<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523</id><updated>2011-08-02T16:01:15.210-07:00</updated><category term='Holidays'/><category term='Cold Sassy Tree'/><category term='Quotes'/><category term='children'/><category term='radio'/><category term='stephen king'/><category term='little house'/><category term='Grandma'/><category term='Family'/><category term='politics'/><category term='heaven'/><category term='Miriam'/><category term='Annie'/><category term='Words'/><category term='David Copperfield'/><category term='Uncle Huey'/><category term='sharon'/><category term='Grisham'/><category term='Rebecca'/><category term='Dickens'/><category term='Bible'/><category term='Jack Benny'/><category term='Food'/><category term='Star Wars'/><category term='Writing'/><category term='Ken Follett'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='Steinbeck'/><category term='Boundary Stones'/><category term='Great Expectations'/><category term='susie'/><category term='Theology'/><category term='Books'/><title type='text'>Dickens' Porch</title><subtitle type='html'>Dickens Porch is the place to come to talk about books; novels, biography, commentaries -- and THE BOOK.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>62</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1967305815243102327</id><published>2010-04-20T23:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T23:50:35.124-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='susie'/><title type='text'>Susie's Friend</title><content type='html'>Susie has a little friend named Katie.  They are bestest buds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we were doing errands, driving to the bank, Walmart, so on.  As I waited in the car at one stop, Susie announced, "Daddy, I don't like you!" &lt;br /&gt;Wow, what could I have done?  "Why don't you like me?"&lt;br /&gt;"I like Katie."&lt;br /&gt;Oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca got in the car.&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I don't like you!"&lt;br /&gt;Rebecca was crushed.  "What?!  You don't like me?"&lt;br /&gt;"No."&lt;br /&gt;"Why?"&lt;br /&gt;"Because I like Katie."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1967305815243102327?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1967305815243102327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1967305815243102327' title='28 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1967305815243102327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1967305815243102327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2010/04/susies-friend.html' title='Susie&apos;s Friend'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>28</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-2373980981235435343</id><published>2010-04-03T23:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T23:44:11.125-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>First Fruits</title><content type='html'>The celebration of firstfruits was a agracultural feast in the Old Testament.  The day after the sabbath after the Passover (track that) the people would bring a portion of their first fruits as a offering to the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Speak to the Israelites and say to them: 'When you enter the land I am going to give you and you reap its harvest, bring to the priest a sheaf of the&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; first grain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; you harvest. 11 He is to &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wave the sheaf before the LORD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; so it will be accepted on your behalf; the priest is to wave it&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;on the day after the Sabbath&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. 12 On the day you wave the sheaf, you must sacrifice as a burnt offering to the LORD a lamb a year old without defect, 13 together with its grain offering of two-tenths of an ephah of fine flour mixed with oil — an offering made to the LORD by fire, a pleasing aroma — and its drink offering of a quarter of a hin of wine. 14 You must not eat any bread, or roasted or new grain, until the very day you bring this offering to your God. &lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is to be a lasting ordinance for the generations to come&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, wherever you live." lev. 23:10-14&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a symbol of what Christ did for us.  It was performed after the Passover, specifically the "day after the Sabbath."  that's Sunday.  And the Sunday after Passover, Christ rose from the grave.  Easter, more appropriately Resurrection Sunday, takes place on the feast of first fruits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When grain is brought, it is worth noting that the priest takes the firstfruits and raises it up, jsuta s Christ was raised from the dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul understood this, and noted: "But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;." 1 Cor. 15:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These past couple years our family has given up the bunny and easter candy.  Instead we're doing "First Fruits Baskets."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-2373980981235435343?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/2373980981235435343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=2373980981235435343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2373980981235435343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2373980981235435343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2010/04/first-fruits.html' title='First Fruits'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-9220981523725017112</id><published>2010-02-22T12:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T12:51:13.812-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma'/><title type='text'>Grandma and Computers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/S4LrOo5V0xI/AAAAAAAABMA/nkBjnUTz5Tg/s1600-h/CIMG4153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441169936545600274" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/S4LrOo5V0xI/AAAAAAAABMA/nkBjnUTz5Tg/s320/CIMG4153.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My grandma went to heaven recently, and I found myself digging through my emails for those she had sent me. I had to go into a massive file of "sent" messages -- but there were many saved there between me and her. Mostly just the chatter of life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is funny, though. My grandma always read my blog; and everyone elses. She called them "bogs." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, she sent me an email that said: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"So sorry to hear that you have had such a bad week David. I always keep&gt; your family in my prayers. Just wanted you to know am always interested&gt; in the good and bad things that happen in your life so if you ever feel&gt; like talking I will listen and never repeat anything that you do not want&gt; repeated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Just remember God is still on his throne and he to is willing to listen&gt; to all our prayers. May God Bless you ALL during this hard time!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;HUH? Here's what's funny. .&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; . she had read the WRONG BLOG&lt;/span&gt;! And the result was that I got this beaitufl, concerned email from my Grandma. she was almost hurt that I hadn't called to tell ehr about this bad week. . . one I hadn't had because she was reading the wrong blog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found myself touched by an email I was reading and almost hit reply to tell her much it meant to me. . . then like cold water reality stuck me: I can't hit reply. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-9220981523725017112?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/9220981523725017112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=9220981523725017112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/9220981523725017112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/9220981523725017112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2010/02/grandma-and-computers.html' title='Grandma and Computers'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/S4LrOo5V0xI/AAAAAAAABMA/nkBjnUTz5Tg/s72-c/CIMG4153.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-7747612634775044379</id><published>2009-12-22T02:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T02:23:30.358-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>D.C. Squyres</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SzCeG9ClKuI/AAAAAAAABGA/76SdK01ZWfY/s1600-h/Dewey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 162px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418004194028497634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SzCeG9ClKuI/AAAAAAAABGA/76SdK01ZWfY/s400/Dewey.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a picture of my grandpa Squyres. My sister and I called him papa. It is an unusual picture because he is smiling. He came froma generation that seemed to think similing wasn't cool. Nor would they have said cool!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;D.C. was a pastor with a pastors heart. I only knew him as a very old man, since my father had been born late in life. I lived with him and Grandma in 1994 when I was the associate pastor at Lake Elsinore. I also lived with my Grandma Gardner until 1995 when I got married. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandpa read all of my sermon notes, usually simply with encouragement, but sometimes with correction. I remember him explaining that Lot was not an evil man, but that he "vixed his righteous soul" over the condition of Sodom. On Sunday nights when I would come home discouraged and tired, totally drained, he would sit next to me and encourage me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was almost completely deaf. But I have a voice that he could hear. We often stayed up late talking Bible and church. He never tired of either subject. Once, when a man got angry and left the church, the next Sunday papa said, "Well, what do ya know, we just went on and had church without ole Larry! He didn't think we could do that, but we sure did!" Funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the church wanted to put chairs in the sanctuary and get rid of the pews, I got a note from the head usher that said my grandpa wanted to address the congregation at the end of service. i was nervous, but young pastors don't refuse their grandpa. papa said, "You know, they voted to put chairs in this sanctuary! I'm against it! But I wasn't there to vote -- and my church voted to do this. So, what my church votes to do, I do with them. I'm a part of this church. So I guess my church outvoted me... and I'm not agianst it... I'm for it." He then gave the first $500 to the new chairs. It was a lesson in unity over personal opinions I will not forget.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He loved my grandma deeply. He loved to go back to Oklahoma, even in his elder years, and would leave her home. Once when he was supposed to be gone several weeks, I came in to check on Grandma to discover papa home after only a short time. There they sat, holding hands! "What are you doing home?" I demanded. "Well, Fay sounded sad when I talked to her. And I decided, I'm a grown man, I can go home and be with my wife if I want to. So here I am."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-7747612634775044379?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/7747612634775044379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=7747612634775044379' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7747612634775044379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7747612634775044379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/12/dc-squyres.html' title='D.C. Squyres'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SzCeG9ClKuI/AAAAAAAABGA/76SdK01ZWfY/s72-c/Dewey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8687897244364680136</id><published>2009-10-10T18:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T20:53:54.440-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Annie!</title><content type='html'>Today Annie is 7 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Annie, I remember when your first birthday ever! Were you there?"&lt;br /&gt;Annie: "Yes, I was there."&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: "Do you remember it?"&lt;br /&gt;Annie: "No."&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: "Well then how do you know you were thre?"&lt;br /&gt;Annie is stumped for a while on this. Finally responds, "BecauseI'm ME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Often I say to the girls, "I feel so sorry for. . . " (Name anyone)  "I feel so sorry for Mr. Rex."&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you feel sorry for Mr. Rex?"&lt;br /&gt;"Because he doesn't have an Annie."  (Sharon, Susie, Miriam... depending on the kiddo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a "webkins birthday party" at the park.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8687897244364680136?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8687897244364680136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8687897244364680136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8687897244364680136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8687897244364680136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/10/happy-birthday-annie.html' title='Happy Birthday Annie!'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6437099093039652801</id><published>2009-10-05T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T15:00:04.990-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='susie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>tabernacles</title><content type='html'>After an exhausting weekend, I came home only to realize. . . it was only Friday!  Still had 2 major church projects to do: A seminar and a bike race breakfast -- plus both Sunday services.  And, my daughters quickly reminded me that I had promised we would celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles.  Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So up went the tent.  Acutally, Rebecca did a lot of it because she reads directions.  I cleared ground and followed her directions.  With the tent up, I and the girls went in to celebrate tabernacles.  I tried to tell them the story of the Exodus... WHAM!  Susie began to jump on us all.  I tried to stop her, but she was so wound up to be in the tent that it was pretty hopeless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited for Susie's bed time to make attempt #2.  Out we went.  Only to discover the dog and found the tend and had been leaping on it.  See, when the Hebrews did this, I don't think they had to worry about their sheep jumping on the tent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I got to share the Exodus story.  I was exhausted from car problems and the previous 2 days.  I started to fall asleep, only to discover that even though I pitched the tent on what I thought was soft ground, it was very, very, very hard!  Within minutes the arm I was using as a pellow felt broken.  No way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAM!  The dog was jumping on the tent again.&lt;br /&gt;I numbly woke up, vaguely aware that Annie was letting the dog into the tent. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trading the dog in for a sheep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6437099093039652801?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6437099093039652801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6437099093039652801' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6437099093039652801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6437099093039652801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/10/tabernacles.html' title='tabernacles'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-2081651186523366533</id><published>2009-10-03T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T23:23:58.870-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma'/><title type='text'>Grandma</title><content type='html'>This Thursday my grandma had a birthday. She was born in 1924. Calvin Cooledge was president of the United States.  I meant to post a blog on Thursday -- but I had to take a Palm Springs vacation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here are some notes. I'm just putting everything in lists to remind me to flesh it out later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, she bought me my first car. Seriously, I was four. Okay, it was a pedal car, but I wanted it -- and she made sure I got it! haha, everyone needs a grandma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Fun stories my Grandma told me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;About her dad's lumber yard. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Archies first day of school. He beat his parents back to the ouse. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The preacher who stayed with them during a revival. She opened the bathroom door, to see him on the pottie. "One at a time please," he said.&lt;br /&gt;Archi, 2 years old, chasing Nona 9 or 10 years old with a knife! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She remember the dust bowl and was a teenager when her famly joined thousands of others and came to California. Almost as if the Grapes of Wrath is about my family. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She says that as a child, her father kept some liquor near by if they got car sick. She liked the taste and kept announcing she was car sick. "You will be sick if you don't stop that," he said. I think thats funny! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She told us stories about her friend who's dad was an undertaker. The friend liked to sleep in coffin's. . . creepy. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She loves to tell about courting with Grandpa. His love for her is a wonderful example of Godiness and passion. He built the house for her, and she says he even mopped the floor with her. Literally. . . with her! &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grandpa was leaving and she asked for a kiss. He gave her a quick peck. "Hey, mister! When you kiss me, I want to feel it to my toes!" So he stood on her toes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Why Grandma's house was so much fun growing up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Last day of school, she took us to get ice cream. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. Always got to spend two long, wonderful weeks at her house each summer. This would include: Lots of free time, a trip or two to MacDonalds, flying kites, and maybe even the arcade at Castle Park.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. I always felt very calm at Grandma's house. As a kid, like now, I was probably pretty intense. But at her house, I sensed things moved at a different pace. I liked it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. She had domino's. I would spend hours setting them up in patterns to knock down. Also built cities for star wars men.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;5. Grandma would let us stay up very, very, very late. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;6. We would have sleep overs with my cousins. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;7. Branton was supposed to be asleep on the sofa. We were talking with Grandma and cutting up. Branton sat staright up, looked and grandma and said: "I'm not sleepy." Grandma said, "You lay down!" Branton fell straigt backward, dead asleep!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;8. She is a very, very good cook. When we were kis we loved the popcorn. When I lived with her during college, I came to love her mashed potatos and squash.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;9. At Grandma's house we were allowed to be very loud -- so long as we went outside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;10. She always made going to the mailbox feel like a big adventure. We always thought it was funny how much mail Roy Gardner got!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;11. She let us run through the sprinkler when watering the grass.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;12. She let us use old bark from the tree to make forts for our action figures.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;13. She told us all to calm down and go to bed. It is hard when four or five of us were in a bedroom to try and be quiet. But finally the giggeling died down. Only -- as the quiet settled in, someone pounded on the window. We all jumped up like death itself had come to eat us alive. It was only grandma at the window. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;14. I needed to visit grandma's house to "clean her dirty floor."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;15.There was always a lot of laughter growing up when we went to grandma's house. It was usually a pretty happy place.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;16. She had all the family pictures on a dresser.  when I would sleep in that room, I would turn all the pictures face down.  "What's wrong with you?" She asked.  "Well, I just feel like my aunt and her whole family are watching me get dressed."  She thought that was funny.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Best ChristmasChristmas was always spent at Grandma's house.&lt;/span&gt; The best was the year I collected up all my presents sat in a corner by the door. While everyone else took turns opening presents, I opened all mine by myself. Quickly shoved clothes and other no-fun gifts aside and began getting into the star wars toys. It took quite a whilebefore someone said, "Hey! David already opened all his gifts and is playing with them!" ahhh, wonderful.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I also remember a Christmas at Grandma's house in which we awoke to findt hat Santa had brought us a Disneyland Castle. I was little, so I don't remember many details.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Funny things my grandma does:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. She calls my BLOG a BOG. That makes me laugh every time. I hope she never stops.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2. She knew she was going to have a heart attack, she could feel it coming on -- so she took a shower so she'd smell nice at the emergency room. Only my grandma would do that!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. I got a toy gun when I was a child. I was very happyily playing cowboys -- when my grandma told me not to pretend to shoot people. I needed to pretend to shoot snakes. I don't think she understood the point of having a toy cap gun.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;4. She goes outside and yells at the crows to chase them away. What a wonderful morning, to wake up to Grandma outside the window yelling: "KA! KA!" hehe5. She stays up really late. And sleeps late. I like that!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A few more notes:&lt;br /&gt;She read all of my stories and books -- no matter how bad they were.&lt;br /&gt;She's good at email. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;She makes this marshmellow dish that I can't describe, but it's good. Really good. I want some now. I wish I knew what it was. . . I better email her. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, ya'all, feel free to add to my notes. I'm just getting started. If you want, I can add your comments to my listing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-2081651186523366533?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/2081651186523366533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=2081651186523366533' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2081651186523366533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2081651186523366533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/10/grandma.html' title='Grandma'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-285526102288712134</id><published>2009-10-02T23:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T23:33:29.271-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rebecca'/><title type='text'>Palm Springs Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Ssbvu6aVSUI/AAAAAAAAAx4/D7VOKhb3WSg/s1600-h/palm+springs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388257593428101442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 350px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Ssbvu6aVSUI/AAAAAAAAAx4/D7VOKhb3WSg/s400/palm+springs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebecca and I took a Palm Springs vacation this weekend. Stayed at the Fairfield Inn last night and ate at Rubios for lunch. Had a nice time at the mall. Great vacation, except. . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;We weren't really there on a vacation. We dropped Becca's daddy at a sleep disorder test and then headed out to dinner. A bus was beside us, very noisy. A block later Rebecca said, "Wow, that bus is loud!" But. . . the bus had gone on. "Baby, that's not the busy, that's us!" I said. A loud squeel. Soon the battery light came on, and I knew it was the alternator.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we pulled into a Wallgreens and parked under a light. We ate dinner at Carels Junior and talked through our options. The kids were safe with Becca's mom, so we just had to figure out what to do in the middle of the night. Finally we chose to get some supplies at Wallgreens and walk to a hotel. Good choice! Actually, we had a nice time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, I'm now about $600 further in debt due to car repairs -- but now have new tires and and the alternator won't go out for a while. We wereboth srurprised at what a nice time we had for a really bad situation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Interesting, Rebecca and I both had bad dreams this week regarding the car.  She dreamed someone gutted it.  I dreamed I sold it in a really bad deal that jeapordized our family.  In reality, what happened turned out to be God looking out for us all the way.  Of course, it irritated me when Rebecca pointed out God's goodness in this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-285526102288712134?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/285526102288712134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=285526102288712134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/285526102288712134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/285526102288712134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/10/palm-springs-vacation.html' title='Palm Springs Vacation'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Ssbvu6aVSUI/AAAAAAAAAx4/D7VOKhb3WSg/s72-c/palm+springs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-46693738583049358</id><published>2009-09-19T23:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T23:51:11.504-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing'/><title type='text'>Cursive Writing Is Out!</title><content type='html'>MSN has an article stating the cursive writing is a fading skill, "but so what?" they ask.  That's what I was asking all the way through 2 and 3 grade! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Schools are now focusing on computer skills.  I've noticed I get less and less notes written in handwriting.  Most people print.  And I read a lot of hand written notes (50+ a week -- prayers cards and so on).  The article states: "Handwriting is increasingly something people do only when they need to make a note to themselves rather than communicate with others."  I think that's bascially true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I'm excited by this because I am a very fast typist -- but I cannot write in cursive.  I thought it was pointless while I was in school, and quickly reverted to printing as soon as possible.  Why bother to connect all those words?  It only made the words harder to read, and didn't speed anything up for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, can we talk about: Multiplication?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-46693738583049358?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/46693738583049358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=46693738583049358' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/46693738583049358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/46693738583049358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/09/cursive-writing-is-out.html' title='Cursive Writing Is Out!'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1036342503647113878</id><published>2009-09-18T18:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T18:24:24.968-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Happy New Year -- Rosh Hashanah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SrQya_iQfVI/AAAAAAAAAtU/8QXrVlxiJLU/s1600-h/holiday_rosh_hashanah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382982893927693650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SrQya_iQfVI/AAAAAAAAAtU/8QXrVlxiJLU/s400/holiday_rosh_hashanah.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight our family is celebrating Rosh Hashanah. This is the Jewish New Year and beginning of the fall festivals. We are particularly looking forward to Tabernacles, since it means sleeping in a tent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to Jewish tradition, &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;the following all happened on Tishri 1&lt;/span&gt; (today):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Adam and Eve were created.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The flood waters dried up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Enoch was taken by God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Sarah and Rachel conceived.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Joseph was freed from prison.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. The forced labor in Egypt ended.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Job contracted Leprosy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Start o scrifices on the altar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is called the feast of "trumpets" because the priest would stand outside the temple and blow the trumpet. The shofar represented a call to awaken the conscience.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Tonight we are eating:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Common chili -- that I've spiced up pretty good! We are not to eat anything bitter, so I put lots of Jelly and Cinnamon in my Chili to give it a sweet taste. (Jews sometimes cook fish with the head on -- but we're skipping that!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Lots of sweet fruits&lt;/span&gt; are to be served. Grapes and Apples dipped in honey. This represents the incredible sweetness that comes from our Heavenly Father.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Rasin Bread&lt;/span&gt; represents the desire of a sweet and full year of God's blessing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Carrots.&lt;/span&gt; The Hebrew word for Carrots is "increase" so this is a symbol of God's increase throughout the next year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the end of the night we say: "May you be inscribed and sealed for a new year."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Acording to: A family Guide to Biblical Holidays, by Robin Scarlata and Linda Pierce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;there are 10 reasons for the rams horn:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Rash Hashanah marks the beginning of creation. Kings have trumpets and horns that blow when their reign begins. God has reigned since the beginning of the world. The sofar is blown to show God's total kingship.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Since Rosh Hashanah is the first of the ten days of Teshuvah the rams horn is blown to announce their beginning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. To remind us of our stand at the food of Mt. Sinai, in Ex. 19:19&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. To remind us of the words of the Prophets, compared to a rams horn in Ezk. 33:4-5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. To remind us of the destruction of the temple and the battle alarms of the foe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. To remind us of the binding of Isaac (the Ram in his place)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. When we hear the Rams horn we fear and tremble and bend our wills to the creator. (Amos 3:6)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. To remind us of the Great Day Of Judgment. Zeph. 1:14-16&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. To remind us of the gathering of the dispersed of Israel. Isa. 27:13 They have been called back together, as the Prophets foretold.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. To remind us of the revival of the dead. Isa. 18:3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. To remind us that the coming of the Lord Jesus will be with the Rams Horn. 1 Thes. 4:16&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The guest are comming! The kids have decorated their trumpets. This is going to be fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1036342503647113878?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1036342503647113878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1036342503647113878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1036342503647113878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1036342503647113878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-new-year-rosh-hashanah.html' title='Happy New Year -- Rosh Hashanah'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SrQya_iQfVI/AAAAAAAAAtU/8QXrVlxiJLU/s72-c/holiday_rosh_hashanah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5888778353374941858</id><published>2009-09-15T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T09:19:44.317-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><title type='text'>Sharon's Speech</title><content type='html'>Sharon is running for student cuncil.  This is the speech she is giving today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello friends,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the game of tag. In fact, I like the game of tag a lot! I think we should be allowed to play tag at school. We kids know that tag is a great game! But we need someone to tell the adults how we really feel. If I am elected to student council, I will speak up on this issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helping others is something I love to do. Someday I want to be mayor and maybe even governor. So voting for me would get me started toward those goals. I also hope to someday be a marine biologist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things I"d like to get done:&lt;br /&gt;1. Discuss having tag again on the playground.&lt;br /&gt;2. Work to make our campus beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;3. Help anyone having trouble with school work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will try and listen to you and understand what is important to you – but I hope you’ll have to catch up with me – I’ll be playing tag!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vote for me, Sharon "Speedy" Squyres&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5888778353374941858?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5888778353374941858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5888778353374941858' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5888778353374941858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5888778353374941858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/09/sharons-speech.html' title='Sharon&apos;s Speech'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8361373724217253744</id><published>2009-09-10T01:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T02:04:15.568-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><title type='text'>Truth Be Told. . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SqjA23b8N3I/AAAAAAAAArM/HruSypgbQ_Q/s1600-h/tic+tac.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379761803720669042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 387px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SqjA23b8N3I/AAAAAAAAArM/HruSypgbQ_Q/s400/tic+tac.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After mid-week church our family stopped at Rite Aid. This is a big trip in 29 Palms. Well, not really. Becca and the little ones stayed in the car, while I and the two older ones ran in for 3 things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ice Cream (for them) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chocolate Mac.nuts (for us)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;and toothpaste. (for me)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This was a serious trip!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As I got in line I said to Sharon, "This is a MAN trip! Only a man could go in the store and buy the 3 things he went in for and resist all other temptations."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She eyed me for a moment, "That's not true, dad. That's a lie! You also are buying orange Tic Tacs."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;What?!!! I quickly explained that items purchased at the counter don't count as part of shopping, since they don't take extra time. She did not believe me. I felt my integrity was on the line. I could either put back the orange tic tacs or not claim that only a man could accomplish this feat. Or. . . I could brag outside my daugthers hearing. . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8361373724217253744?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8361373724217253744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8361373724217253744' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8361373724217253744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8361373724217253744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/09/truth-be-told.html' title='Truth Be Told. . .'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SqjA23b8N3I/AAAAAAAAArM/HruSypgbQ_Q/s72-c/tic+tac.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3798814518223414123</id><published>2009-08-31T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T16:06:09.661-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><title type='text'>Sharon's Sabbath Testimony</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SpxXOy9I8XI/AAAAAAAAAqs/QJjY-b6Jynk/s1600-h/2008+pics+077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376267966881526130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SpxXOy9I8XI/AAAAAAAAAqs/QJjY-b6Jynk/s400/2008+pics+077.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday I preached on commandment #4, keep the Sabbath day holy. It is interesting that believers are never commanded to worship only on Sabbath, but like New Testament believers, those in the Old Testament were free to worship on any day. The commandment addressed work, not worship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family tries to keep Sabbath as a day for family and friends. Sharon gave the testimony yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Hi, my name is Sharon Squyres.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every weekend our family tries to celebrate the Sabbath. I like Sabbath because our work is done and we can have fun sleep overs and play games. A lot of times we make bread and set the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This is a time for our family to enjoy one another. It starts on Friday night when we eat a meal together. Usually my sister Annie gets up from the table and says, "Let’s get this party started!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Then my dad blesses us. First he says a prayer for us girls, and then a prayer for our mom. My mom sometimes prays a prayer for my dad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we look at the symbols on the table. The bread is covered, which reminds us of the dew of the ground. The bread reminds us of Jesus’ body. Dad or I usually say a prayer over the bread that goes like this: "Blessed art thou, O Lord Our God, King of the universe, who gives us the bread of the earth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The juice reminds us of Jesus’ blood. In Jewish thinking it is a symbol of joy. The prayer for the juice is: "Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, king of the universe, who gives us the fruit of the vine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some fun things we do on Shabbat night. Often we have friends over and play games. I like Apples to Apples and Scagattories. I can usually beat my dad at Apples to Appls. He is a sore looser. He makes faces when he loses and pretends to pout. It’s okay if I tell you that, because he talks about me all the time in his sermons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;A lot of times during dinner we talk about the Bible. We have learned about Sarah and Rachel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Another thing we do is have Daddy club. It’s a lot of fun, but you can’t come to this club because you’re not a member of the daddy club. You’ll have to do it with your own dad or mom. At daddy club we tell stories and act silly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for listening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3798814518223414123?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3798814518223414123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3798814518223414123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3798814518223414123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3798814518223414123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/08/sharons-sabbath-testimony.html' title='Sharon&apos;s Sabbath Testimony'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SpxXOy9I8XI/AAAAAAAAAqs/QJjY-b6Jynk/s72-c/2008+pics+077.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5404032092905370633</id><published>2009-08-23T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T15:29:39.443-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><title type='text'>Adrian Rogers Quotes</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;One of my favorite preachers is Dr. Adrian Rogers. Rogers was a leader in the conservative movement within the SBC and pastor of Bellevue Baptist Church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bumped into these quotes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;You cannot legislate the poor into prosperity by legislating the wealthy out of prosperity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;What one person receives without working for, another person must work forwithout receiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work becausethe other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to getwhat they work for, that my dear friend, is the beginning of the end of any nation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5404032092905370633?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5404032092905370633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5404032092905370633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5404032092905370633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5404032092905370633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/08/adrian-rogers-quotes.html' title='Adrian Rogers Quotes'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8755605779664098657</id><published>2009-08-19T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T12:06:53.974-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>The Name</title><content type='html'>Right on the heels of Next Food Network Star's conclusion, Top Chef is taking to airways from Vegas.  We really like food competition shows, but I must say, this year Top Chef is going to be a no-no in our house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?  For one thing, I'm tired of all the drama that Bravo seems to hype up.  It's not about cooking, it's about who likes and doesn't like who -- and who can backstab who.  But there's one more little thing worth mentioning: The use of The Name.  I'm getting pretty picky about this, because before I had kids, cursing really went right over me.  We don't curse, so I just figured it made people look stupid.  But Bravo has to bleep every other word out of their chef's mouths.  Can you cook good food when you have a potty in your mouth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just simple cursing.  The constant "Oh my God!" is over the top for us.  It's everywhere on TV, and I'm considering myself "out" on shows that do it.  No more tolerance.  We don't need to be entertained by people who fearlessly curse the Living God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This decision had meant that certain kids shows were out for our family as well.  I Carley and other Disney Channel programs see no problem with invoking The Name as a curse.  Perhaps instead of saying "Oh my God" Disney can take up saying "Oh My Mickey!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8755605779664098657?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8755605779664098657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8755605779664098657' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8755605779664098657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8755605779664098657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/08/name.html' title='The Name'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-2630876806310627825</id><published>2009-08-15T22:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T22:20:20.739-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Star Wars'/><title type='text'>Star Wars Christmas Special</title><content type='html'>Lucas might deny it's existance... but here it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXcb7VPw59s"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXcb7VPw59s&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-2630876806310627825?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/2630876806310627825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=2630876806310627825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2630876806310627825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2630876806310627825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/08/star-wars-christmas-special.html' title='Star Wars Christmas Special'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8813168648287524701</id><published>2009-08-08T00:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T01:10:05.351-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><title type='text'>1984 Movies</title><content type='html'>It was an interesting evening. We did our usual Shabbat and then I went to watch a movie with some friends. My friends wives came to my house and visited with Becca.  We guys watched. . . Red Dawn. It's great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Red Dawn came out at he height of the cold war. We actually beleived Russia might attack the American homeland. But as we guys talked, we noted that a lot of good movies came out in 1984. I remember the year well, mostly because of the Olympics (Sam the Eagle), and our family took a vacation to Missouri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here's some favorites and not-so favorites from 84:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A nightmare on elmstreet.&lt;/span&gt; I guess it all started there. But, I didn't see it, of course! I only heard legends on the playground about this incredibly evil movie. Later, when I did see bits of it, I thought: That's it? This is stupid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Amadeus.&lt;/span&gt; Now that's a good movie! Watched it recently and loved every bit o it. And, the soundtrack wasn't bad, either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Beverly Hills Cop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Children of the Corn.&lt;/span&gt; See comments on nightmare on elmstreet. . . didn't see it at the time, later wondered what all the fuss had been about. I guess it was a good year for horror films.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Dreamscape.&lt;/span&gt; My dad and I both enjoyed this movie later on video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Firestarter.&lt;/span&gt; I guess it was a good year for Stephen King. Although both children of the corn and firestarter were duds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ghostbusters.&lt;/span&gt; My kids still love that film. By the way, Ghostbusters was the top grossing film in 84, and it had some tough competition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Gremilns.&lt;/span&gt; This one was really big with us kids. Again, the stuff playground legend was made of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.&lt;/span&gt; Not a favorite of mine -- Harrison was better as Han Solo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Johnny Dangerously&lt;/span&gt;. All I remember is that my mom liked this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Karate Kid.&lt;/span&gt; I didn't like it then, don't like it now. . . but some people loved it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Last Star Fighter.&lt;/span&gt; Now that was wonderful scifi! I'm not sure it was commedy or supposed to be straight science fiction -- but it was good. Come on! Who can beat a story about a kid in a trailer park who beats a video game and is thus chosen by aliens to fight their galactic war. Okay, I guess there's no doubt it was commedy. I thought it was serious stuff at the time. Again, this one was watched on video over and over, I'm sure I didn't see it in theaters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Muppets Take Manhattan.&lt;/span&gt; Yep, kids still like that one, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Neverending Story.&lt;/span&gt; Personally, I don't like it. The title says it all to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Police Academy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;2010.&lt;/span&gt; Boring us once (2001) wasn't enough! No, Kubrick had to give us more spaceships and classical music. . . oh, and no action! Couldn't he have stolen some ideas from Lucas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Red Dawn.&lt;/span&gt; A true work of art! Charlie declared that it should be on anyone's top ten. I said maybe the top 50. I just noticed that there is a Red Dawn remake. With Russia gone, I guess Iran and North Korea will band together to land in the Colorado mountains and will be staved off by American Teens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Revenge of the Nerds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Romancing The Stone.&lt;/span&gt; Again, a video film for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Sixteen Candals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Star Trek Three.&lt;/span&gt; That's the one where spock comes back. We watched it on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Splash.&lt;/span&gt; Again, my daughters think this one is cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Supergirl.&lt;/span&gt; Watch only if forced to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Starman.&lt;/span&gt; Again, good stuff here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Terminator&lt;/span&gt;. That was back when people liked Arnie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;The Woman in Red.&lt;/span&gt; About a man who falls in lust but ends up running to his wie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;1984.&lt;/span&gt; This was like a visual rendering to Orwells classic -- almost every scene was put to screen. Dark, disturbing and very depressing -- it was a favorite of mine as a teen. I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IMBd lists over 6,000 movies for 1984 (including TV movies). I didn't know there were that many movies. . . ever! Still, when it comes to 80's movies, I think the year 1984 rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;A few movies I remembered being 1984 -- but weren't:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Christmas Story, 1983.&lt;br /&gt;National Lampoons Vacation, 1983.&lt;br /&gt;Return of the Jedi. 1983&lt;br /&gt;Farris Buellers Day Off, 1986&lt;br /&gt;Back to the Future, 1985&lt;br /&gt;The Princess Bride, 1987.  (Did anyone actually see Princess Bride in theaters?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also fun, a 1984 Disney booklet. &lt;a href="http://vintagedisneylandtickets.blogspot.com/2008/03/walt-disney-home-video-1984-poc-update.html"&gt;http://vintagedisneylandtickets.blogspot.com/2008/03/walt-disney-home-video-1984-poc-update.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8813168648287524701?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8813168648287524701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8813168648287524701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8813168648287524701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8813168648287524701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/08/1984-movies.html' title='1984 Movies'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8029693591261533369</id><published>2009-07-30T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T13:59:45.303-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><title type='text'>Charles Dickens Idiosecrecies 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SnIJpeqNCPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/pGku3BR14bY/s1600-h/charles-dickens-caricature.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364360714361047282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SnIJpeqNCPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/pGku3BR14bY/s400/charles-dickens-caricature.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bought a book called: "Secret Lives Of Great Authors." So while my friends are reading serious stuff, I'm pining away the hours reading tabliod trash about great authors. Wonderful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, what did the book say about Mr. Dickens? Oh, it's great!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Bob Cratchit may have had to work in dismal, cramped conditions, but not so his creator. Dickens was a compuslive rearranger who refused to write in any room if the tables and chairs weren't ordered just so. he had an uncanny ability to remember the precise location of every piece of furniture in any given room and he would spend hours reorganizing to suit his whims. When he was a gust at a private home or swaky hotel, his first task was to rearrange everything in his room to match his own interior plan. (Secret Lives Of Great Authors, p.41)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8029693591261533369?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8029693591261533369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8029693591261533369' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8029693591261533369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8029693591261533369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/07/charles-dickens-idiosecrecies-1.html' title='Charles Dickens Idiosecrecies 1'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SnIJpeqNCPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/pGku3BR14bY/s72-c/charles-dickens-caricature.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-53372611177146227</id><published>2009-07-24T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T23:11:46.900-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='susie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Favorite Disneyland Rides</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SmqiGEnvgiI/AAAAAAAAAlU/mAD0lE3QXp4/s1600-h/13imagine2_lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362276531541344802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SmqiGEnvgiI/AAAAAAAAAlU/mAD0lE3QXp4/s400/13imagine2_lg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to Disneyland this Summer. (so much for paying off all my debt last January!) i love riding Disney rides with my girls.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorties:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. space mountain. But the girls are a little shaky when they get off of this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Matterhorn. sharon's all time favorite. she dragged me through the park at 11:55 to get in line before the park closed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Pirates. good line, long ride, even some drops. great place to sleep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Haunted Mansion -- uh, no, the room is not stretching! stretching does not involve the creation of new matereal. But when those paintings stretch, simply more is revealed -- thus suggesting that something other than stretching is taking palce there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Finding Nemo sub ride. i was surprised I liked this. we hopped in line thinking the 45 minute wait warning was wrong -- it wasn't. but it was lots of fun! And, another "Long" ride. They kept telling me to "watch your head." that's impossible unless they provide a mirror (which they did not). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Mr. toads wild ride. (I like all the old rides)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Dumbo. this one is most fun with Susie, who laughs lots and likes to go HIGH! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. the Jungle Cruise. yes the jokes are lame, but my kids liked it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Honey I shrunk the audience. Nice, long, cool effects and air conditioned.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Blue Bayou. Yes, it is a restaurant, yes it does cost a fortune, but it's pretty neat to eat inside the pirates ride -- ONCE. then there's a nice jack in the box down the street.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bummers:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. storybook ride. First, at night it wouldn't hurt to turn some lights on. and it is kind of outdated -- like riding through a model train village with no scale.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Indiana jones. sharon loves this ride, but it jerks me around too much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. star tours. sorry again, I love star wars, but this just makes me dizzy. But again, the girls like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-53372611177146227?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/53372611177146227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=53372611177146227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/53372611177146227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/53372611177146227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/07/favorite-disneyland-rides.html' title='Favorite Disneyland Rides'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SmqiGEnvgiI/AAAAAAAAAlU/mAD0lE3QXp4/s72-c/13imagine2_lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6184542740460521180</id><published>2009-07-02T17:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T01:26:23.925-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Flowers, By Sharon Squyres</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sk1MBLwiUsI/AAAAAAAAAfs/hLGfvIs1YmU/s1600-h/HillsideFlowers.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354019115233333954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sk1MBLwiUsI/AAAAAAAAAfs/hLGfvIs1YmU/s400/HillsideFlowers.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Flowers bloom in the spring&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I can smell the flowers in the air&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Look at the pretty flowers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6184542740460521180?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6184542740460521180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6184542740460521180' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6184542740460521180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6184542740460521180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/07/flowers-by-sharon-squyers.html' title='Flowers, By Sharon Squyres'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sk1MBLwiUsI/AAAAAAAAAfs/hLGfvIs1YmU/s72-c/HillsideFlowers.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-4773980334247300467</id><published>2009-06-30T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T13:53:08.769-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boundary Stones'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Boundary Stones</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Skp7IFXxqNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/7YaxARwdeO0/s1600-h/boundary_stones_book_cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353226485894326482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Skp7IFXxqNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/7YaxARwdeO0/s400/boundary_stones_book_cover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the most powerful books I've read this year has been Boundary Stones, by Aaron Eby. Boundary Stones sets out the premise that we have been operating outside of the boundaries of our faith for a long time. I wholeheartedly agree!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Boundary stones Eby laies out are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Salvation: Salvation is by grace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Sin: Sin is defined by the law. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. His servants: God's people are His servants.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. No opposites: torah and Spirit are not opposites.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Discipleship: Discipleship is imitation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Unchanging: God does not change.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. No contradiction: Scripture cannot contradict the Law.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. The Foundation: The New Testament cannot overturn the Old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. The Sabbath: the Sabbath is an eternal covenant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. The Torah: The Law will be the rule of the Messianic Kingdom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I gave the book a first read in a single evening, then gave it closer study in homegroup. I was deeply moved by the truths presented. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Discipleship:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eby writes about Discipleship:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The job of a disciple is to imitate his teacher in every way, learning not&lt;br /&gt;only the way he understood Scripture but also how he ate, how he celebrated&lt;br /&gt;holidays, how he gave charity, and every detail of his life. The Master&lt;br /&gt;himself explained: "A disicple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is&lt;br /&gt;fully trained will be like his teacher." (Luke 6:40)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As twenty-first-century disicples of Jesus, our task is still to learn to&lt;br /&gt;imitate him in every way. We know two improtant things about him: He&lt;br /&gt;obeyed the biblical law, even to the smallest detail, and he taught others to do&lt;br /&gt;the same. if the messiah, Son of God and King of ISrael, humbled himself&lt;br /&gt;in obedience to the commandmetns of the Torah, shouldn't we? Or do we&lt;br /&gt;consider ourselves greater than our Master?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our job is to determine how to imitate the Messiah's actions in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;. . We don't obey the Torah becuase we have to but because he did and we want to&lt;br /&gt;follow his example.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Romans 8&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God." Rom. 8:5-6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Interesting:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a theological note, Eby deals with several issues with great skill. this includes things like: What about believers who died before the death of Jesus? and the different uses of the Law. The Law condemns sin, but it also sets forth a path of discipleship. It cannot save -- and there is a specific focus on the book emphasizing that even before Jesus came no one was saved by sacrifices! It has always been by faith. In the O.T. faith in the coming Messiah -- in the N.T. faith in the Messiah who came.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eby writes: &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"the Law shows us our need for a savior. It condemns us of our sin. It leads us to find and accept the Messiah. All these things are absolutely true, and they appy to those who have not yet come to faith in God through the Messiah. But after we come to faith in Jesus, we have a new relationship to the Law. Now that our sins -- our failures to keep the Law -- have been taken away (1 John 3:5), we can begin to carry out God's insturction, simply becuase we love him and it is what he asked us to do."&lt;/span&gt; (p.5-6)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Yes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This book resonated with me because I have felt for a long time that the church too quickly throws out anything deemed of the Old Testament. It is as if we believe all Scripture is God breathed -- but only part of it is truly "useful." We can just toss out the rest. Of course, the Scirpture Paul was referring to being "useful" WAS THE O.T.!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After being set free from sin, Christians begin to look for a path of discipleship. Where will we go? Well, we threw out God's discipleship plan (the Law) and so we now have to write our own books and develop theology on our own. So we get Experiencing God, Purpose Driven, Simple Church, 9 Marks -- and so on. Why do we need discipleship programs? because we threw out God's discipleship program! Why do we need books on how to become like Chirst? Because we are not convnced that the Bible Jesus read will do the job. Christianity removed the boundary stones, then had to set new ones. Why not go with God's plan? The Bible says his commands are not burdensome!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our way of discipleship is very Greek. We STUDY. But children learn in a very hands on way -- very Hebrew. What does the Bible teach us to do? Eat with our children. Go in tents once a year and teach them our forefathers lived in tents. This is hands on discipleship! Why are we skipping this? Why did we delcare the good things of God to be wrong? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.boundarystones.com/content/welcome-boundary-stones"&gt;http://www.boundarystones.com/content/welcome-boundary-stones&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aaron Eby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;102 pages. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-4773980334247300467?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/4773980334247300467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=4773980334247300467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4773980334247300467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4773980334247300467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/boundary-stones.html' title='Boundary Stones'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Skp7IFXxqNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/7YaxARwdeO0/s72-c/boundary_stones_book_cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5705124965276474161</id><published>2009-06-19T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T23:45:10.575-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><title type='text'>Idiom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SjyFLslB65I/AAAAAAAAAbY/c-Lk_pAfLRM/s1600-h/2008+pics+033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349296893400837010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SjyFLslB65I/AAAAAAAAAbY/c-Lk_pAfLRM/s400/2008+pics+033.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to Palm Springs tonight to minature golf at a fun place called Boomers. After that I let the girls choose what they wanted for dinner. Annie rallied everyone for ribs. Go figure. She and I shared Bountiful Beef Ribs, and she devoured her share! Wow, that kid loves ribs. I don't know how she stays so skinny. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the way home, Sharon ust dropped into the car and fell asleep. Rebecca said, "Sharon is worn out!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Worn out? What does that mean?" annie asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Worn out means tired," Rebecca said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie was delighted. "So your shoes can get tired?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;By the way, the picture is of the girls at PF Changs -- which is where I voted we go. . . but I didn't object too much to ribs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5705124965276474161?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5705124965276474161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5705124965276474161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5705124965276474161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5705124965276474161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/idiom.html' title='Idiom'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SjyFLslB65I/AAAAAAAAAbY/c-Lk_pAfLRM/s72-c/2008+pics+033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8995556614840051334</id><published>2009-06-17T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T02:16:23.145-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='David Copperfield'/><title type='text'>Copperfield: I get it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sji0QxCr6zI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/n-zxQEUQeMc/s1600-h/copperfield444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348222757637974834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 148px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sji0QxCr6zI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/n-zxQEUQeMc/s400/copperfield444.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I blogged recently that I did not understand the purpose of David Copperfield. I was watching the movie the other night, again thinking that I did not understand this story totally. As I later reflected on the novel, though, it registered with me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;David's mother, who is normally doting and full of life and love for him, marry's a man who is harsh and beats David. Throughout his life he is scarred by not only the abuses of his step father, but the school he attended. I think perhaps the book is about the long lasting effects of child abuse. Perhaps Dicken's own look at his pain. The sufferings endured as a child haunt the grown man, David Copperfield -- ie: Charles Dickens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another Dicken's note, I started reading (but have not made much progress) the massive book Drood. It is based on Dicken's last book, the Mystery of Edwin Drood. Very interesting weaving of true facts with a fictional storyline. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8995556614840051334?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8995556614840051334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8995556614840051334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8995556614840051334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8995556614840051334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/copperfield-i-get-it.html' title='Copperfield: I get it!'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sji0QxCr6zI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/n-zxQEUQeMc/s72-c/copperfield444.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-484837015823352159</id><published>2009-06-17T01:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T02:04:54.930-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><title type='text'>Walk To The Bottom Of The World</title><content type='html'>We had Rebecca's brother over for dinner Tuesday night.  With him was Amanda, his girlfriend, and later her parents came over.  It is nice having lots of family close.  Gary, Jonathan, Amanda, Sharon, Annie and myself went for a walk (and Cleo, of course!).  Usually it's just me and Gary -- maybe Jonathan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came up the top of the hill and looked down the long road.  We had a choice: Turn left or go all the way down the hill.  "Let's go to the bottom of the world," I teased.  That got Annie excited; really?!  The bottom of the world?  Wow!  She kept saying as we walked and talked, "This is so great!  This is the greatest night ever."  She held tight to my hand and jabbered away, even as others talked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we came back up the hill toward the house (up away from the botom of the world) I saw a stream of balls of fire shooting across the mountains on base.  They disappeared silently.  "Look at that!" I said.  Amanda saw what I was talking about.  Another stream of fire lit across the mountain  and disappeared, only this time to be followed by a large flash of fire.   "WOW!" Amanda yelled.  That was awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you always see stuff like that?" Amanda asked.&lt;br /&gt;"No," Gary said, "We usually just see snakes and stuff."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-484837015823352159?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/484837015823352159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=484837015823352159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/484837015823352159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/484837015823352159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/walk-to-bottom-of-world.html' title='Walk To The Bottom Of The World'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3869248407395513037</id><published>2009-06-13T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T14:06:32.633-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Sharon : The Kind Of Job I Want</title><content type='html'>From Sharon's Daily Journal, 3rd grade&lt;br /&gt;September 23, 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kind of job I would like is a job that pays a lot so I can have a family. I would like a job where I can go all over the U.S.A. And a job where I live in Arkansas. I have a huge party every night and when I prarty I get paid more money. In winter I will go skiing and get money. And also, I will have ten thousand clothes. I dance in my office/work spot every day. When I have time, I will be silly. I want to be an artist. I will make a lot of art. Also, I will teach art to kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3869248407395513037?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3869248407395513037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3869248407395513037' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3869248407395513037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3869248407395513037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/sharon-kind-of-job-i-want.html' title='Sharon : The Kind Of Job I Want'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8126733156967760715</id><published>2009-06-05T01:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T01:46:52.922-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Huey'/><title type='text'>Writing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SijbV-T_hpI/AAAAAAAAAX4/go55knZ0Ag4/s1600-h/writing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343762128425682578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SijbV-T_hpI/AAAAAAAAAX4/go55knZ0Ag4/s400/writing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Still working on Huey. This is not easy. &lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I write, I keep a lot of notes at the bottom of the document. Over time, thoughts, words I want to use, and the book outline start to pile up. For some reason I have this at the bottom of Huey, and so, I pass it on. I wrote it for a friend who needed something to pass on to writers.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;God uses writers to touch lives. That’s not just my opinion, it’s the absolute truth. What was Moses? A writer! And what was David? He was a writer. Anyone remember a short book called "Psalms"? Joshua, Samuel, Luke, Paul, they were all writers! Apparently Jonah was also a writer. Imagine his agent telling a publisher, "Wait until you hear this guys fish story."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Doctrinally we call it "inspiration." That is the unique process by which God transferred his Word to us. But do you think God stopped? I know there are times when I feel inspired. When, as I write, I can feel His Pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Bible is a finished work. It’s not open for revision or suggestions. But the creative God who inspired the Bible still uses writers today to communicate his truths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8126733156967760715?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8126733156967760715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8126733156967760715' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8126733156967760715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8126733156967760715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/06/writing.html' title='Writing'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SijbV-T_hpI/AAAAAAAAAX4/go55knZ0Ag4/s72-c/writing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5162874209455833525</id><published>2009-05-21T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T11:24:19.673-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><title type='text'>Sharon -- Showing God's Love!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShWb2sDMXXI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/zFOQygfeVNA/s1600-h/GetAttachment.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338344297157385586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShWb2sDMXXI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/zFOQygfeVNA/s400/GetAttachment.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four children in one house can be slightly stressful. That’s a lot of things happening at once. It’s a lot of people saying: Feed me! Play with me! Clothe me! (Well, actually, we are usually telling them to put some clothes on). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;One of the recent blessings that has come since Miriam’s arrival is what a big helper Sharon has become. All the girls are wonderful big sisters, but Sharon really goes the extra mile. She loves feeding, holding and playing with her sister. But it’s more than that. Lately we’ve noticed her doing extra things around the house so that things go smoother in the family. Little chores that in the past an adult would have had to see to. And, all of this with a good attitude! I’m thankful for a girl who exhibits the character of Christ in such practical ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebecca was recently so pleased with some things Sharon did to help out, she decided to give her some spending money.  She gave her four dollars as a thank you.  Sharon said, "But, I didn't do it for money."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5162874209455833525?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5162874209455833525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5162874209455833525' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5162874209455833525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5162874209455833525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/sharon-showing-gods-love.html' title='Sharon -- Showing God&apos;s Love!'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShWb2sDMXXI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/zFOQygfeVNA/s72-c/GetAttachment.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-4827100562645651032</id><published>2009-05-20T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T11:15:53.762-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><title type='text'>He Who Has An Ear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShQ7teMJqfI/AAAAAAAAAXI/RAAyvAuOdwQ/s1600-h/_PI_0008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337957110725061106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShQ7teMJqfI/AAAAAAAAAXI/RAAyvAuOdwQ/s400/_PI_0008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love the book of Revelation. It does exactly what the title promises: It reveals Jesus. It reveals his past glory, His present glory and His coming glory. By the way, it’s not RevelationS!  It is the single Revelation of Yeshua.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is only one Jesus, and the entire book stays completely focused on revealing Him. In Revelation 1:18 Jesus tells John, &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"I am the Living One."&lt;/span&gt; That is the claim of Revelation! Not that it was written by John about a Jesus he remembers from long ago... he claims to have personally encountered Jesus again while on Patmos.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think it is interesting when comparing the four Gospels and Revelation that Jesus uses the same speech (word choices) he used in the Gospels. We all have certain speech patterns and favorite words. Some people say: "YOU KNOW..." and some people say "LIKE..." and some people say "He goes... She goes..." instead of he said and she said. We all talk different. We choose certain words and phrases. That was also true of Jesus. He had favorite statements. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;One of the statements Jesus often made was "he who has an ear to hear, let him hear."&lt;/span&gt; Or, only slightly different is: "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;In Matthew, Mark, and Luke Jesus is recorded as having said this statement many times. But then we get to John. In John, do you know how many times Jesus says &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;"he who has an ear"?&lt;/span&gt; None! Not once. And John is the book that contains the longest quotes and most detailed sermons. We come to it expecting at least ONE "ear" statement. But John closes his Gospel by reminding us that he couldn’t write everything down. John is the last Gospel, and naturally there will have been some things he would have forgotten about Jesus that the Holy Spirit did not bring to his mind while he pinned the Gospel. One of the things I think he forgot was that little statement of Jesus’. It just wasn’t something God’s Spirit reminded him of.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Now, let’s get to Revelation! I believe the same John who wrote the Gospel wrote Revelation. When we read Revelation the "ear" statements reappear. "He who has an ear..." Revelation 2:7 , 2:11 , 2:17 , 2:29 , 3:6 , 3:13 , 3:22 and more record this statement. &lt;strong&gt;If John had forgotten that little thing Jesus used to say, why does it reappear in Revelation? Because John isn’t dreaming about Jesus... he has really encountered the living Christ... AND HE EVEN SPEAKS THE SAME!&lt;/strong&gt; He speaks using a phrase John had long forgotten. John came face to face with the living Jesus who spoke just like the living Jesus he had known on earth.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know, that’s way out on a limb, but it’s still interesting. It is important you and I remember as we read the book of Revelation: It is not stuff John made up, but the record of an actual encounter with a living Jesus. It is a Resurrection appearance to discuss the hope of the world: The return of Jesus! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is true that the Bible records the words of what Jesus said. Jesus continues to lead us by his voice. He speaks and we, His sheep, are supposed to listen. You can hear His voice in the scripture. You can hear His voice in the stillness of prayer. There are times that God does speak directly to your heart! He never says anything that would contradict what He has already said in the Bible. Listen for his voice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-4827100562645651032?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/4827100562645651032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=4827100562645651032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4827100562645651032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4827100562645651032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/he-who-has-ear.html' title='He Who Has An Ear'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShQ7teMJqfI/AAAAAAAAAXI/RAAyvAuOdwQ/s72-c/_PI_0008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6749304315051318359</id><published>2009-05-19T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T09:37:04.512-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heaven'/><title type='text'>The Bible Stutters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShLf-bBfcnI/AAAAAAAAAXA/xckmeEhtcRo/s1600-h/Torah.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337574771886355058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShLf-bBfcnI/AAAAAAAAAXA/xckmeEhtcRo/s400/Torah.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you ever stutter? I do. All the time, in fact. Usually when I’m preaching. I get so excited about what God’s Word says, I get way ahead of my mouth and do somersaults with my words. I’ve noticed some places where the Bible does that.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I believe the Bible is completely the Word of God. It is without error. There are times when human words cannot possibly convey the eternal things of God. The Bible writers are left almost speechless before incredible images. This is particularly true of heaven. Ever notice how the Bible writers just break down in total awe of heaven? There are no words in any language -- Greek or English or Hebrew -- to say exactly what heaven is like.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Beyond Words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paul wrote about heaven: &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."&lt;/span&gt; (1 Cor. 2:9) He goes on to say that God has revealed it to us by His Spirit. Not with words, but with His spirit. Why? Because if God told us and showed us everything there was to know about heaven, our brains would blow up. We can’t hold that much awesome information. Moses couldn’t behold the glory of God. We cannot even imagine how good heaven is. That’s great, because I have a really good imagination.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead of giving us exact descriptions of heaven, the Bible uses images. John tells us in Revelation that heaven is like a bride. It’s like a city. It’s like a throne room. It’s like a garden. It’s like a temple. There just aren’t words to describe how good it is! How beautiful is a bride? I’ve done a lot of weddings, and I’ve never seen an ugly bride. Some ugly grooms. . . but never an ugly bride. She’s radiant! Glorious. That is an image of heaven.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How about the image of a city; busy; full; dazzling in complexity. John measures this city. . . it’s huge! When I think of heaven as a city, I already want to spend eternity exploring it.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;2,000 Years Ago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course heaven is mind-blowing; we can hardly understand this world he put us in. Look around at how amazingly complex this world is. It’s a wonderful world! Have you ever considered that God made all this in six days? Six days!! In John 14 Jesus told us then that he was going to go prepare a place for us. Has anybody considered that if He told us 2,000 years ago that He was going to prepare a place for us and He’s been working on this new creation for 2,000 years, it’s going to be absolutely wondrous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;inexpressible things!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Heaven is so awesome that the Apostle Paul said that there are some things even the Bible writers were not permitted to write about or speak of. And some things, Paul says, are so wonderful they are not even allowed to be spoken of here on earth. Talking about himself, he says he was &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"caught up to paradise. [He] heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell."&lt;/span&gt; (2 Cor. 12:4)&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are also told that when Jesus returns, the stars will fall from the sky. In heaven, John tells us, there is neither sun, nor moon, nor ocean. What’s up with that? On earth, life is totally dependent on the sun, moon and ocean. If there is no sun, there is no life! But not in heaven. At His Second Coming, the stars will fall from the sky as if to honor the King of Kings, and he doesn’t put them back to provide light. In heaven, He is the light. In heaven, He is the source of life. We don’t need the sun or moon or ocean . . . it’s Jesus! We won’t bask in sunlight, we will bask in his glory.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’m looking forward to heaven. He is going to give me a new body so full of life it won’t ever need to sleep! Everyone who thinks I’m hyper now. . . wait until we get to heaven!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6749304315051318359?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6749304315051318359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6749304315051318359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6749304315051318359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6749304315051318359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/bible-stutters.html' title='The Bible Stutters'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/ShLf-bBfcnI/AAAAAAAAAXA/xckmeEhtcRo/s72-c/Torah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-253496384564696094</id><published>2009-05-16T20:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T23:13:00.954-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miriam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Miriam Is Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-q5p88ZmI/AAAAAAAAAWw/okvGhgEAvcQ/s1600-h/DSCN0114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336671990948062818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-q5p88ZmI/AAAAAAAAAWw/okvGhgEAvcQ/s400/DSCN0114.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-qu8cE4KI/AAAAAAAAAWo/xmxWpNk8xjg/s1600-h/DSCN0138.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336671806931919010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-qu8cE4KI/AAAAAAAAAWo/xmxWpNk8xjg/s400/DSCN0138.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-C9wGLi1I/AAAAAAAAAWg/BcljpG7Ryxo/s1600-h/CIMG6060.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"She's so cute," Annie is whispering as she leans over Miriam. Becca is warning Annie not to wake Miriam up. Soon Dee Dee and Gary will bring Susie over, and then I'm sure Miriam will wake up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miriam came home Saturday evening, almost a full week since she was born. It has been hard to walk past an empty crib or watch Susie play with bottles that should be Miriams. (Yes, we do take them away from Susie). Or, watch Susie try and swing in Miriam's swing or lay in ehr bed. Now it feels like things are more like they're supposed to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miriam was given an all clear from the doctor, and we have had a great evening. Went to Ruby's with Karyn and Jason, who somehow pawned all thier children off on someone. Karyn and I realized that we can never ever all stay the night at my parents again! There's a total of eight children between me and Karyn, and when you include our spouses, that 12 people. My parents need to buy a hotel. Not a motel, those are cheap and cheesy... maybe a bed and breakfast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, priase God that Miriam is home. She looks very healthy, except a bad dipar rash. Very bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie says: "Um, what are you writing about? phhhhh . . . tehehehehe... are you gonna write everything I'm going to say? ah! I mean it! Really daddy, I mean it! okay, hahahahah, it's just so funny. What is the first letter in alphabetics? Banna's are yummy."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I thought she had something profound to say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-253496384564696094?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/253496384564696094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=253496384564696094' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/253496384564696094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/253496384564696094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/miriam-is-home.html' title='Miriam Is Home'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg-q5p88ZmI/AAAAAAAAAWw/okvGhgEAvcQ/s72-c/DSCN0114.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-593747754535397840</id><published>2009-05-16T01:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T01:43:25.478-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Aunt Helen</title><content type='html'>My sister called tonight to share with me that our beloved Aunt Helen had died.  We were both upset by this news and found some comfort in just sitting and talking.  Memories came pretty quickly, but not the usual kind.  Aunt Helen was the hostess with the mostess, she made having company over a fine art. &lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Karyn and I found ourselves laughing at the times we'd spend in Elsinore playing games with her and Murl.  Aunt Helen said one night, "I'm hungry!  Aren't any of you hungry?"  Well, it was about eleven at night, but we never said we weren't hungry when Aunt Helen was wanting food.  After all, she might have a pie to break out or some other delicious dessert. &lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Who else is hungry?" Aunt Helen demanded.  Well, all of us were!  What did she have?  Chips and dip?  Better yet, fruit dip?  Watermellon?  Helen said to our Uncle, "Murl, everyone is hungry!  Go buy some double doubles from In n Out, quick!"  And off he went, to buy us all double doubles in the middle of the night.  The memory of it makes me smile.  It was so unexpected, and uncle Murl actually did it!  Gosh, we were poor college students, always glad for free food, even if it came in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Karyn and I had known for a while that Helen was sick.  Maybe it came as a surprise to us because we haven't seen her in a long time.  She is frozen in my mind sitting at that table telling Murl to bring us double doubles!  Her faith was always strong, though, and she expressed it through music.  She was a talented singer and musician.  I spent a lot of time at First Baptist Church of Pasadena listening to my aunt do special music and accompany the song leader.  She was good. . . really good!  She sang with Glory Road, a gospel quartet, and took very special care of my grandma when she was dieing.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I know the Resurrection means that she is alive now, escaped from this body and world of death.  Her voice has been lifted up to the throne in a new way, and she has seen the face of the Living God.  But while on earth, I'm going to miss her a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-593747754535397840?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/593747754535397840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=593747754535397840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/593747754535397840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/593747754535397840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/aunt-helen.html' title='Aunt Helen'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5737476215076109701</id><published>2009-05-15T09:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T10:19:07.793-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='David Copperfield'/><title type='text'>What Is David Copperfield About</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2iXdrC1YI/AAAAAAAAAWY/ItuGAo34Jso/s1600-h/David_Copperfield_serial_cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336099657489765762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2iXdrC1YI/AAAAAAAAAWY/ItuGAo34Jso/s400/David_Copperfield_serial_cover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can anyone tell me what David Copperfield is actually supposed to be about? Usually Dickens' plot is clear to me. But I'm not sure I understand what David Copperfield is the story of. The 'why" of the novel illudes me.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I know it's about a boy growing up. So. . .? He's raised by his harsh father and then the hard school master. And. . .? Here's a classic, and I'm left raising my hand in class, "Uhhh, I don't get it."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like Dickens' mysteries. The secret of who's giving Pip money is wonderful! But David Copperfield isn't a mystery. It just rambles along from event to event. I've heard it is Dicken's wanna be biography, so is that what it is? His wife (Copperfield's) does die at just the right time for him to marry again. Dickens actually divorced his wife (she was too simple for him) after a long separation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book is alternately titled: &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;"The Personal History, Adventures, Experience and Observation of David Copperfield the Younger of Blunderstone Rookery”&lt;/span&gt; Which means . . .?!?!?!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;David Copperfield also has attached to it the worst quote from Dickens I've heard. Charles Dickens said, &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"like many fond parents, I have in my heart of hearts a favourite child. And his name is David Copperfield."&lt;/span&gt; I wonder if his real children looked at that and said (in a C-3PO voice, please) "How rude!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Wikipedia&lt;/span&gt; notes the many great writers who loved this book: &lt;a title="Leo Tolstoy" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leo_Tolstoy"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Tolstoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; regarded Dickens as the best of all English novelists, and considered Copperfield to be his finest work, ranking the "Tempest" chapter (chapter 55, LV - the story of Ham and the storm and the shipwreck) the standard by which the world's great fiction should be judged. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Henry James" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_James"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Henry James&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; remembered hiding under a small table as a boy to hear installments read by his mother. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Fyodor Dostoyevsky" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fyodor_Dostoyevsky"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Dostoevsky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; read it enthralled in a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Siberia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siberia"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Siberian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; prison camp. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Franz Kafka" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_Kafka"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Franz Kafka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; called his first book &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a class="mw-redirect" title="Amerika (Kafka novel)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amerika_(Kafka_novel)"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Amerika&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt; a "sheer imitation". James Joyce paid it reverence through parody in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Ulysses (novel)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulysses_(novel)"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Ulysses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Virginia Woolf" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Woolf"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Virginia Woolf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;, who normally had little regard for Dickens, confessed the durability of this one novel, belonging to "the memories and myths of life". It was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a title="Sigmund Freud" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigmund_Freud"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Freud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;'s favorite novel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And here I sit, not understanding this one. &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Now, to be clear, that does not mean I don't like this book. I like it a lot! &lt;/span&gt;Vivid pictures of childhood, great characters. But liking a book doesn't mean you immediately understand the stories purpose. Find myself asking: WHY do I like this book?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like what Holden Caulfield in &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Catcher in the Rye&lt;/span&gt; (J.D. Salinger) says, "&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it." &lt;/span&gt;ha! That's great! Classic American literature making fun of British lit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was first introduced to this book in audio form in junior high. For some reason I imagined Peggotty as a black woman. Strange now to read the book, or watch it on film and see how she's really supposed to be portrayed (other than in my head).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So if anyone out there has any idea what the book is about, other than a disguised biography, I'd love to know. Is it a romance? I think not. Mystery? No! Action adventure? Nope. Social commentary -- maybe!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5737476215076109701?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5737476215076109701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5737476215076109701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5737476215076109701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5737476215076109701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-is-david-copperfield-about.html' title='What Is David Copperfield About'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2iXdrC1YI/AAAAAAAAAWY/ItuGAo34Jso/s72-c/David_Copperfield_serial_cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6319099897638188421</id><published>2009-05-15T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T09:43:49.401-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Great Expectations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><title type='text'>Dickens Blobs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2a8aA-0rI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/JPY8Fcqa8No/s1600-h/carol_manuscript.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336091496070173362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 391px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2a8aA-0rI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/JPY8Fcqa8No/s400/carol_manuscript.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know why, but next to Stephen King, I really like Charles Dickens writing. Because the books were written in installements, each chapter has suitable action. You don't have to "wait" for something to happen in one of his novels. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dickens writes the best character stories ever. Of late I've been reading Great Expectations. This book is great! From the burned wedding dress to the simple step father, it's Dicken's at his best.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I learned from David' Perdue's website:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"All of Dickens' novels were submitted to the printer in pen-and-ink (and blobs!). The typesetter would have to carefully decipher the sometimes illegible handwriting, written in the passion of the creative moment. The first typewriters came on the market in 1874, four years after Dickens' death."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Almost like God's joke on Dicken's, eh! Four years after the prolific author dies, they invent the typewriter. Who knows how many novels the poor man could have written if he's been able to type! That unfinished novel might have turned out to be a series.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6319099897638188421?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6319099897638188421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6319099897638188421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6319099897638188421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6319099897638188421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/dickens-blobs.html' title='Dickens Blobs'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sg2a8aA-0rI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/JPY8Fcqa8No/s72-c/carol_manuscript.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-7780505209083677287</id><published>2009-05-13T00:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T00:08:32.414-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miriam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Miriam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpxDBIQ_jI/AAAAAAAAAWA/eiDEiBGzKJ8/s1600-h/CIMG6060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335201005230423602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpxDBIQ_jI/AAAAAAAAAWA/eiDEiBGzKJ8/s400/CIMG6060.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were really baffled when it came to choosing a name this time. A lot of discussion, but when we settled on Miriam, it really "felt right." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In Exodus Miriam, the sister of Moses, leads the nations women in celebrating at the crossing of the Red Sea. I really like the image of this lady who danced before the nation with her tamborine and sang. Sounds like a fourth child to me! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We thought about naming her "Miriam Song" making it a really obvious refernce to Exodus 15. However, good sense set in and we realized that looked like hippies had named her. "Song" as a middle name seemed like a tree hugger. Which, if she wants to hug trees, that's fine I guess. She'll get a lot of cactus stickers in her around here! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of our favorite names got nixt because they sounded "old" or strange.  Go figure.  So: Miriam Doris was out, and Miriam Dewi, and Miriam Davina (my try).  I've always been in favor of naming a child after a famous person so they always get a good room at the Ramada.  "yes, this really is Michelle Obama calling!"  (Well, Michelle Obama Squyres. . .)  But my attempts at creativity are not always appreciated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebecca's middle name is "Joy." We thought about how Miriam danced with joy at the Red Sea. That's what I want my daughters life to be filled with: God's abundant joy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks to Karyn for the pictures of Miriam.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-7780505209083677287?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/7780505209083677287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=7780505209083677287' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7780505209083677287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7780505209083677287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/miriam.html' title='Miriam'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpxDBIQ_jI/AAAAAAAAAWA/eiDEiBGzKJ8/s72-c/CIMG6060.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-4414500845248105615</id><published>2009-05-12T23:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T23:57:03.929-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='susie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miriam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Still Waiting For Miriam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpuJtGqoAI/AAAAAAAAAV4/wV5kDTysRgM/s1600-h/CIMG6061.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335197821579206658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpuJtGqoAI/AAAAAAAAAV4/wV5kDTysRgM/s400/CIMG6061.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My wife sighed deeply "They say good things come to those who wait."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;It is the end of another day of running to the hospital admist trying to take care of our other three girls and slip in to the church this morning. The hospital is about 50 miles away, so it's 100 miles round trip. Not a big deal, until you're treking it daily or twice a day. I'm tired of Yucca Valley traffic already.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were told Miriam would come home after three days. Well, the three day prophecy in this instance fell short. Rebecca is very frustrated, but the nurses are doing a great job. She isn't keeping food down, and her infection remains. What kind of infection is it? They don't know. But they do know she has an infection of some kind; that her body is under attack. This results in her not processing food. They feed her, then after two feedings and a swollen belly, realize she is not digesting the food, so they have to pump it out. My heart breaks for her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Family has been great. Dee Dee has watched the older girls daily, even coming and getting Susie as I head out to take the older girls to school. This gives Rebecca some time to shower and rest. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's really hard to go to the hospital and see her all hooked up to everything in the world. I think she's rigged up for cable T.V. The NICU reminds me of Darth Vaders Star Destroyer -- lots of machines beeping and dark shadows everywhere, no windows and mazes of beds. Don't worry, this star destroyer really is manned by some great people! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebecca likes to go and hold her. I just can't do it. Grasping all those wires and stuff, I'm afraid I'll pull something out. So I just watch her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been preaching through Exodus and was prepared to do a series titled "A Few Things Every Believer Needs To Nail Down." This included Israel's experience at Mara after crossing the Red Sea. I wrote notes for two messages on healing (Does God still heal?). It's easier to talk in vague terms of believing God heals, than affirming with faith that we know he still heals when you see a child you love hooked up to so many man made objects. My sister said that God has a purpose in this, and I agree. As my friend Guy Ballard, who is dieng a pretty painful death to cancer, would say: "God is good." Miriam is not in any situation like he is, so I should be able to say all the more that God is indeed good!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The girls are taking this really well. Sharon is a massive helper. I've seen a lot of maturity in the middle of the frustrating circumstances. She can be a mother hen to the other girls. I am noticing that she is very thoughtful. People will say to her, "What's wrong?" She will say, "Nothing is wrong, I'm just thinking." I sure understand that! People are always thinking I'm upset when sometimes I'm just hanging out in my own brain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie, who I am looking at sprawled out on my bedroom floor, the blankit covering her tummy, is having the hardest time. I'm usually her play buddy, so I think she feels a little abandonded right now. It takes a lot of creativity to connect with Annie. She likes to catch bugs, grow pumpkins, play on Webkins, read scary stories, play superman and beppo, play in the water outside, and cuddle me in the morning. Sharon makes every day brighter, and annie makes every day funnier. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Susie is pretty hyper, always, and right now loves being Grandma's shadow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gary and Dee got a new shed that has a loft. I tried to get the girls to climb up in the loft, but getting beyond the forth rung in the ladder was impossible. I said, "Come on! The Good boys would be up here and jumping off." They didn't care about what daredevil boys would do, they decided climbing up in the loft (even if it is what they did in Little House) was not for them. Dee Dee said, "But Annie, when you have a monkey farm, you will have to climb up in their cages." "No," Annie said, "They will have cages on the ground." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Church has also been great.  Our church secretary, Donna, is also a hospital chaplain.  We were writing names of people who could visit the baby and added her as our chaplain.  Talk about role reversal!  I know she and a friend tried to see Miriam today, but we weren't there and they didn't let her in.  Sorry, Miss Donna!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rebecca is really strong.  Stronger physically than I would normally give her credit for.  She is really tough when giving birth!  But also strong spiritually and emotionally.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am looking forward to a day of sermon writing tomorrow.  Hopefully some "routine" will help focus my thoughts.  Which, obviously by this blog post, my thoughts are very disorganized.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-4414500845248105615?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/4414500845248105615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=4414500845248105615' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4414500845248105615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4414500845248105615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/still-waiting-for-miriam.html' title='Still Waiting For Miriam'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SgpuJtGqoAI/AAAAAAAAAV4/wV5kDTysRgM/s72-c/CIMG6061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6954779426919485277</id><published>2009-05-11T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T16:28:37.096-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miriam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Our Daughter Miriam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sgi0URZ40aI/AAAAAAAAAVw/VTfANwzce8Q/s1600-h/CIMG6058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334712018982719906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sgi0URZ40aI/AAAAAAAAAVw/VTfANwzce8Q/s400/CIMG6058.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miriam was born yesterday at 2:30. I have been running back and forth to the hospital, and trying to see about the girls and keep checked in with church. My sister wrote three great blog entries that I'm stealing. So these are her words! But she explains it all with much better detail than I can. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Karyn says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Post #1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday my brother, David, called me at 5am and told me it was time to head to the hospital. I was so honored to be with him and Rebecca when little Miriam was to be born. Miriam was due on June first so she is a few weeks early but Rebecca's water broke and Miriam wanted out. About 2:30 in the afternoon Miriam Joy Squyres was born. She is 6 pounds, 14 ounces and 19 inches long. She is so cute. She has the dimpled chin from my mother's side of the family. So sweet and tiny. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miriam didn't make much noise after she was born. She has swallowed fluid on the way out and they had to suction her lungs. Her breathing seemed shallow and she kind of whined with each breath. Even though she was plenty big, the nurses began to worry that she is more a preemie than they thought and her lungs may not be fully developed. In came the xray technician to check out her lungs. Next they decided that she would be better off in the NICU for careful monitoring. Each of her parents got to hold her for a quick second, long enough for me to snap these pictures and then she was whisked off to the NICU. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She had an amazing nurse last night with her one on one. When we went to see her a little while later she was already looking so much better. Her hands and feet were pink again (they had begun to turn purple when she didn't seem to be getting enough oxygen.) They will be keeping her in the NICU for at least three days if it was just that she swallowed fluid. If it is that her lungs aren't fully developed they will be keeping her until they get stronger and can function properly on her own. Please pray for little Miriam. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Our God is great and doesn't make mistakes&lt;/span&gt;. He created her for a reason and has great plans for her life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pray that the medical professionals will know what is going on with her and find the best ways to help her get stronger. Pray also for her parents, who are understandably concerned about their little girl. Pray that they will be calm in a time when being calm is difficult. Pray also for Miriam's three older sisters. The youngest is not quite three years old and doesn't really understand fully why her parents aren't home. The older two are six and nine and will be wondering why Miriam won't be discharged today when their mommy is supposed to be discharged. Thank you for your prayers. I will keep you all posted as I find out more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Post #2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Miriam is doing well. Her xrays came back and said that her lungs look fully developed and the breathing issues are probably just caused by the fluid that she swallowed. They are feeding her through an IV right now until they make sure all her respiratory issues are gone and the doctor gives the okay to actually feed her. She does have an infection that a lot of babies get when they are premature. They tested Rebecca for the infection and she was negative so they aren't sure how the baby got it but they say sometimes it just happens. They have her on antibiotics for that. Looks like as long as the infection doesn't get more serious and she is able to eat normally, it may just be a matter of a few days before she gets out of the NICU. Please keep her in your prayers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Post $3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As long as Miriam's CRT level (a blood infection) doesn't go up any more and her jaundice level doesn't rise, she may be released from the NICU as early as tomorrow. If her jaundice levels go up they will have to put her under the biliruben lights and she may have to go on antibiotics for 7-10 days. Her respiratory issues seem to be resolved so she has been cleared to eat, although she only has eaten a tiny bit. Praise God for his greatness in little Miriam's life. Please keep praying for her speedy recovery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another note, Miriam's mommy, Rebecca is being kept in the hospital for another night. Her doctor just doesn't like that her blood pressure levels keep fluctuating. I am sure it is just stress but they want to keep monitoring her a little while longer. It may be a blessing in disguise because Rebecca doesn't want to leave the hospital without Miriam if she has a choice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6954779426919485277?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6954779426919485277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6954779426919485277' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6954779426919485277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6954779426919485277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/our-daughter-miriam.html' title='Our Daughter Miriam'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sgi0URZ40aI/AAAAAAAAAVw/VTfANwzce8Q/s72-c/CIMG6058.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5871431103505608162</id><published>2009-05-01T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T13:58:10.023-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><title type='text'>Watching Annie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SftiUeVGyCI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/049MrPhPzGc/s1600-h/2008+pics+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330962687801608226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SftiUeVGyCI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/049MrPhPzGc/s400/2008+pics+009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughter Annie is easy to watch, she's a computer junkie. We don't let her play as much as she wants on the computer, but she really loves it. Rebecca headed out to sign the girls up for some dance lessons, and I'm in charge of watching Annie. Well, actually, I'm writing a book, and Annie is playing on the computer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie came into the room and said, "Daddy, I love you!" With that she gave me a big kiss. "You may now go back to your writing."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Will you be glad when I'm done with this book?" I asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well, I just don't understand why where are no pictures in your book," Annie said. She obviosly thought that if I would put pictures in, I would get done much faster.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5871431103505608162?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5871431103505608162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5871431103505608162' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5871431103505608162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5871431103505608162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/05/watching-annie.html' title='Watching Annie'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SftiUeVGyCI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/049MrPhPzGc/s72-c/2008+pics+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6582579939302726487</id><published>2009-04-05T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T22:59:28.304-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grisham'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>The Associate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdmY24hL9qI/AAAAAAAAAUw/GLo-6fyQsXo/s1600-h/book-associate-lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321452503366891170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 358px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdmY24hL9qI/AAAAAAAAAUw/GLo-6fyQsXo/s400/book-associate-lg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For fun I've been reading John Grisham's newest novel The Associate. Here's how his website describes the novel:&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Kyle McAvoy grew up in his father’s small-town law office in York, Pennsylvania. He excelled in college, was elected editor-in-chief of The Yale Law Journal, and his future has limitless potential.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;But Kyle has a secret, a dark one, an episode from college that he has tried to forget. The secret, though, falls into the hands of the wrong people, and Kyle is forced to take a job he doesn’t want—even though it’s a job most law students can only dream about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Three months after leaving Yale, Kyle becomes an associate at the largest law firm in the world, where, in addition to practicing law, he is expected to lie, steal, and take part in a scheme that could send him to prison, if not get him killed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;With an unforgettable cast of characters and villains—from Baxter Tate, a drug-addled trust fund kid and possible rapist, to Dale, a pretty but seemingly quiet former math teacher who shares Kyle’s “cubicle” at the law firm, to two of the most powerful and fiercely competitive defense contractors in the country—and featuring all the twists and turns that have made John Grisham the most popular storyteller in the world, THE ASSOCIATE is vintage Grisham.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started this book with great excitement.  I loved Grisham's older stuff.  But, as I pressed on, this felt like nothing more than a rehash of, well, old Josh Grisham novels.  Cheaper John Grisham novels.  The publisher calls it "vintage Grisham" ie: rehash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grisham has some trademarks.  Always the evil firm.  The difficult bar exam.  But what I found most annoying was Grisham's main characters are in fact, rather unlikeable.  There is nothing endearing about a single guy out to make money.  His college years don't speak well of him, and though he pretends to have a moral compass, he is really pretty hollow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most of the book is Grisham setting the stage for the climatic ending.  But he just moves pawns (characters) around in predictable ways.  Oh wow, the firm killed someone -- better obey the firm.  But of course, our hero is able to figure things out early (something I actually do appreciate) and begin getting back at the firm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the end, the book became work to read.  I'm glad Grisham has returned to the legal thriller, but this thrill ride was missing some screams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6582579939302726487?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6582579939302726487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6582579939302726487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6582579939302726487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6582579939302726487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/04/associate.html' title='The Associate'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdmY24hL9qI/AAAAAAAAAUw/GLo-6fyQsXo/s72-c/book-associate-lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6431979551620921559</id><published>2009-04-03T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T20:25:22.265-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Feast Of First Fruits</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdbSxS93QkI/AAAAAAAAAUo/fAlTDSb6VaQ/s1600-h/prophetic-firstfruits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320671754131554882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 382px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdbSxS93QkI/AAAAAAAAAUo/fAlTDSb6VaQ/s400/prophetic-firstfruits.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We are coming near two Biblical holidays. Actually, four if you're a Christian! Passover, Maundy Thursday, Firstfruits and Resurrection. As best I can I'm ridding myself of the name "Easter." However, it is engrained in our culture, so that's almost impossible. &lt;div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our church will be celebrating Passover this year. We will be eating lamb stew, bitter herbs, matzos and grape juice. We will discuss the Passover, retell the story, and then as we come the cup of redemption take the Lord's Supper together. Yeshua is the great passover lamb. As Hebrews would say, he was slain "Once for all." And Paul said, "&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed." 1 Cor. 5:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right after Passover is the feast of first fruits. "&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Speak to the Israelites and say to them: 'When you enter the land I am going to give you and you reap its harvest, bring to the priest a sheaf of the first grain you harvest. 11 He is to wave the sheaf before the LORD so it will be accepted on your behalf; the priest is to wave it on the day after the Sabbath."&lt;/span&gt; Leviticus 23:10-11)&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;1. The timing:&lt;/span&gt; The day after the Sabbath after the Passover. We know that Jesus died during Passover. He was Resurrected on Sunday, or as the feast says "on the day after the Sabbath." That would be: SUNDAY! Specifically, Resurrection Sunday.&lt;/div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;2. The offering:&lt;/span&gt; Firstfruits. You were to bring your firstfruits to the Lord as thanksgiving. Jesus is the "firstfruits" from among the dead. How appropriate that he should rise on the feast of firstfruits!&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept."&lt;/span&gt; 1 Cor. 15:20&lt;/div&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, from Passover to Pentecost we are to "count the omer." That is, they were to honor the days from when God set them free to when God gave them the law. This was 50 days. Now what happened in the New Testament? The disciples met together after Jesus death, burial and Resurrection. One of the things they would have been doing is "counting the omer." And on the feast of Pentecost, the celebration of God's giving the law to Moses, the Holy Spirit came down! What did the Spirit do? Write the law on our hearts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6431979551620921559?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6431979551620921559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6431979551620921559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6431979551620921559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6431979551620921559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/04/feast-of-first-fruits.html' title='Feast Of First Fruits'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SdbSxS93QkI/AAAAAAAAAUo/fAlTDSb6VaQ/s72-c/prophetic-firstfruits.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-307794835446146390</id><published>2009-03-12T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T14:07:32.922-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Biblical Holidays</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sbl4UMiyHsI/AAAAAAAAASw/XevqxYIA0j4/s1600-h/BACK2.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312409523820043970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 332px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 325px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sbl4UMiyHsI/AAAAAAAAASw/XevqxYIA0j4/s400/BACK2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;My kids love a party.&lt;/span&gt; They love every holiday -- even the less holy "holy days" they love! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This past year our family began observing the weekly Sabbath on Friday night. That is, we eat a meal together, do the blessings, and discuss the Lord. I find that as a man it forces me to at least weekly sit with my children and teach them. They love it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will say that since we started observing Shabbat, I also felt led to think about actually resting on Saturday. Sigh. I have a lot of church work to do, but these past two weeks I've stopped to honor the Lord's Sabbath. I have found deeper peace and joy in the last two weeks. A real feeling of stress being gone, and the opportunity to do more with my children and wife.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Personally, I seem to need some structure in my faith. That's what the Scriptures give us, structure. We are preparing as a family to begin observing Biblical holidays. We already do some of this through church (Resurrection being the main one). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's like God says: Here are some parties that will teach your children more about me. Wow! I've got one child who will march around the house singing, "Party, party, PARTY!" So any teaching tool that involves a celebration, they're into. Personally, I am looking forward to Tabernacles, since it means sleeping in a tent! How cool is that?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For years I saw the Scriptures as simply things people did in the past, but not as a gift from God to give my life structure. The Word gives me a planned teaching guide for what to teach when and perfect object lessons through which to communicate God's truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Why observe Biblical holidays?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;1. Simply, the Bible leads us to do this.  (See Matthew 5:17-20)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;2. It is a means of teaching my children. (Exodus 12:26)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;3. Obedience brings personal peace. (Ex. 16:23)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;4. God knows better than I do how to teach. (Ex. 4:12)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-307794835446146390?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/307794835446146390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=307794835446146390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/307794835446146390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/307794835446146390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/03/biblical-holidays.html' title='Biblical Holidays'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/Sbl4UMiyHsI/AAAAAAAAASw/XevqxYIA0j4/s72-c/BACK2.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8491137377106596515</id><published>2009-03-02T22:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T22:37:27.841-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Summer 1984</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazP2kaIjGI/AAAAAAAAASg/tnptKi9sV3w/s1600-h/2g.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPwbb0ZZI/AAAAAAAAASY/wOlf0NJFW1g/s1600-h/2f.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308846491668080018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPwbb0ZZI/AAAAAAAAASY/wOlf0NJFW1g/s400/2f.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPpddsRjI/AAAAAAAAASQ/DIZQWWAGlmA/s1600-h/2d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308846371953722930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPpddsRjI/AAAAAAAAASQ/DIZQWWAGlmA/s400/2d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPkT0mIkI/AAAAAAAAASI/Sec5nOBMJ0o/s1600-h/2c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308846283466089026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPkT0mIkI/AAAAAAAAASI/Sec5nOBMJ0o/s400/2c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPfZlNjWI/AAAAAAAAASA/gpuxlbPtCgI/s1600-h/2b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308846199112830306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPfZlNjWI/AAAAAAAAASA/gpuxlbPtCgI/s400/2b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the summer of 1984 I was ten years old. A friend, Pat Larkin, sent me pictures of our family trip to Missouri. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308846076271664306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPYP9mHLI/AAAAAAAAAR4/H5avMVzxUYQ/s400/2a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8491137377106596515?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8491137377106596515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8491137377106596515' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8491137377106596515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8491137377106596515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/03/summer-1984.html' title='Summer 1984'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SazPwbb0ZZI/AAAAAAAAASY/wOlf0NJFW1g/s72-c/2f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8963199516932031810</id><published>2009-01-23T03:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T03:33:18.196-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sharon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='radio'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>The Sharon Show!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXmq2uvMwiI/AAAAAAAAAOE/ceXPVI3-RTA/s1600-h/sharon1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294450694186385954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXmq2uvMwiI/AAAAAAAAAOE/ceXPVI3-RTA/s400/sharon1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When driving my kids love to play a game called: "The ____ SHOW!" (add appropriate child's name). I am the announcer, and we ham it up like an old radio show. So I say stuff like: "Hi! Welcome to the Sharon show. Your one stop place on the dial to know everything there is to know about Sharon Squyres execpt the things no one wants to know." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Important to add the sponsor in. Best if the sponsor is something really strange, because that gets the girls laughing. "The Sharon show is sponsored by underwear. Always wear your underwear!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next segment is usually an interview with our star. I like to ask a few pretty standard questions: "What's your favorite book?" "Favorite TV show?" "No tell us, you do have a favorite Bible verse, right?" (John 3:16 is not allowed on this one, gang). "And your happiest memory from when you were eleven." (Of course, she will object: "But I'm only eight!")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The star of the show can always introduce the friend they have with them -- usually a sibbling. We can interview them, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time for the midshow announcement. Once again, some pleas to buy our product. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now back to the final segment. This is always short, because I'm sick of the game by then. Sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the conclusion, which is a rehash of the product, a plea to turn in next time, and then a "Bong, bong bong" (CBS sound). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Try it with your kids. I'll bet they want to be the star of a Radio Show.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Photo: Eva Compton, from church)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8963199516932031810?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8963199516932031810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8963199516932031810' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8963199516932031810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8963199516932031810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/01/sharon-show.html' title='The Sharon Show!'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXmq2uvMwiI/AAAAAAAAAOE/ceXPVI3-RTA/s72-c/sharon1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1708814593145615026</id><published>2009-01-22T18:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T18:29:36.940-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='politics'/><title type='text'>Do Words Matter As Much As The WORD?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXkreHfjaMI/AAAAAAAAANU/sH70E_X5Txc/s1600-h/obama-oath-getty-w84398527.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294310633358190786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXkreHfjaMI/AAAAAAAAANU/sH70E_X5Txc/s320/obama-oath-getty-w84398527.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was interested to see that yesterday the Prsident was sworn in again. He is the third president to retake the oath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Associated press writes:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Obama joins Chester Arthur and Calvin Coolidge as U.S. presidents who have had to retake the oath of office because of unusual circumstances.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Arthur, who served from 1881 to 1885, was sworn in by the chief justice of the New York Supreme Court at his home in a private ceremony following the assassination of former president James Garfield. Arthur was sworn in a second time by the chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court two days later at the Capitol."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"In Coolidge's case, he took the oath of office at his father's Vermont home following the death of former president Warren Harding. Coolidge's father was a justice of the peace and administered the oath. Concerns about the jurisdiction of Coolidge's father led to Coolidge taking a second oath later in Washington."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;When you get a chance, look at the photo&lt;/span&gt;, see something missing? Like, uh. . . THE BIBLE! If this was the legal swearing in, it makes Mr. Obama the first president not sworn in using the Bible. But, he did have Lincoln's Bible the first time, when Cheif Justice Roberts flubbed up the oath of office. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The associated press commented: "Obama didn't use a Bible for the second oath, but it is still binding." Interesting, eh. mess up the words, and we have a problem. leave out the Bible, no biggie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, I really like the quote below from Obama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;"Now, I didn't grow up in a particularly religious household. But my experience in Chicago showed me how faith and values could be an anchor in my life," he said. "And in time, I came to see my faith as being both a personal commitment to Christ and a commitment to my community -- that while I could sit in church and pray all I want, I wouldn't be fulfilling God's will unless I went out and did the Lord's work."&lt;/span&gt; –Barack Obama&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;"Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. 23 Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror 24 and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. 25 But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it — he will be blessed in what he does."&lt;/span&gt; James 1:22-25&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1708814593145615026?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1708814593145615026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1708814593145615026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1708814593145615026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1708814593145615026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/01/do-words-matter-as-much-as-word.html' title='Do Words Matter As Much As The WORD?'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXkreHfjaMI/AAAAAAAAANU/sH70E_X5Txc/s72-c/obama-oath-getty-w84398527.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-4308597654372753775</id><published>2009-01-16T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:09:50.774-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Annie'/><title type='text'>Accident Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXF1n_I16EI/AAAAAAAAAMY/ZjswBEgDQd0/s1600-h/Dec08-Jan09+057.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292140366960912450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXF1n_I16EI/AAAAAAAAAMY/ZjswBEgDQd0/s400/Dec08-Jan09+057.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight we had some friends over for games. We do this often. Air popped popcorn, "Wahoo game" and diet coke, we were set! Then Annie began crying, very loudly. Too loud to really be hurt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Annie, come here!" I called. She ran to me. "What's wrong?" She had skinned the back of her foot on the bed. "Let me see it." She went to unroll her sock, only to bump the shelf with her foot and whack the same spot she'd just hurt. This is bad -- I started laughing. She cried harder. "Come here," I said. I took her in my arms, realizing she was not hurt bad. "Bet you won't cry if I tickle you." Tickle. WHAM! She wonked her head right into me. Now the laughter was uncontrollable. "Go! Get out of here," I commanded, "before you have another accident."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She now is sulking because I won't play "lightsabors" with her.  Usually, when we play that game, she gets hurt because her fingers, thumb, legs get in the way of flying sabors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-4308597654372753775?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/4308597654372753775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=4308597654372753775' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4308597654372753775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4308597654372753775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2009/01/accident-girl.html' title='Accident Girl'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SXF1n_I16EI/AAAAAAAAAMY/ZjswBEgDQd0/s72-c/Dec08-Jan09+057.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-4845286847367105147</id><published>2008-12-03T00:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T01:06:06.259-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ken Follett'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>World Without End</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STZL34lcDiI/AAAAAAAAAKo/1_Jtr1NHq8k/s1600-h/World%2520Without%2520End.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275487436965416482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STZL34lcDiI/AAAAAAAAAKo/1_Jtr1NHq8k/s400/World%2520Without%2520End.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Summer I did a wedding in June. On that trip, I bought &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;World Without End&lt;/span&gt;. Since then, I have been reading! That's right, this book has been the only fiction I have read since June. I read on CD, and every day, everywhere I went, Ken Follett's book followed me. I have more than once called it, "Book without end." If it is a book without end, it is a joyous book. But at last, five months later, I'm finished with the 1,000 page book. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;World Without End takes place in the same town Follett's first book, Pillars of the Earth, was set in but two hundred years later. While the theme of Pillars was the building of a great Cathedral, the theme of World is the black plague.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Follett, and athiest, takes a more hostile view in this book of the church. It certainly was a dark age for Christianity! He seems to view most priests as either homosexual or motivated by greed. There is no pious Prior Phillip as in Pillars of the Earth. The Hero of World Without End is Caris, a young woman who desires to become a doctor. Of course, what she doesn't know as a child is that women can't be doctors. But by a crazy turn of events, events that could only happen in a Follett book, she uses great medical knowledge to save her town from the black plague. It is brilliant, trust me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The plot moves around several children who are witness to the attempted murder of a knight on Halloween night and help him bury a secret under the old oak tree. Their lives all take different directions, but will be dawn back together by the secret they share.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Main Characters:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Caris:&lt;/span&gt; A young woman with two great loves, medicine and Merthin. When forced to chose between the two, Caris consistantly chooses medicine over her love for Merthin. (The only place a woman can practice medicine is as a nun). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Gwenda:&lt;/span&gt; The impoverished daughter of a criminal, Gwenda is sold by her father like a cow to a band of criminals, but escapes by murdering them in a most delightful scene! Gwenda falls in love with Wulfric and proves her love for him even when he loses everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Merthin:&lt;/span&gt; This is the "Tom Builder" of World Without End! Merthin is even called "Merthin bridger" because he takes the lead in building the cities bridge. As a child, Merthin's father loses his knighthood and lands and the new knight decides he will make Merthin's brother (Ralph) a knight, and Merthin can be a common mason. In the end, it is Merthin who comes out ahead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Godwyn:&lt;/span&gt; The twisted prior of Kingsbridge. Godwyn uses manipulation and theft to rule over the people he should shepherd. Godwyn even tries to burn his enemies at the stake as witches if they will not submit to him. He is always caught up in a political game, attempting to rise in church politics. There are no redeeming qualities in this prior. It's on this character that Follett appears to lay his suspicions about religion. In an incredible scene, Godwin becomes afraid when the plague comes to Kingsbridge. What does he do? Instead of staying and helping the people, he leads all the monks to leave town so the won't catch it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Philemon:&lt;/span&gt; Godwyn's right hand helper. The brother of Gwenda, Philemon was forced to steal as a child. This trait continues to follow him, even as a priest. He is Godwyn's hatchet man.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Ralph:&lt;/span&gt; One of the most evil characters Follett has ever given us! The brother of Merthin, life takes a different path for Ralph. Ralph is a knight who useses his power to oppress his people, rape women, torture and murder. In fact, at one point is is sentensed to death for his crimes, but he escapes and fights in the crusades, giving him a pardon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Follett rewards the faithful reader with a satisfying end to Ralph, but we have to wait to almost the last page! It is nice when reading a long Ken Follett book to know that in the end, the bad guys will get it -- and in the most creative ways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Follett's writing style&lt;/span&gt; is unique. Whiles most writers move simply scene by scene, Follett somehow writes "above" the scene. He doesn't always "show us" he "tells us." The plot takes so many twists, it would be impossible to build a scene to carry each plot element, so at times he resorts to simply summerizing what is happening! To book itself can read, at times, like a plot summery. But this is done effectively. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unique in this book is the language used. Instead of using language that would be true to the times, Follett simply uses common English of today. He said that he considers old English another langauge and decided it would be more effective to use words people know today. So when characters cuss, they use curse words we would recognize. I felt this was a good decision. Those who want a strict historical novel should avoid World Without End if for this reason alone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ken Follett has a wonderful indepth knowledge of the middle ages. He often uses the pages of the novel to give us mini-lessons on life in the middle ages. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For years Pillars of the Earth has been one of my favorite novels. World without End does not rise to this level, but it is an outstanding book. Well worth the time spent reading, it is a joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-4845286847367105147?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/4845286847367105147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=4845286847367105147' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4845286847367105147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/4845286847367105147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/12/world-without-end.html' title='World Without End'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STZL34lcDiI/AAAAAAAAAKo/1_Jtr1NHq8k/s72-c/World%2520Without%2520End.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-9044772570796598943</id><published>2008-12-02T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T00:26:17.107-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rebecca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Children</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STYMH_VbVFI/AAAAAAAAAKg/H9FwCQsNFGQ/s1600-h/Susie%26mommy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275417344911037522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 111px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STYMH_VbVFI/AAAAAAAAAKg/H9FwCQsNFGQ/s400/Susie%26mommy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My girls are a constant source of amusement. Right now Susie has taken off her pants and is running around the house. The dog has found her pants, and is chasing her, with her pants in the dogs mouth. She thinks this is funny. It is very funny, but the only thing to do with either of them (dog and baby) is swat them. Bad! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie is a very helpful girl. She told Rebecca she would be glad to help out around the house. What would she like to do? "I will help you wrap my Christmas presents," she offered. Aaha! That's what we were hoping for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sharon asks me random math questions these days. "Dad, what's four times three?" I'm helpful -- I answer. I also get in trouble with Rebecca. "Hey, don't help her with her homework." Humm. So, next time she asks, I give her the wrong answer. "David! Don't give her the wrong answer. She's doing her homework." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Susie got new shoes. She was SO proud of them. We took her to the mall in San Jose. Susie would watch for people headed toward us, and if she saw someone she wanted to impress, she would stick her feet out in front of her to show off her new shoes. She would then turn around quickly, as soon as we passed, to see if the person had stopped and turned to take notice of the little girls beautiful shoes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie is tired of cleaning up after the dogs poo. She has informed us that someone needs to potty train the dog. To her credit, Annie does like cleaning toilets.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both Sharon and Annie are wanting LOTS of money to go to a store at school. My heart went out to them; until I realized the store is to buy Christmas presents. So I'm supposed to give them money to buy me presents? Here, I'll wrap up my new commentary and they can give that to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-9044772570796598943?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/9044772570796598943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=9044772570796598943' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/9044772570796598943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/9044772570796598943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/12/children.html' title='Children'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/STYMH_VbVFI/AAAAAAAAAKg/H9FwCQsNFGQ/s72-c/Susie%26mommy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-7722169991034282112</id><published>2008-11-23T08:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T08:47:17.243-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rebecca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSmI_3O3ilI/AAAAAAAAAKY/jDccfBHyzew/s1600-h/n637623590_600841_758.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271895469553322578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSmI_3O3ilI/AAAAAAAAAKY/jDccfBHyzew/s400/n637623590_600841_758.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I thought Rebecca was sick. Seriously! She kept telling me it was hormones. She didn't feel well, and sudden weight gain (which is unlike her, much like me). So we went to the doctor. I suggested she was pregnant. "No," she said, "I know when I'm pregnant. This isn't it." I was really worried. When I can in to the doctors office, after waiting a very long time in the car reading commentaries, her face was glowing. I mean, glowing like she was Moses coming from the Presence. Ah, I know what's up, I thought. "You're Pregnant, huh," I said. Yep. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So it's official. We will have four kids. Four. That's a lot, you know. In the Old Testament you had a lot of kids, because children were Social Security! Are we excited? Absolutely! But it is diffrent than the first one. Not as scared. More aware of what is happening. And, the real joy this time, is the other kids. The girls are overjoyed and talk all the time about the coming baby. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One question I could do without: "Do you want a boy?" I'll take whatever God gives! I really did pray for a girl the first two times, and after that decided it was God's business anyway. Somehow people think you have to have one of each to be happy. A person with all boys is asked, "Do you want a girl?" Huh? Part of me, when people ask if we want a boy, thinks: Oh gosh, I don't know. You know, we're just figuring out the girl thing. These ladies will smother a boy with barbies, makeup and, yes, toe nail polish. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-7722169991034282112?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/7722169991034282112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=7722169991034282112' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7722169991034282112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7722169991034282112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/11/four.html' title='Four'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSmI_3O3ilI/AAAAAAAAAKY/jDccfBHyzew/s72-c/n637623590_600841_758.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-7803973207458994344</id><published>2008-11-17T23:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T00:40:03.259-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jack Benny'/><title type='text'>Favorite Channel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSJ_V4zvOZI/AAAAAAAAAKI/C-r4XyshKm4/s1600-h/channels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269914527980272018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSJ_V4zvOZI/AAAAAAAAAKI/C-r4XyshKm4/s400/channels.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you have a favorite channel? I'm not a sports fan, so all those channels are wasted space on my TV. I love Science Fiction, but the Scifi channel is a true dud. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, I am a news junkie, but real news is non-existant. Even headline news doesn't just do headlines anymore! And CNN is crazy liberal. Larry King is interviewing the "pregnant man" tonight. Gag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I like good movies, but we don't get HBO, Showtime and the others because they have the naughty stuff at night and I don't want that temptation or influence in our home. Besides, who really needs the same movie run 30 times in one month -- hello, pay the $5 for the DVR! And, these channels have stopped showing movies and started running their anti-God politics. No thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the movies front, American Movie Classics (AMC) has some great movies -- but superly long commericals. I mean, seriously long. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My kids like Nick and Disney. We limit how much they can watch, so it gets reduced to Hannah Montana. Besides, Nick runs tons of commercials, and one of my children thinks she has to own everything they show her on TV. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So. . . the unveiling. My favorite channel to crash in front of:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSJ997bcP0I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/MgBebhBm_z0/s1600-h/tcm.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269913016855183170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 104px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 78px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSJ997bcP0I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/MgBebhBm_z0/s400/tcm.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yep: Turner classic movies. In fact, since I've found this channel, I've discovered tons of movies you'll never find in your local video store or on any other channel. Some really great stuff, and some seriously bad stuff (bad in terms of production quality). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;My top 10 list of why I like TCM:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;1. Great movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;2. Most movies are given an introduction that gives the background and information about the stars. So you know up front if you'll like it, and have a few good stories about it. And I'm always on the hunt for a good story!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;3. No commercials. None! Zip. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;4. No colorization. I hate movies that used to be black and white until they ran them through that computer. Hey, Annie thought the world was actually black and white "in the old days."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;5. Movies grouped by themes. There will be "Ronald Reagan night" and "Famous Dous" and "Shakespear." (In fact, Hamlet is playing as I write this. I can't understand a word they're saying, though.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;6. They're not afraid to tell you when the movie they are about to show is really, really bad. Such was the case with "Plan 9 from outer space."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;7. It drives my children crazy. They can't stand all the old movies I love. This is wonderful, of course! Children need to put up with a certain amount of being annoyed with parents, and this is a wonderful means of irritation. I mean, if your kids think you are their best friend, then they have nothing to rebel against! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;8. I learn about the era movies were made in. (Rebecca says I was born in the wrong generation.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;9. Often they show documentaries about actors that I've only heard mentioned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;10. They never sell out to infomercials. So take that, Scifi channel! In fact, seems like Scifi even sells time to crazy TV only preacher Robert Tilton.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, a few movies TCM introduced me to:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;1. Gabriel over the whitehouse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;2. Tweleve Angry men.&lt;/span&gt; (great!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;3. The old dark house.&lt;/span&gt; (Terrible. But wonderful.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;4. Look who's coming to dinner.&lt;/span&gt; Which is about a white woman who brings a black man home. The remake had a black woman bring a white man home. A good twist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;5. Plan 9 from outer space&lt;/span&gt;, of course. The worst movie ever made.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;6. Hollywood Canteen.&lt;/span&gt; A recent favorite of Rebecca's. It is ostly just a lineup of long gone stars. But I did enjoy seeing Jack Benny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;7. Abbot and Costello movies.&lt;/span&gt; (Abbot and Costello meet the mummy, meet the wofman and so on). They are also terrible, but for some reason I still start them thining: "Maybe this one willbe better." NOPE, wrong again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;8. The private life of Henry VIII.&lt;/span&gt; Funny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;9. The house on haunted hill.&lt;/span&gt; (The real one, not the remake).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;10. Seems like old times.&lt;/span&gt; A pretty modern movie for TCM (1980). You know, I enjoyed watching it just to remember 1980! Rebecca and I kept saying, "I remember cars like that!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;11. The body snatcher.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;12. Annie.&lt;/span&gt; Which, guess who liked that in our family. I think our annie is wearing a hole in that part of the DVR. She has fallen asleep to it many-a-times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;13. To be or not to be.&lt;/span&gt; (Jack Benny movie)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;14. Harvey.&lt;/span&gt; Jimmy Stewart believes he has an invisible friend, who is a giant white rabbit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;15. Rear window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;16. The Phantom of the Opera.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;17. The grapes of wrath.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;18. It happened one night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;19. King Kong. &lt;/span&gt;(The real king kong, and the 1970's version. . . which we watched on fastforward)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;20. A man called Peter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also like old scifi movies, but I can never remember their name. Stuff like, "The claw from the sea." "It came from below." I see upcoming is "Monster A-Go-Go" which looks great. "An astronaut returns as a mutated giant." Who can really pass that up?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could do without silent films. This is important. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;See, I don't actually watch any of these films!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; What, you think I have time to watch all that stuff? But I listen to lots of it while I study, write and play Sid Meyers games. (Civ 4) and read other peoples blogs. (And hey, ever try surfing Wikipedia?) And, with silent films, I feel like I'm doing all the work. When the credits roll on a silent film, I feel like they should pay me. I might as well be reading -- which is often what I'm doing when TCM is on. Hey, I have to get through all these commentaries sometime, right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-7803973207458994344?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/7803973207458994344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=7803973207458994344' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7803973207458994344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/7803973207458994344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/11/favorite-channel.html' title='Favorite Channel'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SSJ_V4zvOZI/AAAAAAAAAKI/C-r4XyshKm4/s72-c/channels.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-369434091593212231</id><published>2008-11-07T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T17:07:02.997-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rebecca'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jack Benny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holidays'/><title type='text'>Christmas Decorating</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRTmI43kslI/AAAAAAAAAHs/0oS5YfNS5_k/s1600-h/christmas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266086904681771602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 115px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRTmI43kslI/AAAAAAAAAHs/0oS5YfNS5_k/s400/christmas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you been in a store lately? They go straight from Halloween to Christmas. What happened to Thanksgiving? I guess it's hard to market Thanksgiving. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, our family has a new tradition -- as of last year. After Halloween, Christmas decorating is free game. That means: Why not. For years Rebecca has wanted to decorate a month early, and I've played the dutiful role of Scrooge. I'm good at it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, alas, we needed a lamp for the corner between the fireplace and the bookshelf -- the spot where the Christmas tree goes. Now here's some good guy logic: I could spend money, cold hard money, on a new lamp. But I'm cheap. Or, I could put up the Christmas tree in its spot, and whala, a light! Hummmm. Jack Benny would be proud. I passed on the new lamp, gave in once again and we set up the tree today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our Christmas decorations this year are n the book shelves, the tree, the mantal, and now hanging from the eves in the living room. I'm really excited about the decorations hanging from the eves, they were my idea. Just little wood decorations that the dog and baby can't get to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why decorate, though? Because Christmas is the celebration of one of the greatest theological events to happen. Light entered our world, so how appropriate to celebrate with light. God himself became flesh and entered the womb of a virgin. That's exciting!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-369434091593212231?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/369434091593212231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=369434091593212231' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/369434091593212231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/369434091593212231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/11/christmas-decorating.html' title='Christmas Decorating'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRTmI43kslI/AAAAAAAAAHs/0oS5YfNS5_k/s72-c/christmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8900437720649741715</id><published>2008-11-04T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T14:32:27.432-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><title type='text'>Strange Bible Stories</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRDNTcLnQEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/xC6Bo6U7bQQ/s1600-h/bible.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264933698262220866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRDNTcLnQEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/xC6Bo6U7bQQ/s400/bible.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since coming to Palms Baptist, I have engaged in a serious attempt to cover all of the Bible. Of course, this is practically impossible because teaching through a book is a long road. Mornings are often given to more topical/textural studies, while Wednesday nights focus on books of the Bible. Of course, some books we've already been through more than once (Genesis, Philippians, James).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So far we've covered: Genesis, Judges, Ruth, Life of David (1-2 Samuel), various Psalms, selected Proverbs, Song of Songs, Jonah, Habakkuk, Haggai, Mark, Luke, John, Acts 1-12, Romans, 1 Corinthians, Philippians, colossians, Titus, Philemon, Hebrews, James, 1 John.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, when you go verse by verse through a book, you are forced to deal with stuff that you might normally skim by. Most recently we've been studying Judges on Wednesday night. Now I've read Judges many times. (Okay, many... maybe a few times) But stuff I breezed by became more difficult as I read. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Test your memory: what comes at the end of judges -- after Samson? A prologue (at the end) that tells how the Israelites got in the mess to begin with. And the stories in this section (Judges 19-21) are beyond strange. I'll leave it to you to look up and read, but this is some of the really good stuff int he Bible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you've read through the Scriptures, what are some of the "strange" or unusual passages you've encountered? I'll give you my quick list:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Sons of God adn the daughters of men. (Genesis 6:5) I suspect this relates to the two lines: Seths line mixing with Cain's line. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Lot's daughters sleep with their father. (Genesis 19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. The plague of frogs. (Exodus 8) Pharaoh is asked when he wants Moses to pray that the frogs go away, and the brilliant leader of the nation says "Tomorrow." There is a famous sermon: "One more night with frogs."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. God tells Moses to stop praying and get moving. (Exodus 14:15)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. The bones of Joseph. (Exodus 13:19, Genesis 50:26)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Strange fire on the altar. (Leviticus 10)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. A woman named Noah. (Numbers 26:33 , 27:1)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. The Levite and his concubine. (Judges 19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Israel's war with Benjamin. (Judges 20)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. How many guys are there with the name Goliath? (2 Sam. 21:19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Absaolms hair. (2 Samuel 18)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Elisha's servant gets Naaman's leprosy. (2 Kings 5)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Jude says Satan and Michael fought for the Body of Moses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay, that's a good start. I don't want to take all of them. Please, share some stories you find interesting int he Bible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8900437720649741715?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8900437720649741715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8900437720649741715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8900437720649741715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8900437720649741715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/11/strange-bible-stories.html' title='Strange Bible Stories'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SRDNTcLnQEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/xC6Bo6U7bQQ/s72-c/bible.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1305968459508150536</id><published>2008-10-28T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T10:33:18.268-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Sacred Marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SQdMgnBG8yI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rZfOgoR5LNs/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262258812718871330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SQdMgnBG8yI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rZfOgoR5LNs/s400/untitled.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why did you get married? Hopefully you were motivated by love! I remember standing at my wedding thinking, "I can't beleive how perfect she is." I was also incredibly scared. My life was now to be shared with another person, and for all the preperation my parents had done and church and even college classes, I felt enormously unprepared. And I was right. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few years ago I read a book that completely changed by understanding of God's purpose for marriage. It was a quick buy, I just snatched it off the shelf and thought, maybe I'll read this. I was immediately engrossed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book was titled "Sacred Marriage" by Gary Thomas. What's sacred about marriage? Everything. But it was really the byline that caught my attention, "What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy." Huh? Hold on. That changes everything! My wife does make me happy, but could there be a deeper purpose in God's plan?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've got to tell you, as a pastor I see people all the time living on the idea that marriage is for their happiness. So when times get hard, they immediately claim: "I'm not in love anymore. god wants me happy. So I'm leaving." Maybe God isn't as concerned about you being happy as he is being holy. Sound hard? Well, climbing a hill is hard. Knowing God, being like Christ wasn't promised to be easy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The theme of Sacred Marriage is that everything in life is given to us to make us more like Chirst. So even marriage (espicially marriage) is God's tool of disipleship. It's in marriage where we really learn to have Christlike love. To love a sinful person unconditionally. The way Christ loves us! Marriage reveals our own sin to us. Think about it: A single person does not have anyone really pointing out to them how sinful they can be. But a married person has... help. There is someone there to point out the selfishness of devoting huge ammounts of time to TV or the sinfulness of saying something harsh outloud. Marriage holds a mirror up to our own sinful behavior and allows us to address it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marriage does more than simply show us our sin and teach us to love, it also teaches us to respect others. You can't do this just by joining a ball team or small group. Why? Becuase it isn't life changing. You can be nice at small group for one hour... but try being respectful at midnight when your spouse suddenly has a sermon idea and needs to "share." (That's Rebecca's plight).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marriage teahes us the discipline of perseverance. In our culture, we easily give up, but it's in the safe confines of marriage that we learn to stick with something/someone out of love and commitment. And, think about this: Marriage teaches us to forgive. To forgive really deep hurts. It's easy to forgive the guy who cuts you off, or a cranky coworker. But it takes real strength of character -- Christlikeness -- to forgive those closest to you who hurt you. Marriage also teaches us to have a servants heart. My wife is great at this! I'm . . . being refined. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thomas writes, &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"Our culture doesn't look at separation as evil, does it? It's romanatic. It's courageous. Its for the best in the long run. Building a sacred history together teaches us to be persistent in doing good, even when we want to do soemthing else. This commitment to perseverance teaches us the basic Christian discipline of self-denial. As part of this, we must reject self seeking behavior and instead think about the future, a future that points beyond this world to the next."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On divorce, Thomas says, &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"We have reached high to make a strong point. Divorce, by definition, is a failure -- of love, forgiveness, and patience, or (at the very least) it is the result of poor judgment in choosing a difficult partner in the first place."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is Thomas so hard on divorce? Because it does so much damage. It is the conviction that God's love in us is actually strong enough to withstand great hurt! It is able to forgive and love and press forward. Ultimately, God's love shown through a spouse can change that spous. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One more quote: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;"In many seminars, I stress this over and over again: Husbands, you are married to a fallen woman in a broken world. Wives, you are married to a sinful man in a sinful world. It is guaranteed that your spouse will sin against you, disappoint you, and have physical limitations that will frustrate and sadden you. He may come home with the best of intentions and still lose his temper. She may have all the desire but none of the energy. this is a fallen world. You will never find a spouse who is not affected in some way by the reality of the Fall. If you cannot respect this spouse becuase she is prone to certain weaknesses, you will never be able to respect any spouse." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what is the purpose of marriage? To make us more like Christ. And what a wonderful means to do it through. becuase marriage does bring such deep, lasting joy. I find myself happier the longer I am married. I also find that it is usually in my marriage that my own immaturity is confronted. My wife can share deep things with me that might hurt me, but ultimately I know she tells me because she loves me. Marriage gives me the opportunity to lead my family, but it also gives me the opportunity to reject leadership and choose selfishness. Marriage makes my walk "real." As Tom Nelson, at Denton Bible church said, "Church is what we want to be, but marriage is what we really are."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1305968459508150536?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1305968459508150536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1305968459508150536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1305968459508150536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1305968459508150536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/10/sacred-marriage.html' title='Sacred Marriage'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SQdMgnBG8yI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rZfOgoR5LNs/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-5954631058586414598</id><published>2008-10-21T02:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T02:23:25.143-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Painted Toenails</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SP2eL1aDHfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/g1_UBsvHY-s/s1600-h/tesco_makeup_nail_polish.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259533865990692338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SP2eL1aDHfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/g1_UBsvHY-s/s400/tesco_makeup_nail_polish.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;About two week ago my older daughters, Sharon and Annie, were very hyper. They were driving me crazy. I wanted a quiet Saturday evening, soup for dinner and memorizing sermon notes. Fun. Well, they don’t think that sounds like fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharon had a great idea, "Hey, dad, you’re just sitting in your chair reading, can Annie and I paint your toe nails."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh? What? Paint my toe nails? Wait a minute, I analyzed the situation logically. No one sees my feet. I would be really cool with my daughters. Gosh, I go no where barefoot. The people at church would never know, because I wear super shiny nerd shoes to church. And, did I mention it would cool me up with my kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, okay," I said. "Does it hurt?" (They laughed.) "Oooohhhh, that tickles! Weird. Don’t freak me up too much." And whaala – I had colorful nails. No worries, a shower will get that off. I don’t look at my toes, I quickly forgot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Sunday we Baptized. Wait, don’t laugh yet, it’s better than you think. Yes, I choose not to wear shoes when I baptize because I haven’t mastered the walking on water bit. So, down I come to the lobby in my baptism clothes, which do not include shoes. "Hey," I say to the Baptism team, "Where in the service are we baptizing?" They all shrug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I march quickly into the sanctuary, holding my towel, onto the stage as the praise team makes last minute plans. "Hey," I say to worship leader, "Are we after the first song or..." my eyes drop for some reason and I see my very colorful toes. Oh no! I look toward the congregation, the room is filling slowly. Oh no! I’m no stage, with my very colorful toe nails. I quickly drop the towel to cover my feet, drawing the praise teams attention. "What’s wrong with you?" They demand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yep. There I was, in church, with painted nails. And they made sure the entire Baptism team knew. And they all promised to keep it a secret. Right. I hope I"m still cool with my kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-5954631058586414598?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/5954631058586414598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=5954631058586414598' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5954631058586414598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/5954631058586414598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/10/painted-toenails.html' title='Painted Toenails'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SP2eL1aDHfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/g1_UBsvHY-s/s72-c/tesco_makeup_nail_polish.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3274727007346389510</id><published>2008-08-08T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T21:39:35.774-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Steinbeck'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Of MIce And Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SJ0d7G5MjwI/AAAAAAAAADw/RzRhbbIhTvk/s1600-h/OMAM_Poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232371243374382850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SJ0d7G5MjwI/AAAAAAAAADw/RzRhbbIhTvk/s400/OMAM_Poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charles Dickens had the ability to awaken the wealthy of London to the plight of the lower class. His stories were set in the London of his day (with the exception of Tale of two Cities) and drew the reader in to a London easily overlooked. So readers were stunned when Hard Times showed the plight of the working class, or Oliver Twist revealed the reason why so many young people were turning to crime. He told Britain what it didn’t know about itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In a similar way, John Steinbeck took Americans on a journey into America. In Gapes of Wrath he told the story of the Great Depression, Dust Bowl and the plight of those in Oklahoma as they lost their land. Sharecroppers got a starring role as Steinbeck weaved the novel of their trip to California and the many injustices they suffered. But we’ll talk about Grapes of Wrath another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The short novel Of Mice And Men allows us to travel with George and Lennie as they seek employment and dream a wonderful dream. I’ve never had to travel from place to place seeking work and shelter, so I’m glad Mr. Steinbeck showed me this side of America. Of Mice and Men was written in 1937 and was based on Steinbeck’s own experiences as a bindle stiff in the 1920's. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As George and Lennie travel, they share a common dream. They tell this story over and over and over. In fact, they tell it at least three times in the tiny novel. What is the dream? That some day they will have a farm of their own. Of course, this is Steinbeck, and reality is far too harsh in his novel’s to allow anything of the sort to actually happen. There will be no farm. In fact, the big stupid Lennie Small will come to a tragic (beautiful?) end.&lt;br /&gt;Lennie has a habit of killing things on accident. He kills a mouse, a puppy and finally a woman. Only the unusual intervention of his friend George saves Lennie from falling into the hands of the angry ranch hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Theology&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I can’t help it! There is a powerful spiritual lesson here. Each time George and Lennie talk about the farm they will one day have, the reader becomes more and more sure that the book will not lead them to this farm. The farm is nothing more than a dream.&lt;br /&gt;The dream is beautiful and motivates George and Lennie to press on through a hard life. But it’s just a dream. Many people have a similar view of heaven. MAYBE there’s a heaven – but they wouldn’t be too surprised if we reach the end and it was nothing more than a dream.&lt;br /&gt;Do we really believe heaven is real? Or are we just George and Lennie telling ourselves stories to keep encouraged?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, the proof is in the rising, isn’t it? Once again the central point of Christianity comes into play as we realize we had one who was dead, but is alive! What more proof do we need than that? If God can raise dead people – I don’t think heaven is going to be a problem for him.&lt;br /&gt;Let me ask: Is there any ways in which our lives express that we don’t really believe in heaven? Our emotions? How would our lives be different if we lived toward heaven?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Modern America&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;If Of Mice and Men were written today, I don’t think the lead characters would be George and Lennie. They would be Pedro and Juan. What America is missing today is a popular author who takes us into classes we may not be familiar with. Can you rattle off any novels that tell about migrant workers today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dickens and Steinbeck blessed their nations by telling the untold stories of thousands through likeable characters. Dickens was usually kinder to the reader, allowing for a joyful ending, while Steinbeck served up heavy doses of blunt truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Adaptations&lt;/span&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232372542363749426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SJ0fGuAZTDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wxu8-AeMtA8/s400/of-mice-and-men.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Of Mice and Men was written like a play. It’s an easy read because it’s mostly dialogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;1939: Movie&lt;/span&gt; with none other than Lon Chaney Jr. (Remember him from Phantom of the Opera?) And Burgress Meredith. It got four nominations for oscars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;1981: TV movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;1992: Movie&lt;/span&gt;, starring Gary Sinise. (My farovite adaptation)&lt;br /&gt;It has also been on stage almost since its release as a novel, and has been translated into an opera. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3274727007346389510?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3274727007346389510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3274727007346389510' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3274727007346389510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3274727007346389510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/08/of-mice-and-men.html' title='Of MIce And Men'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SJ0d7G5MjwI/AAAAAAAAADw/RzRhbbIhTvk/s72-c/OMAM_Poster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-8804159378501819234</id><published>2008-07-27T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T16:33:10.420-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cold Sassy Tree'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Cold Sassy Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SI0GGwjEDTI/AAAAAAAAADg/V1fluVSdmsA/s1600-h/cold+sassy+tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227841455627963698" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SI0GGwjEDTI/AAAAAAAAADg/V1fluVSdmsA/s320/cold+sassy+tree.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; By far one of my favorite novels is Cold Sassy Tree. I have been writing a novel for years called "How Uncle Huey God Religion." My Mom, who read a chapter and liked it, recently read Cold Sassy Tree. "Hey," she objected, "this feels a lot like Cold Sassy Tree!" Sigh. Guilty as charged! I suspect I do want to relive Cold Sassy Tree under my own direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cold Sassy Tree is told from the perspective of fourteen year old Will Tweedy. Will’s Grandma recently died and the family (as well as all of Cold Sassy Tree) is scandalized when Grandpa Blakeslee announces he has decided to marry the much younger Love Simpson. An all out southern brouhaha ensues. It’s wonderful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I first read this book on cassette as a teenager. It was abridged, read by Richard Thomas. Imagine, John Boy reads Cold Sassy Tree! However, I later read, and reread this book in full and loved every bit of it. Olive Ann Burns is one of those rare people who just wrote one full novel, and that was it! Published in 1984, this is her gift to the reading world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Set in 1906, we encounter a slew of multi-faceted characters. Burns wrote the book on her sick bed, and was known to keep lists of interesting or funny names. What’s endearing is how these characters interact with one another; they seem real. It feels like I could take a drive down the road and meet these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;Here’s a few of my favorites characters:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Grandpa (Rucker) Blakeslee.&lt;/span&gt; The cantankerous owner of Cold Sassy’s mercantile who finds he doesn’t like life as a bachelor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Miss Love&lt;/span&gt;, Grandpa’s new wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Will Tweedy&lt;/span&gt;, our narrator who is always in the right place at the right time. Honestly, because the story is first person, Burns is left finding all kinds of interesting ways to get will into the scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Will’s strange Aunt Loma.&lt;/span&gt; Loma is a complicated character! She is not sympathetic (to me) but is certainly emotionally unstable. She is married to a sluggard and certainly wronged more than once throughout the novel. However, as she and Will begin to make peace in the novel I found myself liking her more. Just shows what a master Burns was at telling the story!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;Great scenes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold Sassy is not wonderful just for the characters, but Burns masterfully puts those characters in interesting situations. Here’s a few of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;1. Will Tweedy being run over by the train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;2. Grandpa Blakesleee and Miss. Love dancing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;3. The car breaking down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;4. Will Tweedy going camping and telling big whopper lies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;5. Miss. Love shaving Grandpa Blakeslee’s beard down to just a mustache.&lt;/span&gt; Making him look like a "fine southern gentleman."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;6. Will Tweedy spying Miss Love kissing her old love, who brings her a saddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;7. Will and Grandpa putting miss Matty’s body in a bed of roses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;8. The extended, home spun theological discussions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book "&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Leaving Cold Sassy Tree&lt;/span&gt;" is Olive Ann Burns unfinished sequel to Cold Sassy Tree. It is rougher than Cold Sassy Tree since Burns did not get to edit her novel. After the story, the second half of the book tells about the writing of Cold Sassy Tree, by Katrina Kenison.&lt;br /&gt;Kenison, who edited Cold Sassy Tree, writes of their first meeting:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;I met Olive Ann Burns for the first time in Atlanta, on&lt;br /&gt;the da Cold Sassy Tree was published. But by the time we finally met in person&lt;br /&gt;we were already fast friends. During the preceding year we had talked on the&lt;br /&gt;phone every few days, and we had embarked on a correspondence that was to&lt;br /&gt;transcend the typical author-editor relationship, if there is such a thing. The&lt;br /&gt;first thing she said to me, when we were face to face at last, was, "I thought&lt;br /&gt;you wold be plump!" "And I thought you would be old," I blurted&lt;br /&gt;out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a doubt, part of the charm of Cold Sassy Tree is the way she paints small town southern life. It was reminiscent of To Kill A Mocking Bird. In 1989 the book was made into a TV movie, but bombed. The book has also been made into an opera by Carlisle FLoyd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you read Cold Sassy Tree? If so, tell me who your favorite character was and favorite scenes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-8804159378501819234?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/8804159378501819234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=8804159378501819234' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8804159378501819234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/8804159378501819234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/cold-sassy-tree.html' title='Cold Sassy Tree'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SI0GGwjEDTI/AAAAAAAAADg/V1fluVSdmsA/s72-c/cold+sassy+tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3856646786254027694</id><published>2008-07-24T23:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T00:22:08.575-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Holy Cow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIl72kO0ymI/AAAAAAAAADA/gfKuhn-xfqE/s1600-h/holy_cow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226845019909180002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIl72kO0ymI/AAAAAAAAADA/gfKuhn-xfqE/s400/holy_cow.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend Matt Good recently shared with me some convictions that God had put on his heart concerning honoring the Law. I was immediately interested. I have a deep love for the Old Testament, and an ongoing conviction that we Christians ignore that side of our Bible. Or, when we do read the Old Testament, we read without much conviction that we should obey any of it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For instance: The Bible institutes many holidays. (HOLY days). Which ones do my family observe? Christmas, Easter, Halloween (harvest festival), Labor Day, and of course the very Biblical Fourth Of July. Wait... NONE of those are in the Bible. God gave special days so that we could teach our children, and ourselves, various acts of God. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIl8CJ6RZBI/AAAAAAAAADI/dBiTDsQ_1VU/s1600-h/holycow4.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226845219002082322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIl8CJ6RZBI/AAAAAAAAADI/dBiTDsQ_1VU/s400/holycow4.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Matt gave me a book that I found challenging. It was written by two people, and I found the first half more helpful than the second. The book was called Holy Cow. As I read, I felt espically convicted to change some of our eating habits. My wife and I discussed this and felt it was of God. Though at the time I only had "Holy Cow" and my Old Testament as a refernece, time and reflection has given me a better anser for those who ask why we don't eat piggy it the Squyres clan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More than once someone has said to us, "Hey, don't you know Jesus died on the cross? We don't have to obey the law." My question, as a good Rabbi recenlty said to me, is: If we are free from the law, are we also free to obey the law? Seriously, friends and family, am I free to obey the Old Testament? and if I do, doesn't the Bible say I am blessed? Aren't God's commands "sweet as honey."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Where did we get this misconception that the law is bad? Read Psalm 119! The law gives structure to a life. It is . . . DISCIPLESHIP. Matt and I discussed recently the law being "The Ultimate Plan of Discipleship." It gives structure and a means to teach our children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to be certain, the sacrificial law was fulfilled in Jesus. And the Jerusalem Council made it clear that Gentiles do not have to become Jews to be brothers in the faith. That does not mean that at some point a believer may not feel led to explore deeper and experience the riches God does have in His Law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our family tries to keep a Holy Day (sundown on Friday) in which we read the belssings and talk about the Lord over a meal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I doing this out of legalism? Absolutely not. I'm doing it because I love the Lord. As I've gone on this journey I have discovered 7 reasons I feel it is good for me to keep Biblical food laws. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;David's 7 reasons for keeping the food laws:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;1. As a personal mark of holiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; To Obey God's commands in this sets me apart and reminds me daily that I am to be holy. If the Law is God's discipleship plan, the purpose of the food laws is to teach me that he is Holy and I am his Holy Temple. Of the seven, this is the most important. I am constantly reminded that we are set apart. Every time I order food, go to the store, or sit at a meal I make a choice to give up a freedom. Why? To remind me that as I set food apart -- God has set me apart. I am blessed to be his and I am to make myself "holy." I am not to act as the world does. I live in covenant with God, and food actually reminds me of that covenant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;2. To honor my Jewish heritage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I am, by new birth, a child of Abraham. His Spiritual child. So I should take joy in honoring what God gave his people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;3. To honor the fullness of Scripture&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; Though I believe I am free not to -- I also believe I am free TO keep the food laws. I fee it connects me to the Scriptures at a deeper level.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;4. As an act of discipleship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; This is most exciting to me. As we grow in Christ we are brought into new aspects of obedience. Things that are not of first priority begin to arise as we walk with the Lord. Obviously a new convert does not need to hear about food laws. It does not need to be added to the four spiritual laws! But as we mature, we become ready to experience God in a deeper way. Keeping food laws teaches me to love God more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;5. It is a powerful tool for teaching my children&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; Again, as a discipleship plan -- the law works perfectly to guide my children gently and joyfully in the ways of Yahweh. It opens discussion and teaches spiritual truths. It also requires discipline our normal Christian life does not. A child growing up in a Christian home does not have to discipline much until they are a teenager suppressing strong moral urges. However, if we train our children young to obey God and seek his ways, it becomes easier when they are tested in big things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;6. God knows what's best for my body&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; This is the poorest reason, but I've never kept any diet. Ever. I found myself thinking as I read: Hey, God made me. Why am I messing with any other diet when I can't even keep God's diet. He knows what's best. And I discovered great truth in the fact that God's laws are not cumbersome. It's not hard to obey this. Even my daughters enjoy doing this! They have become the Bacon Police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;7. It opens doors to talk to people.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So while I do not obey out of legalism, I do find joy in the law. I find this to be a journey to get to know my spiritual roots better. Further, it is part of a dynamic walk with Christ. I'm suppoed to ask "WWJD" . . . but does anyone ever ask: WWJE? What would Jesus eat? As a Jew, gues what. . .! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soon I think our family will begin investigation of Hebrew Holidays. I am excieda bout this. Not to ignore traditional Amerian/Christian Holidays, but to include Biblical Holidays as celebrations and teachings for my children. Anyone want to come along on the journey?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://homeschool-books.com/xcart/hebrew_roots/product.php?productid=18558&amp;amp;cat=376&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;http://homeschool-books.com/xcart/hebrew_roots/product.php?productid=18558&amp;amp;cat=376&amp;amp;page=1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3856646786254027694?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3856646786254027694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3856646786254027694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3856646786254027694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3856646786254027694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/holy-cow.html' title='Holy Cow'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIl72kO0ymI/AAAAAAAAADA/gfKuhn-xfqE/s72-c/holy_cow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3866935764749899756</id><published>2008-07-23T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T01:18:16.062-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226113602654601314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 420px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 408px" height="378" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbioeoQgGI/AAAAAAAAACo/BCTyIwRDCag/s400/1000_Dollar_Bill-745218.jpg" width="420" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;A thousand bucks&lt;/span&gt; is a lot of money. I recently offered my daughters each one thousand dollars. They're really into the money business these days, doing chores and other things to earn money for . . . junk. Of course, there was a hitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was a teenager my cousin Branton told me he intended to read an entire case of books. He was working on Moby Dick at the time. "Why would you want to do that?" I asked. He explained that his dad, my uncle Merle, had offered him some gigantic portion of money if he could read all the books in the case. I don't know if he got the money.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbi9zregDI/AAAAAAAAACw/-9sotNrF2r0/s1600-h/ff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226113969082499122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="66" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbi9zregDI/AAAAAAAAACw/-9sotNrF2r0/s200/ff.jpg" width="65" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fastforward: My friend Rex called me one Saturday morning. He was brimming over with excitement and said, "David, do you still have room on your selves?" Of course. "Do you want a copy of the classics? I can get them at a great price at this yard sale." Of course. He brought them over, and they were great! Books like: 20,000 leagues under the sea, Tom Sawyer, and more. Ten in all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I eyed my book shelves. Would my kids ever read all this great stuff? Would they ever enter the world of Poe, or travel back through Gone with the Wind? Would my children ever be motivated to read Mr. Dickens, Twain or even tough the Grapes of Wrath? Hummm. How could I get their noses out of Nick and Disney channels and into a book? Sigh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I remembered my uncle Merle. I chose not to call and ask Branton if the bribe had worked, I was afraid it hadn't. Instead, I called my kids together and pointed at the new set of books. "There are ten books here. I will put a thousand dollars in your college fund if you will read all of these books." Eyes went wide. A THOUSAND DOLLARS? Had Dad gone mad? "That's one hundred dollars per book." Little Annie was ready to get started. Of course, she can't really read the classics yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soon, not only were my 10 classics up for the thousand bucks, but other books were being offered. "I'll give you $20 to read Little House. You get to keep $10 and put $10 in the bank." Fresh bug eyes stared at me. Yep, he's gone mad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annie flipped through a book, "I read it. Give me my ten dollars."&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbjgMEnvoI/AAAAAAAAAC4/G8x05fO3GDs/s1600-h/121578983_5dcb6a2f52.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226114559745965698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbjgMEnvoI/AAAAAAAAAC4/G8x05fO3GDs/s200/121578983_5dcb6a2f52.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"No, that's not how this works," I said. "You have to read all the words. And after you read it, you have to give me a report telling me about the book. Only after I get the report and believe you read it will I give you the money."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bug eyes drooped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What will you give us to read Susie books?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nothing!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What about Forrest Gump? Yes, that was worth twenty. Soon every book on the shelves had been given an agreed upon price (agreed upon by ME) and the kids were ancy to get to it. Rebecca reads to Annie, and she's been told that she only gets half price for books if they are read TO her. Sharon is actually reading Little House. And now... we have arguments in our house about who gets to use the book! Ah, I love it. And so far, I haven't paid anyone a dime. All this has been FREE. Because though they are motivated, they're slow readers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, before you all ask, &lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;no&lt;/span&gt; I will not pay you a thousand dollars to read books. No I did not put prices on Stephen King books. No, Karyn, I will not pay your kids to read. Nathanael would cost too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3866935764749899756?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3866935764749899756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3866935764749899756' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3866935764749899756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3866935764749899756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/one-thousand-dollars.html' title='ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIbioeoQgGI/AAAAAAAAACo/BCTyIwRDCag/s72-c/1000_Dollar_Bill-745218.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-2938252563452761221</id><published>2008-07-20T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T23:12:22.082-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stephen king'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>Childrens Books</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIQnaK8W2SI/AAAAAAAAACY/gg8vXBJEC04/s1600-h/9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225344798224210210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIQnaK8W2SI/AAAAAAAAACY/gg8vXBJEC04/s400/9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Probably one of the hardest groups to write for has to be children. Now I don't mean starter books; what my kids call "chapter books." Though Rebecca insist that Dr. Suess is the best writer ever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charles Dickens wrote a book espically for his children titled "The life of our Lord" written for his children 1846 to 1849. I have not read this book yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;A few of my favorite children's books:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Ramona series, by Beverly Cleary.&lt;/span&gt; I recently read several chapters of a Ramona book to my daughter, Sharon. She enjoyed it, but I think I got a lot more out of it. I was startled when I checked the copyright at just how old the book was (the 1950s)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Eyes Of The Dragon, by Stephen King.&lt;/span&gt; Yep, he wrote a childrens book, and its very good. I enjoyed this book one Summer while I worked at the Hollywood Bowl. King wrote this "dark" fairy tale for his daughter Naomi. Even though ing had written many novels,he fond his daughter hadn't read a single thing he'd written. (Go figure). He wrote this book for his children as a gift to them -- and us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson.&lt;/span&gt; This wonderful novel was written with children in mind, and has everything you need to please. Including pirates, the sea and a boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;How Mr Branch Got A New Name, by Gale Wiseman.&lt;/span&gt; Now, I'm bias because this is really "aunt Gale." But this book really is great. I mean superly great. In fact, you should probably go buy this book in bulk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recently read Pilgrims Progress, which was originally a childrens book. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;Rebecca list:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charlottes Web, E.V. White&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIQoWV4GV6I/AAAAAAAAACg/-OV7dE6rjpU/s1600-h/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225345831951292322" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIQoWV4GV6I/AAAAAAAAACg/-OV7dE6rjpU/s320/3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little Women, Louisa May Alcott&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mouse and the motorcycle, Beverly Cleary&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little House, Laura Wilder&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, Barbara Robinson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nancy Drew Mysteries, Carolyn Keen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Call of the Wild, Jack London&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;White Fang, Jack London&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;So what's your favorite childrens book?&lt;/span&gt; Clifford, Cat in the Hat, Hardy Boys. . . enlighten us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-2938252563452761221?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/2938252563452761221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=2938252563452761221' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2938252563452761221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/2938252563452761221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/childrens-books.html' title='Childrens Books'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIQnaK8W2SI/AAAAAAAAACY/gg8vXBJEC04/s72-c/9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-3875682275267757898</id><published>2008-07-19T23:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T00:46:24.887-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='radio'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Classic Radio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILfG9_GKMI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Zp9kI52izHw/s1600-h/radio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224983828514613442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILfG9_GKMI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Zp9kI52izHw/s320/radio.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My wife and I love old radio. For a person with a short attention span, radio is the way to go! I haven’t seen TV in about three years. I’ve listened to a lot of TV, but looking just takes so much extra work and attention. I much prefer old radio! Radio tickled the minds eye, and I’ve got to tell you, the special effects were so much better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few y&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILfW6URduI/AAAAAAAAACA/knMtY3su86c/s1600-h/on+the+air.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224984102407599842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 95px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" height="184" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILfW6URduI/AAAAAAAAACA/knMtY3su86c/s320/on+the+air.jpg" width="137" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ears ago my wife gave me a great gift. It was an encyclopedia of Old Time Radio, by John Dunning. I loved this book. It was nothing but listings and stories of old radio programs. He had everything! &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Box 13, Superman, Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, the Lone Ranger&lt;/span&gt;. What I love about this book is that it tells the history of each program, the stars and gives behind the scenes information. I don't know how Dunning was able to come up with so much information on a time now gone, but this book should count as history! Rebecca and I liked this book so much, she used to read it outloud while I played with a gameboy. The gameboy is long gone, but the book remains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A great movie that retells stories from the era is Woody Allen’s Radio Days. Of course, I think this movie is great. My friend Ian laughs and says, "It’s a movie about nothing! Nothing happens!" Sigh. He’s right, of course, nothing happens. But when nothing happens in an era you love concerning a subject that’s great, who really needs a plot? This movie had what was needed: Great sets, great time period, and the bestest soundtrack. Okay, just rent the movie, okay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was through radio that I first came to appreciate the worlds’ greatest detective, &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Sherlock Holmes&lt;/span&gt;, and laugh at the constant marital mayhem of the &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Bickersons&lt;/span&gt;. Radio had the power to scare unlike other mediums. For instance, &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Arch Oblers Lights Out Everybody&lt;/span&gt;, started every week with the clanging of a gong, and then the words "&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;It – is – later – than – you – think&lt;/span&gt;" followed by Obler saying, "&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;And now, if you haven’t already, turn off your lights&lt;/span&gt;." I can’t explain it, it’s just freaky. Okay, come to think of it, saying "It is later than you think" may be a bad opening for a show that starts at the same time every week! I wonder if people went running out of their houses thinking they were late for appointments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, Radio managed to stir America like nothing else. On October 30, 193&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILibtgHcVI/AAAAAAAAACI/Q8yT3p4k-78/s1600-h/orson+wells.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224987483401843026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" height="290" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILibtgHcVI/AAAAAAAAACI/Q8yT3p4k-78/s320/orson+wells.jpg" width="234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;8 Orson Wells produced and starred in a radio drama titled &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;The War of the Worlds&lt;/span&gt;. This was, of course, based on H.G. Wells 1898 book, War of the Worlds. Orson had the innovative idea to run the entire program like a real news program. Several times listeners were warned that they were hearing a drama – but America was apparently busy doing what all of us do during commercials today, playing tetrus on their cell phones. So imagine the surprise when people came back to their radio to hear news reports that not so friendly visitors from the planet mars were using a heat ray to destroy a small town in New York! Nation wide panic ensued, all by the power of radio. Enjoy Wells work at &lt;a href="http://www.mercurytheatre.info/"&gt;http://www.mercurytheatre.info/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A favorite show of mine is the &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Jack Benny Pr&lt;/span&gt;ogram. This guy was great! His daughter, Joan, wrote a wonderfu&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILqtqV05PI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Xf9GqlqPl3s/s1600-h/benny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224996587884045554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILqtqV05PI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Xf9GqlqPl3s/s200/benny.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;l biography called &lt;em&gt;Sunday Nights At Seven&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;a href="http://workinghumor.com/quotes/sundaynights.shtml"&gt;http://workinghumor.com/quotes/sundaynights.shtml&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though in real life Benny was a very generous man, he built to persona on radio of a stingy miser. He kept his money in a vault guarded by alligators and a very very very old guard. The best laugh America has gotten came from the Jack Benny Program. On the show, Benny is mugged. The thief says, "&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Your money of your life&lt;/span&gt;." Then . . . nothing! Now that’s not supposed to happen on radio. Silence is usually the enemy of good radio. But the longer the pause, the more people laughed. The thief gets nervous, "Come on, buddy, your money or your life!" Another long pause. Benny finally says, "&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I’m thinking about it!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife is a fan of &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Abbot and Costello&lt;/span&gt;. I mention this because, well, I’m not. She loves the "Who’s on first" routine, along with others that I find – non-entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;And, before there was CSI or Cold Case Files, there was &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Dragnet&lt;/span&gt;. Starring Jack Webb, Dragnet was taken from actual police cases. What made the show so good was not only Webb’s portrayal of Joe Friday, but the attention to details. Often Friday would find himself hunting down dead leads or involved in normal police activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, I’ve built this up for you pretty good. Now it’s time for you to go listen to old radio. I can already hear the whining, "But we don’t own a tape deck." "But we don’t have old radio shows." Ah, I’m way ahead of you! Do you own an ipod? You can listen to this stuff for free. That’s right, Mr. Benny, free! Not a penny from the vault. Go to: &lt;a href="http://www.archive.org/"&gt;http://www.archive.org/&lt;/a&gt; and do a search for your desired radio program. Be sure to mark "radio programs" on your pull down menu. You can listen to these, or save them to your computer/ipod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s a list of some of the best:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;The Jack Benny Program&lt;br /&gt;The Mercury Theater On The Air&lt;br /&gt;The Lone Ranger&lt;br /&gt;Superman&lt;br /&gt;Box 13&lt;br /&gt;The Shadow&lt;br /&gt;Arch Oblers Lights Out Everybody&lt;br /&gt;The Bickersons&lt;br /&gt;You Are There&lt;br /&gt;Fibber McGee and Molly&lt;br /&gt;The Great Gildersleeve&lt;br /&gt;The Six Shooter&lt;br /&gt;Sherlock Holmes&lt;br /&gt;Screen Directors Playhouse&lt;br /&gt;Suspense&lt;br /&gt;The Lux Radio Hour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-3875682275267757898?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/3875682275267757898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=3875682275267757898' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3875682275267757898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/3875682275267757898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/classic-radio.html' title='Classic Radio'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SILfG9_GKMI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Zp9kI52izHw/s72-c/radio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-6521163199627644426</id><published>2008-07-19T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T15:06:17.493-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><title type='text'>Favorite Book Of The Bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJlPmE7n1I/AAAAAAAAABw/lnV7E8D3eAY/s1600-h/bible.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224849836296871762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJlPmE7n1I/AAAAAAAAABw/lnV7E8D3eAY/s400/bible.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm often asked what my favorite book of the Bible is. That's like asking a parent who their favorite child is. The one I'm with at the moment! But, if pressed I do have a book I am drawn to unlike others. The Gospel of Mark. This is a beautiful little Gospel that is full of ragged edges and tough sayings of Jesus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Many people think that Mark was written first, and that Luke and Matthew used Mark as a source. (Except for a theologian named Farmer, who argued for the priority of Matthew.) Because Mark came first, it is more "rugged." It has rougher edges and isn't very wordy. In fact, Mark is a record of actions more than speaking. Mark's favorite word is "Immeidately." I like this guy. I call Mark the "ADHD Gospel." Nothing happens slowly in Mark. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wait, I was reading today and came across a favorite scene in Mark. Jesus is walking through a field on the sabbath, and his disciples begin to pick heads of grain and eat them. "Sunflower seeds!" My friend Ernie said. What happens? We read right by this, but it's crazy. Right then the Pharisees begin to accuse Jesus' disciples of breaking the Sabbath. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;WAIT A MINUTE! Where did they come from? Jesus was walking through a grain field! Were they hiding in the grain just waiting for his disciples to do something? (This is like Children of the Corn!) They are so busy tracking Jesus down, keeping an eye on him, tracing him through grain fields, they fail to have any walk of their own with God!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You might find it beneficial to go through Mark and underline statements like: "Immediately" "at once" and other action words. Throughout the account Mark gives a simple, direct telling of the life of Jesus. It is beautiful. By the way, many people think that the young man who runs through the Garden in his underwear as Jesus is arrested is Mark. The other Gospels leave it out, and why else would it be there? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mark is the kind of book you can read in a single sitting. It's only 16 chapters and I would challenge you to give it a read this week. It's great in one big swoosh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you are a new believer, we often recommend John. I don't. John is heavy theology, meat for the believer. Mark is what those new in Christ need to learn. The simple, wonderful story of Christ. Mark will give a basic outline of the ministry of Jesus that will lay a good foundation to move on to John and the epistles of Paul. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-6521163199627644426?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/6521163199627644426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=6521163199627644426' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6521163199627644426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/6521163199627644426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/favorite-book-of-bible.html' title='Favorite Book Of The Bible'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJlPmE7n1I/AAAAAAAAABw/lnV7E8D3eAY/s72-c/bible.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1655860527353723278</id><published>2008-07-19T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T14:41:46.625-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bible'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Books I Like Less</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJcjL5upfI/AAAAAAAAABo/KTsuL33-XA0/s1600-h/books2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224840277263295986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJcjL5upfI/AAAAAAAAABo/KTsuL33-XA0/s320/books2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so much for the love of books. Lets let off some steam. Every now and then a book comes along that just makes you... want to die. It's bad. We've all endured our fair share of them. And what's worse is when someone either loaned you the book (hopefully not the author) or you had to read it for a class. Or worse, a Bible study. (Uh, can we say "master life"?) &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find there are many reasons I might not like a book. My wife says I just don't like the fantasy genre, so that's a warning to you who love Tolken. And I'm also picky about theology. Sorry. And I get bored easily. This makes me a picky reader! But, since it's a blog, it allows you to be picky, too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Year of living Biblically&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224834391048032338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJXMkCpkFI/AAAAAAAAABg/IYmtRXsparI/s200/Jacobs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My most recent reading mistake came in the from of A.J. Jacobs, Y&lt;em&gt;ear of living Biblically&lt;/em&gt;. Of course, I got the audio version of this and we were on a trip. After paying big bucks for the book, and not having anything else to listen to, I pressed sotically on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A.J. Jacobs, a skeptical jewish reporter who never connected with his religious roots, decided that fundamentalist should be taken to task. He wondered: What if everything in the Bible was taken literally? What if he followed ALL the laws? This included: Not mixing fibers in his clothes, praing, not looking at a woman, stoning sinners (adultry) and so on. The account is amusing, but throughout the book his lostness is more than evident. It was eye opening to get the perspective of a totally lost person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, here's where Jacobs really lost me: When he came to the New Testament. He treated the Old Testament with special honor; but when he comes to Jesus, he has problems. His main problem is that he does not want to believe Jesus is God. And he states pretty simply that he just doesn't beleive someone can rise from the dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WAIT! He just doesn't believe it? That's it? That's all the investigation he's going to give the issue? He's a reporter, who doesn't bother to look at, uh -- EVIDENCE! The Resurrection is a proveable fact. So instead ot taking the Bible literally, as he promised, and looking into its claims, he simply views Jesus as arrogant and his follower misguided. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It never seems to occur to Jacobs that all the the disciples would not have died for a lie. It never occurs to him to ask: "Why in that cultre did they claim women found the tomb, when women would have had no credibility?" It never occurs to him to ask: "Hey, if Jesus was still dead, why didn't the Romans just produce a body?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Other Books&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Novel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Left Behind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; I'll save the complaining, because I know a lot of people think this was written by the Apostles. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Theology&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The Secret Message of Jesus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, by Brian McLaren. Moving on his own agenda, McLaren fails appropriate exegesis and presses his own agenda onto the Gospel accounts of Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fantasy&lt;/strong&gt;: And, to keep everyone screaming: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;Lord of the rings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. I hate these books. I wish I could find a spiritual reason to object, but I can't. I just don't like them. All the people do in these books is... walk around. Walk and walk and walk. Why is it in a fantasy novel, no one is ever CLOSE to the thing they need to find? No, it's always in another country or through some parallel universe. Besides, when talking trees started carrying people to their destination, I was lost. And SINGING... you've never seen so much singing as you'll find in these books. Like Tolken goes: Hummm, let's just kill another 5 pages with a song. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Horror&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;The Amityville Horror&lt;/span&gt;, by Jay Anson. I thought this book would be scary. My wife typically ruins scary for me. She says things like, "Well, you know there can't be spirits and ghosts, because the Bible says it is appointed to a man once to die, and thent he judgment." Sigh. Of course, I knew that. But I was enjoying being scared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But Amityville Horror isn't scary. It's like kids telling a story. "And then, there were flies on the window. And then a voice told us to get out..." Pause: When voices in the house say "GET OUT" that's when you put the house on the markert. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"And then our bed levitated. And then, know what happened? We saw the devils face in the fire place. And then we found a little door to hell. And then my wife was floating on top of the bed. But we still didn't get out, because it was raining outside and the car woudln't start" (ever heard of walking? Come on, it's a haunted house! You RUN away) "and so then the ghost turned the cross upside down. And then the window shut on my hand. And then the ghost left pig foot prints. But the ghost couldn't only be seen by our daughter, and it really was a pig." That's right, folks. The ghost in Amityville Horror was a pig. A ghost pig, I guess. I don't know. I rolled my eyes... this is what everyone was so excited about?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Okay, what books drive you crazy? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1655860527353723278?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1655860527353723278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1655860527353723278' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1655860527353723278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1655860527353723278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/books-i-like-less.html' title='Books I Like Less'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIJcjL5upfI/AAAAAAAAABo/KTsuL33-XA0/s72-c/books2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-788904320722581935</id><published>2008-07-18T20:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T22:28:28.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Favorite Books</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFmqXqIeWI/AAAAAAAAABE/ISN3a827YP0/s1600-h/books.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224569920817756514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFmqXqIeWI/AAAAAAAAABE/ISN3a827YP0/s320/books.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come when Maria VonTrapp sings "these are a few of my favorite things" she didn't mention reading a good book on a cold rainy day. Okay, I'm just wishing for the cold rainy day here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;By the way, you might also share your favorite way to read a book. This might surprise you, but because I study a lot, you won't find me with many novels in my face. No kidding. I listen to most novels as I drive. I read commentaries all day, but to really enjoy a book listening is best. Of couse, for those of us who are a little hyper and short on that attention stuff, sometimes I have to go way back because I start day dreaming as the reader goes on. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;What's your favorite novel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cold Sassy Tree&lt;/strong&gt;, Olive Anne Burns&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Great Expectations, &lt;/strong&gt;Charles Dickens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pillars of the Earth&lt;/strong&gt;, Ken Follett&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;World Withou End&lt;/strong&gt;, Ken Follett&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Stand&lt;/strong&gt;, Stephen King&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Pilgrims Progress&lt;/strong&gt;, Bunyan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Man Called Peter&lt;/strong&gt;, Catherine Marshall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sherlock Holmes&lt;/strong&gt;, Conan Doyle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grapes of Warth&lt;/strong&gt;, John Steinbeck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This Present Darkness&lt;/strong&gt;, Frank Peretti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tell Tale Heart,&lt;/strong&gt; Edgar Allen Poe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-788904320722581935?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/788904320722581935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=788904320722581935' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/788904320722581935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/788904320722581935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/favorite-books.html' title='Favorite Books'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFmqXqIeWI/AAAAAAAAABE/ISN3a827YP0/s72-c/books.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349023623586044523.post-1507071747716627257</id><published>2008-07-18T20:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T20:31:38.410-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dickens'/><title type='text'>Dickens Porch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFgD73EOrI/AAAAAAAAAA8/uVxvtJo5DiY/s1600-h/dickenset1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224562663451015858" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFgD73EOrI/AAAAAAAAAA8/uVxvtJo5DiY/s320/dickenset1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come on in, the book shelves are open! It's time to sit down with a cup of coffee and talk about your favorite novels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summers are a time for serious book collecting for me. I'm not sure why. I think it goes back to my early teens. My family was convinced that I might be illiterate because I didn't read. Then a friend loaned me a book by Stephen King title "The Stand." It was a mega book! Over a thousand pages, and I ead the whole thing in the heat of that summer. I spend hours in front of a giant fan reading about Kings depictions of the apocalypse. Ever sense then, I've loved reading. And the Summer heat always makes me hungry to . . . GET MORE BOOKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Summer (08) my family had a huge bookcase built in our front room. It's cool. A lot better than the typical television electric god that consumes most homes. Most fun was filling the bookcase. And what does every family need a set of? Dickens, of couse! I have a strange habit of collecting old (really old) Charles Dickens books. There's something great about holding a book that was assembled before... cars, television, electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What is your favorite Charles Dickens novel?&lt;/strong&gt; Dickens only, please. We'll discuss other books later.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4349023623586044523-1507071747716627257?l=dickensporch.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/feeds/1507071747716627257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4349023623586044523&amp;postID=1507071747716627257' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1507071747716627257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4349023623586044523/posts/default/1507071747716627257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickensporch.blogspot.com/2008/07/dickens-porch.html' title='Dickens Porch'/><author><name>David Squyres</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/TD6SjCU0maI/AAAAAAAABgw/eAtBVeUBW4U/S220/squyres1.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aqCjiYQXKAU/SIFgD73EOrI/AAAAAAAAAA8/uVxvtJo5DiY/s72-c/dickenset1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
