In space no one can hear you scream...but in the Wild West, they probably can.

Today marks the opening of Cowboys & Aliens.

Now, I'm not usually an alien-movie type of person. As a teenager, I chose to sit in another room and do schoolwork (Latin, I think) instead of joining my family for the original Alien movie (1979). I'm pretty sure I had nightmares just from hearing the screams, and the poster still gives me shivers.

My dislike (perhaps dread would be a better word?) of alien movies is deep-seated and historically-proven. When Dad and the Bro were stoked about Predator v. Alien, Mom and I gladly stayed home to watch Phantom of the Opera. The boys have long since learned not even to ask: the gals in our family just don't do alien movies. I actually don't even enjoy ET, though obviously for reasons other than the scare factor.


Yet somehow, Cowboys & Aliens is different. Perhaps it's the prevalent sunshine (which, being a Western, you can't really do without). Perhaps it's the cowboys. Perhaps it's that I was reunited with the Bro (which happens rarely and generally puts me in a really good mood about anything) when I saw the preview.

In fact, I didn't even realize what movie was being showcased until about halfway through the preview. You could have stolen my Pina Colada Orbit gum right out of my wide-open mouth, I was so shocked at the first mention of aliens.

My thoughts were something along the lines of this:

A western? Huh. Daniel Craig in a Western?? Hot! Harrison Ford in a Western WITH Daniel Craig??? [insert pause while jaw drops to the floor]

Holy Toledo, I have to see this movie!

(seriously, don't they just look so normal and Western and heroic? though perhaps a bit scared...)

And then the thought shot through my mind, much like lasers were shooting from Daniel Craig's arm: Aliens?

[attempts to reconcile Harrison Ford with aliens outside of Star Wars...fails]

Aliens? As in...Cowboys and Aliens??

The Bro nodded vigorously and grinned broadly. "We have to see that!!" he croaked into my ear in the dark theater. "It's gonna be awesome!!"

Suddenly, I was a convert. I moved from the girls's side to the guys' side in my family, from the alien-avoiders to the alien-must-seers, all because of Harrison Ford.

Some movie execs really do know what they're doing.

Brilliant

I found this new phenomenon on Runner's World today: Home Run London.

It combines some of my favorite words (Run. London.), so I had to take a closer look.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant! Why hasn't anyone thought of this before?? A service that picks up your bags and leads you on a 3-5 mile run after work? This could be the newest fad since pictures in red telephone booths!

And the video! Matching shirts, even a "Home Run London" backpack! It almost makes me desirous of wearing orange. Plus, that music is super inspiring.

I'm so moving to London someday. And when I do, I'm "leaving the Tube behind..."

A Poem in a Modern Style

Whenever I write the word "tubing"

I think it should be pronounced "tub-bing."

And Tubbing makes me think of The Borrowers.

Yes, the Borrowers, those little folk

Who float down a river

Because it storms.

(Am I remembering this rightly?

B/c my memory doesn't hold things tightly...)

So when a close friend borrowed my weekend,

We thought tubing (not tubbing!) would

Be a Fun Activity. And we proceeded to invite

Folks from all stages of life:

College, Work, Siblings.

They came.

We tubed.

We were not the Borrowers.

Because it was not flooding.

In fact, it was almost the opposite

Of flooding.

But we were afloat.

And enjoyment was had by all.

Africa on my mind

It seems that God doesn't want me to forget my time in Uganda last November anytime soon. So many little "coincidences" in the past month have kept it front and center in my mind (and I quote coincidences because in a world where God ordains the minute the sun rises, I highly doubt these happenings are random!).

It started with the CHEC conference last month, where I picked up this sweet little brown bracelet...handmade and straight from Uganda! (I bought the black and white one while there in November and have nearly worn that thing to pieces, I love it so much)

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Then a couple weeks ago, I ran out of facewash. Being on a 'money-saving spree,' I decided to pick up something a little cheaper than what I usually order, and I walked out of Target with the same facewash I had taken to Uganda with me. Now, if anyone tries to tell you that smell and memory are not connected, they have a broken sniffer. Even now, weeks later, I still can picture vivid memories of Uganda and London when I open that facewash with its very distinctive (and to me, Ugandan) smell.

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The third instance came last weekend, while at a conference in California. A gentleman from another booth wandered by and while we chatted, I discovered his daughter had been in Africa. I was only slightly shocked to find she'd been in Kansana with New Hope Uganda...but I was speechless to discover that she had actually spent a year over there with Syd Sparks, the very missionary that Jennifer and I had specifically gone to visit (well, and his wife and kid too!).

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Finally, just two days ago, on one of the blogs I follow, Sseko Sandals were featured. Lo and behold, these sandals are made in Uganda! Sseko Designs hires women entering the 9-month hiatus between secondary school and university, thereby allowing these women to earn the money necessary to continue with university education.

So it seems that Africa (and specifically Uganda!) is part of my present as well as my past. The question is, will it be part of my future? Only God knows...but I'm a little suspicious that He's plotting something.

naptime

My summer Bible study has been quite informative. Last night, in fact, I learned this very valuable piece of information that I intend to present to my co-workers and perhaps even my boss as proof that we should endorse a company-wide naptime:

"Well, you know, the human is the only mammal that tries to accomplish all its sleep in one session."

How 'bout Now?

In case you needed this reminder today also:

Often, with a little patience, the things we want DO come to us.

Operative-words-that-are-definitely-NOT-my-forte: "a little patience."

Enjoying some fruits of yet still practicing that dreaded P-word,

Chrissy S.