Archive for March, 2009

Something’s Changed Today

 

I have been meaning to post my thoughts on The Unlikely Disciple for some time now, and since today is the official release date, it seemed like as good a time as any. 

 

[Should I say spoiler alert?  I mean, it’s not Harry Potter, so I don’t think you have to worry about me ruining the ending for you.  But if you have some kind of issue, then consider yourself warned.  I’m gonna be excerpting and commentating.]

 

The author, Kevin Roose, is a senior at Brown University, and the book recounts his experience as a “foreign exchange” student at Liberty University in the spring of 2007.  Kevin’s reasoning was that he didn’t need to leave the country to experience another culture, and he wanted to find out first-hand what Evangelical Christians were all about.

 

So, Kevin packed his bags and headed to Liberty, where he lived in a dorm, attended class, and threw himself into as many aspects of Liberty as he could – all undercover, with the purpose of writing this book.

 

To his credit, he came to Liberty with an open mind.  Not without pre-conceived notions or a deep-seated worldview, but with the intention of giving Liberty (and the people he met here) a fair shake.

 

The man himself stopped by my office several weeks back to drop off an advance copy of his book.  I was eager to see what it was all about, so I read it straight through that night.  It’s very well-written and vastly entertaining, and at the core, of course, it’s an insightful and interesting social experiment.  (And I liked it.)

 

If you’re reading this and you know me at all, you know there are certain things I will defend to the death.  Among them are Liberty University and anybody whose name happens to be Jerry Falwell.

 

So, frankly, I was prepared to be affronted.  I expected good things from the book, too, but I prepared myself for the worst.   Of course, all Kevin’s ideas about Dr. Falwell prior to his stint at Liberty came from the media, and Lord knows, when it comes to Dr. Falwell, the media never has had even a vague clue what they’re talking about.  (I suppose it’s easier to vilify someone than to try to understand the truth.)  So, I tried to shrug those things off rather than letting it bug me.

 

My defenses faltered, however, the first time Kevin described seeing Dr. Falwell in the book.  Something about the description of him walking into the room was so spot-on that my emotions snuck up on me and tears started rolling down my face.  Frankly, it was great to see him again, even if it was in the pages of a book.

 

There was no reclaiming my resolve at that point, so I just settled in and kept reading.

 

As pertains to Liberty, The Unlikely Disciple is fair, though not always flattering.  However, most of the negative aspects of Liberty as portrayed in the book were actually not due to Kevin’s perspective as a non-believer (and I would say a bit of a cynic), but rather thanks to the behavior displayed by the other characters in the book – “real” Liberty students.

 

That came as a disappointment to me, but not as a total shock.  In pure numbers, having a campus full of 10,000 students means you can count on a few bad apples – even at Liberty University.  And while there were a couple characters in the book I would have liked to punch in the teeth (I have this repressed violent streak), most of the trouble-makers were just that – trouble-makers, but not too terribly out of hand.

 

The only part of the book where I felt like Liberty may have gotten an undeserved negative slant from Kevin is with regard to academics – at least in the realm of apologetics (and most Bible courses cover apologetics in some respect).  I could tell that he was trying to remain impartial, but his religious skepticism still came through as a bit scoffing when he talked about young-earth creationism and reconciling seemingly-contradictory Scripture passages.

 

He did admit to finding the courses at Liberty challenging, which seemed to come as a surprise to him.  He also signed up for a full load of religion courses, so he missed the opportunity to experience what it’s like to study economics, marketing, statistics or biology at Liberty.  The Bible courses are key (that was my major, you know), but they’re not the full picture.

 

Even so, Kevin freely admitted a certain pull toward the Liberty way of thinking.  Being immersed in the culture, it seems like he came out with more positives than negatives to share:

 

There’s a difference, it seems to me, between the form of religion and the content of religion.  Right now, I’ve got all of the form and not much of the content.  I pray like a Liberty student, I read the Bible like a Liberty student, and I sing in the choir like a Liberty student.  I even go on dates like a Liberty student.  And for the most part, I’ve enjoyed living this way.  But I still don’t believe the same things Liberty students believe about God.  I still don’t believe, as Dr. Falwell said during Easter services this morning, that “the resurrection of Christ is an indisputable fact.”  And yet, the possibility is entering my mind.

 

Kevin even dated at Liberty, and managed to walk a fine line about it, too, which left me crediting him as a gentleman (instead of the jerk he could have easily been if he’d wanted to).  He even found quite a bit of merit in dating without physical pressure.  Sure, making out is fun, but what’s the point if you can’t even have a real conversation with the other person?  Kevin’s experience, tainted by the guilt of not being able to show his true self (and thus blow his cover), brought to mind one of my all-time favorite Derek Webb songs, “I Just Don’t Want Coffee”:    


Tonight as I was driving home I passed a coffee shop
And you know I wrestled with the truth
How I’d explain to you what you could never understand
And how I keep my mind from you
 
But that’s the price I pay
Your way is not my way
Today’s another day
It’s OK 

My favorite aspect of the book includes several passages where Kevin delineates the stark differences between his own contentment and that of the God-serving Liberty students around him:

 

It’s hard to watch Liberty students singing along to worship songs during convocation, raising their hands and smiling beatifically, and not wonder whether they’ve tapped into something that makes their lives happier, more meaningful, more consistently optimistic than mine….

 

Liberty students seem less cynical than the secular students I’ve known.  They seem more optimistic, more emotionally fulfilled.  And after two months of living with them, sharing in their moral victories, I think that optimism and fulfillment may be rubbing off on me….

 

When you’re at Liberty full-time, immersed in this spiritual environment, it’s impossible to keep your objective reference points intact.  Everyone around you is talking about how God changes their lives, all the worship songs are about God “completing” and “filling” and “renewing,” and after a four-month fusillade of that stuff, it sinks in.  You start to see your old, secular self as incomplete.  You wonder if maybe accepting Christ would be worth it just so you could be as happy and bright eyed and earnest as everyone around you….

 

That’s when it happened.  When I heard seven thousand Liberty students erupting in joy all around me, in a dark arena with a huge glowing cross, I got that same tingling sensation.  This time, it began to feel like there was a string connected to the top of my head, and it was being pulled slowly upward, toward the ceiling.  Pretty soon, I was joining the rest of my classmates in shouting and cheering—not out of any duty or desire to blend in, but because in that moment, I couldn’t restrain myself.

 

There are a lot of reasons I enjoyed this book.  There are a lot more reasons that I recommend you go get yourself a copy and read it.  I hope a lot of people who hate Liberty and everything we stand for will get a copy and see their misconceptions overturned.  God can use anything to change a heart.  He can use this book to change the hearts of people who read this book hoping it blasts Liberty.  Kevin’s book could serve to open the eyes of many who have no idea what it means to follow Christ, or what Christianity is all about.

 

Professing Christians need to get a copy of this book, too.  We also have cause to open our eyes.  We are supposed to be people like Christ.  That is a tall order, and no one is perfect, but we can do better.  There were a lot of students represented in that book who can reflect back and be proud of their actions and their testimony.  There are others who I’d imagine must think, “If I had known he wasn’t a Christian, I would never have said/done that.”  That is a difficult realization.  There can always be someone watching.  There is always an opportunity to be a witness for Christ without even opening your mouth to rattle off the Romans road.  It’s a lot about how you treat other people and how you act when you think no one is looking.

 

It should also be a wake-up call.  Liberty University has 10,000 students on campus.  This is and will always be a Christian university, but if you think that means that every person who sets foot on this campus or in these classrooms is a Christian, you are sorely mistaken.  There is a certain comfort level that exists when you know you’re within a group of Christians, but it’s hard to know that for sure, and we shouldn’t take it for granted.

 

I think Kevin Roose’s The Unlikely Disciple stands to make a real difference on both sides of the culture war, which is exactly what Dr. Falwell prayed for him just two years ago: 

 

“Father, I pray for Kevin.  I pray that your annointing will be upon him in a very special way.  And Lord, if you want him in journalism, I pray you’ll put him in key places where he can make a difference in the culture.  God, give him a great family and children that he’ll raise up in the nurture and admonition of your Son.  I put Kevin in your hands, that you’ll make him a special tool, a special instrument in your Kingdom.  For Christ’s sake, Amen.”

 

Tennessee [Doesn't] Suck

This past weekend, my dearest friend Jessica and I embarked on a journey to the musical mecca that is Nashville, TN.

 

I had only been to Nashville once before, which is when Mom and I went to see Levi Weaver when he was touring with Imogen Heap. 

 

I love music, which probably comes as no shock to any of you, but there aren’t very many artists I would travel such great distances to see.  Levi Weaver is definitely one of them.  So is Derek Webb.  The other is Ryan Adams, and he was the reason for the trip this time.

 

Jessica is not a huge Ryan Adams fan, though she is slowly and surely beginning to see the light.  Fortunately, she is a big fan of yours truly, and she was more than happy to accompany me on the trip to see some Nashville sights and come to the show with me.

 

So, we set off on our journey Friday morning, armed with MapQuest directions and a 9 hour playlist I created for the occasion.  3 hours of that was probably Ryan, to the point where Jessica looked at me out of the corner of her eye whenever she heard one of his songs come on.  I maintain that 3 hours of Ryan Adams was pretty conservative, especially since we were going to his concert.  And she cannot deny squealing with joy and cranking up the volume when she heard certain Ryan Adams songs tuning up.

 

We’d both missed breakfast, so we were overjoyed to see a Perkins sign after we crossed into TN.  We stopped and had breakfast for lunch before getting back on the road.  We gained an hour on our drive since we were crossing into the central time zone.  We hadn’t made any plans for Friday night, and opted instead to explore our hotel.  Luckily, we got the hook-up and were able to stay at the Gaylord Opryland Hotel for a fraction of the usual cost.  You could walk around that hotel for three days and probably not see everything, so we had plenty to occupy us for the evening.

 

I wore my “I *heart* Sheldon” shirt that Kelli gave me for Christmas, so this picture is for her:

 

 

Jessica and I took a boat ride on a river than ran through one section of our hotel, taking pictures as we went along.

 

 

 

 

We stopped for a bit to watch this fountain, which I remembered from when Mom and I visited before:

 

 

We had dinner at an Irish pub in the hotel, where we enjoyed the company of an adorable Englishman who humored us by chatting about what brought him to the states while we gazed lovingly in his general direction.

 

Saturday morning, it was raining, as it had through most of our drive on Friday.  Not to be deterred, we grabbed our umbrellas and headed downtown.  Many people had recommended the Pancake Pantry to me before we left, and since good food is quite important to us, we marked that down on the list of places to go and see.  We were warned beforehand that there would be a line, but that the wait was worth it – no matter how long it was.

 

When we arrived, despite the rain, we discovered that the line was out of the building and wrapped around the corner of the block:

 

 

We made friends with the people who lined up behind us and chatted with them until we got inside the building.  Because there were only two of us, we got bumped ahead in the line and didn’t have to wait quite as long as most people.  The man handling the line was no joke!  He kept everyone single file against the wall, getting table counts, and ushering people to their tables with great efficiency.  When he pointed at us and said, “You two are coming with me,” we got to steppin.’

 

As the name implies, pancakes are their specialty, and they have a million flavors.  Now, I like pancakes as much as the next person, but if I am eating breakfast out somewhere, that simply must involve some bacon and eggs.  So, we both ordered plates that included bacon, eggs, and pancakes.  We were allowed to substitute our three plain pancakes for two specialty pancakes, so Jessica ordered blueberry and I got chocolate chip.  We started chit-chatting with the couple seated next to us, who were Nashville natives who were planning a vacation to our area in Virginia.  Their food arrived shortly, including some tasty-looking potatoes, so Jessica and I had to flag our waitress down to say, “Hey, can we get some of those?!”

 

It was all worth it, as everyone had said, because I am pretty sure I have never had a tastier breakfast in the entirety of my life.

 

After breakfast, we made our way over to The Parthenon, where we took some photos outside before proceeding inside to the museum.

 

 

There was not much to see inside until we got to the third floor and this statue of Athena, which was a sight to behold:

 

 

 

From there, we drove toward the river and found a place to park.  We walked onto the bridge and took some photos overlooking Nashville, as well as a few shots of a fountain next to the parking lot.  (We both have a thing for fountains.)

 

 

 

 

We proceeded to our next must-see spot – the Ryman Auditorium, home of the Grand Ole Opry.  The building is beautiful inside and out.

 

 

 

We took the obligatory photos at the microphone, where many greats have stood before:

 

 

 

And then Jessica (and maybe me, too, but it’s my blog and I plead the 5th) recorded an album at the Ryman, which is a clever marketing scheme to get tourists to pay $15 for a CD.  But hey – it was cool.  And in case anybody wondered, Jessica does a mean Patsy Cline.

 

 

And of course, we seized every opportunity to take a classic long-arm shot to commemorate our trip:

 

 

After our backstage tour at the Ryman, which was very informative (and our tour guide was the cutest little old man), we headed to the Honky Tonk District to check out the sites there and do a little souvenir shopping.  (Jessica, not me.  If you want Nashville stuff, go there yourself.)  We killed a little time by stopping into The Stage and listening to the live act there at the time.

 

About the time we were leaving to go grab some dinner, Jessica realized her cell phone was MIA.  We retraced our steps to no avail, and ultimately decided that she must have laid it down on the counter in one of the stores and someone scooped it up.  There was nothing we could do about that, of course, so we proceeded on to the Old Spaghetti Factory for a dinner that was almost as good as the breakfast we had Saturday morning. 

 

We took our dessert to go and went back to the hotel to get some rest before Sunday.  When we stopped at the TN Welcome Center on our way in on Friday, Jessica spotted a brochure on Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage and decided we must go there.  You know how I feel about Ryan Adams?  Yeah, well, that’s pretty much how Jessica feels about dead Presidents.  She reads books about them all the time.  For fun!  I swear I am not making this stuff up.

 

So, naturally, we had to go to The Hermitage.  We were running late and decided to just grab brunch at the café on-site.  Our luck with food did not hold up through Sunday.  I paid WAY too much for soup and salad, and Jessica paid even more for soup and a ham sandwich.  In better news, it turned out to be Andrew Jackson’s birthday, so all admission fees were half price!

 

The exhibits and certainly the house and grounds were very interesting, even to someone who could not care less like me!  It was especially entertaining because anytime a tour guide would say something, Jessica would chime in with many more details.  She knows her stuff.

 

Here she is, happy as a pig in slop, as my Daddy would say:

 

 

 

I even found something exciting out in the garden.  It’s my favorite flower, the purple hyacinth!  Perhaps ol’ A.J. was a fan?

 

 

As it happened, the boot store we had stopped in on Saturday did eventually turn up Jessica’s phone, so we planned to go get that prior to the concert Sunday night.  First, we went back to the hotel to relax for a little while.  When we decided it was time to go downtown and grab some dinner, something else was missing – the car keys.  Jessica went and searched to no avail, and then called security to let her into a shop in the hotel we’d been in just before close so she could buy more souvenirs for her family.  A while after she left the room, I had an epiphany of sorts and realized where the keys might be.  Since she didn’t have her cell phone, I called the front desk and had them radio security and tell them what store to go to.  All’s well that ends well, I suppose, as Jessica found the keys, I confiscated them, and we headed downtown.

 

We picked up the cell phone and used the GPS on my phone to get to a restaurant called Monell’s, which was recommended to me as good country cooking, which is music to my ears.  We found the place, but they had closed at 4, which was a bummer.  The trip to 6th street was not a complete waste though, since we got this photo as an ode to the FAIL blog.  Remember how I said we were on SIXTH street?  Well:

 

 

Our backup plan for dinner was a place called Otter’s Chicken, so we drove about 10 minutes down the road only to discover that it, too, was closed.  We were rapidly approaching the time that I had planned to go and line up for the concert, so we just went back to the parking lot we had scoped out earlier and took our chances on a restaurant on the corner called Tazza (meaning “fresh”).  It was pretty good, but by then I was almost too excited to eat.  When I looked at Jessica and said “I don’t think I can eat anymore,” she looked like she was considering rushing me to the hospital.  It could have something to do with the fact that I tend to eat my food and half of hers.

 

While we were finishing up, my friend Levi called and said he was already in line.  We walked up the street to meet him at the War Memorial Auditorium where the show was held.  Levi’s wife Heather was pregnant and a few days overdue, so he was expecting to get a call at any time.  But he is also a huge Ryan Adams fan (and the one who introduced me to Ryan’s music, by the way), so he was at the concert keeping his cell phone close.  I was really glad to see him, too, so that was a great bonus of the weekend.  Here he is, making a face, per the usual:

 

 

And me and Jessica (her shirt was awesome):

 

 

And the stage!

 

 

The show was at 8:30, with no opening act, so I fidgeted and grinned like an idiot waiting for it to begin.  We talked to some of the folks standing around us while we waited, and found a few other folks who were familiar with Lynchburg and Charlottesville, so that was a neat coincidence.  (Or, as the aforementioned Sheldon would say, “a situation people unfamiliar with the law of large numbers would call a coincidence.”)

 

I knew I’d never be able to get really good pictures at the show, between my not-so-great camera and my holy-crap-it’s-Ryan-Adams shaking, so I didn’t try for many.  But here is one.  The blurry man in front of the blue rose (or the “cold rose,” if you will) is my Ryan.

 

 

I found the complete setlist from the show online (apparently there are many people who live-blog all the happenings, but I am too entranced in the music to do such things in the middle of the show), so here we go for those that care, and I’ll insert my thoughts here and there:

 

On stage 8:40 pm

1. I See Monsters  (WOOHOO!  Great opener!)
2. Fix It
3. Everybody Knows
4. Crossed Out Name
5. Come Pick Me Up  (The crowd always loves this one.  I mean, it’s a great song, but not THE greatest.  I guess it’s the one everyone knows?)
6. Cobwebs
7. Two
8. Freeway to the Canyon (Neal Casal)
9. banter + improv – “same shirt as me”
10. Beautiful Sorta
11. Let it Ride  (Yay!)
12. Natural Ghost  (I love the beginning of this song.  “I was waitin’ around for somebody to die.”  And they rocked the ending.)
13. Grand Island (Neal Casal)
14. band intros
15. Born Into a Light
16. When The Stars Go Blue  (This was a really beautiful moment at the show which I was not expecting.  I forgot what a great song this is as long as you keep it away from people like Tim McGraw.)
17. Evening Joke w/ Jon Graboff
18. Goodnight Rose  (This song goes on forever with the extended jam session at the end, but it was cool.)
19. Lost Satellite (Neal)
20. Rescue Blues  (First of all, YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!  I love this song.  At this point, Ryan put down the guitar and just sang at the mic for three songs. Lovely.)
21. Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.
22. The Sun Also Sets  (I liked this song on the album, but it was great live.)
23. Why Do They Leave  (Another song I love.)
24. Bartering Lines
25. Shakedown on 9th Street  (They played this at twice the album tempo.  I have no idea how Ryan even got the words out that fast.  Especially “I was just gonna hit him, but I’m gonna kill him now.”)
26. A Kiss Before I Go
27. Magick  (I don’t think anyone is going to say this is the best song Ryan’s ever written, but I thought it was fun when I heard it on the album and it really rocks out live.  I don’t think there was anyone NOT rocking out for this one.)

Off stage 10:42 pm

On 10:44 pm (Encore, at which point Ryan declared, “Oh ****, we’ve never gotten an encore before!”)

28. Wonderwall  (Ryan does this song way better than anyone else ever has.)
29. Sink Ships  (This song always makes me laugh because I used to think it said “Africans” where it actually says “Applicants.”)
30. Cold Roses
31. Mockingbird
32. Dear Chicago  (Ryan did this song kinda fast, too.  I prefer the slow version, but hey, whatever.)
33. This is It  (This is a great one, and I don’t think he plays it often live, so that was a nice treat.)

Off 11:09 pm

 

I tried not to formulate any setlist in my head of things I wanted him to play.  When an artist has SO. MANY. SONGS. there is just too much to choose from to hope for any song in particular.  I couldn’t help but hope for “The Rescue Blues” since he had played it the night before, and I got my wish on that one, but I guess, if there was anything missing from that awesome show, I would have wanted to hear:

 

1.        Any Whiskeytown song.  Really anything.  But if he asked me, I’d probably say “Faithless Street.”  Or “Ballad of Carol Lynn.”  Or “Black Arrow, Bleeding Heart.”  Or “Hard Luck Story.”  Like I said, too many songs.

2.       Any song on the piano.  First choice, “Sylvia Plath.”  I thought I might get to hear “Stop,” since that was on Cardinology, but alas, Ryan ignored his piano for the evening.

 

For your viewing pleasure (and mine), I found some YouTube videos from the show.  The quality isn’t great, but it’s still cool to watch them and think “I was there!”

 

Magick

 

 

The Rescue Blues

 

 

Why Do They Leave?

 

All in all, it was a fantastic show.  I can’t argue with two and a half hours of Ryan!

 

I would like to make a remark about the audience.  First of all, don’t yell out requests at Ryan Adams’ shows.  Everybody knows that.  (Although I cracked up when Ryan yelled back something totally intelligible, which is, of course, what it sounds like to him when people yell requests and things.)  But secondly, if you don’t realize that you shouldn’t be yelling out requests, at least do not request “Tennessee Sucks.”  I don’t care if it is your favorite song – don’t yell out anything with the word “sucks” at a concert.  That can be misconstrued, ya know?

 

When the show was over, there was nothing to distract us from our aching feet and aching backs, so I bid farewell to Levi outside and Jessica and I headed back to the hotel to crash.  What we didn’t know at the time is that, while we were crawling into bed for the night, Levi and Heather were headed to the hospital!  Their sweet baby boy was born Monday morning.  I think it speaks volumes about the coolness of this kid that he waited until his Dad got home from the Ryan Adams concert before he decided it was time to roll.  He’s pretty smart, anyway.  He even opened a twitter account before he was born!  I hope to meet the little fella soon – preferably when he’s about 2, can talk, and isn’t so breakable.  In the meantime, I will love him from afar for the perfect little angel that he is.

 

Save the drive home on Monday, there is not much else to report about the trip.  It rained all the way home, and we passed the time – at least the last 4 hours – by watching/listening to the 5th season of One Tree Hill.  Jessica watched, on my iPod, and I drove.  It was a stroke of genius, really, because it’s like listening to a really good radio station, but with dialogue.  And it kept us both awake, alert and interested on what might have otherwise been a very tedious drive.

 

I will keep that in mind next time I make a long trek somewhere!

 

Now, who wants to go see Josh Ritter in Norfolk on April 3rd?

Happy Blog-iversary (or, Welcome Home)

Today marks the three-year anniversary of my blog.  I started blogging on that most ancient of social networking sites, MySpace, on March 17, 2006.  I didn’t know whether I would take to it or not, but I actually enjoyed it very much.  My blogging eventually tapered off (as did its host), and I recently decided to get myself a domain and gear it up again.

 

My hilarious brother Michael once coined the phrase “Mandablog,” where, according to him, “Manda is a prefix meaning extremely long.”  I can’t argue that point.  My blogs have a tendency to get a little long-winded.  I attribute this to my Southern Baptist upbringing.

 

In the process of transitioning to this blog, I went back into the archives and saved all my previous blogs to make sure they don’t get lost in cyberspace and to scare up a little inspiration for the new blog.  In the process, I formulated some statistics:

 

 

2006

2007

2008

Total

Blogs

125

120

27

272

Words

113,311

77,857

29,568

220,736

Pictures

229

317

185

731

 

That works out to 811.5 words per blog, and 2.28 pictures per blog.  The pictures ratio is a little skewed, because most of the blogs had no pictures, and then I did photo-blogs that had as many as 50 photos at a time, like the pictures from my Harry Potter Party or the NKOTB concert Kelli and I went to last year.  But the one staggering realization for me is that 220,736 words is longer than all of the Harry Potter books (except Order of the Phoenix, which was 257,045), and so, theoretically, I could have written a book (or two) by now.

 

Among those 220,736 words, I introduced you all to the music of Levi Weaver,  explained why Prince Eric is my dream guy, tried to start a boycott, caught up on my vocabulary words, griped about the misuse of “LOL, and railed at some random dude who sent me a copy/paste declaration of love on MySpace.

 

That blog saw me through my 25th birthday, the death of my beloved Papa, and the loss of Dr. Falwell less than a year later.

 

I recounted the tale of the C.O.U.S. that attacked me, the passive-aggressive turf war with my ghetto-fabulous neighbors, the manager who couldn’t do math, the crazy dream  I had one night about a vending machine, and one of the most annoying phone calls I have ever made.

 

 

Sometimes I even went the serious route and blogged about things of more importance, like gender roles in relationships, whether you have to be good to go to Heaven, and sometimes maybe a little too much personal information about myself.

 

 

Anyway, I think it’s high time I got back to writing, even if it’s simply a blog with no real theme or intent.  This blog has a new name, too:  Pandandrum.  I’ll give points to anyone (besides Kelli or Jessica) who knows how I arrived at that particular name.  My usual handle, “Shifting Sand,” from the so-named Caedmon’s Call song, was not available as a domain, so I had to reinvent myself in more ways than one.

 

I hope that all the faithful folks who read “Shifting Sand” will follow on over to the new blog.  It’s nice to know that someone is listening, even if I’m rambling about nothing, which I have done many times in the past.

 

Kelli suggested I do a “best of” and bring some of the old blogs over here, so I thought I’d link up some of the memorable ones here, so if you’re new to my musings, you can catch up, or if you’ve been along for the ride since 2006, you can reminisce with me.  Or, if you couldn’t care less about the old stuff, tune in for the new.  First up will probably be a classic Amanda-style photo-blog recap of my trip to Nashville this weekend.