notinKansasanymore

Fellowtippytoer, Why were you tippy-toeing? -->

Okay, we took the cats to the farm last night, and got pictures of the kids holding CHICKENS! My little girl ran around all night with a huge chicken feather sticking out of her back pocket. She looked like she was brought up on a farm. She and my son ran all over the place, finding eggs, with the encouragement of the farmer. The cats are installed in a big dog cage, with their scratching post, bed, blanket, toys, and litterbox, for a month, so that they get used to being in the barn. Okay, so they're really spoiled ferals, but ferals, just the same. Back to sorting and packing! love, niKa

By the way, Satori - It's nice to see you back.

Welcome, John. Let me buy you a piece of pie, at the Greasespot Cafe. Be sure to visit the 9th Corps thread, since you're an honorary 9th Corps member. Cherished Child has some good advice; there are some harsh words here; not all that unexpected, since many people are dealing with large measures of pain, even so many years after the fact. Welcome. love, niKa

Mick: private topic check!

Yup! Why? We've got your back, Ex.

Actually, these are full-grown, free-range, you-wanna-piece-of-me?- chickens; they're more likely to intimidate the cats than the other way around. The farmer doesn't believe in eating his own chickens; some of these birds have been around for awhile, and could be attitudinal. Should be interesting.

BTW, we captured the yard cats this morning. They are back there in their cat carriers, howling like wild . . . well, howling like wild cats. They are waiting for their trip to the Vet, for their three-year Rabies vaccines, their feline leukemia boosters, and their annual checkup. Then, it's off to the fancy kitty kennel in the barn. They have to live in the kitty kennel for four weeks, to acclimatize to their new home, and to accept it as where they want to be. They're going to love their new home; it's got 25 chickens, and they've never met a chicken before. ;)-->

Not a problem, Fellowvisitor. It's one whole block down the street. That's one small step for niKa, but one giant leap for niKa's retirement plans.

I've been coming to the Greasespot Cafe for just a tad over two years, now. This is my 800th post. It sure is nice to re-connect in cyberspace with you 9th Corps crazies. Dancing in the kitchen, in your honor. Thanks. :)-->

The car chase scene was great. Camera angles and jumpiness was okay for awhile, but too weird after that. All in all, a good popcorn/date movie. There are more than just two books in the Bourne series; I wonder if there's going to be a third movie?

I just found my old L.E.A.D clothing and equipment list. I'd made notations as to what I already had, and what I'd need to borrow from whom. Thanks, "Joe," for loaning me a small Bible and a long underwear shirt! Thanks, "Nikki," for the loan of a small pocketknife! It appears that I also split a bar of soap (we only needed half a bar, remember?) with "Collette." "Sandy" also loaned me a camera and a bandana. Where ever you guys are now, you rock! (get it? LEAD; rock?) -->

You so cool! I think that we have enough help; it just takes time to get ready for it. I promise not to obsess about moving so much on this thread any more! What's a "change moment"? love, niKa

Fellowpacker: Thanks for asking. We move down the street in 1-1/2 to 2 weeks; I'm going nuts. I must have more boxes. I need more boxes. We haven't put this one up for sale yet, beyond just spreading the word among friends; we're fixing it up, first. We found a sweet farmer who wants the yard cats to live in his barn; he will also feed and water them every day, and pet them when they'll let him. That was a gift from God. I was worried about trying to relocate the feral cats.

Watermelon. Sometimes, the whole summer experience can be summed up in one juicy, sweet, ice-cold word. Oh, the sheer soul-cooling glory of it. Do you crunch the seeds, or spit 'em out? I suppose that I am asking whether you are an Innie or an Outie, watermelon-seed-wise. Maybe I've been in the basement too long. :P-->

Steve, you said: "One thing I've learned with ALL of these guys (ALL ex-Way leaders I've had contact with, not just CES) is that you just can't trust them to say the same things in public as they say in private." I disagree with you there. Not about all of the leaders, but certainly about John Lynn, John Schoenheit, and Mark Graeser. Even when it's personally uncomfortable, they tell the truth. I don't hang with their ministry, but I have more respect for them than for almost anyone, because of the consistent integrity that they have shown in their personal dealings with me, over a protracted period of years. As for the public e-mail thing, I think Tom Strange had it right on the money in his remarks. The whole "backed into a corner" thing. It's certainly not how I would have wanted someone to contact me. The Bible says that if you have a problem with someone, you go to that person. This feels more like gathering up a crowd, and then going to the person as a mob. It just feels wrong. Steve, I don't doubt that you felt that you had valid reasons for doing that; I just don't agree. To stand by and say nothing about it would be tacit agreement; I had enough of tacit agreement when I lived in New Knoxville. Good luck with the thread; I'm not sure how often I'll be checking in on it. I kind of wish that I never had. Love (yup, I really mean Love), niKa

I don't think this thread really has that much to do with John Lynn. I think that it has much more to do with people who, for whatever reason, are expressing their opinions about him. Perhaps some have bones to pick with him; this kind of thing is pretty much always best done in private. Golly, Steve, why did you publish the e-mails? How do you think that made him feel? And yet, he answered you kindly. John Lynn is not a perfect person; nobody is perfect. If that gauls some folks (not just you, Steve), they need to consider their own state of imperfection. The truth that I know about John Lynn is that he loves God, and for his entire adult life has sought to serve God. The method of service has changed (most notably when he, like so many of us, ditched the way international), but his heart to serve God has never changed. He's also a gentleman. He returns phone calls and e-mails. If he said he'd get back to someone and didn't, is it so hard to think that he just FORGOT? Maybe the other call was something earth-shattering. People call him with "really hard stuff" all the time. Have you ever said that you'd call someone back, and then forgotten? Not often, I'll bet; but it can happen. Heck, everyone forgets some things, some time. Why didn't you just pick up the phone and call him, instead of making such a big production of it here? He's a nice person; he deserves better than this. I'm willing to bet you're a nice person, too. I mean, like most of us, you once dropped everything to go and try to get the Word over the World. That takes a huge degree of niceness and caring. Aren't you lucky that nobody's starting a thread about you? Steve, I don't mean this to be an attack on you, and if that's the way it sounds, please know that I've tried NOT to sound that way. I realize that you're dealing with issues, the way that many of us are. That's one of the great things about Greasespot; we can come here to talk about things. I just don't think that what you did to John Lynn was all that nice. You could have called or e-mailed him personally, without the publicity. It's one of those Golden Rule situations, you know? love, niKa

By the way, I found my old Corps nametag yesterday. Deja weird.

Yes, I have a basement, with about 85% less junk in it than a couple of months ago. For a quarter, I'll let you pack boxes in it. It's an entire vacation package. Exercise class is the new "dodging spiderwebs" technospin move. Metaphysical inspiration comes from the "what the heck IS in that crawlspace?" contemplation time. Soothing aural rythyms from the adjacent washing machine and dryer are complimentary. Aerobic points are awarded for bounding up and down the basement stairs, while carrying boxes (be sure that you check for black widows and fiddlebacks before you pick them up). It's the next best thing to a triathlon, vicariously speaking. Watersports are conducted in the back yard, where a soaker hose has been strategically placed down the mounded-over trench in which is planted the new sewer line. It's a bit slippery, mudwise, but extremely invigorating. Just check in at the front desk; they'll give you a locker, and you can join right in the fun. -->

Simon, where did you go for this worthy walk of a vacation? I'm sorting through boxes, and vacationing vicariously through you.

He's back; he's rested; he's tan. :)-->

I think that Dorothy was busy playing the wedding music with Rhoda. Either that, or she hadn't accompanied him to Emporia that trip. He was very polite, and quiet. Almost shy. Very gracious. He seemed like a true Christian gentleman.

23 years of marriage for our Corps brethren and sis-tren. I hope that most of them are still married. I escorted Ermal Owens to the weddings; he was sweet. 23 years. That makes us, on average, about . . . 30? :)-->

Fellowcarpal, not to worry! It was cut-and-pasted. I'd never spend that much time typing anything in. Too many boxes to sort through. Also, cleaning. Last week, it was glitter. This week, it's tiny little purple feather fragments, from some weird flamingo-like ink pens that someone gave my children. The little feather wisps break off and float around like dust mites. Bad medicine for the flamingos. It's on everything. Dami, why you do this to me?

Okay, I'm sorry that my last post was suuuch a bummer! Here's a little something that I found on the internet, to make up for it. Whoever this "Alan Meis" is, he's good! Love, niKa :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> :)--> 50 Ways To Annoy Osama bin Laden... Fifty Ways To Annoy Osama bin Laden If You're Invited To A Dinner Party At His Secret Afghan Lair, by Alan Meiss Point out the lice in his beard to make him feel self-conscious. Pause for a moment, listen carefully, and say, "Doesn't that sound a lot like a B-52?" Ask him if he's looking forward to replacing Hitler as Satan's favorite chew toy in the lowest inferno of Hell. Tell him all about your great vacation to Saudi Arabia, where you went absolutely everywhere and did everything, just stomped all over the place. Use his satellite phone to call the time and weather line in Buenos Aires and leave it off the hook. Tell him how much less you paid for your Kalashnikov rifle. Now that you know the address of his secret cave hideout, fill out magazine subscription cards for him for the Wine Spectator and Penthouse. But do not, under any circumstances, send him Popular Mechanics. Order him ten Domino's pizzas with extra ham topping. Correct him when he ends a sentence with a preposition. Ask whether the Taliban gets cable, because you haven't seen "Sex and the City" for weeks. Yank the end of his turban really hard to make him spin around like a top. Switch all the CD's in the jewel boxes in his CD collection, so that when he reaches for Michael Bolton, he'll actually get the Oak Ridge Boys. Mine his bathroom. Use your dinner fork for your salad, and, if questioned by your host, mutter something about "spots". Leave business cards for the Israeli Mossad in his Rolodex. Take pictures of all his wives and post them on www.amihotornot.com. Ask him if he wears boxers or briefs. Check. Take pictures. Again, post these on www.amihotornot.com. Give him a Hot Chicks of Palestine calendar. Ask him if Paradise is different for each person, and whether in your own paradise you'll get to, "kick his *** every day for eternity." Reset his VCR and leave it blinking 12:00. Refer to him as "Osama-osama-fee-fi-fo-fama bin Laden." Ask whether suicide bombers have to pay union dues. Tell him it's lovely what he's done with his cave, but that it'd look much nicer covered with huge, smoking craters. At dinner, imply that the Northern Alliance has much prettier place settings. Claim you once saw him at a Hooter's in Muncie wearing a yarmulke. Ask him if he wouldn't mind if you opened the door and shined your laser pointer on his forehead for a few minutes. Tell him that this is the worst pajama party you've ever attended. Ask for some pork rinds and a good brew to wash them down. Mix up his Rubik's Cube. Ask him if he provides his employees with a 401K plan. Compliment him on all his poppies outside, but mention that a few day lilies would be a nice accent. Run your finger along his credenza, and say, "tsk, tsk" if there's dust. Ask whether the Taliban is hoping to be bombed ahead into the Stone Age, or perhaps the Iron Age if enough shell casings survive. Explain that America is a land of freedom and opportunity, filled with people of every race, religion, and background, including millions of women strong enough to knock the crap out of him. Claim that they serve much better falafel at the public executions in Sudan. Ask him if he's pursuing the Lesser Jihad, the Greater Jihad, or the "Completely Whacked Out of his Freaking Gourd" Jihad. Swirl your drink thoughtfully and mention, "Just think, in a few weeks you might fit in this glass!" Check to see if Saddam is on his speed-dial list. They have to wait a few years to see current television shows in Afghanistan, so give away the secret of who's having a baby on "Friends." Warn him that you're "in a New York state of mind." Mention that his wives look quite fetching in their burkas, and ask whether they've ever thought of modeling. Ask him, "Say, where do you keep all those Stinger missiles?" just in case he'll be caught off guard and answer correctly. Give him a "noogie" or a "wedgie." If there's actually still a flush toilet left in Afghanistan, give him a "swirlie".* Ask to borrow his hedge trimmer and never give it back. Play a game of Monopoly with him. Make him play the thimble. See if he charges interest. Claim that his properties are your "holy lands" and blow up his hotels. Fish out the secret toy surprises in all his cereal boxes. Offer to take him "clubbing" in Tel Aviv with your friends Saul and Ivan. Ask him which Ninja Turtle is his favorite. Give him your cell phone as a gift and ask him to leave it on for a few days so your friends can call and say hi. When you leave, wave and say, "Shalom!"