CAPTAIN AMERICA IS DEAD for now

If you haven't already heard, Steve Rogers, aka Captain America was shot to death right where he ought to be safest... in his very own comic book.

Good old Cap started out beating up Nazis back in the old days and went on to be a founding member of the Avengers and to star in several awful television movies.

Now, one thing I love when a comic book character dies, is that if they are well-known enough, it actually becomes news!

Sad comments are made. The blogosphere lights up with angry fanboys! Well. Not really. Anyone who has read comics for long at all realizes that Cap will be back. This is because it is very hard to stay dead in Comic Book Land. When you live in a world where a radioactive spider might give you super powers, and getting caught at a bomb testing site without a radiation suit might turn you into a hulking monster, it's hard to keep yourself in the grave.

Remember the death of Superman? What's that you say? He's back, you say? You mean... it was all a ploy to get attention from the mainstream media and the plan all along was to bring him back to life?

Yup, that's right. It's all to sell books, my friends. Captain America will return. Probably on July4th. Until then, I leave you with the cover of Cap's first comic. Take that, Hitler!

The Frightened Ship

I've finished my translation of Ruth from Hebrew to English and have learned a lot, and now I'm diving in to Jonah. I've already learned some interesting things. I thought I'd share a few here from time to time.

Numero uno, in Jonah 1:4 a literal translation would say something to the effect of, "And the Lord hurled a great wind at the sea, and there was a great storm on the sea and the ship thought it would be broken."

Did you see that little bit of weirdness at the end there? The ship is personified. The ship looks around at the winds and the waves and says, "Yikes! I am about to be destroyed!"

I like that. It's been completely washed out of any translation I've ever looked at. The author of my workbook (Chisholm) says that it's a dramatic point designed not only to show the severity of the storm, but also to drive home the fact that everyone and everything is reacting to God-- the wind, the ocean, the sailors, the captain and even the inanimate ship-- everyone and everything except Jonah, who is sleeping below deck.

I like to think that it's part of the comedy, too. One thing I can't get past as I read Jonah in Hebrew is that it's meant to be funny, at least in places. I think the thinking ship is part of the hilarity.

God Save the Queen

As many of you know, today is the birthday of Her Royal Highness, Alexis Youngs. Please note the spectacular photograph to your left, which truly fails to capture her resplendent glory.

In honor of Her Royal Highness, I am officially declaring the next seven days here at BHR to be the Her Majesty Alexis Youngs Celebratory Week of Congratulation and Adoration.

Ways that you can join us in celebrating the birthday of She Who Must Be Celebrated:

1) Leave a comment, a poem, or a celebratory paean of delight here on this post

2) Steal the photo above and make a post upon your own blog.

3) Go to her Royal Blog and leave lavish words of praise upon her comments

4) Make a fan club on facebook

5) Make a fan club in the real world

6) Send her $100 for every year old that she is

7) Fly to Croatia and buy her lunch

8) Or you could buy her an expensive pony

9) Call her on the phone and say, "God save you, Dear Alexis! Happy and glorious, long may you reign over us! O Lord, our God, arise and scatter her enemies, make them fall! Confound their politics, frustrate their knavish tricks!" (et cetera)

10) My original plan for Alexis' birthday was to stage an elaborate ballet. Krista was going to take pictures of it. I was going to be the main dancer (or whatever). But then I thought of this and Krista said this was better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The Pony and the Wolves: Chapter 2

And she ran and she found a cave. She ran in there. She felt safe. Outside were the wolves. The wolves were hungry. The pony was scared of the wolves but she was safe.

A story from A

Not wanting to be outdone by her sister, A is now dictating a story for your pleasure.

CHAPTER ONE

First there was a little nut that loved to slide down the slide and then it would climb back up and slide back down again. Then a beautiful fairy came and said, "Do you want a ride?" and then some pegasuses said, "Why don't you have a ride on us, too?"

"Okay," the nut said.

The end.

Continued next week.

Welcome Home Mikalatos

I can tell you all missed me. All the comments and questions... "Where are you?" "Are you okay?" "Time for an update!"

Well, I'm back. And since I haven't been blogging, I thought I'd send you over to the blog of my boss. That's right. My boss has a blog. He's been calling me "Blogalotos" all week. So, please be sure to stop by and leave a comment for Keith Blogalo. He's swell.

In addition to not blogging, I've also been not writing. I know what you're thinking: How does he have time to not do so much? It's a gift, my friends, a rare and much envied gift.

But my daughter, Z, wrote the first chapter of a story tonight. She said I could share it here if I promised to fix all her spelling errors. So, here it is:

The Pony and the Wolves: Chapter One

Illustrated by Z

Once upon a time there was a pony. And she grazed in the grass. And she grazed and she grazed and she grazed but wolves came.

Tune in tomorrow for chapter 2.

Amazing Grace: Movie Review

We just came home from watching the movie Amazing Grace. Basically, it's the story of William Wilberforce's efforts to abolish the slave trade in the British empire.

You need to go see this movie. I can recommend it without reservation. Go! It's inspiring, moving and beautiful.

Krista and I talked about the movie on the way home and we had a lot of similar thoughts. We were both struck by the power of a "call" in Wilberforce's life, and by the way he stood up for justice and human dignity at any cost. We left the theatre eager to be part of changing the world for the better, and certain that the task is achievable.

In that sense, it's more than a simple entertainment. It was, in fact, entertaining, and we laughed at parts, I had chills once and yes, I cried, too. It was an uplifting and powerful reminder of the power of God in human lives to effect positive change in human society.

So, please accept my highest recommendation that you go see this movie. Take a friend. Take off work and make an office party of it. It's well worth your time.



And, if you would like to be part of the modern day efforts to crush the slave trade once and for all, check out The Amazing Change website.

Unseen Movie Review: The Number 23

Once again, we return to our Unseen Movie Reviews, the part of the blog where I review a movie that I have never seen, based purely upon the movie trailer and my own strongly brewed opinions.

Tonight we take a look at The Number 23, a new thriller starring Jim Carrey. So, let's take a look at the trailer.

NOTE: There are some disturbing images in this trailer. Many of them involve Jim Carrey. Don't say I didn't warn you.



Now, we all know that numbers can be scary. But as I recall, the scariest number is seven, because seven ate nine. But what has the number 23 ever done to anyone? As I recall, 23 has always been a kind, loving number. It has even sponsored episodes of Sesame Street. Sweet, sweet number 23.

I called the number 23 to get its opinion about this slanderous piece of trash.

Me: So, Number 23, I see that a movie is coming out about your life.

23: No, no, no. That movie is a complete lie. It's not about me at all.

Me: So, it's not true that you have driven people insane?

23: Of course not. I'm a pretty simple two-digit number.

Me: The number 13 could say the same thing.

23: I'm twice the number that 13 could ever be!

Me: Well actually, um, that's not quite true.

23: Whatever.

Me: What do you say to claims by the priest that the number 23 can become the "number of Satan"... by dividing 2 by 3?

23: Have these people ever taken a math class? For crying out loud. 2 divided by 3 is NOT ".666", it's ".66666666666666666666666666666666666667". It's just a stupid thing to say. Stupid and mean. It really hurt my feelings.

Me: Okay, I have to get back to my movie review.

23: Please don't say anything nice about this movie.

Me: Ha ha ha! Don't worry about that!

I can't believe silly trash like this gets made. I'm glad that they chose Jim Carrey as the main character so that Blockbuster can stick it in the comedy section and trick customers into renting it.

I would suggest that you buy a book by Jose Luis Borges rather than watching this movie.

For that matter, I would suggest that you stay home and do your dishes rather than going to this movie.

Matt's Verdict: If you pay to see this movie I will purposely fly to your house and kick you in the seat of your pants. Then I will take all your money so that you don't waste it anymore.

p.s. This movie review has been brought to you by the number 23 and the letter F.

History via My Children

Tonight I told my kids the story of Ruth. At the end I explained that Ruth and Boaz had a son named Obed, who was the father of Jesse, who was the father of (King) David.

Me: Z, do you know the name of any of King David's sons?

Z (laughing): Prince Charming!

Questions about Bears

Z is afraid of bears. She has--inexplicably--been afraid of them since she was very young. She had nightmares about them when we lived overseas (and before she had ever seen one) and continues to worry that they will show up and... I'm not sure, but I assume she is afraid that they will eat her.

In any case, while we were staying in Moscow, Idaho, she was very concerned that bears probably lived in all of the nearby woods. She assured me that they would come to the hotel. She seemed to think that they might hang out behind the hotel. I wasn't clear why they would do this (smoking?). Probably local bear hooligans or something.

I explained to her how bears hibernate all winter, and they do this in caves, not in the back parking lot of hotels.

But I thought about it later and realized that I only know that bears hibernate because of my lifelong friendship with the television. I started to question what I had come to know about bears.

Do they really hiberate all winter, for instance. And how do they all find caves? Are there really that many caves in the woods, to accomodate every single bear? What happens if they can't find a cave? Do they just sleep next to a trail or something? For that matter, I've been in plenty of caves and do you know what I found? Beer bottles. I always assumed this was from people. If they are from people, then the only evidence I have that bears live in caves is watching Fozzie and Yogi.

Are you out there, Mr. or Ms. Bear Expert? Perhaps a bear is reading this blog? Someone give me some insight here.

Greek Conference

Hey folks!

The whole family is in Spokane, WA this weekend for the "Greek conference". Greeks from universities around our region came together for three days to talk about Jesus, who he is and what it means to follow him.

I was the main speaker for the weekend. I spoke on what it means to be a disciple... according to Jesus. So we looked at his definiton of what a disciple is, the cost of discipleship according to Jesus, the two major identifying marks of a disciple, things like that. It's been a lot of fun, and I think that God has been speaking to some people.

I'm one of those people. I have to admit that this series of talks really messed with me a little bit. I felt like I was sitting at his feet and having to deal with some hard questions about whether I am really a disciple as he describes them. It's a hard question, and I've been talking it through with Jesus all week. I think it's safe to say that I have room to grow.

The Greeks have been a lot of fun. They're a high energy crowd, and they're not afraid to share their thoughts. I love that there are people who don't even know Jesus here, and they're engaging and asking questions, too.

And of course it's a huge blessing to have Krista and the kids here, and not to be on another trip without them. And it's great to hang out with my student and staff friends from around the region, too.

Anyway. Greek Conference = Good.

tonight I'm meeting with some people to talk about Stint for next year. I've had some great conversations already, and I think there are several people who are hearing a "follow me" from Jesus on this question.

Red Hair

Our daughter, "A", has red hair. For some reason it's a cultural norm in the United States for people to walk up and ask children, "Where did you get that red hair?" Krista and I have always been offended by the question because, what are you implying? And if you're not implying something, then you might as well ask my daughter Z (with the brown hair) the same question.

Anyway, here's a funny conversation that my kids had with the waitress at our hotel this morning:

Waitress: Where did you get that red hair?

A: God made it.

Waitress: Oh! I see.

Z: God made my hair, too.

Waitress: Is that so?

A: He also made yours.

You know what's wrong with mirrors?

Everything is backwards in them.

I am not a Faker

The photo at the left has been creating a great deal of discussion from my friends who have seen it on my Facebook account.

So, in answer to your questions:

1) Yes, I am really moving in the picture. It is not staged.

2) Yes, it is really me. I have not pasted my face onto the picture of a Jamaican bobsledder.

3) The reason there are no "speed lines" is because it is not manga. This is also why there are no tears flying out of my eyes.

4) No, I am not a Faker.

5) Yes, I have pictures of me doing even more amazing things. But I like to take my time in revealing such things. Like the picture below.

Hebrew Finals and so on

I keep forgetting to write on here that I passed my Hebrew test (the second time I took it). My professor actually made the second version of the test a lot harder... but I got a score in the low 80's. So that's pretty darn good.

Which means, of course, that I am back in Hebrew Action every Monday morning. This week my professor began an official reign of terror by going around the room and having people parse verbs and translate verses on the spot. I nearly fainted. But I managed to pull it together at the last moment.

It's my right.

If you are the first person in the neighborhood to put up Christmas lights (which I was), then I think it is your right to wait until you are the last one to take them down (which I was).

It's a firm rule in our household: Christmas lights come off the house at least 24 hours before Valentine's Day.

Get Ready!

I found out this week that two more of my stories have been accepted to the Wittenburg Door. I won't go into any detail other than to say that one is an interview with Superman (which was a real honor... maybe I'll give you guys more details after the story is published) and the other one has the catchy title, "Men’s Retreat Speaker Shocks Participants By Focusing On Bible."

I also received a note from "Coach" Culbertson letting me know that he's accepted my story "The Deluge" for his upcoming "Coach's Midnight Diner" due out in July. No contracts have been signed or anything, but I think it's official enough for me to mention it here. I'll have to give you guys a guided tour of the Deluge and its 40 years of wandering before coming at last to the brink of the river Jordan. I got my first rejection letter (on a vastly different and early draft) on November 15, 2005. You can see young Matt's enthusiastic thoughts on the matter here.

A Lesson I Learned In Spain

During our time in Spain, Krista and I went (together with a large contingent of friends, loved ones and miscreants) to two castles. We have an enormous number of pictures from these that I should upload somewhere but I am not going to right now. So just picture them in your mind. Okay, I see what you are picturing, and they're a little more Muslim looking... they are Moorish castles. yeah, more like that. Lots of colored patterns on the walls, fountains, arches, gardens, fruit trees. Nice. Good job. Okay, keep thinking about that.

One thing I learned while walking around castles in Spain is that men and women think about vastly different things when imagining life in medieval castles.

Things women think about: I imagine it was very beautiful here inside the castle in the spring, when all the roses and other flowers were in bloom.

1b) Things men think about: I imagine that the ability to grow crops inside the castle walls would make it much easier to live through a siege on the castle.

2a) Women: The fountains here are pretty and I shall take some photographs of them.

2b) Men: The fountains show that there is a large supply of fresh water. Which would make it easier to live through a siege. I will drink some to make sure it is potable.

3a) Women: The curved entrances to this section of the castle are beautiful. I should do something to remember them. Like take a photograph.

3b) Men: The curved hallway here would be an excellent place to make my stand. I would put my archers here and as the invaders came around the corner... WHAM! ARROWS IN THE GULLET! OW! Also, I could pour pitch on the floor and light it. Or I could have the archers shoot burning arrows. This place is good for killing people.

CONCLUSION: Castles are a great place to visit, regardless of gender.

Unseen Movie Review: The Astronaut Farmer

Welcome to a new regular feature of the Burning Hearts Revolution called "Unseen Movie Reviews." In this feature I will give you my thoughts about upcoming movies, using only the information available through trailers and my own comprehensive knowledge of movies both sublime and sucky.

Here's our first film, "The Astronaut Farmer" starring Billy Bob Thorton and Virginia Madsen, due to be released on February 23rd.

Let us watch the trailer together, after which I shall give you my verdict:



Here are my thoughts. First, this looks like a harmless enough feel-good movie. But I have to say that we have only two options at the end: one, the farmer successfully launches himself into space, has some troubles and makes it home safely (hooray!) or two, he launches himself into space, has some trouble, and burns into a tiny crisp on re-entry (boo hoo!).

If I thought they had the guts to go for ending #2, I would go see it. Maybe. There are several things that make me nervous about the movie. One is the writing. For instance, the main character's last name is Farmer. It's just too cutesy. I can't stand it. Two, Billy Bob Thorton has a long history of making lots of movies. But I've only liked a couple of them. Three, I think maybe it should have been called the Farmer Astronaut instead of the Astronaut Farmer and been the story of a guy on a moonbase who has a dream of making a garden outside of the oxygen dome. Everyone thinks he's crazy but he has a dream! He can do it! Everyone is against him but against all the odds he is going to pull it off and grow the tallest corn ever seen in the universe. Oh what a beautiful mooooooorning, oh what a beatiful daaaaaaaaay, I've got a beautiful feeeeeeeelin', everything's goin' my waaaaaaaaaay!

In other news, the movie is likely to make more sense and be more entertaining than this post.

Matt's Verdict: Wait for this movie to be on television. You won't regret waiting to see it, but you will probably regret spending money to see it.

Feel free to leave your own thoughts and reviews in the comment section.

Krista Posts On Her Blog!

EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Eight months after her promising start as a blogger, Krista Mikalatos has added three entries to her blog, Blue Sky. Her husband, Matt Mikalatos, was heard to say, "Hey! Now I have to put your link back on Burning Hearts!"

Well done, O Wondrous Wife. You show great promise as a blogger. If you are disciplined, if you are sincere, if you are pure of heart, you could be one of the Great Ones.

Sincerely,

Your Husband

Africans in Korea

Here's the video that convinced me that going to Korea this summer HAD to happen for me. It's a compelling look at people from around the world coming together in one place to talk about the transforming power of Jesus.



I've posted this on my other blog, too.

The View from Our Bathroom Window (Germany)

Of all the amazing things we saw on our European adventure, perhaps the most startling and unexpected was the bathroom at our hotel in Frankfurt.

Not that a bathroom window is an amazing innovation. In fact, one of the bathrooms here in my own house has a window. But this bathroom had a window in the bathroom door. In the picture on the left I am looking into the hotel room from the bathroom.

I know what you are thinking. "Perhaps the window was cleverly placed so as to minimize the compromising views possible."

To which I can only say, "I don't think so." Here's a view of the throne room from the porthole.

And what scandalous exposition of a windowed bathroom would be complete without a quick glance at the shower?

A conversation with Hans Christian Andersen

While staying in Spain, we happened to run into Hans Chrisian Andersen sitting on a park bench. If you look closely you can see a little ugly duckling in his briefcase. I sat for a while and talked to him about the challenges of the writing life.

About ten minutes later I discovered that "he" was actually just a statue. I think the look on my face says it clearly. Krista knew it was a statue all along.

We also found a plaque which explained why there was a statue of Hans Christian Andersen in Malaga, Spain. As near as we could tell it said, "Hans Christian Andersen once visited Spain. He ate some food. He said that it was quite good."

hola from españa

Hey everybody. We´re having a great time here in Spain, other than the crazy keyboard at the internet cafè. i got sunburned walking around by the mediterranean today while talking with some of the Croatia buddies. And Krista and I both have good times hanging with the Rijeka folk, the Lithuania crew and the Nalchik people.

The best food by far is the nata flavored ice cream. That´s whipped cream flavor, folks.

We´ll put up pictures later. Tomorrow we head off to Granada which Taylor says means pomegranite. We are learning a lot.

Adios, America

In a scant four hours I leave for the airport to fly to Spain to see all our good buddies from around the world who will be awaiting us.

In other news, I saw a bald eagle today. It was sitting in a tree near the 205, just watching the cars as if they were big shiny mice.

I don't care what Ben Franklin says, I think eagles are cool.

help The Man send missionaries to the Caucauses

A few of you may have met my wacky best friend, Chris. He's married to the lovely Joy and they have four great kids, and another on the way. We all assume that number five will be great, as well. Just to show you how cool these guys are, they used to live on a bus.

So, Chris and Joy are in process of becoming missionaries with GEM. They're planning to move the entire family (sans bus) to the country of Georgia. This spring they'd like to take the whole family on an extended trip to visit their new home. It's going to cost about $15,000.

Here's what they're doing to raise some money for the trip: a giant bake sale.

Okay, just kidding. Chris has started "The Google Penny Jar". Basically, when you search google through Chris' search box, he can get a couple of pennies from a Corporate Giant. And if you're going to buy something on the internet and use Chris' site to search for it, they could get more than a couple pennies.

To encourage people to search the internet, Chris has also started a game show. There are obscure trivia questions that can best be answered by searching the internet. So, you can click on the Google Penny Jar and give a search, and help send missionaries to Georgia on Google's dime. AND there's a prize for every winner of the game show ($10 gift card to either Trader Joe's or Borders.

So go check it out, try to win!

Oh, and the new google search box here on my site is the google penny jar, too. So if you don't want to play the game you can still just search the net from here (at the box that says "seek ye here first") and a couple pennies should go Chris' way, too.

Thanks everybody. Enjoy the game!

Things In My House

I was only joking before when I said that I would visit my missionaries in Spain and bring them little gifts like magazines from the plane.

But then it dumped snow on our little corner of the earth for some reason, making it impossible for us to go shopping without simultaneously knocking our car into lots of other cars.

So, Krista and I have made a list of "gifts" that we can bring from our own house to encourage and uplift our beloved missionaries. Here's what we have sitting next to our suitcases right now:

1) A couple of books from the "sell this to Powell's" box in the garage.
2) A half-full can of "chili and lime" almonds
3) Some cornbread
4) "Wiggles" VHS tapes ("A Wiggly, Wiggly Christmas")
5) A pair of new but inexplicably unmatched socks
6) A small container of snow for each person

It's like a homemade Christmas. And somehow I just think it's going to be one of the best. God bless us, every one.

Found Poetry: Aida

So you stood by and let me plot and plan and commit a crime
in stupefied disbelief as she twisted the cork out.
There was quite a turnout at the sports stadium. Cheers and shouts of
jugglers, duels, arm wrestling.

Aida? I said.
She, firmly before me as I went to sleep.
This was a time for wounds.

Welcome, she said, doubly welcome.
To the College of Knowledge from
Bow-wow.

Found Poetry

I have officially started a new hobby. "Found Poetry." You have probably heard of "Found Art."

Here's an easy way to make found poetry:

1) Go into your spam file in your email.
2) Cut and paste some of the weird phrases into your text editor
3) Prune it down to make something strange and beautiful

I made the poem above using only the "delete" key. You could add some words or move phrases around if it's easier for you. It's fun!

Feel free to post some of your own found poetry in the comments section.

Yet another reason that Hollywood is full of it

Happy MLK day, everyone!

To honor the great man that this day is set aside to honor, we decided to take the kids out for a special outing.

ICE SKATING!

That's right. Ice skating.

I spent most of the time hoping not to A) Crush one of my children or B) Break an ankle.

And here's why Hollywood is full of it... they always make it look really romantic to go ice skating. You go down to Rockefeller Center, you fall in love, you skate around holding hands.

Here's what Krista said to me while we were skating: "I would hold your hand, but I'm afraid."

Gearing up for Spain

Well, this week will mostly be spent preparing for the big trip to Nerja, Spain, to see our stinters from Lithuania, Croatia, Russia and France. Hopefully next year we'll add Italy to the list.

What needs to be done to prepare you ask? Well, we have to buy gifts, first of all. That's right. It's a sort of Pavlovian, psychological way that we condition people to feel good when they see us. Some people will demand cash. Others like a thoughtful little something (like if I were to bring them a magazine from the airplane). Still others just want me to pat them on the head and say, "Good boy, John, good boy!" But this all requires some forethought and careful planning.

Also, of course, there is the packing of bags, which I am undeniably expert in now. They should have a reality show. I can not only put everything in the bag, I can lift it and tell you how much it weighs. Incredible.

We need to plan what we will take to entertain ourselves on the plane, too. Krista spent a little time today loading her iPod. I won't need to spend much time preparing for that, since I know what I will be taking for fun and entertainment: HEBREW HOMEWORK! I'll be translating the book of Ruth.

These things will take up most of the week, since we leave on Friday. In addition I will be calling Bryon and Emily in Venezuela. I thought I would make this known publicly so that their friends could call ahead and warn them to turn off their cel phones.

Okay, kiddies. My wife is missing which means, I suspect, that she has gone to perform the evening ablutions. Which is my cue to go.

And for all those lurkers out there, those sad souls without a blog who never comment but only read with secret delight, let me just say this: "Blog not, lest ye be blogged." Um. Yeah. So true, so true.

FORD... 30 years without a break

I saw an ad today for FORD. It said, "FORD... we haven't taken a day off in thirty years."

I have a few thoughts on that.

One, I am not sure why this is something to brag about. For crying out loud, what about your spouses and children? Shouldn't you take a day off?

Two, haven't you ever heard of the Sabbath? Seriously. In the course of 30 years you should have taken like, 1,620 sabbaths. I bet Henry Ford is mad at you.

BLOGGER GONE CRAZY

Hmmm. I just looked at the two posts below and somethin has gone wonky. The most recent post has lost all of its line breaks when it published. And the first post has lost some of the linebreaks and also several paragraphs.

I'm just going to leave it for now and see if it magically gets all better.

Or maybe my computer has a virus. Wouldn't that be nice! I could make it soup and wrap it up on a blanket on the couch. We could watch some movies it would like. Maybe "War Games" or "Short Circuit." I have been hoping we could become better friends. This might be our chance.

Michael Connelly = Happy Reading

When it comes to modern authors, I have a very easy rating system, and it's all based on how I prefer to get their work. It goes like this (highest to lowest):

1) Buy their books in hardback, as soon as they come out

2) Buy in hardback as soon as they go on discount

3) Buy in paperback as soon as available

4) Buy in paperback if I can find it used

5) Get it at the library

6) Read it only if I can find it at a garage sale for less than a quarter

7) Read it only begrudgingly, and only if it's assigned for schoolwork (yes, that's for you, Dan Brown!)

There are really only two or three authors who always make it on the top of the list. I always get new Michael Connelly novels. Especially his Harry Bosch novels. And I almost always get new Gene Wolfe or Percival Everett novels. These are my top guys.

So, I got Echo Park, the new Connelly novel for Christmas. But I knew I couldn't start reading it because it would take me away from all the other things I needed to do (like study Hebrew, work, hang with the family, eating or sleeping). But last night I decided it was time. So I dove in and got started. It was great. Ah! So good!

I finished it tonight. I really enjoyed it. My first thought when I put it down was, "How long until the next Harry Bosch novel is in my hands?" I am guessing two years. TWO YEARS! ARGH!

So, if you're into crime movies or novels, get to know Harry Bosch. Start at the beginning and work your way up. Each novel stands alone, but it's fun to get to know Harry and follow along as things develop.

You know I don't give unabashed plugs very often, but that's what this is. Michael Connelly novels are good reading.

Get ready for the standard disclaimer:

These books would most likely be rated R if they were movies. Language and violence. Yes, that's right. Language and violence both.

I need to get to bed. G'night.

Burning Hearts Revival

My good buddy Andy sent me this link to a website called Burning Hearts.

They have t-shirts and calendars and Bible studies and we have, um, fake poetry contests and uh, updates on my kids. Maybe we should rename this blog.

The new name of the blog from henceforth shall be called: The Mikalatos World Fair. Or, TMWF for short.

Or we could just change it to "The Original Burning Hearts." Or, if they were first, "The Real Burning Hearts." Or I guess we could coexist in peace.

Anyway, a jaunty tip of the hat to Mr. Andy for the link. Drop by at BH and be nice to them. We're sort of like cousins or something.

Greeks Bearing Gifts

This year I'm the speaker at our region's Greek Conference. They thought, "Why not get a real Greek to speak to our Greeks?" That's right, kids, they went all the way to the Motherland to recruit me.

I'm really excited. I've already sent Krista to the drycleaner to get my chiton pressed.

If you follow the link above there's even a picture of me, courtesy of Kirk Brower.

updates

Krista's allergic reaction is almost completely gone (yay!).

My Hebrew final got snowed out on Thursday (I see that you guys actually were praying... thanks). I took it today. I don't think I can say with any confidence that I did well. But I can say that I definitely did better.

Thanks for your prayer and encouragement.

In other news, Krista and I leave in a week for Spain to hang out with some of our loved ones from around the world. We're pretty excited.

Although I just have to say that we don't appreciate all the prank calls from Someone In Croatia. :P

Funny

My friend Mir pointed out that her story is listed in a reader's poll for best science fiction story.

My short story, Chariots, is on the list, too. I thought that was nice. I actually "know" several of the people on the list, so I'm not stumping for votes or anything. I just thought it was fun and that I would let you know. :)

Prayer requests

Hey friends-- a couple of quick prayer requests for the Mik family.

1) Krista is having an allergic reaction to some antibiotics she was put on. She's okay, but is covered in hives and miserable. They're starting to clear up a little bit, but pray that they will go away completely.

2) I am (re)taking my Hebrew final tomorrow. You can either pray that (a) I will go an pass the test and class or (b) that snow and ice will prevent me from going. :) Just kidding. Pray for "a".

New Devo on GNWstinters

Last week I put a new devo from Ralph Cooley up on gnwstinters. I need to find a better tagline than, "Check it out" but you should check it out.

Dreaming with the Miks

Last night the whole family had dreams. Choose your favorite from the list below:

Krista: scary faces

Matt: A dream where this guy apologizes for evil things he has done. I start to trust him, realizing that he's not a bad guy after all. Then he gets in my face and starts yelling at me in a strange language. I snap my fingers and tell him to concentrate and speak clearly. Then he gets mad at me for snapping my fingers at him. It's disrespectful.

Z: A nightmare involving snow.

A: A beautiful rainbow, with pegasuses flying around and saying, "Hello, A!"

(deleted)

This special Premium Edition Post has now been made available to only our Elite Subscribers, due to the extreme hilarity it caused as well as the possibly poor taste of the author.

Lesson: always listen to your wife when she says, "I wouldn't put that on my blog."

Lesson #2: If you snooze, you lose. Content is always changing at BHR.

Lesson #3: If your friend writes a hilarious but inappropriate post on his blog, be sure to get a screenshot for later.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Fourteen)

Dedicated to the two young teenaged girls who were checking out the magazine rack at the grocery store, clutching together "17" magazine, and to their mom, who I suspect is a very good mom indeed.

Girl #1: Mom, can I buy just one "icky" magazine?

Mom: What? No! With my money? I don't think so. Huh-uh. Never!

Girl #2 (calling desperately after her mother, who has now gone around the corner onto the next aisle): How about "Women's Health", Mom? Could we get "Women's Health"?

Out of Print

You might remember my first story "published" on the internet. It was called "Samaritan" and it was the story of a guy who picked up a woman on the side of the road who needed a lift back to her car. And of course things go horribly wrong.

Well, the site that published it is now gone. That's right. So you can no longer see "Samaritan" on the web. I'M OUT OF PRINT!

It's bound to happen. I just never thought it would happen so soon. *sniff*

Twisted Christmas

Okay, kids. I will write more this weekend. In the meantime, your homework is to discuss this video. Krista and I caught this on "The Craig Ferguson Show."

What is going on here? Is it irony? Devotion? An attempt at inducing fear? Or pathos? Maybe bathos, I just don't know. Give me some insight.

If you want to do some extra research, here's an article telling you more about Twisted Sister. Yes, I know some of you are too young to know who Twisted Sister is. For that matter, some of you are probably too old to know Twisted Sister.

Off to study binyanim. Shalom.

Don't Worry

I haven't forgotten you, my little chickadees. Yesterday and today must be spent in studying Hebrew... and I have class on Monday, and meetings all day Tuesday and Wednesday. But I'll be back.

Topics we will consider together:

Christmas music by Twisted Sister.
The "Collide" winter conference.
The Glories of Spain.
The place of an actual Greek man at Greek Conference in Spokane, Washington.
Oh! Gravity.

winter conference

Hey gang, K and I are in Portland all this week for our winter conference. It's called Collide. The lead speaker for our first few days together is Bryan Loritts, and he really did a great job last night. I was sitting in the far back corner of the enormous auditorium and I still felt like I got hit between the eyes with his message. Good stuff.

Extreme Sledding... Mikalatos Style

My old nemesis Matt has taken a moment to come to the blog and mock my sledding. In reference to the picture on the left he says, "Looks like you're getting pretty intense there Matt. Trying to pull some sort of extreme sledding move?"

That just goes to show you how difficult it is to catch a good action shot. Of course Krista put the camera on "sport" which makes it look even slower. I would say I am going a good 16.09 KPH in this picture. I am not exaggerating. If anything I am negative-exaggerating.

I feel that I must now defend my Extreme Sledding... Mikalatos Style. I will do this through a clever combination of both pictures and commentary.

First, take a look at this vicious hill. My wife begged me not to try to tame it. But I said, "I am going to tame it anyway. Prepare yourself." Note the huge number of trees. To take a sledding trail like this requires either unparalleled skills or a fearlessness bordering on stupidity.

Here you see the fruits of my fearlessness. Note the brutal way that my disc lodged into the snow, sending me hurtling into those saplings. Note also the way that my glove and hat were discarded in mid-sled. I find that I have better control with one hand gloved and one "unsheathed". On the really difficult runs I'll discard one glove, my hat, both shoes, one sock and my pants. That's why some of the other sledders call me "White Lightning." I told them that I prefer "Greek Lightning." But they just laughed. I guess I am pretty funny (?).

If you fall, you have to get back up. You can see I am favoring my left foot a little bit in this picture. Turned out later I had broken my femur in five places. SLEDDING TIP: Sleds make good crutches. Just don't slip and fall, because your sled will think you want to sled some more. You can break your other leg that way! I learned that lesson the hard way.

I totally plowed into this little kid who was out on the slopes. We had a good laugh about it, though. Good thing I wasn't going any faster!

Sledding

Thursday we went sledding on Mt. Hood... or as the kids call it, "Mountain Hood."

A is completely fearless. Z took a half hour to warm up, but then she didn't want to leave. I almost convinced her to go down face first.

K's parents came and so did Cousin J. It was a fun afternoon, and the kids are begging to go again.

Krista and her mom made chicken salad sandwhiches for the hungry sledders and Krista's dad brought his camp stove and made fresh hot chocolate. We all had fun.

The Peace Child

Here's my favorite Christmas song this season. I love the lyrics and the music, as well. As Krista will tell you, I am quite possibly the pickiest music critic of all time, particularly for being a guy with no real musical training. Just cranky, I guess. But this song is great. Lyrics below. I would tell you where you can buy the song but I literally do not know. I got it on the "Happy Christmas Volume 2" CD.

Peace Child (O Come Emmanuel)
copyright The Normals
written by Andrew Osenga and Mark Lockett

Take me to that place where we’re children again
And we crawl on the lap of the Peace Child
Take me to the land where love is discovered
With the prince undercover as the Peace Child

And the poor can now see
How a king can believe
In a kingdom that cradles the broken

O come, o come Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
From lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appears

We look to be upright as we grasp for a chance
But we’re too dirty to dance with the Peace Child
But the sunset and its red floods the world with its rays
Like the blood of the babe of the Peace Child

And the dead can now sing
At the throne of the king
'Cause heaven is full of us peasants

O come, o come Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
From lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appears

Until the Son of God
Came near.

Christmas Devotion

There's a new devo up at gnwstinters.blogspot.com. I wanted to give some Christmas thoughts without it being the same Christmas thoughts you've already received from your devotional books, messages and music. So I took a quick look at the theme of submission that is seen throughout the Christmas story and the life of Jesus. Take a look.

Fortune Cookies

After "Zoo Lights" tonight we went with the kids and my Mom and Dad to Shanghai Noble House for dinner. After dinner, Z loves to have me read the fortune cookies to her. Here's our conversation tonight.

Z: Dad! What does this fortune say?

Me: "You believe in the basic goodness of mankind." Is that true? Do you believe in the basic goodness of mankind?

Z: Oh, no. I believe in the basic goodness of girl-kind.

We Are Famous

At last, the moment we all have been waiting for. The Burning Hearts Revolution has been featured in a newspaper article. All this thanks to the PR-savvy poet laureate of Arizona, Michelle Lawrence.

What's next?

I was thinking we'd start out small with a television show, probably a half hour sitcom. After that we'll work up to a dramatic hour-long show, and then, of course, a movie. Maybe a series of movies. You guys can all be in it, since you have been such devoted friends when I was a nobody.

"The Office" Christmas Party

Today was the official Portland Headquarters Party.

Most-Coveted-Gift-At-The-Exchange: A hand-thrown vase by Terry Kinkaid.

Krista and I scored a Starbucks card and some chocolate.

Top 5 Certainties at a Kid's Christmas Performance

Last night was A's Christmas performance. She was very cute. I'll put some pictures up later. In the meantime I thought you would like to share in a few rules of Christmas Performances that I noted last night:

1) The front row of the auditorium will be reserved for "staff." No, they don't have any children in the performance. They won't fill the seats. They don't want pictures of the children. They just want the seats.

2) As a sort of corollary to rule #1, parents will sit on the floor and in the aisles to try to get a picture of the children singing.

3) Which is a little bit of an exaggeration, "children singing." More like, "children standing on the stage and swaying, looking around, trying not to fall off the bleachers and occasionally singing."

4) No matter how hard you try not to, you will eventually end up with a photograph or video footage of the teacher's rear end as (s)he goes up on stage to say something to the children.

5) Your kid will always be the cutest one at the event.

Become a Christmas Expert: Krampus

You may not know about Krampus, but I can guarantee you that the children of Austria know him. He's Santa's sidekick, the one who does all the less pleasant Christmas duties. You know, like putting coal in stockings and hitting bad kids with switches.

Description: horned head, foot-long tongue, hooved feet. Hmmm.

Krista said, "He looks evil." This is the nicest picture I could find of him. This is the sort of cute version from old postcards.

Note to Missionaries: If you are creating a Christian festival to take place at the same time as a pagan ritual, please be sure to get rid of critters like Krampus.

Maybe You Could All Pitch In For My Christmas Gift

For only twenty-five million dollars you can buy me a week at the international space station. Check it out here.

Or, for only two-hundred thousand, here's a chance to take a brief spaceflight.

Or you could, you know, buy my house.

Rob E, poet laureate of Missouri

Rob was born nowhere near Missouri. He lived there until he traveled even farther from Missouri. He began writing abstract poetry at the age of 13 months, but untrained eyes saw only splotches and scribbles. Thusly frustrated in his early literary efforts, he spent the next several years learning "words" and "sentences." It was not until his 15th year that Rob again attempted to express himself in verse (excepting an award-winning poem called "A Book Is Your Key to Wonderland", written at the age of 8, which he still refuses to acknowledge as his own work). Rob spent 6 years in college (not in Missouri), until he almost completely despaired of the possibility of any sort of meaningful linguistic expression. During this time, Rob became enamored of something called "music," even daringly combining "music" and "poetry" into creations he called "songs." Missouri? Not yet. Finally, Rob moved out of the US (even farther from Missouri). Two years later, he returned briefly to the US (at which time he visited Missouri), then went back overseas, fell in love and married a woman who also had once driven through Missouri. He currently lives in a log cabin surrounded by a field of cows, planning his inevitable return to Asia, where "Show Me" actually means "skinny rice."

Rob has asked that I not reveal his last name, prompting me to adopt the name "Mister E" for him. I plan to eventually switch to calling him "O Mysterious Master of Missouri", but I plan to do this over the span of a few months so he doesn't see it coming.

I asked Mr. E what it would take to make poetry flower in the state of Missouri and he said, "For poetry to flower in Missouri, it must be planted deep- deep in the hearts of its people. I will dig with the spade of heart-level questioning, digging through the soil of culture and psyche. I will plant seeds of imagery, simile, metaphor, rhetoric, and prepositional phrases and fertilize them with pop culture phrases. Watered by the tears of those who thanklessly labor under the cruel tread of Apollo's chariot, I will cultivate in Missouri a flourishing garden of poetry."

I think you'll enjoy the first seeds of poetry included below. We particularly enjoyed Mr. E's playful use of language and insider knowledge of Missouri. We could tell he had spent several minutes there at some point in his past... no doubt they were glorious, ephemeral, scintillating moments of unparalleled glory.

You Must Be Misstaken by Rob E, poet laureate of Missouri

You must be misstaken
For here is undertaken
To drink deeper than is tasted
If I cannot see,
Then you must
SHOW me.
And if no one else can see,
Then again,
you must
Show ME.
Land of Misst'ry,
Harbor from every
Urban-bred Missery.
Deep-breathing teller
Of heart-swelling story.
Heart of the nation...

Missouri

Become a Christmas Expert: King Wenceslas

As promised earlier this month, I will try to give you some tips on becoming a Christmas Expert, to guarantee that you will have the most merry Christmas of anyone on your block.

Today's lesson is on "Good King Wenceslas". Statistics show that if you can spell "Wenceslas" you are in the top 10% of Christmas practicioners. If you can sing the entire first verse, knowing the words by heart, you are in the top 5%! And if you can sing the entire song by heart, you are in the top .5% of Christmas celebrants.

So, go on and memorize GKW! Just imagine the looks of undisguised admiration and envy your friends will give you when you are out caroling, and you say, "Let's sing Good King Wenceslas." They will say, "But we do not know the words." And you will say, "Behold! Listen and enjoy this, my Christmas solo!"

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither.
"Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

The Advent Book

Every night during December, our family looks together at the Advent Book. It's written and illustrated by Jack and Kathy Stockman, friends of Krista's mom, and it's an amazing book. We love it, our kids love it, there's love all around.

Every day there's a different lavishly illustrated door to open, and inside is part of the Christmas story. It's a fun way to celebrate.

If you'd like to order the book you can do it here. Jack and Kathy will even sign the book! You can see more pictures of the Advent book here. Enjoy!

Humbly yours

I just finished my Hebrew final, which has left my brain feeling like it just had the biggest Slurpee Freeze of all time. It wasn't as bad as when I was learning a certain East Asian language... I actually looked at the questions I couldn't answer and said, "I know that's in my brain somewhere." I just couldn't shake it all out.

In other news, I've officially lost the Court TV crime writer of the future writing contest. Even worse, all the novels that are up for the final award actually sound better and are better written than mine. So I can't pretend it was lost in the mail or something. Go check it out, you can vote for the winner.

Special thanks to Rob, Alexis, Ken, Chris, Carolyn, Adam, Dan and Krista for reading my swill.

Now. Has someone been praying that I will get humility? You can be honest. It's working. I feel humble, sufficiently humble. You can stop praying now.

hard at work

FYI-- This Monday morning is my big Hebrew final. I need to be working hard at studying this weekend. So you shouldn't see any more posts from me this weekend. If you do, you ought to send me mean notes, comments or guilt-inducing phone calls.

I will post something meaningful, beautiful and/or hilarious in the week following.

Or, failing that, I will write all the regular junk I write.

hoo boy

I took an internet quiz tonight. It purported to tell me "What kind of American accent" I have. The answer to which--having grown up in California--I assumed would be "Golden, perfect Accent. You speak like a movie star. You are easily understood by all people, for your vowels are round and lovely and your consonants clear and crisp."

Instead, I got this. "You are 24% perfect as a girlfriend." I need to give him more room to "breath."

You can have all the room you want to "breath", buster. I'm a married man. And I have a perfect accent, which we all know is a rare commodity. Okay, okay. Maybe I am proving the point. I would be an awful girlfriend. With a lovely reading voice.

Special note to Larissa, if she's out there somewhere: I know I don't say "water" right. But we're talking about American accents, not British accents.

T-M Baird, Poet Laureate of Ohio

T-M Baird is a graduate of Whitman College and the University of San Francisco, where she recently finished her MFA. Much of her life thus far has been spent traveling, hiking, and reading. In particular, she loves chasing around dead poets throughout the UK. Her work has appeared in"Void," "Switchback," and "Blue Moon."

Ms. Baird is very excited about her new appointment as Ohio's poet laureate.A lifelong fan of 19th-century Romanticism, Baird sees a lot of poeticpotential in the state of Ohio, which so beautifully embodies Wordsworth'snotion of the rural life, where "the essential passions of the heart find abetter soil in which to attain their maturity." She will be keeping an eyeout for new poetry coming out of that state, which is only a hop, skip and a jump from where she was born in Minnesota. T-M Baird currently lives in Corvallis, Oregon.

Our distinguished judges enjoyed all three of the poems that Ms. Baird sent in, but particularly fell in love with the last three lines of the poem below, "The Flock." If you would like to see more of Ms. Baird's work, take a look at the on-line magazine Switchback.

The Flock by T-M Baird, Poet Laureate of Ohio

There they sat, flat on silent feet,
unwittingly pastoral, stupidly sheep.
And as I approached,
not a fleece was flustered,
only grass stubble chewed—
what bland entertainment
that must make.
I settled along on shameless strides,
slow and even,as proscribed-
‘til a tingling-harsh collision thumped the back of my right side—
harump!—
and a step I skipped,
smacked by a woolly thing
that could have been a sock,
or a soft, hollow mitten,
had it not been for the head,
the brain behind those glaring eyes.

I knew my fear,
I held it out before me
like a vest my mother had worn in battle,
but would not put it on—
‘til he struck again,
left cheek this time, and I simply wandered on,
past the others, toward the fence,
dazed, to helplessly watch him pass-
the brute,
heavy with wool and haggis,
standing fixed on a narrow path, from which he would not budge,
would not be bullied or begged away.

No, he will make his stocky way whichever way he please,
will clobber any passing biped, who so easily sees him coming,
hurtling toward her
like a ridiculous stuffed toy.
And she may laugh, but she cannot run,
for fear
of scattering panic over a quiet
close-trimmed field.

Figgy Pudding

I think it's important that I share some tips to having a Christmas that is better than that of everyone else around you. It's important that you know how, for instance, to make figgy pudding. So, here's a recipe for you. Maybe next week I will take you all a'wassailing or teach you all the words to "Good King Wenceslas". If someboday makes this be sure to tell me so that I can grill you for details.

NOTES: You can brown the butter and make the hard sauce up to 3 days ahead; cover separately and chill, then bring hard sauce to room temperature before serving. You can make the pudding up to 1 day ahead; cool, cover, and store at room temperature.

PREP AND COOK TIME: About 1 1/2 hours, plus 2 1/2 hours to chill and cool

1 1/4 cups butter
1 pound dried Mission figs, stemmed
3 tablespoons brandy
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
Powdered sugar
Brown-butter hard sauce (recipe follows)

1. In a 2- to 3-quart pan over medium-high heat, melt butter. Stir often until butter is deep golden brown with darker brown flecks, 5 to 8 minutes (if butter foams up in pan, remove from heat briefly until foaming subsides). Pour butter into a 1-cup glass measure; chill until solid, about 1 1/2 hours.
2. Meanwhile, in a bowl, combine figs, brandy, and 1 cup boiling water. Soak until figs have softened, about 30 minutes. Lift 1/2 cup figs from bowl and coarsely chop. Pour remainder, with soaking liquid, into a blender or food processor and whirl until smooth.

3. Scoop 1/2 cup solidified brown butter into a large bowl (bring to room temperature if necessary before using; reserve remainder for brown-butter hard sauce). With a mixer at medium speed, beat butter with granulated sugar until well combined. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add puréed figs and beat until smooth.

4. Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt and beat at low speed until smooth, scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Stir in chopped figs.

5. Scrape batter into a buttered 11-cup bundt pan; cover tightly with foil and secure with a rubber band. Place pudding in a 12- by 17-inch baking pan and set on bottom rack of a 350° oven. Carefully pour 2 inches boiling water around bundt pan, then cover entire baking pan with foil.

6. Bake until pudding feels firm to touch (peel back foil to check) and a wooden skewer inserted in the center comes out clean, about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes, then invert bundt pan over a plate to unmold pudding. Let cool until barely warm, then sprinkle with powdered sugar. Cut into slices and serve with brown-butter hard sauce.

Per serving with about 2 tablespoons of brown-butter hard sauce: 445 cal., 30% from fat; 6.6 g protein; 15 g fat (8.5 g sat.); 75 g carbo (5.9 g fiber); 363 mg sodium; 113 mg chol.

Brown-butter hard sauce. In a bowl, with an electric mixer on medium speed, beat reserved solid brown butter from brown-butter figgy pudding (recipe precedes) until smooth. Add 1 cup powdered sugar and beat on low speed until well combined. Add 1 tablespoon brandy and 1 teaspoon vanilla; beat on high speed until light and fluffy, 3 to 5 minutes. Spoon into a bowl; serve at room temperature, or cover and chill up to 3 days. Bring to room temperature and beat again to restore texture before serving. Makes about 1 1/4 cups.

Per tablespoon: 66 cal., 62% from fat; 0 g protein; 4.6 g fat (2.9 g sat.); 6 g carbo (0 g fiber); 47 mg sodium; 12 mg chol.

Yield: Makes 6 to 8 servings


Sunset, DECEMBER 2004

Christmas Poll

Question: When is the last time that you refused to leave your friend's house unless they provided you with "figgy pudding"?

a) Never
b) Just last week
c) If you had my friend's figgy pudding you would understand

Eva Ting, Poet Laureate of Massachusetts

Eva Ting is an Asian-American who's residing back in the motherland. She lives in a bustling city and splits her time between two jobs: working at an art gallery and starting up an NGO consulting company. Yes, the two jobs seem utterly unrelated, but....well, anyway.

When she's not working, Eva can be found dancing, watching movies, doing yoga, cooking food and/or eating food, drinking coffee (especially between the hours of 7 and 10 am), hosting parties, writing on her blog, reading friends' blogs (including this one!), googling random trivia, and just hanging with friends, usually involving loud laughter. The last book that she read and totally loved was Oracle Bones by Peter Hessler and the last movie that she watched and totally loved was "Nacho Libre." Eva has ambitions to save the world, or at least help fix the broken parts one bit at a time.

Eva studied English and journalism in college and her poetry writing has mostly been in the form of class assignments or silly rhymes for friends' weddings. This particular poem was written in college and refers to attending her grandmother's funeral in Taiwan. Eva hasn't fully developed her plan to cause poetry to flower in the glorious state of Massachusetts, but she's pretty sure it will involve a coalition of fellow poet laureates, blimps and possibly pyrotechnics.

You can visit Eva at her blog. Or the local Krispy Kreme.

Open Casket by Eva Ting, Poet Laureate of Massachusetts

A funeral summons me an ocean away:
My grandmother's face, complacent,
a foreign sight to my stranger's eyes.
Heavy incense drowning me in sweetness,
perfume of my past.
I remember sitting in my grandmother's lap
her stories of tricky rabbits
who outsmarted wolves,
filial children who walked barefoot
through blizzards
to find turnips for their hungry parents.
My grandmother's voice was raspy,
fuzzy sandpaper
surprisingly soothing
with the soft cadence of her island dialect.
I remember
celebrating birthdays
with cakes as big and round as a harvest moon,
the frosting clinging to my nose,
my grandmother beaming
and the light from the candles bouncing
off the fillings of her teeth.
I remember
my grandma visiting us in America,
the lines of her face weathered,
her voice hoarse,
her sentences broken,
the melody interrupted by a stroke.
She disrupted my life.
Her solid shadow could darken a room.
That smell of tiger balm and
mothballs she carried.
She sat in a dark room, alone,
eyes fixed on the television screen.
Out of wet eye corners,
she watched my brother and I talk,
so quiet we forgot she was there.
She loved sitting in our yard
as the day slipped into dusk:
the birds warbling,
her toes digging in the grass,
the blades tickling feet,
a hiccup of laughter
from the small woman in the lawn chair.
I remember
watching her figure
grow dim in the fading light,
catching her eye and seeing her shiny teeth,
Knowing her smile would linger
as everything else grew dark.


Originally published in "Clarion", the literrary magazine at Boston University.

A Prayer For Burgerville

When employees at a fast food place mess up, you don’t get an apology as such. But there is a lot of praying. For instance, today my cheeseburger arrived and I noticed that the cheese hadn’t melted, which I thought was strange. So I took a closer look and discovered that the employees had forgotten to put a hamburger patty on the bun. That’s right, they gave me a cheese sandwich. Here is the response of the cashier…

Cashier: OH MY GOD, I’m sorry.

He took it back to the cook.

Cashier: Someone forgot to put the burger on this cheeseburger.

Cook: Oh my God! Sorry about that.

I hope he forgave them. It seemed like an honest mistake.

Michelle Lawrence, Poet Laureate of Arizona

Michelle Lawrence lives in Tempe, Az where she studies graphic design and journalism in the morning, is an Arts Reporter in the afternoon, and plays the djembe at night (amongst other things). All times in between she writes, takes photographs, paints and is endlessly creating. Some may call her a jack-of-all-trades, but she prefers to becalled Michelle, M, Elle, or Shelby Turtle. Well O.K, mostly justMichelle or M.

She is working on a book of poems called Paper Lions, and encourages anyone with publishing capabilities and a thirst for words to contact her. She is also working on a yet-to-be-titled novel based on the theme of anti-utopia. M has been known to say "Poetry is like windows to worlds that doors keep locked, everyone has the key...if they can find it". Grateful for the honor of poet laureate, silently and sometimes not so silently she jumps for joy.

Ms. Lawrence plans the flowering of poetry in Arizona by throwing seeds into the desert, reciting poetry from the mountain tops, and encouraging people of all ages to get in touch with their inner muse by way of P.E.E.L - Poetry Encouraging an Enriched Life. Peel back the layers people, find your key!! Her muse is inspired by the crossfire between her senses and brain, daydreams, night dreams, the forces of nature, her real and unreal past, present and future,and people; especiallyG.J.M.

Her poetry and artwork have appeared in several on-line zines. To read more of her words poetic, please visit http://channelgreen.zaadz.com/blog.

Down Reflection by Michelle Lawrence, Poet Laureate of Arizona

Tiny vessels. Daffodils, yellow and wilting. I clamor and shiver now,
thinking of holding those empty cups. I remember the broken violin
lying under piles of clothes, stepped upon and held in a bed of
symbolic tears. A bed that savagely kissed my forehead and said
goodbye.
Weeping never did me any good. Nor signing that piece of paper, nor the
magistrate who condoned giving my youth away, who mistook defiance for
love. So it was sanity caught behind caution tape and blinking lights.
Once I was living with rusty tin and flowers in my hair, put there by a
mother not my own. I was a trembling child in a cloud that could only
rain.

Alexis Youngs, Poet Laureate of Washington

Miss Youngs doesn't know anything about poetry. She doesn't really 'get it,' you might say. She has some friends who might be considered real poets, and the only names that ever come to mind that can really be counted as famous poets whom she has read and greatly enjoyed are Shel Silverstein and Gerard Manley Hopkins. But she promises to seriously investigate the wild and wonderful world of poetry post-haste.

Other things about Miss Youngs: She likes doing dishes but hates cleaning floors, has been held up at gunpoint, has performed at the KennedyCenter, smoked her first cigarette while on the mission field and was coached in this (yes, coaching was necessary) by other – younger, cooler – missionaries, considers people between the ages of 2.5 and 8 to be among her favorites, and is the worst procrastinator known to mankind.

She would like to be, in the borrowed words of a friend, "brave enough to look squarely into the wild eyes of reality and let the frustrating inexorability of it all sink deep into her soul."

Miss Young's poem "I Used To Love My State Of Origin, But Now I Have My Doubts" brings child-like wonder (and condemnation) to the state that so closely mirrors the feelings of our judges that we were forced to choose her poem, if only to highlight our own ambivalent love affair with our adopted state.

Miss Youngs would also like to make it absolutely clear that the bruise she is sporting in the picture (above) was not received while playing a game of tag, which would be completely illegal. You can see more of Miss Young's thoughts, poetry and writings at alexisyoungs.blogspot.com.