The Rong

I remember once when a friend of mine was exploring the Christian faith, he wanted to read anything he could get his hands on. He was quite the literary type and wanted to browse a selection. I hesistated to point him to the bookshop chain I refer to as "The [W]rong" but he seemed keen. Following his visit he diplomatically asked me if I ever felt uncomfortable in the place. He said it was the eeriest experience to see spirituality so comercialised and cheesey. He left before finding anything of interest.

In Sydney we live in Koorong country. I had had a great and significant conversation about faith with a friend at work yesterday and wanted to buy her a book. Blue Like Jazz has become my pat answer for anyone!! I love it's guts and I think everyone else should too. We were standing at the counter ready to make the big purchases (I usually buy 3 or 6 or 12 at at time) and there was an arrangment of tempting items on the counter. Not Violet Crumbles or PKs but "Scripture Fish Mints" to freshen your breath. They are fish-shaped peppermints with verse references printed on them. I think they would've felt more comfortable in the Gadgets for God shop on the Ship of Fools website.

I'll digest scripture in an alternative fashion if that's alright.

Bless 'im

There's a guy outside our building in Pitt Street at the moment. He's trying to raise a buck to buy dinner by playing Christmas Carols on his recorder. I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I said every third note was a semi-tone wrong. Enough to still decifer the tune. He's got a cardboard sign near his hat for coinage. It read "No sob story. Just having a go."

Tiramisu, I love you

Another weekend over and out. Friday's highlight was a dinner of steak with melted blue vein cheese and walnut garnishes. It was delicious. And who can turn down really, really crispy roasted potatoes? Mmmm. My calves are still tender after helping bro/sis in law move house - they used to live at the top of 58 stairs. Of course a few garage sales got visited on Saturday and about 4 loads of washing so nothing unusual there. Saturday night our friends Mike and Kate Wheatley & kids visited for dinner. We drank red wine and I made gourmet pizzas and tiramisu. Sunday was the state v state showdown as the Swans played the Eagles at the SGC. Only in Sydney does it take just as long to get to and from the game as it does to watch it. That makes me really narky. I don't want to sit in traffic for 2.5 hours on a Sunday....I really don't.

Last night I knew the world was stuffed. Sometimes you don't feel this and other times you don't see anything but stuffed. The news was one ridiculous story after another of incredible pain or tragedy for someone or some country. I'm sick of it...London, Iraq, Egypt, the receptionist at work, members of my family, the guy they interviewed on 60 minutes. I'm sick of being surrounded by people who are in intense pain, or want to cause pain in me. (Michael, I'm not talking about you in case you were wondering.)

My latest obsession is a new cd with this song, part of it goes...

"You give and take away
[but] My heart will choose to say
'Blessed be the name of the Lord'" (matt redman)

Really and truly? I hope so but it's not something you want to clap along to.

Tell the world

Just so you all know, I'm at work - sitting at my desk - at 7:10am this morning. Crazy, you might say. M and his brother S are going to a Urban Taskforce breakfast and so that meant I was ready with hair washed and coiffed at 6:20am.

For those who are asking the question....it's still the old Rachel. She still hates anything before 10am however now she has an in-house barista and breakfast maker that helps her on her way.

Tell the world.

Weekendathon

My Saturday morning sleep-in was as sweet as can be. In my independent do-whatever-i-please-days the weekend slumber, including the Sunday arvo snooze, were my happiest memories. It's not like M forces me to wake up. I could never out-sleep the time he spends reading the delivered paper. We've got the routine well styled now. Saturday is for op shopping so I drive and he reads. The diversions take us where ever those cardboard signs (nail to the telephone pole) take us. It is one of my all-time pet hates when people have a garage sale and don't take down their signage straight after the event. When I progress to op shops and markets, he finds a cafe and reads.

So this week I achieve some form of recycling by taking a bag of much-loved items to the Salvation Army. They are still much-loved but the size of the house must dictate the size of my collections. No longer do I live in a city that has dad's garage. I'm a compulsive collector. Definately the purchase of the week was a hand crocheted mohair cardy for $1. Earlier this year I scoured op shops for any white, vintage, cotton fabric and cut up many a lacey blouse and turn of the century serviette. The result will soon be a white patchworked quilt for our slumbering pleasure. As soon as I've finished that project I'm onto the winter version - chocolate velvets and rich brocades. Sitting at a computer for 10 1/2 hours a day I need to compensate for the lack of creativity and movement.

Another week, more morning alarm clocks.

Hillsmania

Whether you want to or not, there is no escaping Hillsong if you live in Sydney during the first week in July. Wherever you go there is a comment to be heard or an article to read. We had a few delegates camping on our spare beds last week so we had a second hand view of the conference. Our first hand view was standing in line and protecting ourselves from the stampede of over exhuberant attenders who were doing anything to get back into the 7.30pm after exiting the 5pm session. I positioned by pointy umbrella in strategic places to deter shoving in my direction.

Michael is wonderfully balanced on the Hillsong issues so my comments are somewhat measured however, I've had a gutful of them. One of the asst event directors said that on 'opening night' Brian Houstan refused to let the show begin before he had a head count of everyone so that he had a number to boast from stage. So, 28,000 people waited until 8.30pm for the night to begin. Take a good look at yourself Brian.

For me, refreshing was being at the Forge weekend in Melbourne immediately prior. A bunch of people (600 in the end) who were claiming no answers and boasting no numbers but seemed more intent on following Christ. Pure Rachel opinion here. My conversations after Forge were with people who immediately listed the ways in which they felt challenged to follow Him and impact the world and respect people. Conversely my conversations around Hillsong were about the "hot green jacket" CeCe Winnans wore and the spunkometer of her drummer (autograph obtained) and [quasi] celebrity spotting ... "Darlene just walked right past me". To these people, size does matter and numbers are adored.

Time to sip some tea and calm down.

Mmmmmm. Me melting and mixing my own hot chocolate at Max Bremmer Chocolatier in Melbourne. 

Mmmm. Mixing and melting my own hot chocolate at Max Bremmer Chocolatier in Mellbourne.  

Michael Barr at Federation Square. This is a man that would demolish any heritage building to construct a modern monolith like this baby. You can take the property developer to Melbourne but you can't take the property developer out of the Michael. 

We deserved this. Quince cake and a cup of coffee at the Bush Cafe in Blackheath.  

Hello Esme at the Blue Mountains. We couldn't see much but if you've travelled all the way from Scotland to see Blue, you get out of the car and look through the rain and fog at ANYTHING! 

State Of Origin frenzy. The Blues scored and the crowd went wild. 

Airport antics

When we flew to Melbourne last week we were standing at the airport and the buses were pulling up to the kerb with admirable precision - just missing awnings and gutters and signage. I'm always fascinated by their spatial functionality. If I ever get cancer I will request to drive a massive bus or truck as my Make a Wish. Well, this particular bus certainly made an impression because at 3am I was dreaming about it however in my dream the driver wasn't as skilled and so I had to rapidly jump back from the kerb to miss being swiped. The dream was so vivid I woke up mid-air just before landing on the floor of the bedroom a little distance from the bed. Michael woke up and asked if I was alright. I wasn't sure if I was after dodging buses and suffering metre falls but I just wimpered and said "I think so". It was much funnier for me in the morning and M didn't dare giggle in the wee small hours.

On the way home we were waiting in the airport lounge debriefing our time at the Forge conference (more on that later). Michael was deep in philosophical conversation and was stopped mid sentence by the sight of a woman across the way wearing a designer jacket in aqua and olive combinations of pressed felt...."Look at that jacket Rach - do you like that?". And at that point I knew that my influence over the last 8 months was complete. The fashion imbecile has pushed through the tape at the finish line with arms in the air victoriously. He's done me proud.