Continuing Education -- Now for M.R.S. Majors!

It's not an M.R.S. degree; it's a post-M.R.S. degree. The Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary is now offering a home ec. concentration for the wives of ministry students.

Not so much to knock the actual skills needed to do most of things this concentration would be teaching (clothing construction isn't easy). My observation is that to run a house well one needs talent, hard work, and skill -- whether or not one is male or female and working outside or inside the home. But, the SBC is not placing value upon the work traditionally done by women -- they are admittedly doing this to put women back in there supposedly Biblical place.

Cause, in Fundie land Jesus didn't praise Mary and scold Martha. Of course, Jesus would have never praised a woman for sitting at his feet to learn. He would have sent her back into the kitchen where she belongs. Isn't that right, duckies? Pay no attention to what your Bible actually says.

Tipped off by Religious Left Online.

The Rich Young Metra

There's something about packing and moving that inspires the ascetic in me. It's a weak inspiration and one that has yet to make it to maturity, but it's there. It was there in spades as the sister, the friend, and I tried to fit a bit over two years worth of dorm room accumulation into a Camry and a Scion. (I haven't moved off-campus since the end of freshman year.) At such times, I begin to contemplate getting rid of oh, say, 75% of the things I own. Maybe knocking it down to essential clothes. And then, like Saint Jerome, my attempts at simplicity die in the face of my love for my library. My preciouses, my babies, my books.

I'm leaving the state of Tennessee the day after tomorrow en route to Russia for the next four and a half months. I have a goal of taking as luggage: one 32 inch rolling duffel bag, one small carry-on bag, and my backpack (also as a carry-on). And, I think I'm going to be able to pull it off, but I'm having to get pretty creative. The heavy, canvas outer layer of my coat is now rolled up and strapped to the backpack -- that helps. Sweaters have been compacted in ziploc bags. Books are cut down to some necessary plane reading, Russian texts and dictionary, and my collection of Blok poems in translation. And I'm still struggling to make things fit into the bags. It's a game of Tetris -- I'm confident that things will fit, but I'm pretty certain that there is only one possible way that they all will fit.

And then, there's this weird awareness in the back of my head that many people don't have enough to fill up the bags I'm taking, and a separate awareness that I probably all of what I'm packing to live out the rest of my life, much less the next four months.

I'm hoping that living out of a 32 inch duffel bag for four months will convince me to let go of most the rest of my stuff. At least, the majority of the remaining clothes. The books won't happen -- I've just accepted that as a fact of my current existence and fact of cycling through another few rebirths before hitting true enlightenment.

So, The Fountain...

NO! No! and No!

And now I know what not to write.

Seriously, why was the Inquisitor speaking in Gnostic/Cathar code speech? Why? No.

Just don't bother. Not even really worth a breakdown of everything that was wrong with it.