my other side and leaned on me and grunted. The two pigs exchanged insults, and I was getting squeezed between them. Surely they weighed a couple hundred pounds, or more, and I probably weighed 90 pounds. So I scratched both pigs' back and sweet talked them until they were satisfied that each was the number 1 pig.
We didn't have a lot of horses after the folks quit farming with horses. My dad even disliked horses. Sometimes they'd spend half the day just trying to catch them so they could hitch them up and get to work. I'm positive Daddy got us a black horse when I was quite young. But I can't remember much of anything about him other than he was a very nice horse most of the time. Aunt Mildred Cummings, who lived a few miles away from the farm in Otego, had "Red". She kept him at our farm. He was not a nice horse. He would try to sneak up and bite me and he would kick at me if I got too close. I was glad when he was gone. When I was a little older, Daddy bought a beautiful bay horse for us kids to ride. He was huge. Horses are the sneakiest animal I've ever been around. They can learn to open barn doors and get out for one thing. But Tony was a wonderful horse. However, when I rode him, he was in control. I often rode bareback since I couldn't saddle a horse. Evidently I could bridle one. One day I was riding Tony and we went over to our place one quarter of a mile east of Grandma Maud's place. Everything went just fine until Tony decided to take off for home. He turned around to the west at what seemed like a dead run to me. My legs gripped his fat tummy and I hung on to his mane for dear life. I didn't fall off amazingly. Tony went straight to the barn and stopped. I think he was telling me I could get off now. Then one of the horses, and it seems like it was that mysterious black horse would scrape my off by walking under a low branch every chance he got. Then I would be riding in the pasture and the horse would stop all of a sudden, dip his head, and over the top of him I'd go. I love horses, and I think they are among God's most beautiful creatures, but they are ornery.
We had all kinds of wild animals in our ICU (cardboard box- like that little lady from Arkansas had) at one time or another. My mom even had a big old bull snake that inhabited her garden. She knew he was there, and he knew she was there, but they left each other alone and got along fine.
One of the little animals that amazed me the most was avian. One day when we lived in Smith Center, KS, the doorbell rang. It was Scotty Clark from across the street. He was carefully holding in his cupped hands a little fuzz ball that had a few pin feathers too. "Would you take care of this bird for me? My mom said I couldn't keep it, and wondered if you would take it." Thinking the little piece of flesh stretched over fragile little bones and a few pin feathers sticking out around it, I though there was no way this little bird was going to live very long. So I said "Sure Scotty, I'll take care of it for you". And to the ICU we went. I vigilantly watched over the baby bird and fed it the best I knew how. But instead of dying, it thrived. It turned out to be a sparrow. My spouse named her (we just guessed her gender) Birdice (pronouned like Berniece). However I just called her Birdie for short. How original. Birdie had quite the personality and many personal preferences. At meal time we could expect Birdie to come sit on the edge of our plate and look over the food to see what we were eating. If she saw something that appealed to her, she helped herself. She loved peas and desserts, especially cake. If we were drinking a soda pop in a glass, she loved to sit on the edge of the glass and let the fizz touch her face. She loved to drink out of the faucet. She would sit on the faucet and wait for someone to turn the cold water on and she would dip her head down and drink the running water. She absolutely loved pancakes. She could be in another room and hear me get out my pancake and waffle grill and she knew exactly what I was doing. Her she'd come. She'd land on my shoulder and run up and down my arm while I whipped up the pancakes. Bath time was interesting. She wouldn't bathe with me, but she always bathed with Bill. She'd land on his chest or tummy and edge into the water and water would fly everywhere as she flapped her wings. She'd be so wet she nearly could not fly out of the tub. She would wait for Bill to put on his white tee shirt and she would dry herself on his shirt just by rubbing herself on it. She had these natural instincts to nest. So, anytime we tried to read a paper she would be right there and start ripping strips of paper and she'd take them and deposit them in our living room ceiling light fixture. She was making a nest. I hated to destroy her efforts, but I also hated to see my house burn down. She would sit up on the edge of the light fixture. When people came she would look them over. Some people she did not like. Other people she liked and would pester them. One day I came out of my bedroom wearing a horizontally striped dress. Birdy was horrified and scared to death of me. So maybe she judged people by their clothes. Birdie died at 18 months of age. I don't know what caused her death. But we both mourned her passing.
Then there was Spidey and Charlotte, two rather large spiders that built the most beautiful webs in the corner of our front porch. They weren't there the same year. Neither one was allowed in the house. The morning dew and the shining sun outlined the delicately designed webs. I would stand and admire the web's beauty and the ingenuity it took for the spiders to build such magnificent structures. No one was allowed to tear down the webs. The webs didn't last that long anyway.
I can barely watch those ads on TV that feature abused animals. The saddness in their eyes bring big old tears to my eyes. How people can be so cruel and merciless, I will never understand. I am grateful to those animals who sacrifice their lives so we can have food to eat. I shall never get any enjoyment from hunting down and killing animals just for the pleasure of it.
In November 2006, we adopted from the Hastings animal shelter a beautiful white, neutered and declawed cat named Jasper. He's our fourth cat, and each one of our cats has been so different. The shelter people thought Jasper was of the Ragdoll breed. They guessed him to be 5 or 6 when we got him, so he is going on 9 or 10 years old.
I'll never change. Someday I'll be the old lady that lives with a house full of animals.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Geomagnetic reversal
I didn't know, until I heard it from Alexi Filippenko, and read it in Wikipedia that :
"A geomagnetic reversal is a change in the orientation of Earth's magnetic field such that the positions of magnetic north and magnetic south become interchanged." It really does happen.
Why didn't someone tell me this before? Why did I have to wait 63 years to find it out? I suppose there's a bunch of other stuff out there I don't know.
"A geomagnetic reversal is a change in the orientation of Earth's magnetic field such that the positions of magnetic north and magnetic south become interchanged." It really does happen.
Why didn't someone tell me this before? Why did I have to wait 63 years to find it out? I suppose there's a bunch of other stuff out there I don't know.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Heavenly Daze
I don't know what happens to us when we die. I've never been to a funeral where the preacher said of the deceased, "This was not a nice person and he, without doubt, is sitting in Hell right now". Every funeral it's the same. "The deceased is now in a better place." So I guess every one goes from their last gasp for air, directly to heaven. So I want to discuss MY concept of heaven.
I'll buy the fact that we'll all get new bodies. If we are not going to live in a physical world, we must have a new body that can live in a nonphysical environment; another dimension And if this is a spiritual body, we won't have the familiar biological functions that we have on earth. For one thing, we won't need a vascular system with blood flowing through it. That means we will not have any blood relatives; no blood, no DNA. There won't be any sex. Sex was just the trap God created to propagate the species here on Earth. I don't know about food. It seems to me there wouldn't be any need for food. We'll have some other type of energy. It seems we'll be intelligent, but our old brains simply would not work in this spiritual body. So I don't know where we'll store information. Perhaps information will be all around us and we can somehow tap into it whenever we want to know something.
Many many times I have heard people say they can't wait to get to heaven so they can be reunited with a dearly departed spouse. Well, what if a person couldn't stand their spouse on Earth? Are couples stuck with each other for all of eternity? No. My marriage contract said "until death do us part". Others have the idea that their families will all be together again. I see a problem here. Most everybody's kids grew up and had kids, grandkids, and so on. Do you really want to go live with Mommy and Daddy again.........forever? And how many generations do you plan on cramming into one palace? Remember now, you aren't related anymore. And you don't have any marital obligations anymore.
Are we all going to be the same age? I would say time and age will not be a factor. After all, what is time. For us on earth it is the measurement of hours and minutes and seconds, years, days, weeks. All are based on the rotation of the earth around the sun. If the old earth passes away there will be no reference point for keeping track of time. If we are still going to be in God's image, we will be made up of light. You can't tell the age of light by looking at it. I think that's how it will be. We will be creatures of light. But somehow we will be able to recognize each other, but I can't figure out how that will be done. Maybe there will be some sophisticated name tag system. I just want to be better looking if I'm going to be stuck with this new body forever.
What about language? I'm reasonably sure there will be many many non English speaking people in heaven. Heaven must have its own language and we all must learn it. So do we have to go to school in heaven? Or will we be reprogrammed to know everything we need to know.
It's almost more than I can do to sit through a one hour church service. I really really hope there will be something else to do besides praising God. If we don't have vocal chords, what kind of noise will we make? Will all communication be telepathic communication? Supposedly, the angels are always singing about something. I wonder if it will be a new sound we on Earth have never heard. I know, I know, supposedly a choir of angels sang for Jesus' birth.
Will it be necessary to have some sort of government, or ruling class in heaven. I think the top spots have already been taken by God, Jesus and Abraham.
I hope they have animals in heaven. Somewhere it talks about the lion and lamb living side by side, or something to that effect. I would like a pet lion. I've always wanted a pet lion. But if there are other people who want a pet lion, there's going to have to be more lions made. Maybe we'll just zap into being a new lion, or cat, or whatever we want.
I desperately hope there's more to heaven than just lolling around waiting for the next praise and worship session. I don't know if I can stand to be happy all the time. I hope we are allotted a little grumpy time. There's just something not normal about everything being perfect all the time. Boring is more like it.
It has always struck me rather odd that the Father has tried to make heaven as attractive to us as much as he can. Knowing our basic nature, he has appealed to our greedy side. We are promised ivory palaces, streets of gold, rubies and diamonds et cetera. I hope there are servants who will dust my palace. All that gold dust from the streets is going to be a nuisance. And somebody is going to have to rake up all those precious gems that pop up from who knows where.
Seems like there is reference to milk and honey. Maybe that was the promised land. Let's say there is going to be milk and honey. That means there must be goats, or cows, or some other milk producing animal. Well someone is going to have to do the milking. And there must be bees to make honey. And they are going to need flowers for nectar.
I just don't know. The more I think about it, the crazier I get. If anyone tells me they know all these answers, I shall tell them they can go jump in a lake.
I'll buy the fact that we'll all get new bodies. If we are not going to live in a physical world, we must have a new body that can live in a nonphysical environment; another dimension And if this is a spiritual body, we won't have the familiar biological functions that we have on earth. For one thing, we won't need a vascular system with blood flowing through it. That means we will not have any blood relatives; no blood, no DNA. There won't be any sex. Sex was just the trap God created to propagate the species here on Earth. I don't know about food. It seems to me there wouldn't be any need for food. We'll have some other type of energy. It seems we'll be intelligent, but our old brains simply would not work in this spiritual body. So I don't know where we'll store information. Perhaps information will be all around us and we can somehow tap into it whenever we want to know something.
Many many times I have heard people say they can't wait to get to heaven so they can be reunited with a dearly departed spouse. Well, what if a person couldn't stand their spouse on Earth? Are couples stuck with each other for all of eternity? No. My marriage contract said "until death do us part". Others have the idea that their families will all be together again. I see a problem here. Most everybody's kids grew up and had kids, grandkids, and so on. Do you really want to go live with Mommy and Daddy again.........forever? And how many generations do you plan on cramming into one palace? Remember now, you aren't related anymore. And you don't have any marital obligations anymore.
Are we all going to be the same age? I would say time and age will not be a factor. After all, what is time. For us on earth it is the measurement of hours and minutes and seconds, years, days, weeks. All are based on the rotation of the earth around the sun. If the old earth passes away there will be no reference point for keeping track of time. If we are still going to be in God's image, we will be made up of light. You can't tell the age of light by looking at it. I think that's how it will be. We will be creatures of light. But somehow we will be able to recognize each other, but I can't figure out how that will be done. Maybe there will be some sophisticated name tag system. I just want to be better looking if I'm going to be stuck with this new body forever.
What about language? I'm reasonably sure there will be many many non English speaking people in heaven. Heaven must have its own language and we all must learn it. So do we have to go to school in heaven? Or will we be reprogrammed to know everything we need to know.
It's almost more than I can do to sit through a one hour church service. I really really hope there will be something else to do besides praising God. If we don't have vocal chords, what kind of noise will we make? Will all communication be telepathic communication? Supposedly, the angels are always singing about something. I wonder if it will be a new sound we on Earth have never heard. I know, I know, supposedly a choir of angels sang for Jesus' birth.
Will it be necessary to have some sort of government, or ruling class in heaven. I think the top spots have already been taken by God, Jesus and Abraham.
I hope they have animals in heaven. Somewhere it talks about the lion and lamb living side by side, or something to that effect. I would like a pet lion. I've always wanted a pet lion. But if there are other people who want a pet lion, there's going to have to be more lions made. Maybe we'll just zap into being a new lion, or cat, or whatever we want.
I desperately hope there's more to heaven than just lolling around waiting for the next praise and worship session. I don't know if I can stand to be happy all the time. I hope we are allotted a little grumpy time. There's just something not normal about everything being perfect all the time. Boring is more like it.
It has always struck me rather odd that the Father has tried to make heaven as attractive to us as much as he can. Knowing our basic nature, he has appealed to our greedy side. We are promised ivory palaces, streets of gold, rubies and diamonds et cetera. I hope there are servants who will dust my palace. All that gold dust from the streets is going to be a nuisance. And somebody is going to have to rake up all those precious gems that pop up from who knows where.
Seems like there is reference to milk and honey. Maybe that was the promised land. Let's say there is going to be milk and honey. That means there must be goats, or cows, or some other milk producing animal. Well someone is going to have to do the milking. And there must be bees to make honey. And they are going to need flowers for nectar.
I just don't know. The more I think about it, the crazier I get. If anyone tells me they know all these answers, I shall tell them they can go jump in a lake.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A Great Big Mess
I know, I know, you can't believe everything you read, but I just read this guy's explanation of credit default swaps. If I had a weak heart, heaven forbid, I would have keeled over on the spot after reading his blog. I have a serious case of the stupids when it comes to this Wall Street stuff. I have no idea who to believe, or what to believe, but somehow what this guy said had a ring of truth to it.
If you would like to read it, copy the following URL into your window and go to his site. http://www.rooshv.com/credit-default-swaps-for-dummies.
EVERYONE, politicians and citizens alike, look like deer standing in the headlights of this oncoming undescribable leviathan bone crusher. No one knows what to do. I don't care what party or politician we're talking about here. I can plainly see for myself that we have so many problems because of decades and decades of politicians playing "kick the can forward". And people living way beyond their means. And greed everywhere, with corporate execs stuffing their Swiss bank accounts and shipping jobs out of the country and a whole plethora of other things. Pray you say. Well let me give you another reality I've noticed. God doesn't care about politics. If he did, why are there so many despotic governments around the world? And if he doesn't care, why should we, other than the fact oil may be involved.
China nearly owns us. They outnumber us three to one at least, and have the fastest growing economy in the world. I saw a "man on the street interview" with a Chinese gentleman. You could hear the defiance in his voice. In my words he said, "We nearly own the U.S.. We no longer have to bow to their every wish". We're forced to stay on China's good side, because we just keep getting in deeper and deeper with them. Why? Because everyone in our country is screaming for the Government to give us all these benefits, but no one wants to pay for anything. And don't even get me started on these wars we're in. If you know even a smidgeon of world history, you know that the middle east has been at war since the days of Abraham. And we think we're going to solve their problems! That is preposterous.
I haven't the slightest idea how to resolve any of this mess. And some people think Sarah Palin is the answer? (Shudder). She thought Africa was a country !! If she runs and is elected president, Canada, here I come.
If you would like to read it, copy the following URL into your window and go to his site. http://www.rooshv.com/credit-default-swaps-for-dummies.
EVERYONE, politicians and citizens alike, look like deer standing in the headlights of this oncoming undescribable leviathan bone crusher. No one knows what to do. I don't care what party or politician we're talking about here. I can plainly see for myself that we have so many problems because of decades and decades of politicians playing "kick the can forward". And people living way beyond their means. And greed everywhere, with corporate execs stuffing their Swiss bank accounts and shipping jobs out of the country and a whole plethora of other things. Pray you say. Well let me give you another reality I've noticed. God doesn't care about politics. If he did, why are there so many despotic governments around the world? And if he doesn't care, why should we, other than the fact oil may be involved.
China nearly owns us. They outnumber us three to one at least, and have the fastest growing economy in the world. I saw a "man on the street interview" with a Chinese gentleman. You could hear the defiance in his voice. In my words he said, "We nearly own the U.S.. We no longer have to bow to their every wish". We're forced to stay on China's good side, because we just keep getting in deeper and deeper with them. Why? Because everyone in our country is screaming for the Government to give us all these benefits, but no one wants to pay for anything. And don't even get me started on these wars we're in. If you know even a smidgeon of world history, you know that the middle east has been at war since the days of Abraham. And we think we're going to solve their problems! That is preposterous.
I haven't the slightest idea how to resolve any of this mess. And some people think Sarah Palin is the answer? (Shudder). She thought Africa was a country !! If she runs and is elected president, Canada, here I come.
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